CHAPTER 1: MACK THE KNIFE

“What world do you live in? Out here in the real world, blood flows...”

It never stopped raining in this damn place.

My eyes wandered over to the omnipresent green glow in the distance to the north. The Core, the natives called it. The center of the ancient Old World city of Hoofington. Nopony ever approached it, for to go anywhere near that source of eerie light, was to invite certain death.

I'd never taken the time to verify the tales for myself. The Wasteland was dangerous enough without venturing into regions where even the most foolhardy feared to tread. Hoofington especially seemed to be rife with threats. Ponies around these parts were certifiable, especially the raiders. Never saw their like back west.

That wasn't to say that there weren't ponies out that way who would just as soon shoot you as look at you; but they had a method to their madness. They were after chems and ammo. Sometimes, they would even try and take you alive to sell to one of the local slave cartels or some such. Typical bandit fair.

But the 'raiders' here? They were complete psychos. Charge you full on with a pool cue or a tennis racket with the intent to beat you to death. If they succeeded, they didn't take your gear; they'd start gnawing on your flesh. I couldn't tell you what that noise was about. I'd seen ponies eat some odd things in my travels, but never other ponies; and certainly not while they were still alive and screaming.

My gaze returned to peering through my binoculars at the trio of ponies that I'd been following for the better part of the day; ever since they'd left Flank. Two mares and a stallion pulling a small cart. Each of them suitably armed and armored in anticipation of the routine perils that fraught any trek through the Wasteland. Their direction of travel suggested that they were on their way to Megamart. Fairly typical of traders. Buy up chems in Flank, sell them for guns and ammo at Megamart, then head back to Flank. Maybe a stop off at the Society for some of the food they grew there; it was expensive, but some of Caprice's clients were high rollers who enjoyed fine dining while they relaxed.

It was one of the more dangerous routes, but it came with a proportionally high profit margin. Which meant that these ponies should have quite a few caps in their saddlebags. Enough to set me up comfortably in one of Stable 69's suites for a few days at least.

The trio came to a stop outside of the crumbling remains of an ancient building. The faded remnants of a sign suggested that it had been some sort of school; Flankfurt Academy. One of the mares slipped inside, her shotgun hovering in front of her, wrapped in a faint yellow glow. She and the other mare were both unicorns. The lack of horn on the stallion and the carbine-rigged battle saddle on his torso suggested their companion was an earth pony like myself.

The unicorns would be problematic. Especially if I ended up having to face them both at the same time. Unlike earth ponies and pegasi, whose use of battle-saddles or mouth-held weapons meant that they had to at least be looking in your direction in order to score a hit; unicorns could swivel their firearms any which way they pleased with their telekinesis. Some of the more skilled unicorns out there could effectively manage several guns pointed in multiple directions simultaneously while still scoring an acceptable number of hits on their targets.

Made them damn hard to beat in a stand-up fight.

Not that I tended to engage ponies in stand-up fights.

I kept watch, occasionally flicking water out of my mane when it started dribbling in front of my eyes. The two ponies outside the building huddled in close to the walls, trying to get as much shelter as possible. Suddenly, their heads jerked towards the open door. A second later, I found out why, as the faint thunderclap of a shotgun blast reached my ears, muffled greatly by the pouring rain. A second shot followed closely in its wake, then a third. A long silence followed, and then a fourth, and final, somehow more poignant, shot rang out.

Less than a minute later, the shotgun-wielding mare returned and exchanged words with her companions. Whatever she'd found inside had apparently been dealt with to the satisfaction of the others. All three went inside, dragging their wagon with them.

Wonderful. Whatever they'd found inside, be it critters or raiders, would have them on alert for the time being. At least until the adrenaline left their systems. Which meant that I'd have to wait out here for a good while before I dared to risk an approach.

I tucked the binoculars back into my saddlebags and hunkered down on my overlook, casting a glare at the sky. The waiting was going to be unpleasant enough without this fucking rain. No help for it though. I wasn't about to move from this spot until it got properly dark, lest I be spotted by one of the trader ponies.

Invariably, without anything else to distract it, my mind began to wander back over the events that had brought me here. Not just to the small hill overlooking a dilapidated schoolhouse, but to Hoofington in general.

I wasn't a native of this place. I'd come here from far out west, and not entirely of my own volition either. Things had gone very wrong in quick fashion one night, and I'd been forced to make tracks if I wanted to keep my hide. Ten years later, and I still wasn't completely sure how things had managed to get so fucked up, so fast.

I'd been nearly on top of the world. I'd occupied a position of power and authority in our tribe. The heir apparent, set to assume leadership of one of the most powerful tribes in the Neighvada Valley. I was respected by my peers, beloved by my future subjects.

Or so I'd thought.

That night, when everything went wrong, I learned just how fleeting love can be; and how little somepony's 'undying loyalty' can be bought for. According to the one remaining loyal subject I must have had that night, all it had taken was the promise of a couple extra slaves, and my father's 'faithful' lieutenants had been more than happy to pledge themselves not to me, but to my sister upon his rather inconveniently-timed death.

In the course of an hour, I went from being the future ruler of the Neighvada Valley, to nothing more than a lone buck on the run for his life; doing all I could to stay one step ahead of the bounty that my sister, Whiplash, had placed on my head. Unfortunately for me, our tribe, the White Hooves, had a far reach; and the only chance I had at safety was to leave the Seaddle area entirely. So over the mountains and through the woods I ran, until I no longer recognized the names of any place I came to. Until names like 'White Hoof', 'Seaddle' and 'Neighvada' got me nothing but blank looks and quirked eyebrows.

Until I'd reached Hoofington.

For the umpteenth time since getting here, I heard a gruff voice in the back of my mind chastising me for giving up my birthright, and to a filly of all ponies. I bitterly reminded that voice in my head that the two hundred rifle and spear-wielding bucks willing to do that filly's bidding had put forth a very convincing argument as to why I had best make myself scarce. Perhaps, if the pony who had once owned that voice had been better about instilling a sense of actual loyalty into his guards, they wouldn't have been so easily bought off.

If you can't hold onto power, then you deserve to lose it.

Says the one of us who's dead.

I pushed the voice out of my thoughts. Arguing with ghosts from my past wasn't going to get me anywhere. Seaddle was a part of my life that was long since done with. Hoofington was where I lived now. The present was what I needed to be focused on. Especially since the day was ending, and the evening was descending upon the land. At least the rain was showing signs of letting up.

The binoculars came back out for one final survey of the academy before I made my way down from my perch. The coast seemed clear.

Time to earn my pay.

By all indications, this had once been a very well-to-do institution. What portions of the building's wall's and pillars endured featured elegantly carved molding and flowery stone reliefs. Time and weather had eroded most of the details of the work, but the evidence of their existence remained. An old marquise, which would at one time have announced to passing students upcoming events of note, had been long ago defaced to broadcast a rather creatively perverse message. Given that the only letters that they had to work with were those involved in the original pre-war message, I decided to give them a pass on their atrocious spelling.

It was good to finally get out of the rain. Judging from the empty cans and crumpled boxes, this old school had served as a shelter for many travelers over the centuries. I paused in the entrance way, listening for any indication of how deep into the interior those traders had ventured. Muddy tracks from hooves and cart wheels suggested that they'd opted for the increased safety that would be afforded to them by venturing far into the interior of the school's halls. It would mean a lengthy hunt for myself; though I was able to follow their tracks around the first two bends before the mud and water trail became too faint to see in the dark interior.

A few of the building's emergency lights yet endured, dim and occasionally flickering. The pony engineers of old had obviously built things to last. Not surprising, I suppose. Legends said that before the war, pony society had existed nearly unchanged for a thousand years. When you were building structures that needed to last on that sort of timescale, I guess you didn't cut many corners. There were certainly enough robots and automated turrets out in the world that still worked just fine after two hundred years of neglect. Well, if 'just fine' meant that they could still kill you before you knew your life was in danger anyway.

When I rounded the third corner, I came across the shotgun-wielding mare's handiwork. A pair of dead ponies. A white earth pony mare and a green unicorn stallion. Portions of their rib cages had been rather abruptly rent asunder by buckshot at close range. Nearby, I spotted a baseball bat with thick steel spikes driven through the head of it, and a length of rebar tipped with a misshapen bulge of concrete. Judging from the dried blood covering their hides that had nothing to do with their wounds, and the gnawed state of their hooves, I identified the pair as Hoofington Raiders. Psychotic cannibals that were only barely sentient by any rational definition. The trader mare had done the world a favor by killing them.

In the dim glow of a nearby emergency light fixture, I spotted several sets of bloody hoofprints leading deeper into the school. With luck, I would continue to find clues that would to lead me to where the traders had decided to bed down for the night and not have to blunder around in the dark searching for them. I followed the diminishing trail of raider blood to a three-way intersection, where the prints turned sharply to the left.

The hallway I was in was lined with old rusty lockers where students would have once kept their supplies. The double doors at the far end hung slightly ajar, and through them I could glimpse the flickering orange light of dancing flames. No sign of any ponies yet, but I had only the narrowest view through the crack between the doors. Hopefully, they would all be asleep by now. I started to creep slowly forward, my eyes locked on the door, watching for movement.

TWANG!

Oh, horseapples...

I shut my eyes tight, ready for the worst. A face full of buckshot. A blast of super-heated shrapnel ripping up through my belly. Whatever form my untimely death would take at the hooves of the trap I had just triggered. I'd had a good run, I guessed. Not a great one, but who in the Wasteland ever could lead a 'great' life?

My heart beat a couple more times. Wasn't dead yet. Grenade with a delayed fuse? Didn't make too much of a difference if I didn't know which way to leap for safety. The hallway limited my choices to either forward or back, but fifty-fifty wasn't exactly the best odds I could hope for. Besides, I'd already waited too long by my estimation.

Then I heard the resounding clink of metal bouncing on linoleum tile. Grenade it was then. My left eye shot open, and I saw the faint glimmer of distant firelight reflected off the brushed steel surface as the small apple-shaped orb rolled along the floor. A clear, visible, threat now before me, I seized my chance to stave off death. A quick spin on my fore-hooves, and a well-aimed buck with my rear ones, and I felt the satisfying sensation of steel being impacted by my hoof, and the clattering of the shrapnel-spewing ball of destruction as it was forced swiftly away from me before exploding.

It hadn't gone as far as I would have liked. Those three-to-five-second fused were notorious for lasting only two seconds, after all. I could feel a few slivers of metal slipping through my brahmin-skin barding and biting into my flesh at high velocity. Nothing life-threatening, I hoped, but painful regardless. What was far more inconvenient was the concussive pressure wave that played nick-knack on my eardrums. What had previously been a nearly silent corridor was now filled with a persistent high-pitched whine.

I really hoped that I hadn't just gone deaf.

No time to angst over that now though. That trip-wire hadn't set itself up, after all; and I had a fair idea about who'd strung it. Which meant that somepony would come to check out the rather noisy explosion momentarily. I scampered back the way I had come, whipping around the corner and coming to a stop.

The ringing in my ears was making itself rather unwelcome now. I was certain that somepony had to be coming to investigate the grenade detonation, but I could hear neither words nor hoof-steps. Just that monotone whine that saturated my world. I couldn't even risk a peek around the corner, lest I be spotted. I did prepare though. Bending down to the sheath strapped to my fetlock, I took the handle of my combat knife in my teeth and drew it out. Quietly, I hoped.

The pistol holstered at my withers might have conferred a more reliable kill; but I knew that there was a group in these ruins. With luck, only a single pony was coming to investigate their little 'alarm'. Which meant that I couldn't risk the sound of a gunshot alerting the others. If it turned out more than one pony was coming my way, then it honestly wouldn't matter what weapon I had ready. I'd get one of them, and then the others would get me.

Game over, Jackboot.

The ringing began to subside, and other sounds began to surface above the waning din. Hoof-steps. One set. Words. A mare from the pitch. Couldn't make out any specific syllables yet. What I could make out was the faint yellow light that was reflecting off the floor and far wall. It was steady and soft. Not firelight. Nor was it quite the right color for anything powered by a spark-battery.

A unicorn's telekinesis field, I surmised. Great. Likely levitating a weapon at the ready. Fighting unicorns was tricky. They didn't have to be looking right at you to get a good shot lined up. The really skilled unicorns didn't even have to be looking in your direction to train a barrel on you. I'd have to get in close, and strike fast.

The weapon was the first thing I saw. A dingy old shotgun with an over-under barrel arrangement. That would mess me up something fierce if she got a shot off. I could make out what she was saying now.

“...ly just a rad-roach,” she was muttering to herself as she scanned the hallway, “told him he set the wire too low...”

She reached the intersection where I was hiding and looked left, away from me. I had an opening to strike, but no clear way to get a kill. If I jabbed her flank, I'd just get meat; and she'd know where I was and blow my head off. I needed a shot at her neck or chest.

I needed her to look right at me.

The dandelion-hued unicorn mare obliged, turning her head and weapon to the right, looking right in my direction.

This was going to be my only chance to strike, and make a clean kill. So I took it.

She was understandably shocked when a shape from the shadows suddenly lunged at her. So shocked that she didn't even whip the barrel of her shotgun around to fire. She honestly wouldn't have had time to do it anyway. She had been so close to me that I hadn't needed to do much more than extend my neck to cut her.

And cut her I did. The toothy serrated edge of the knife clutched in my mouth sunk into her flesh, opening her throat like an overripe yukka-fruit. Blood gushed and bubbled from the wound as the air in her lungs that had been intended for a scream detoured out the improvised orifice. Whatever she had been intending to yell, it came out only as a strained gurgle.

The magical aura enveloping the shotgun faltered and soon evaporated, causing the weapon to fall from the air, unfired. I stretched out a leg and caught the weapon before it could clatter noisily to the ground.

The mare's fall was a lot less noisy, fortunately. She just sort of...slumped, desperately trying to choke down a breath of air that wasn't saturated with her own blood. The unicorn was drowning in...herself. Her pale amber eyes were glancing around frantically, her frightened pupils fixed into pinpricks. She knew that she was dying.

Her horn sputtered with yellow light as she tried vainly to form a coherent telekinetic field. At first, I thought she was going for a weapon; maybe trying to arm another grenade as a final 'fuck you' to her killer. Then I noticed the other end of the magical aura trying to coalesce around a small vial of liquid that sat snug in a pouch sewn on her saddlebags. A healing potion. Couldn't have that.

I crouched over the unicorn, the knife still held firmly in my mouth, “nothing personal,” I mumbled around the hilt. A quick flick of my head, and the mare went rigid for a brief moment. Then, with a sigh, her body went limp. I drew the steel blade from her side and wiped the blood off on her barding. I'd give it a more thorough cleaning when I was done with the others.

One down.

I sheathed the knife and drew the pistol. I couldn't count on being able to get quite so close to any of the others. I just hoped that they had split up or something.

The ringing was gone now, and I could once more hear the quiet crackling of the fire coming from the room at the end of the hallway that I'd been creeping towards before I was so rudely interrupted by their trap. One of the doors was open now. I couldn't see anypony, but I did see the cart that they'd been pulling.

I didn't hear anypony as I approached the door. As quietly as I could, made my way to the end of the hallway and held up just this side of the doorway, listening. Still no indication that my presence had been detected. I poked my head into the room, looked to my left...and froze.

Then I relaxed.

The dark gray unicorn mare had seemed to be looking right in my direction. Except that she hadn't been looking. Facing me was a more accurate description. Her eyes were closed, and her head bowed. One might have been forgiven for believing her to be asleep; except that she wasn't. Not technically. Her horn glowed with a faint violet light, touching a small crystal sphere that was nestled in her forehooves. One of those mind...bubble...things.

I'd heard of them before. They contained thoughts or something, from other ponies that lived before the end of the world. Unicorns could see into them. What they saw, I had no clue. But, I had heard that, while looking into one, a unicorn had absolutely no idea what was going on around them. It was like being asleep, except that nothing woke you up. Not loud noises, not being moved around...

...and not a knife sliding into her heart.

I'd killed a lot of ponies before. It didn't bother me; never had really. But there was something...eerie about this time. The mare didn't react to the knife being thrust into her chest. She didn't tense, or gasp, or even flinch away. She just sat there, bowed towards the orb. Then her already slow breathing began to grow fainter, and less frequent. After a few seconds the unicorn just...slumped over, her horn no longer glowing.

It was unnatural. There was just a...way, that ponies were supposed to react to being stabbed. They tensed, and then gasped—gurgled if you garroted them—they'd curl around the wound protectively. They'd react. It's what anypony did when they were hurt, even those psychopathic raiders. But this mare...

A shiver crept up my spine. Had...had she even known she was dying? My eyes glanced at the glass ball that had rolled away from the corpse, and I had to wonder: was she even truly dead? I had no idea how the orbs worked. Did a unicorn's mind go inside the sphere, or did the memory go into the pony? I picked up the little globe and peered at it. I don't know what I expected to see. Perhaps, a tiny gray unicorn mare wandering around in the swirling clouded interior? What did an earth pony know about magic?

All I saw was a milky blue mist. No little mare, no hint of whatever memory she had been reliving.

Magic was freaky.

I slipped the orb into my saddlebags. These things were valuable to the right ponies, and on the off-chance it wasn't broken, I'd be able to get a nice sum of caps for it.

Two down.

That should just leave one pony left. My eyes darted to the other door leading from the room. That last pony had undoubtedly checked the other approaches in case whomever had tripped the grenade trap wasn't alone. A prudent precaution. It'd cost his companions their lives though.

The buck would be back, and soon probably. Which meant I didn't have to wander the corridors of the abandoned school looking for him. All I needed to do was pick out a good ambush spot and wait patiently for that last pony to come back. I chose to crouch by the cart, hidden from the doorway, but with a clear line of sight on the gray unicorn mare I'd just killed. She would be my bait. Hopefully...

I didn't have long to wait.

“All clear this way,” a buck's deep voice echoed down the hall, “you find anything, Sunny? Starting to think maybe I just set the wire too tight—” his words choked off into a gasp, “S-Star!”

The buck galloped into the room, heedless of any danger that might still exist. After all, something had killed the mare whose side he now ran to. The blue-coated stallion didn't seem to care. His attention was focused entirely on the gray mare that he was gathering up into his hooves. His mouth fumbled for a healing potion, emptying the purple fluid into the hole in the limp body's chest.

It was entirely useless. Those potions could cure a lot of ills; but no tincture existed that could bring a dead pony back to life.

“Come on, Little Star, say something! Say something for Daddy!” the buck blubbered desperately. His cracking voice suggested that he was well aware that his pleas would forever go unheeded.

My pistol was out. I lined up the weapon's sights on the back of his head, and squeezed the trigger. The buck crumpled, the unicorn mare still clutched in his forelegs. I stood over the pair, looking at the bodies for a few seconds.

It was a lesson that I'd been fortunate enough to survive learning: feelings were dangerous things. Especially love. Caring about ponies, even family―maybe especially family―made you vulnerable. You stopped thinking rationally, considered putting the welfare of others before your own. Stupid things like that. Case in point: this stallion might have stood a chance if he hadn't been so preoccupied with his daughter's corpse. Instead, he'd ended up becoming one himself.

I shook my head and holstered the pistol.

The buck was obviously the muscle of the group. His barding was reinforced with ceramic plates, and a bandoleer was slung across his chest, bristling with grenades of all types. A pair of carbines were rigged into a battle saddle over his sides. He'd have been one tough pony to take on in a stand-up fight. Honestly, I probably couldn't have bested him. My 9mm rounds would have done next to nothing against those thick composite plates that comprised most of his armor.

At least his head had been exposed.

I pawed through the contents of the cart, but it looked like the bulk of this haul's wealth was going to come from the buck's grenades. The two with the green bands would be particularly valuable. The carbines would fetch a decent price too. The cart itself was filled with chems. Bottles of Buck, ampules of Med-X, and canisters of Dash. All told, the contents of this cart would probably fetch close to ten thousand caps if presented to the right buyer. However, I was not inclined to trot through the Wasteland, a lone stallion hauling a wagon loaded with chemical wealth. It'd have been a far sight safer for me to shed my weapons and trot into a raider camp screaming “dinner!” at the top of my lungs.

Instead, I loaded down my small saddlebags with the grenades and what drugs would fit. The liquid wealth they had was quite small, a hundred caps or so. Enough for some food and shelter at any towns they passed through. Otherwise, most of the assets of these traders was wrapped up in their wares. As was typical, I had to admit.

The battle saddle was a little loose on me, and clanked when I walked. I was a horrible shot when it came to such contraptions, but the sight of such firepower just might make most bandits hesitate while I made my way back to Flank. Admittedly, it hadn't dissuaded me all that much, but I had been spurred on past the obvious risks of this robbery by the prize in the form of the loaded cart. A lone pony, with only what wealth was stuffed in his tiny leather satchels was another matter.

Besides, I intended to make the trip back during the night. The only ponies likely to see me in the dark were those equipped with either a pipbuck or power armor. I wasn't certain exactly how those bits of technology allowed their users to spot targets in even the darkest places, but I'd seen the grizzly results. Thankfully though, such ponies were very rarely bandits or raiders.

Critters were another matter though. Radscorpions and bloatsprites seemed to be as apt at hunting in the dark as they were during the day. I'd need to keep an ear out for the sounds of any chitinous chattering that heralded their approach.

I cast my gaze about the room one last time, my eyes eventually falling to the pair of ponies sprawled out on the floor. A father, cradling his daughter in his arms. Had that other mare been the mother in the equation? I'd never know for certain, but trading did tend to be a family business, so the odds were leaning that way. I'd wiped out a whole family tonight. Dad would have been proud.

Me? I...

I was done here.

Ah, Flank! You will never find a more wretched hive of drugs and debauchery.

I loved this town.

Every kind of good time you could imagine was for sale here. Drugs, drinks, music, mares, bucks; whatever floated your boat was available for the right number of caps.

I sauntered up to the gate, flashing the two guard mares a warm grin, “hello, ladies!”

They glared back at me, “business in Flank?” one of them asked evenly.

“Pleasure,” I smiled, unperturbed. Their sour mood wasn't going to sully my good time. I had a saddlebag full of wealth, and every intention of using it to sample a little bit of every kind of sin that Flank had to offer.

“Ten caps,” the other mare demanded, sticking out her hoof.

Graft, the other Flank staple. Ten caps was easily twice what the toll actually was. I doubted that Caprice would see even two of those caps. I wasn't too keen on parting with any money I didn't have to either. Not everything I wanted to buy inside could be purchased in trade. So, instead of pulling a pile of caps out of my saddlebags, I withdrew a small red inhaler and tossed it to one of the mares.

“Oops! I am just so clumsy, and deaf besides. How many caps was that again?” I asked, innocently.

The first mare caught the Dash in her magical telekinetic field and took a small experimental puff of the chemical. Her pupils contracted slightly, and a smile touched her lips, “it's your lucky day, friend,” she informed me in a much more amicable tone, “head on in.”

I nodded and strutted through the gates. Behind me, the mare passed the inhaler to her companion, who took a hit as well. Addicts were another fixture here. Just about every pony in this town was hooked on something. Giving out a free hit of whatever scratched their itch was often better than trying to grease hooves with caps.

My first stop was an arms dealer. I unloaded the grenades and the carbines; the ammunition too. Got screwed on the price though. I was half tempted to argue and try to haggle it up to something I knew was fair, but I had noticed the way the pony behind the counter looked at the bandoleer. The chances were very good that he recognized those weapons; he'd probably sold them to the caravaners. He'd be hard pressed to prove anything, and I frankly doubted he was going to complain about being able to sell the same merchandise twice for a profit. Still, there was a fine line between lax morals and openly supporting banditry.

The last thing Caprice would want is the perception that Flank was encouraging the locals to poach visitors, especially since the vast majority of her business was very dependent upon rich ponies feeling that making the trip here was relatively safe. A visit here became far less appealing if it got out that she was arming the local robbers, instead of chasing them away from her clientele.

So I just took what he offered to me. It was at least enough to suit my own purposes.

My next stop was a scraggly little auburn earth pony who went by the name of 'Itchy'. I assumed it had more to do with his addiction-fueled fidgeting than with his lice problem, but the jury was still out on that. The gangly stallion was one of the 'friendlier' dealers in Flank. Small time, with only a limited supply. He wasn't so much an independent dealer as he was part of a sort of franchise setup for one of the larger barons. He also had an endearing tendency not to ask me a lot of questions about where I got my stock; and he didn't lowball me nearly as bad as the bigger dealers would.

I found the mangy little git as he was getting himself kicked out of seedy joint that brandished the name, 'Mistress Misty's Mare Menagerie'. I'd been in there a time or two. Had to admit, their prices were good, especially for Flank. Of course, there was a reason for that. The best looking mares in that place usually weren't mares. While I knew some stallions didn't mind that, I imagined that Itchy was simply too stoned to noticed. Drunk too, at the moment, going by the smell of him.

“I'm just s-s-sayin',” the brown buck whined in a stutter-filled voice, “if you allow t-tabs for booze, why not ones-s-s for gropes?”

The bouncer that had launched him out the door didn't bother with an answer, settling for simply slamming the door in the smaller buck's face.

“S-s-see you tomorrow, Brucie. Nice t-t-talk,” the drug fiend got up onto twitching legs and began to walk away. He stopped when I cleared my throat.

“Money troubles, Itchy?”

The scrawny buck wheeled around too quickly, nearly tripping over his own legs, “J-j-jackie! Wha's doin' b-b-bro? It's been like...like, forever since I s-s-saw you last!” he stumbled his way back towards me. As he neared, I was able to deduce that the buck was not stoned so much as he was drunk. Perfect, I thought dryly. As though he wasn't hard enough to deal with when he was merely high...

“Three days,” I corrected evenly. His apparent lack of funds on hoof didn't concern me as far as it related to him being able to buy the drugs I had. It would surprise nopony to learn that Itchy wasn't in charge of his own finances. There was simply no way that anypony who sampled his own wares as much as this poor sod did could ever last as a dealer in even a small quantity of chems. Itchy was just the 'face'. The harmless little buck who was so unassuming that nopony, especially other dealers, would feel threatened by him.

His partner, Scratch, was the brains, and more importantly the money, behind their little operation.

“Wow, that long, huh?” the buck went on, almost breathlessly, “months f-f-feel like minutes in this p-p-place, you know?” Did he even know how little sense he was making right now, or did he fancy himself as sounding genuinely profound?

He was going to be next to useless in this state, even just as a means to lead me to his cohort. I dug around in my saddlebags and pulled out a little aluminum tin. At the sight of the grinning pink pony on the cover, Itchy's eyes widened with anticipation, “I don't s-s-suppose you have enough to s-s-share?” he asked wistfully.

I pulled the tin back, just out of reach of the scraggly brown buck. He looked at me reproachfully, but I shot him a glare of my own in return. My greater size and bulk lent a lot more gravitas to my expression, “favor for a favor, Itchy. I have business with Scratch. Is he buying?”

Itchy hesitated, his eyes twitching about for a few seconds. Then he looked up at me, “s-s-sure, Jackboot. Always got time f-f-for a loyal supplier like y-y-you!”

Satisfied, I held the tin back out to the addict, letting him have the whole thing. I had plenty more where that came from, and I needed Itchy nice and level. I watched as the smaller buck popped three of the candy-colored tablets into his mouth and chewed them greedily. He was going to overdose one of these days. I just hoped that Scratch would find a worthwhile replacement when it happened. I didn't want to have to find a new source of caps. I'd lose out on the good prices I'd been getting as a result of my frequent business.

Itchy closed his eyes and sighed, a shudder working its way down his spine, “you're the b-best, Jackie,” he cooed as the Mint-als began to work their magic. He was motionless for nearly a minute before I cleared my throat in agitation.

“Scratch?”

“Huh?” the brown stallion glanced at me with his pinpoint pupils, seeming surprised to see that there was anypony else near him at all. Then his brain seemed to visibly kick into gear, “oh! Right...”

“This way,” he trotted off, gesturing for me to follow.

There were times when I was convinced that the only way that anypony could find their way through the maze of back alleys and narrow passages that honeycombed the large crumbling buildings around Flank was if they were riding a Min-tal high. Let alone somepony as burned out as Itchy.

The damnedest thing about it was that no matter how much I'd like to, there was no way that I would be able to have done this without the scrawny buck. The reason for this was that Scratch was never in the same location twice. Not during the day anyway; and I don't think anypony knew where he lived at night. Small time the pair may be, but they had quite the system going.

Eventually, we arrived outside an innocuous wooden door marked with a number that only would have mattered to whomever had built this building more than two hundred years ago. Itchy knocked lightly on the door and winced in anticipation of the answer he might receive.

“You'd betta have my caps, boi!” came the loud drawl from beyond the wooden slab, “or I'mma gonna have me a swanky new buckskin coat!

Wonderful, “he's in a good mood,” I commented aloud sardonically.

Itchy rubbed his hooves apprehensively, “just a little accounting s-s-snafu. Y-y-you can go on in.”

I quirked an eyebrow at the stallion, and then cast my eyes to the door. Whatever. My hoof pushed the door open with little issue. Inside, I surveyed where Scratch had chosen to set up his office for the day.

The hotel room had probably once been quite nice, back when it'd still had all four walls. The room had been cleared of nearly all the furniture that had once been in it, leaving behind only a couch and an end table; upon which was an ashtray containing a fair bit of fresh cigar ash. On the couch, sat a golden griffon with soot colored plumage. Scratch. He was sitting with his back to the door, looking out over the Wasteland that lay beyond Flank's borders. You might have thought he were a prince, surveying his lands.

The griffon's clawed hand went to the cigar pinched in his beak, tapping the loose char off the end, “I swear, boi; you ask me for one more extension, and I'll put this cigar out in your eye! You hear me...” the words died away as the griffon turned his head, intent upon staring down a scrawny brown buck so strung out on chems that he'd jump at the sight of his own hooves; and instead finding himself looking at me.

There was brief moment of confusion, but then Scratch schooled his features, his beak breaking out into a smile, “Jackboot,” he visibly relaxed, settling back into the couch and returning his gaze to the outside, “somepony who ain't never got no bad news. Come in, come in. Let's talk.”

I trotted around the couch, sitting on the other side of the little table where the griffon tapped his cigar. The feathered feline gazed at me with amber eyes that spoke of a great deal of animosity that the griffon's demeanor otherwise hid. I often suspected that Scratch had his talons in more of Flank than most would suspect; but I'd never actually asked around to that affect. Something about the way Scratch looked at you just seemed to suggest that learning more about the griffon than he wanted you to know could be hazardous to your health.

He bought my chems and gave me a fair deal. That was all that I needed to know; and all I really cared to know.

The griffon took another huff of the cigar, letting the smoke slink out through the nostrils of his beak, “got y'allself another little 'batch' you want to fence?”

Scratch wasn't an idiot. He knew that I wasn't a small time manufacturer. The infrequency and inconsistent assortment of my product suggested that I wasn't a lone trader either. Maybe I could have tried to argue that I was a prospector, looting the husks of Old World buildings; but that wouldn't have explained how my wares bore the maker's marks of Flank drug gangs. The griffon knew that what I had to sell had been pried from the hooves of dead ponies. Maybe he didn't know for certain that I was robbing honest traders, but I'd have to be stupid to pick fights with the local gangs directly.

That being said, the griffon had never seemed to be overly concerned that he was dealing with a murderous bandit. Probably because I wasn't robbing his regular customers and shrinking his client base. He gained quality product at a discount, and his competitors lost business. Meanwhile, if I got caught somehow, he would be able to deny any complicity in my actions by citing plausible deniability; since I'd never told him―and he'd never asked―where I got my goods.

“A few odds and ends I came across in an old office building,” I supplied by way of answer. I popped open one of my saddlebags and let Scratch get a look at the assortment of drugs within. The griffon peered inside absently. Once upon a time, he'd been far more skeptical of my stock, back when he'd barely known me. However, a dozen proven transactions later, and he'd become a lot more trusting. Though, I suspected that the scene I'd once walked in on of him executing a mare who'd tried to cheat him had also done a bit to ease his paranoia. He hadn't spelled it out, but I was pretty sure that a similar fate awaited me if I tried to pull one over on the griffon, “the other one's just as full.”

“Itchy! Get your sorry withers in here, now!” the griffon snarled over his shoulder.

I watched as the trembling buck poked his head through the door, “yes, s-s-sir?”

“Mister Jackboot has some product for us, tally it up,” the griffon growled, snapping his talons in quick succession.

The scrawny stallion winced but gingerly stepped inside. I passed him both of my saddlebags, and Itchy set about plucking out the pharmaceuticals. I instructed him to leave a bottle of Buck and a half dozen capsules of Dash for my own personal use.

“So how's life treatin' ya, Jack?” the griffon began, by way of conversation as his assistant tallied up my due.

“If I complained, would it matter?” I replied somberly, “I survived another day in the Wasteland. S'all that matters.”

“Posh,” the griffon grinned, “survival ain't enough, and you know it. What's the use of 'surviving' if you can't enjoy life a little?” another puff of his cigar, “s'what Flank is all about: enjoying life.”

Another job offer. That's where Scratch was heading with this conversation. He'd made this offer to me before: take up working for him as an enforcer of sorts, or personal guard. The griffon had been clear in the past to point out the doors that the position would open for me, and the perks that I could expect if I accepted his offer.

My good fortune is your good fortune, Jackboot.

I'd turned him down every time though. Not for moral reasons of course. If anything, I'd be leading a relatively more upstanding life under Scratch's employ. It was pride, mostly. That annoying voice in the back of my mind reminded me every time Scratch made his offer, that I was too important to merely be somepony's, or somegriffon's in this case, lapdog. I was the rightful heir to an empire, it would insist. I was above something as menial as guard duty.

That 'empire' would never be mine though, and nopony in Hoofington had ever heard of Steel Bit or the White Hooves. It's not as though banditry was particularly glamorous. However, it did mean that I got to set my own hours. Even though I was never going to acquire much in the way of fame or power in the Wasteland on my own, I still didn't like the idea of having to answer to a boss.

“I enjoy it well enough on my own,” I replied evenly, fixing my gaze on the griffon.

As though he hadn't heard a word that I'd said, and the not so thinly veiled meaning behind them, the griffon went on, “you're a pony that can get things done, Jack. That's a rare thing in the Wasteland. There's a lot of room in Flank for ponies that can get things done. A lot of perks, too.”

“Lot of strings.”

“Not as many as you'd think,” the griffon shrugged, puffing on his cigar.

Itchy let out a hesitant cough, “it w-w-works out to thirteen hundred caps, boss,” the buck ventured carefully.

“Make it an even fifteen,” the griffon leered at me, “think it over. I'm sure I can make it worth your while.”

If I said that I wasn't tempted, I'd be lying. Scratch may have seemed small time, but I felt confident that was the point. When nopony saw you as a threat, nopony made an effort to work against you. Few ponies in Flank knew that Scratch was involved in the drug trade at all. Which made me wonder what else the griffon was involved in that I hadn't heard about. Did this griffon have his talons in guns and flesh too? He might run a string of brothels for all I knew. I could well envision the sorts of perks that a patron like Scratch could provide for me.

All I would need to do was swallow enough of my pride to let myself get bossed around.

Itchy held out a bag of caps to me. Maybe I wouldn't be strung out on chems, but if I took Scratch up on his offer, I wouldn't be much further up on the social pecking order than this poor buck. No thanks.

“I'll think about it,” was what I said aloud as I took the caps, “pleasure doing business,” I headed for the door before I remembered one last little bauble I hoped to pawn off, “out of curiosity, you know anypony interested in a memory orb?”

The griffon puffed, pensively, “what's on it?”

I frowned, “hell if I know. I ain't got a horn.”

“Memory orbs are tricky things, Jack” the griffon informed me, “the price depends on what it shows. The racy stuff sells well here, obviously. Even the mundane can fetch a decent price from a unicorn looking to 'get away from it all'. Then you got your cryptic orbs. Those ones the Ministries left behind. They ain't worth shit to most.

“I ain't a gambler, Jackboot. You find out what's on it, then we'll talk.”

That was fair. Without another word, I left the griffon's office and began making my way out of the building. I didn't remember all of the twists and turns that Itchy had taken, but that didn't mean that I couldn't find a way out eventually. As long as I headed in a generally 'down' direction, I would be able to make my way back to the streets of Flank. In the end, I only had to double-back twice.

I may not have sold the orb, but I at least had a generous pile of caps nestled warmly in my saddlebags. I wasn't certain who else I could ask about buying it though. Maybe Saffron would like it? I mused as I made my way towards Stable 69. Might get me some gratis 'quality time' with my favorite mare-of-the-evening.

A sultry song by the long-dead Sapphire Shores was being piped throughout the converted stable as I wandered inside. The large open atrium that housed the brothel's bar was as crowded as it usually was. Some were here to drink, but most were negotiating with mares and stallions that were dressed in garments that would only be described by an odd few as 'practical', or even 'functional'. Though, I guess that depended on what you considered their 'function' to be...

I took a seat at the bar. I didn't have long to wait before a pink pony stepped up, “what'cha drinking, honey?”

“Flaming Sparkle Cola,” I requested, slipping a small pile of caps onto the counter. I knew the price of that particular drink and had included an appropriately generous tip. Never alienate the pony who handles your food or drinks. Besides, alcohol wasn't going to be what sucked up all my wealth anyway. The caps vanished almost immediately as the pink mare's tail brushed across the bar's surface. Impressive. I wonder what else she could do with with that tail? Though, from what I'd been told, an hour with that particular mare would cost as much as a week with most of the other professionals in this place.

Might be worth the caps just to find out if you got your money's worth...

The drink appeared on the counter a moment later, faint blue flames licking up into the air. I puffed out the small fire and took a quick sip. I'd never had a real carrot before, so I had no idea if this was what they tasted like, but I had drunk Sparkle Cola before, and for a drink that didn't have a drop of that soda in it, the taste was nearly spot on. Wonder how they did that?

The last long note of the song wafting down from overhead faded into silence, and a buck's deep voice crackled over the speakers, “Ah, Sapphire Shores, reminding us all about that first, cruel, heartbreak...And now, the news! Trouble's brewing out Fillydelphia way, children. Looks like slavers are moving in. Don't seem to be connected with the group down in Old Appaloosa, but slavers is slavers. I advise caravans to consider alternate routes for the foreseeable future. I'm also getting reports of a mare causing a stir around Fetlock. Might be a link to the sudden reduction in bandit activity in that area. I'll keep you all updated as I learn more, children. In the meantime, stay safe out there in the Wastes.

“This is DJ PON3, bringing you the truth; no matter how bad it hurts. Now, Sweetie Bell with a tune to warm your heart during the cold night...”

A pair of velvety soft hooves slipped over my shoulders and a sultry voice whispered in my ear, “back for another rodeo, cowbuck?” I turned around, a smile already plastered across my lips as I looked into the magenta eyes of a violet unicorn mare. She wore a lacy white satin bridle on her face, and matching sheer ivory stockings on her delicate legs. The scent of lavender wafted into my nostrils.

“Told you I'd be back,” I murmured, nuzzling the mare, “just needed to address a small financial issue...” I jostled my saddlebag, jingling the caps it contained. Saffron immediately warmed up to me more adamantly. I chuckled to myself. I knew all too well that the mare didn't give a radscorpion's bunghole about me. She was interested in only one thing: my caps. The moment they were gone, I'd be lucky to get the time of day off of her.

Which was fine. I was only interested in one thing from her too. The moment her legs closed up, I wouldn't piss on her if she was on fire. Our relationship was just business, and we both knew it. It was the way we both preferred things.

“I believe that last time we discussed the possibility of a crop?” I continued, my hoof caressing her shoulder, and wandering down towards her nethers. She intercepted it coyly, but I jiggled my cap-laden bag once more and was allowed to continue venturing south.

“An extra twenty and hour,” she purred.

“And the hoof-cuffs?” I leaned closer to her ear and nipped at it.

“Another twenty...”

“Ball gag?”

“Call it an even fifty for the package,” Saffron breathed.

My smile broadened as I did some hasty math in my head. I'd have more than a enough for an...entertaining evening, “clear your schedule until morning.”

She drew back and turned towards the stable's rooms, her eyes beckoning me to follow. I slammed the rest of my drink and tapped my hoof on the counter hurriedly in order to get the barpony's attention, “bottle of Wild Pegasus delivered to Saffron's room,” I tossed another pile of caps onto the counter and trotted after the elegantly braided brown tail that was swaying in front of me.

If I was going to be completely honest, Saffron wasn't the best looking mare in the place. She was pretty, but in a very specific way. She was getting up there in years, and some of her age was starting to show. She covered up the signs of the advancing time with make-up and ribbons and glittered bows meant to distract the eye. I'd seen her out of those things often enough though. The unicorn was probably old enough to be my mother, or close enough to it, but I'd never been crass enough to ask her for confirmation of my estimate. Wasn't really important. Well, not important enough to be a deal breaker anyway.

The fact that she was reaching the point where her client list was beginning to be poached by younger fillies coming into the business was what I considered to be a point in my favor. It meant that her nights were free more often than not; so I didn't need to worry about booking any appointments and have to hang around Flank a few days at a time just to get in a night with her. I knew that there were whores around here that had those sorts of scheduling requirements. Young things with the sorts of nubile forms that many of Flank's patrons craved, and rates that would bankrupt most.

Sure, you could find a mare somewhere in the city that would clop you for a cap, but you'd be walking away from those sorts of encounters with a souvenir that would stick with you for a long while. The sorts of ails that only a very uncomfortable visit to the local clinic would have a chance of curing for a hefty price. In the end, you'd be out nearly the same number of caps, but with a lot fewer fond memories of the experience. Premium mares meant doling out premium caps; and that meant a visit to Stable 69.

I'd checked on the possibility of getting in some time with Caprice, purported to be the best lay this side of the Wasteland; but the waiting list had been months long; and I didn't meet her standards anyway. Caps weren't enough for a romp with the mare who pretty much ran all of Flank; you needed status, and I had zilch in that department. 'Deposed heir to the White Hoof Tribe' didn't mean a drop of spit to ponies here. Little did. I'd determined that around these parts, you either had to be a shareholder in the Society, or one of Big Daddy's high-profile Reapers to be on the radar of anypony who mattered.

This all meant that I had to settle for lower hanging fruit. Which was where the mare I was currently following came in.

Saffron was also well aware of how much her list of regulars was shrinking. Which made her very accommodating towards those few loyal clients she still had. Rich stallions weren't exactly beating down her door in droves. Five years ago, I'd never have been able to talk her into cuffs, let alone take a crop to her; but these days she wasn't willing to risk that I'd go asking around about any of her coworkers that would. I figured that, at this rate, I'd have her willing to let me choke her out by next year. I didn't actually go for that sort of thing, I was just curious about exactly how desperate she'd get to make caps. I enjoyed testing limits where I could.

We got to her room on the next level down. Some of the mares in this place had garishly colorful places that were adorned with posters showing all sorts of erotica. Amenities to help set the mood and get things going faster. After all, the quicker a client finished, the sooner he could be pushed out the door and another ushered in.

Saffron was a mare from an older time. A more refined one. Which was something else about her that I appreciated. There were still faded pictures of long-dead mares on her walls, but they were posed tastefully. Suggestively, but not engaged in anything explicit. They were there to tease you. They were mares that you couldn't have, and wouldn't let you touch them even if they were there; but Saffron, you could have. She was there, and she was more than willing to let you touch all you wanted. And after three days tracking down a caravan fit to rob, I was very eager to touch her.

The color palette rested on the yellow and cyan ends of the spectrum. No personal effects though. None that were visible. The room had a wardrobe that was always locked, and I'd never seen her go to while we were together. I knew where she kept her toys and costumes, and those places weren't ever locked. I'll admit that I was curious what a mare like this kept secreted away from everypony.

The red-tinted unicorn strutted to the bed and began tugging at the sheets. I dropped my saddlebags and began shucking my thick leather barding. Once she'd set up the bed, Saffron was at my side, helping to strip away the armor. I saw her nose wrinkle slightly. I couldn't blame her. Life out in the Wastes tended to make things get pretty ripe, and my armor wasn't the only thing that could use a good wash.

“Send it to the cleaners,” I told her once it was off, “I'm going for a soak,” and I made my way to the room's lavatory. Behind me, the unicorn depressed a button on the room's intercom and called for somepony to come by and collect the soiled barding. In the meantime, I drew up a warm bath, letting the water from the faucet cascade over my hoof. The little luxuries...

I'd only ever been in a stable one time before arriving in Hoofington. I don't know what prompted the residents to open their thick steel cog of a door, some sort of malfunction in one of their environmental systems or something. Whatever they had thought they would find out beyond their subterranean shelter, I doubt very much that it had been anything like a hundred armed White Hoof warriors lying in wait. They certainly hadn't seemed prepared for an attack. The few guards they'd had went down quickly in the opening volleys of our ambush. The rest surrendered in short order.

Steel Bit had ordered the stable searched for weapons and other useful equipment. Useful to us anyway. Weapons, ammunition, medicine; everything else was destroyed. After all, none of what made that stable work could be useful to ponies in the Wastes. Look how soft stable living had made these fool ponies we'd captured. If we had availed ourselves to things like warm showers and soft beds, we'd become soft too. Then the Commonwealth soldiers would come by and route us from our homes.

Since leaving them, I'd come to very much appreciate those 'weaknesses' like hot showers and long warm soaks in bathtubs. If it made me 'weak', then so be it. I'd much rather be considered weak than heed to echoed advise of an overbearing ass who was taking a well-deserved dirt nap. Steel Bit could have done with a good soaking. Of one sort or another anyway.

I selected the least flowery scented perfume from the nearby shelf an added a couple of dabs to the filling tub. I wanted to smell nice, not like potpourri.

When the water had reached a sufficient depth, I crawled into the tub and let myself sink into the warm, scented, fluid. The sigh that escaped my lips was almost orgasmic. It had been three days since my last visit to Saffron's quarters, and by extension my last bath. Saffron could soak in this thing every day. Maybe I needed to look into becoming a whore...

I snorted. Oh, if my father could see me now...I had never even had a bath before my first week in Hoofington. Before that, the cleanest I ever got was on the days that it rained and I felt like going outside. Taking a perfumed bath in a suite where I was paying a mare for the privilege of having sex with her; my father would have castrated me...and then raped Saffron for daring to ask for caps for something that a pony like him was entitled to by right.

Steel Bit hadn't exactly been the nicest of ponies.

The water rippled and I felt another pony snuggling up to me in the tub. Her auburn mane draped down her neck, now free of the glittery bows that had distracted from the wisps of gray that were creeping in. Her tail was now unbraided. A brush began to run its way along my back, ripping the grit of the Wasteland out of my coat. Two made the tub a little crowded, but I wasn't about to ask her to get out. The whole point of the evening was for us to be intimate, after all.

“Somepony had a rough trip,” she observed, by way of prompting conversation. Another good thing about a pony as experienced as Saffron, was her skill at relieving emotional tension, as well as sexual.

“It had its stressful moments,” I agreed, sighing as she began to simultaneously massage my withers with her free hooves while she continued brushing me with her magic. In my mind, I recalled how close I'd come to buying it when that wire had snapped under my hoof.

One of her hooves gently traced itself over one of the fresh shrapnel wounds that had been inflicted by the exploding grenade, “and it's dangerous ones too, I see.”

“The whole Wasteland is one 'dangerous moment',” I pointed out with a wan smile.

Saffron was kind enough to chuckle. Not because what I had said was amusing, of course. I was a paying client, so she was supposed to suck up to me. I felt the brush pause in between my shoulder blades for a brief moment. A frown touched my lips in anticipation of what the subject of her next words would be, “I've asked around,” she began tentatively, “and I still haven't been able to figure out what gang this tattoo's from.

“I'm starting to think you were just pulling my leg.”

My lips twitched momentarily, “I told you, they ain't from around here.

“And don't bring it up before a rutting,” I reminded her, a slight growl creeping into my voice, “throws off my mood.”

The unicorn took my hint and moved the conversation on to local gossip about Flank, and the juicier news stories that Manehattan's DJ PON3 had related over the radio while I'd been away. I barely paid any attention to what she was saying. I was simply focusing on trying to calm myself back down. It hadn't been her fault. She didn't know, and I hadn't told her. She'd just been trying to draw me out a little to put me at ease, which was part of her job. She hadn't meant to upset me. Unfortunately, the damaged had already been done.

Ironic, I supposed, that something that was suppose to fill me with a sense of pride and belonging instead simply reminded me of how much I had lost.

“Never forget who you are,” were the words my father had spoken when the fire-heated brand had completed its work. Mission accomplished, Dad. Mission fucking accomplished.

So much for a relaxing bath, I seethed. Without warning Saffron, I stood up and left the tub. The unicorn mare looked after me in concern, “is everyth—”

“Get on the bed,” I snarled as I strode out into the bedroom, not even bothering to dry off. Time to relieve some stress the old-fashioned way, “I'll get the crop.”

“You stupid son-of-a-mule!”

Oh, Celestia, forgive me for I have sinned...

My eyes scrunched closed tightly and I groaned as the loud exclamation did rather unkind things for my hangover. I rolled over, smothering my ears with the pillow in an effort to muffle the sound of the irate mare. What the hell was her problem anyway? She'd been paid, and those welts would be gone by tomorrow morning...probably. I sure didn't recall any complaints last night. Though, I suppose the gag would have made it hard for her to voice them at the time...

“Get up, you moron!” Saffron yelled again.

A moment later and the bed heaved in a violet hued glow, ejecting me onto the floor with a rather uninspiring thud. My eyes shot open now and I glared up at the reddish mare, “the hell?! I paid you, damn it! Time and a half, as I recall,” I growled, “and I don't remember paying for the 'dominare' treatment...”

“You paid me, alright,” the unicorn snorted, “with blood money!”

Was that seriously the issue? She didn't approve of how I got the money I'd paid her with? I couldn't help but feel that a whore didn't have much of a moral leg to stand on when it came to quibbling over how ponies made a living. She wasn't exactly the most upstanding of citizens...

“So some ponies got hurt—” wait a minute...

I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously, “how the hell do you know where that money came from?”

“Because there's a bounty on your head, numb-nuts,” she jabbed her hoof in the vague direction of the surface, “somepony let on that the stuff you hocked looked familiar. The Finders don't take kindly to ponies hitting their friends' caravans.”

My eyes widened, “they were Finders?!”

Horseapples.

“You have exactly two minutes to get out of here before I let it slip where you're at,” Saffron warned, “the payout for information leading to your capture is only ten percent, so you lucked out there...”

I scowled at the mare as I gathered up my freshly-laundered barding and supplies, “nice to see our relationship counts for something,” I mumbled under my breath, though loud enough for the unicorn to hear me.

“Our 'relationship' is the only reason I'm warning you at all, Jackboot,” she narrowed her eyes at me.

Fair enough.

“You best leave the Hoof entirely,” she suggested, “the Finders themselves are backing this note. They have a way of getting word out, and everypony knows their money's good.”

Fuck! I threw on my gear and rushed out the door without looking back. This had to be when 69 was at its deadest. Early morning. Most ponies were still sleeping off their hangovers. The unlucky few who had reason to be up this early we drinking water or partaking of some 'hair-of-the-diamond-dog.' Me? I was running for my life.

Finders. They had to be Finders! Of course they were Finders. They'd been too easy to take down to have been anypony else. Stupid. Stupid! Stupid! Every less-than-legit pony in the wastes knew that there were two groups in the Hoof that you did not fuck with: Reapers, and Finders. The former would hunt you down and kill you. The latter would pay everypony else in the Wasteland to hunt you down and kill you.

Fffuck!

“Leave the Hoof,” Saffron had said. No shit. The question was: where in Equestria was I supposed to go? Literally! Fillydelphia had just turned into a slaver den, if PON-3 was to be believed—and he always was. Manehattan was crawling with Talon mercenaries, who made it a habit to be up on all the latest Wasteland bounties; and they frequented the Appaloosa area too...

My list of 'safe places to hide' was growing depressingly short, and I hadn't even made it out of Flank yet...

“There he is!”

Oh, for fuck's sake...I'd just made it outside!

“Drop your weapons!”

Under the most ideal of circumstances, I might have actually been inclined to cooperate. Seriously. Surrendering was a viable option here. Give up, let them take me to MegaMart, and then wait for a chance to make my escape during the trip. I'd done something similar before when a bunch of slavers got their hooves on me with the intent of selling me to the Society.

But, it seemed that there was more than one group of bounty hunters on my tail; and it soon occurred to me that I didn't know the details of the contract; and how it related to the qualifiers: dead versus alive. At least one pony—or band of ponies—seemed to think that the bounty for 'dead' was worthwhile enough and opened fire on me before I could take the first group up on their offer of capitulation.

I'll admit, I hadn't expected that. Flank, along with every other Finders stronghold in Hoofinton; and most towns in general, was supposed to be a 'no hunting' zone. This was because not every pony with a bounty on their head was a criminal, and it was bad business to encourage running gun battles through your main thoroughfares. It made tourists and clients rather uneasy. However, it was looking like that particular restriction might not apply to contracts put out by the Finders themselves.

Dust and slivers of asphalt puffed up around me as rounds skimmed the pock-marked road. I cringed and continued my charge forward towards the front gate. It sounded like automatic fire of some sort and, generally speaking, if you missed with the first few rounds, you were going to miss with the rest of them. Especially where a very fast and very motivated target was concerned.

Judging by the outraged protests coming from directions other than the gunfire, the shooters weren't endearing themselves to the locals with their wild spraying.

Within seconds, Flank found itself saturated with gunfire as it seemed like everypony was shooting at everypony else. Seriously, it was pure chaos!

It had started with some hunters shooting at me. They missed, and pissed off some local Flankers; who were inclined to return fire on the bounty hunters that had disturbed their breakfast. Then there were the hunters who wanted me alive to capitalize on the likely higher prize, so they started shooting at those hunters too. Then the local guards got involved; since their job was to keep anypony from shooting anypony else within city limits. Of course, some of the locals were gangers, and they dressed awfully similar to hunters, so...

In the end, you had hunters shooting hunters. Gangers shooting hunters. Hunters shooting gangers. Guards shooting hunters. Guards shooting gangers. Gangers shooting guards. Hunters shooting guards...

And nopony left to shoot at the rust colored earth pony galloping for his life out the front gate. Oh, sweet Celestia, thank you for trigger-happy bounty hunters!

The gates of Flank and the sound of gunfire fading into the background, I allowed myself to slow to a hasty trot. I'd made it! I was so giddy with adrenaline fueled elation that I was actually giggling. I couldn't believe that I'd made it out of there in one piece; and free besides. I was free and clear!

“There he is!”

Oh, horseapples...

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Awareness -- Examining a target shows health, weapon, and ammunition count.

CHAPTER 2: IF I KNEW YOU WERE COMIN'...

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“Get out of my face, you son of a bitch!”

I have never run so far, for so long, in my entire life. Except for maybe once; and ironically enough it had been for a similar reason. Finders hadn't been involved that time, or even an actual bounty, but the net effect had been the same. I was possessed of a brief urge to proclaim my success at having evaded all immediate threats yet again, but swiftly beat that impulse to a bloody pulp and bucked it in the stomach. I'd learned my lesson.

Instead, I turned my thoughts back to where they had been earlier that morning before I'd been so rudely interrupted by a spray of gunfire. I couldn't stay in Hoofington. I couldn't go to Fillydelphia. Manehattan was out...

My mind kept coming back to one more name, and each time I would shake my head and fervently rack my brain for other options. That place wasn't ideal either. Too close to old threats.

On the other hoof, they were old threats. Everywhere else had more recent ones. Besides, she couldn't possibly still be looking for me after all this time. She had to think I was dead by now. I certainly wasn't a threat to her any longer. As long as I kept myself from becoming too well-known and avoided areas I knew the White Hooves actively patrolled, she'd be none the wiser. Given my vocation, remaining a member of the faceless plebeian masses was the goal anyway...

...and had worked so well for me in Flank. Obviously.

With a defeated sigh, I bowed my head and started trudging northwest. Seaddle or bust, I guess...

It wasn't going to be a short trip. I'd known that from the onset. Hell, it'd taken me the better part of a month to get to Hoofington from there. There had been a lot of backtracking and many days spent hiding in tunnels and caves as I waited for the coast to clear. I doubted that this time I would need to be quite so cautious—I didn't know anypony in the Hoof who'd even known Seaddle was a place—but a direct trip was still going to take a few weeks. Which presented something of a problem, seeing as how I'd only brought a couple days worth of food with me to Flank.

In fairness, I had very much intended to stock up before leaving Flank. I'd simply figured that I wouldn't need to depart quite so urgently. Didn't help that I was more than a little dehydrated; and that hangover hadn't gone away yet. I suspected the two conditions were connected. I had some Sparkle Colas in my bags; but they weren't going to do anything to help with the headache or the dehydration. They did at least wet my lips, and trick my body into thinking it was getting refreshed. For a while, anyway...

This was not going to be good. I knew from experience that there was a good stretch of desert between here and Seaddle. I'd need to find water before I set out much further. Of course this was the one day in the whole month that Hoofington wasn't suffering from its usual torrential downpour.

I don't suppose that you'd just like to go ahead and take an outright shit on me, would you, Celestia? No? Pity. At least then I would know things had gotten their absolute worst...

I spied a large hill looming in the distance. It'd give me a view of my surroundings at least. Hopefully I'd spy something helpful with my binoculars. First and foremost to make certain that I couldn't spy any ponies looking to make a quick cap off of my hide.

The slopes weren't particularly steep, but my exhaustion made the trip up to the top take longer than it otherwise should have. The soggy ground helped matters not at all. A couple of slips and a near-tumble, and I was finally at the top; mud-covered and panting. I slipped the binoculars out of my bags and held them to my eyes, casting my gaze about.

I relaxed a little when I didn't spy any armored ponies bounding towards me with rifles strapped to their withers. No telling how long that would keep though. I'd performed a fair number of evasive movements during my harried flight from Flank. Doubled back when I could, serpentined my way through ruined alleys when I came to them. Hasty measures that wouldn't hold up much to the eye of a weathered tracker motivated by a bounty of caps on their quarry. But at least it should buy me a few hours. Time enough, hopefully, to make my way out of The Hoof, and into regions the locals would hesitate to tread through; even for a pile of caps.

There was nopony at all, that I could see. Not even visible evidence of past pony trespasses.

Horseapples.

I frowned at the mixed blessing that was my apparent solitude. While it meant that I was safe from bounty hunters looking to cash in on the Finders' offer, it also meant that there were no traders that I could...'negotiate' with for much needed supplies. And why should there be? Seaddle didn't have anything worth a trip like that for that I recalled. Every place worth doing business with lay in the complete opposite direction of my intended route.

What I did spot was the remnants of some sort of old mill. Ruins usually meant something useful. Whether that something would also be relevant remained to be seen. However, I had no better options if I hoped to scrounge up any worthwhile gear for the trip. So, a quick jaunt into the local deathtrap it was!

Hurray.

My approach was slow by design. I had never, in all my life, ever ventured into a desiccated Old World building that didn't house some sort of mortal threat. Whether that threat was in the form of deliberate traps, camping raiders, or nesting critters, or even the mundane danger posed by the imminent collapse of an ancient structure, there always seemed to be something ready to jump out and take a strip out of my hide. What the hell was up with that, anyway? You'd think that after two hundred years, places like this would be tapped out in the threat department.

Then again, what sane pony looks at a half-collapsed saw mill out in the middle of a wilderness rife with deadly mutated monsters and thinks to themselves: “now that seems like an intelligent place to go and look around!”

I drew my pistol and kept the sights up, my head swiveling as I scanned for threats. My ears pivoted in similar fashion, listening for any sounds that weren't crickets and spindly branches rustling in the breeze. Going into a place like this alone was so far up on the list of 'bad ideas' it was practically a sub-title. The pounding headache, irritated eyes, and parched lips helped not at all.

My expectations were immediately doused when I got close enough to see that the river that had once serviced this mill was dry. How, in Celestia's name, was a river that ran so close to a place that got as much rainfall as Hoofington dry?! A glance up towards the mountains, and the sight of what was obviously a distant balefire impact site, provided the answer. A bomb two hundred years ago had caused a landslide that diverted the river. To where, I had no idea. It could be as near as a hundred yards, or as far as a hundred miles.

Still, no reason to give up all hope. With all the logs and sawdust this place would have produced back during its operational heyday, I doubted the workers would have drunk straight from the river anyway. They'd probably had a well set up; or imported their water to the site in bottled form. As long as that well's aquifer had been sustained by that now redirected river, I still had a chance of finding fresh water. I may also discover some full bottles in an old fridge. It might be a little irradiated, but at least it'd be water.

The door was open. Well, more specifically, it had rotted off its hinges and fallen outward, leaving a dark gaping maw for me to stare into. The partially collapsed roof proved something of a blessing, as it allowed splashes of light to illuminate the interior. Or at least parts of it. The lit portions seemed to be very few, and very localized. I swallowed, keenly aware of how parched my throat was, and stepped inside.

The wooden floor loudly protested my trespassing, but it held. I wasn't certain what should be my bigger concern: whether the floor would support my weight, or if the noisy creaking would alert some predator to my presence. Neither occurrence would make for a particularly pleasant day.

I was in some sort of...cafeteria? Break room? Whatever it was, there were the remains of tables, and toppled chairs. A few large holes in the floor off to the side where something heavy had fallen through. Parts of counters and a stove were still visible, nestled against the wall in a corner. Things that would have made food hot, but nothing that would have held cold refreshing beverages. Which meant those holes were likely where such appliances had been. They had seen fit at some point during the last two hundred years to relocate themselves to the basement. Perfect. What I needed was now in a darker, more confined, death-trap.

I could feel Celestia copping a squat directly over my head. Probably a 'post taco night' sort of squat too...

I wasn't about to hop down through the holes though, not here. I couldn't even be sure this place had a basement. It could very well be a sinkhole. I needed to explore the mill more thoroughly and find a staircase that lead down. Then I could be certain that I'd have a way back up as well. So I gave the holes a wide berth and edged towards one of the doorways.

A hallway. Restrooms to the left—bone dry, naturally. Offices to the right—paperwork that meant nothing to me. Janitor's closet—never knew when a charged spark-battery would come in handy. Locker room—doubted Jasmine's phone was still in service for that 'good time' the scrawled graffiti promised. Hello...stairwell!

No light showing through holes in the roof here though; just a blackness that could swallow your soul. Possibly filled with monsters that could swallow a body. I holstered the pistol and rooted through my saddlebags for a flare. I struck the bottom of the red cylinder against the wall and flinched as the other end sputtered to life. I carefully slipped the flare into a pocket that was stitched into the shoulder of my barding, designed to hold just such an object. I redrew my 9mm and ventured into the dark.

The crimson flame periodically sputtered as it consumed the two century old fuel to perpetuate its light. The light didn't go very far, but it was enough to keep me from tripping over the various bits of debris strewn over the floor. I glanced up and immediately felt a lot less confident about the ground floor's ability to support my weight. Most of the floor joists had rotted away to nearly nothing. I didn't know what had kept me from falling through during my walk down the hallway.

Maybe Celestia felt that I'd suffered enough for the day?

I kept moving forward, drawing up every once in a while to avoid stepping on an old desiccated skeleton. Earth ponies, nearly all of them. Not surprising. We'd traditionally taken on jobs that had to do with the land I'd learned. No pegasi remains. Also not surprising. They'd fled to their paradise in the clouds; leaving the other ponies to wallow in the Wasteland. The numbers though...those were surprising.

Assuming that this basement had been used as a makeshift shelter for the workers when the bombs fell, the small size of the cafeteria had implied a workforce of...a dozen? Half again that many at the absolute most? I counted nearly twenty skulls near the landing alone. I took a deep breath. There were plenty of plausible explanations for an excessive number of bodies.

I knew nothing about how saw mills worked, and this place employed scores of workers.

These weren't all workers. A group of hikers had been in the area and took shelter here as well.

I wasn't the first pony to have come down here in the last two hundred years.

Yeah, that was the sound of Celestia bearing down for a deity-sized defecation on the turd pile that was already my life.

Fuck it. None of these bodies were fresh. Whatever did this was probably a hundred years dead itself. I pressed on in the direction of the area that lay directly beneath the cafeteria. Then I drew up short again. Another corpse. This time, rotting meat was visible on the bones, flies swarming about. This poor pony was fresher than the others. A month. Two, at the most. Nor had the flies been the ones to rend open this poor bastard's carcass.

Every fiber in my body demanded that I turn around this very instant and bolt back the way I'd come. Run. Run for an hour towards Seaddle and never look back. Don't take even one more step forward!

My dry tongue licked over my chapped lips as I tightened my grip on the pistol.

Bring it on, Celestia, you ancient dead bitch! Do your worst.

I stepped forward, my eyes locked on the faint pale glow where the day's light managed to just barely creep through the holes in both the mill's roof and the above floor. It illuminated my target like some sort of divine beacon. It was an old refrigerator all right, fallen on its side, its door hanging open. As if taunting me, I could see a half dozen bottles of clear liquid twinkling in the light of my flare. Water.

All sense of reason and caution left me. I closed the distance in three excited bounds and began to shovel the bottles into my saddlebags. I'd just gotten the last one into my bag when I heard the sound I'd been expecting since I stepped into the mill: the wet, sputtering, diarrhea-infused, discharge of a spiteful alabaster deity.

Well, okay, it was actually the gut-chilling unnatural scream of at least three feral ghoul ponies coming from all around me; but the net effect was the same.

Ghouls. Figured. Given that the ones I could see wore the tattered remains of flannel shirts and denim coveralls; I surmised that they were the 'survivors' of this mill's workforce. Irradiated by the magical fallout from the balefire bombardment two hundred years ago to the point where their bodies ceased to age. Driven beyond the precipice of madness by a combination of immortality and the memories of everything that had been lost. The ponies who had once upon a time likely been nothing more than jovial lumberjacks and mill workers, now existed only as crazed zombie ponies with an insatiable hunger for flesh.

And I had just sprinted right into the middle of a pack of them.

One of the ghouls was blocking the most direct path to the stairs, but I was nowhere near familiar enough with the building's layout to risk a hasty search for another exit. So instead, I charged it. My tongue depressed the pistol's trigger as quickly as the recoiling slide would re-cock the hammer. I wasn't taking the time to line up head-shots, which was damn near the only way to kill these things with a caliber as small as the one I was throwing at them. The time spent aiming would just delay me. I didn't actually need to kill it—unkill it? Rekill it? Whatever. I just needed the ghoul blocking me thrown off balance enough to successfully bowl it over and scramble past.

Two slugs caught its shoulder and a third removed the mandible, pitching its head back. The other three rounds I got off missed entirely. However, it was enough to disorient the undead pony and let me trample him in my hasty flight without winding up with a rotting maw snapping at my haunches for my trouble.

The red light from my flare leaped around the walls as I bounded for the stairs. I stumbled a bit when I hit the slew of older skeletons, but I didn't fall. I didn't look back either. I could feel the other two ghouls—at least—right behind me; running on legs that I don't think ever tired. These ponies had gone on moving for two centuries after they'd supposedly died; nothing about them suggested that they ran out of breath or suffered from muscle cramps.

That was where my plan sort of fell apart. Ghouls didn't tire. I would. I was hardly in top form right now as it was; and a sprint wasn't going to do me any favors. I'd be lucky to make it a quarter mile before they caught me.

Despair began to grip my insides. Ripped apart by ghouls. Suddenly, getting shot up by a bounty hunter after a big payday wasn't sounding like such a bad way to go...Heading out of the Hoof was turning into a bit of a frying pan versus fire situation.

A spark-battery sputtered to life in my brain as I scrambled back up into the hallway. I was heading towards the cafeteria again. A place where food had been prepared. Where food had been cooked. With gas. My eyes darted briefly to the flare sputtering at my side.

This was going to be loud.

I galloped into the dining area and whipped my head in the direction of the stove; specifically the gas line connected to it. I tongued the trigger three more times, and was rewarded with hearing the high-pitched 'PING!' of a lead slug striking metal, and seeing a tear open up in the pipe. Dimly, over the roar of the ghoul ponies loping after me, I heard the telltale hiss of gas rushing out. I spat the pistol out through the doorway leading outside with as much force as I could muster and ripped the flare from its carrier. I was just in time to see not merely two, but a whole herd of ghouls barreling down the hallway towards me.

My head flicked up, tossing the little red tube in their direction, “catch!”

I threw myself out the door.

I was airborne a lot longer than I should have been under normal circumstances. The blast from the ignited gas line saw to that. Heat, splinted wood, and noise slammed into me like a brick wall, sending me rolling rather indelicately along the Wastes.

Well hello there, persistent high-pitched whine. We meet again.

I was pretty sure that I was letting out a whoop of elation as I rolled myself onto my back and flopped limply, feeling like I was breathing for the first time in a long while. How long had I been holding my breath? I thought it was a whoop. Hard to tell, since I couldn't actually hear it. I might have just been imitating a patient receiving a tongue depressor. At least there was nopony around to hear me if I was getting it wrong.

My legs felt stiff, and they protested as I turned back onto my belly and stood up. As nice as it felt, this was hardly the ideal place to rest. If there were any bounty hunters out this far searching for me; I imagined that seeing a fiery explosion would make them a little curious about what was going on here. Besides, I still needed to find my pistol.

I scanned the destruction that I had wrought and whistled—I think. That mill was basically gone in any way that mattered. It had survived a balefire apocalypse and two hundred years of rot; but ten minutes of yours truly had proved too much. Impressive.

“That was one hell of a courtesy flush...” I murmured—yelled? I trudged towards the smoldering wreckage, my eyes scanning the ground. I occasionally opened my mouth and made a sound of some sort, waiting for it to overpower the constant ringing in my ears. I needed to reduce the frequency of proximal explosions to my eardrums if I wanted to be able to hear anything ever again.

My eyes spotted a speck of bluing hidden under a scrap of cinder. I smiled and bent to pick up the pistol...

...and that was the moment Celestia bared down for round two.

I felt myself tackled violently from the side. My eyes went wide as I kicked out with my legs in an effort to fend off the attacker that had come at me from out of nowhere. It was a ghoul. Its body was practically a blackened and charred husk, but it was still very much moving and—judging from its gaping cavernous maw and the warm feted stench of rotted flesh assaulting my nostrils—screaming enthusiastically in my face. It's yellowed teeth snapped at me in an effort to rip my face off of, well, my face. It was a lot stronger than I was and its snapping jaws were slowly creeping closer to by head.

I bit down on the hilt of my knife, drawing it from my fetlock-mounted sheath and swung it as fiercely as I could at the gnashing muzzle that so desperately wanted to devour me. I managed to get in a clean hit that snapped its neck away from me, stunning it momentarily. I rolled the dazed ghoul onto its back and continued to stab at the barbequed pony again and again, ignoring the hooves kicking at my stomach.

The ringing in my ears morphed into the cacophonous cheers of a crowd. The secluded mill and charred wilderness became a ring of ponies smeared with streaks of white paint. The ghoul pinned beneath my body, was now a young orange colt.

He hadn't stood a chance. The blank-flanked foal I was beating with my hooves had probably never been in a single fight in his short life. He'd never live long enough to be involved in a second. None of this was his fault either. He hadn't asked for this. Slaves never volunteered for anything we made them do. He'd just been unfortunate enough to be the first colt my father had laid eyes on that morning. The morning that I had just reached six years of age; and was required to make my first kill.

The colt hadn't known what was going on when he was shoved into the ring. When I charged, he backed away fearfully, shielding himself with his hooves, in preparation for what he thought would be a simple beating. The bruises on his flesh implied that he'd received more than a few since being brought to the camp. However, this time, the blows would not stop when he lost consciousness.

I was required to kill this colt. My father had commanded it. The other warriors watching me expected it.

It never even crossed my mind to disappoint them.

My hooves fell onto the colt, wildly at first in an effort to drive him into submission. When he was a wailing ball of pain, I began to choose my strikes with more care, remembering the instruction my father had given me in hoof-to-hoof fighting. I concentrated my blow around his chest and neck in order to debilitate him; then delivered a double-hoof strike to his head. The colt went limp, unconscious.

From that moment on, I gleefully bashed his head into paste. The crowd screamed with approval.

Apparently I was screaming in the present too, quite loudly, as I could now hear myself finally over what was becoming a background whine in my ears. The red haze that had clouded my vision ebbed, and I finally began to process the damage I'd done to the face of my attacker. There...was hardly a head left at all. It was just sort of this dried up, blackened, shredded...mush. I was panting heavily.

The knife slipped from my mouth and fell to the ground. At some point during the beating, I'd switched to my hooves; but had kept the knife's hilt clutched in my teeth. I backed away from the ghoul's brutalized corpse, wheezing. The memories were already fading away, receding to the back of my mind as the present reasserted itself.

I took a bottle of lukewarm water from my bag and popped the cap. The liquid splashing into my mouth, though warm, was the most refreshing sensation I'd felt in as long as I could remember. Only when the bottle was empty did I take stock of my surroundings. If I was going to die, I wasn't going to die thirsty, damn it.

I could hear the crickets again, and the crackling a burning wood from the few small flames that persisted. What I couldn't hear was the screeching of more ghouls lusting after my flesh. Nor the cheers of bloodsport spectators. It was a very sweet lack of sound.

“All of that,” I panted, “for a drink of water,” I allowed myself to slump backwards onto my spine, staring up into the perpetually overcast sky above. I wiped away a fleck of ghoul flesh that was sticking to my muzzle, “hurray.”

I swear, the mountains hadn't been that steep when I'd made this trip in the other direction ten years ago. I winced and flexed my sore ankles. I'd known that the going wasn't going to be pleasant. I'd sort of counted on it, actually. The mountains to the west of Hoofington were tall and broad; their massive girth responsible for most of the rain that the city got. A formidable natural barrier to all but the most foolhardy of travelers.

Even back before the war, few passes existed where roads and rail lines could traverse the peaks. Long, winding, affairs that wrapped around summits until you found yourself nearly doubling back the way you'd just come. The distance across the range was probably about fifty miles as the griffon flies. A two day trip if you were feeling optimistic, and didn't mind a little sweating. If you followed the road, it was closer to eighty miles. A decent four day trip. I was trying to split the difference and do it in three. The supplies I had were limited, and once I was past the mountains; I'd have a decent stretch of desert to deal with. I wasn't keen to run out of water half-way through it.

So I followed the roads where I had to, and crossed country where I could see it would shave a few miles. Bloat-sprites proved to be the biggest danger, fortunately. Not to say that the vicious little things weren't a significant threat; but I'd take them over killer robots and diamond dogs any day.

I'd also take them over whatever had hit the caravan I passed.

To say I was surprised by the sight was an understatement. Not that a blasted wagon and dead bodies was anything new on a road in the Wasteland. Granted, in most cases, the wagon and ponies around it had died of radiation poisoning a couple centuries ago. These bodies were a lot fresher. That was a curiosity.

Traders, obviously. The twisted wreckage of their wares cart had spilled its contents over the road. I looked between it and a nearby crater in the pavement. A mine? Possible, but that answer didn't sit well with me. It seemed...off. Mines were common in most of the wilderness in the Wasteland; especially in areas like Hoofington where the majority of the land battles had taken place. Both sides had used minefields to funnel the other's ground forces into more favorable engagement areas.

Still, roads had rarely been given the same treatment during that time. Open supply lines had been vital to both side's war efforts, and the battle lines changed so frequently that neither wanted to risk ammunition wagons running over a mine that they had planted just the previous month when the area had been controlled by the enemy. Which meant that for a mine to have been set along one of the few roads that ever existed which crossed these mountains, it had most likely been placed after the war had ended.

Bandits were my first thought. Setting up an ambush to catch an unsuspecting trader and take their stuff; but that was also the exact reason why they probably hadn't been behind the explosion. Can't recover valuable merchandise if you blow it all to Tartarus. Add to that the fact that all of the caravan's goods seemed to still be present. I easily spotted a few rifles and shotguns that seemed to be mostly intact. An ammunition box that had cracked open, spilling rounds onto the road. Things that any bandit worth their salt would have grabbed up in a heartbeat.

Raiders then? Ponies who were little more than crazed psychopaths out for the thrill of the kill? Another answer that didn't completely satisfy. They might not be out to plunder wagons for things like scrap electronics and spark-batteries; but they'd still have gathered up the weapons and ammunition from their kills. Besides, they tended to like up close and personal killing. Explosive booby-traps didn't fit their usual style. Maybe they'd use those in their lairs, but out here in the middle of nowhere? Hoofington raiders were especially unlikely. They were cannibal ponies who ate anypony they came across; and none of these corpses looked to have been chewed on.

This was so many flavors of unsettling.

The hairs stuck up on the back of my neck, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. I couldn't see anypony though, no matter how carefully I scanned the surrounding peaks with my binoculars.

I decided that lingering was a bad idea.

The scene was still a bit of a blessing. As odd as the lack of plundering was, it meant that I was able to restock the supplies I was falling short on. Pistol rounds, a couple grenades, and enough food to see me all the way to Seaddle. The food caught my attention. It wasn't the usual fair of Cram, Sugar Apple Bombs, and Fancybuck Cakes that I'd grown so used to in the Manehattan and Hoofington areas.

Apple chips. Dried out and preserved slices of actual, real, apples. Back east, this load would have brought in enough caps to let me practically move in to Stable 69. Food like this was a true luxury back there. I could see now what these traders had been trying to accomplish. Buy up food for cheap in Seaddle, and sell it for massive profits in someplace like Tenpony Tower.

I popped a few of the chips into my mouth and sighed deeply. It had been far too long...

My saddlebags were practically stuffed with the things by the time I was ready to move on. I'd still not come up with an explanation for the caravan's destruction that satisfied me. Fluke, I guess. Random mine out on the road; maybe even a complete accident. One of the traders' own explosives that had detonated unexpectedly.

That theory was the best I had that didn't leave a bad taste in my mouth.

As I trotted past one of the dead merchants, that idea died a quiet little death in my mind. The rotting corpse of the mare I now stood over hadn't died in an explosion like her two companions. She'd been shot. A lot. Dozens of holes perforated her side. I could see gouges in the road where those rounds had chewed away at the asphalt after passing through her body. It had been a weapon that dealt out bullets en mass. I used the chipped pavement and the position of the body to approximate the direction that the fire had come from and looked out across the valley.

A peak on the other side of a small gully. I narrowed my eyes as they caught a glimmer of movement. At least, I thought I'd caught a glimmer. A little flash of light. I spent a few more seconds staring, but nothing else stirred. Had I just been seeing things?

My pace was now a lot more brisk as I cantered along the road.

Senseless death and destruction and confounding mysteries. Nice to know that the Wasteland was consistent, no matter where you were in it.

“Well, that's absolutely beautiful,” I mumbled, peering through the binoculars.

I'd been a little surprised to spot the ranch out here in what had likely been a wasteland unto itself long before the Great War. I'd even spied shapes that could only be brahmin out in the 'pastures'. There were no fields of green grasses; nothing like that would grow in such vast open spaces under a perpetually overcast sky. Scrub and brush managed to eek out some sort of existence though. Brahmin, having survived in the Wasteland longer than most ponies, had long ago learned to live off of what little managed to grow in the wild.

My hope, upon first seeing the ranch, had been to find ponies I could trade with. Actually trade with if it came to it. Depending on how many there were. Then I had gotten close enough to get a good look with my binoculars, and my expectations fell considerably.

The brahmin were all dead. Butchered, and not in the, 'need the meat' sort of way. They'd clearly been slaughtered out of either malice, or for the thrill of it; their carcasses left to rot in the heat. The house was visibly ransacked, and belongings were strewn all around the outside. As remote as this place was, which the residents had probably counted on as a measure of safety; they'd been hit. Hard. Either by raiders or bandits, I couldn't tell. Whichever it had been, anything of value was probably gone. Looted by whomever had done this, or destroyed out of spite.

Bah, maybe the former occupants had had a well at least.

I made my way towards the homestead at a brisk pace. This sort of terrain provided any onlooker, whether myself or a lucky bounty hunter, with a long field of view. The sooner I was at the house, and out of sight, the better. Not that I was intent on being careless. My pistol was out and at the ready in case somepony, or something, had already decided to capitalize on the vacancy.

When I reached the front door, I came to a halt. The doorway had been barricaded from the inside; and it obviously had not done much to dissuade the attackers. The door itself was a splintered wreck. The walls to either side had been viciously chewed at by gunfire; a smattering of various calibers, judging by the variations in the sizes of the holes. The fighting here had been intense; though I doubted that it had lasted very long. The tracks outside suggested that the attackers had been numerous; and I doubted a place like this had been home to more than six ponies.

I climbed over the shredded couch that had been used to try and brace the door, and clambered inside. My blood instantly ran cold, and I felt a sudden desire to bolt from the house and leave it far, far, behind me. I could now identify who'd done this with chilling certainty. It shouldn't have surprised me, in retrospect. I knew they'd be in this area. I just hadn't remembered them coming this far east before.

Whiplash had been busy while I'd been away.

After a few seconds of staring, memories flashing through the back of my mind; I averted my eyes from the large glaring white mark that had been slathered onto one of the house's interior walls. Four horseshoes framing the screaming skull of a pony.

The White Hooves.

Symbols like this were left at any settlements that the tribe hit; informing any who passed by there at a later time that this area had been usurped by the White Hooves; and any who trespassed in their territory were fair game for enslavement. Not that even the White Hooves had the numbers to effectively patrol all of the regions that they had 'claimed' with such marks. It was more for the fear and intimidation aspect. It was effective too. There had been times when we'd hit one town, and left such a mark; and the neighboring towns would evacuate within the month.

I holstered the pistol and began to comb through the wreckage. They'd have taken any weapons, ammunition, and food; I knew that much. So I wasn't counting on finding much of value. Still, ponies living this far out in the Wastes would have known that bandits were a hazard that they'd have to contend with. This far away from Seaddle proper, they couldn't count on the Commonwealth for protection. They were worse at policing their territory than the White Hooves. However, the White Hooves aside, the more intelligent bandit outfits in this region, and even back east, knew that there was wisdom in not slaughtering farmers once, when you could instead rob them again and again. In a place like this, a reliable source of free food was quite desirable.

So, there was a chance that the ponies who'd used to live here had set up a hidy-hole of some sort to keep their most valuable possessions safe while they were being extorted. It's what I'd have done anyway. The White Hooves wouldn't have even bothered looking. They'd have been after the ponies themselves. Slaughtering the brahmin...that had been for sport. Judging from the torn and tattered remnants of a sundress on the floor in the den, they'd partaken in some other 'fun' too.

I poked my head into the kitchen and looked around. I shut my eyes and slipped back out. The husband, or older brother, or whomever, must have pissed them off before they breached. What they had done to that stallion hadn't been quick, and it hadn't been painless.

Whiplash was definitely her father's daughter. She hadn't altered a single one of his traditions.

Part of me didn't want to go upstairs. The family that had lived here would have fled up when the door was broken down. Some bullet holes in the railings confirmed my theory. It had ultimately proved futile, obviously. All going up had done was leave them with nowhere to run once the White Hoof warriors were inside. Not that they could have outrun their attackers anyway. Not for very long.

I set my hoof on the first step and paused. What the hell was I doing? I knew what I'd find up there; worst case and best case scenarios. Neither was anything I needed to see again. These herders certainly wouldn't have put their wellhead upstairs; and that was the only thing I was supposed to be interested in. The ponies here were all dead; and anything that would prove useful to me had been looted. All I needed to concern myself with was finding enough water to see me to Seaddle.

Turning away from the stairs, and the horrors that they would have lead to, I went back into the kitchen. Keeping my eyes focused on everything else but the table containing the remains of the brutally dismembered buck, I searched for any sign of where the residents had gotten their water from. Five minutes and a couple of averted gags later, I had concluded that the well wasn't anywhere inside the house.

Which meant it was probably outside somewhere.

This hadn't been a large ranch. I saw only a dozen brahmin corpses. So, the ponies hadn't been raising them for slaughter. Bet the brahmin were happy about that. Milk then. Making cheese and butter for trade with passing caravans; or perhaps trips into Seaddle. I could only imagine the quality of milk these animals had been producing with only the dry thistle that barely grew out of the hardscrabble soil. Not that quality food was something much of the Wasteland had access to outside of Tenpony Tower or the Society. The Enclave was rumored to have fresh food. I could believe that, never having seen any power-armored pegasi scrounging the ruins looking for Fancybuck Cakes.

The Commonwealth was rumored to have farms though. I'd never seen them for myself. Places like that were close enough to Seaddle that running into soldiers was too likely to risk for a slave raid. The caravans that we hit always had some choice pickings in the vittles department though; so I'd supposed the rumors had at least some credibility to them. Certainly explained where that caravan had gotten the apple chips from.

My eyes fell on the nearby barn that had once sheltered the ranch's brahmin. I sure couldn't see a well head outside anywhere; so the barn was the last possibility. These ponies and brahmin had been drinking something damn it! I walked cautiously through the open barn door, wincing at the sight of the rest of the ranch's slain cattle.

Whiplash hadn't grown into the 'wine and cheese' type, I guess. More of the 'whiskey and more whiskey' type, likely. Dad had been that way.

What a waste.

A smile touched my lips for what was probably the first time that day...or week. It's always in the last place you look.

I stepped towards the old rust-coated hoofpumped water spout, reaching back into my saddlebags to take out the empty water bottles that I'd been saving. I went right up to the well, stepping through the soggy straw on the barn's floor and began to fill the bottles.

Then I stopped.

Soggy straw?

I glanced down. Sure enough, I was standing in a puddle of cool water, which had not been created by my own filling of the bottles. It had been here when I arrived. But, the state of rot that the brahmin were in suggested that this place had been hit days ago. Equestria might not get any sun, but the air in this part of the Wasteland was dry enough on its own that any puddle should have evaporated within hours.

Somepony else had been using this well; and recently. I hadn't seen anypony while surveying the ranch from the hilltop, or during my search of the house. I may not have ventured upstairs, but...

My ear twitched.

The barn was open, but there wasn't any breeze. Which meant that it hadn't been the wind that had rustled the hay—er, thistlebale behind me. I was slightly less alone in here than I had first assumed. Survivor? Radscorpion? Ghoul? I wasn't thrilled with the possibilities, so I carefully drew my pistol again and pointed it where I'd heard the sound coming from.

“Alright,” I said awkwardly around the grip in my mouth, “here's what's going to happen: I don't know who or what you are, so if you can understand me, step out where I can see you. Otherwise, I'm going to start shooting. You have to the count of three.”

My eyes scanned the far side of the barn, trying to pin down the location of the barn's other occupant so that I'd have a better idea of where to start shooting. Meanwhile, I began slowly backing towards the doorway, in case whatever it was considered 9mm bullets more of a nuisance than an actual threat, “One...”

No movement. I took another step backwards, my heart starting to pound more rapidly. Please don't be a radscorpion. The larger varieties were definitely one of those critters that were more annoyed than hurt by pistol rounds. I really needed to consider packing larger ordinance, “Two...” Maybe the grenades I still had would be effective?

The bale rustled now, and I aimed the barrel of my pistol directly at the motion. Well, it probably wasn't one of those giant radscorpions, given how small the movement had been. Didn't mean that it wasn't something obscenely dangerous though. Another step back. I swallowed, “Thre—“

“Don't shoot!”

Never had a more ironic outburst been uttered, I was certain. The vehement plea, coupled with the white and aqua blur suddenly bursting out of the dry mound of brush had at least been enough to startle me into missing...if only narrowly. The crack of the pistol was followed by a terrified—or was it pained?—scream from the new shape, and a embarrassingly surprised outburst from myself. A puff of dirt erupted into the air.

Then there was silence.

Everything was motionless. I didn't move. It didn't move. Only the wispy tendril of bluish gray smoke rising from the pistol's barrel suggested that time was in fact still progressing at its normal pace. My heartbeat downshifted from 'hummingbird' to a rate more akin to 'field mouse', and I felt my senses slowly begin to start processing my surroundings again.

Definitely not a radscorpion, I thought as my eyes scanned the cowering ball of white feathers and aqua hair. Well, not entirely aqua. I spied thin streaks of a deeper veridian woven in. A pair a tiny wings were swept up towards its head, protectively. Its face was buried beneath its fore-hooves.

A filly. Pegasus no less. Young. My eyes confirmed that her flanks were devoid of any markings. Scrawny little thing; probably hadn't eaten in a good while. Not since the attack, I'd wager. The water from the well was probably the only reason that she was even still alive.

Rare sight, a pegasus in the Wasteland. The Enclave kept to their clouds; sending out the occasional sortie when they detected something they wanted. They never stayed beyond the duration of their mission. Sure, you'd get the odd Dashite every now and then, but those sorts of ponies rarely lasted long on the surface before either starving to death or stumbling into raiders. Cloud life left most pegasi soft and ignorant about how brutal life could be on the surface.

Then you had cases like the filly huddled in front of me. Those one-in-a-thousand foals born with wings, to parents who had none. “Genetic throwbacks” I'd once heard a doctor—he called himself a doctor anyway—say. If you had any pegasus blood in your ancestry, even as far back as four generations, there was a chance of siring one yourself. After two hundred years though, that left few bloodlines capable of such a thing; unless their grandmare had had an encounter with a Dashite or less-then-honorable Enclave soldier who'd detoured during a mission.

I holstered my pistol. How she'd come to be here hardly mattered. Even that she was here wasn't much of a concern. The little filly obviously wasn't a threat; and that she was even still alive suggested that there were no other significant threats nearby either.

“Scare the shit out of me, why don't'cha?” I sighed and returned to the well to finish filling up my water bottles, “ought to charge you for the bullet...”

I heard a deep sniffling sound, followed by a whimper, “please...please don't hurt me...”

I cringed, “I ain't gonna hurt'cha,” and I wasn't. She was right to be worried though; especially after what I was sure she'd seen recently. Most lone bucks wandering the Wasteland that happened upon a lone filly probably would have inflicted all sorts of unkind actions upon her. Fortunately for the little foal; this buck preferred full-bodied, well-practiced, and very eager-to-please mares. If I wanted something that was just going to lie there without contributing, I'd sooner rut the rotting brahmin carcasses outside. At least they wouldn't cry the whole time...

I ignored the filly and finished filling the bottles. Once they were packed away in my bags, I stood up and walked toward the door to leave.

The filly sniffled again, “you're...leaving?”

I paused and glanced back over my shoulder at the tiny pegasus, cocking my brow, “I'm sure not going to move in. I'm not much of a rancher,” my gaze wandered over the destruction, “not much of a ranch anymore, either...” again I looked back at the filly, “good luck,” I tilted my head in a slight nod and resumed my previously interrupted departure.

“Take me with you!” the filly exclaimed suddenly, and then slammed her hooves over her mouth.

My legs froze in their tracks and I turned once again to regard the little winged pony, “what?”

“I mean,” the filly began again, “it's just...you didn't try to...” she stuttered and then fell silent. Her fetlock brushed a tear from her eye as she cast her gaze at the ground, “my parents are...and I know I can't stay here. I just...I don't know where to go from here,” she admitted sullenly. Her eyes lifted to meet mine again, “you know where you're going, right?” she waited for an acknowledgment. Did she really even care if I had a specific destination in mind?

Little filly, all alone, hungry, recently orphaned. Probably desperate to go anywhere with anypony. Even one who would take...advantage of her.

She was quiet, her large blue eyes looking up at me expectantly. I opened my mouth, ready to list, in no particular order, the dozen or so reasons why I was not about to go traipsing about the Wasteland with a little filly in tow. But just before the first word was out of my mouth, I hesitated. My eyes took another look at the foal, her wings specifically.

Pegasi were rare. Pegasi fillies even more so. She was flightless, or she would have already left this place in search of food or other ponies.

In Flank, there had been a pegasus mare working in Stable 69. Her rates had been three times what Saffron's were; and Saffron hadn't exactly been cheap. The fact was that both bucks and mares alike often had certain kinks when it came to partners. Mine was unicorns; and all the wonderful intimate options their telekinesis opened up. But for some, it was delicate downy chests and soft pinions that would caress them.

Unicorns were a dime a dozen on the surface; so it was hard for them to justify charging a lot of caps unless they had the experience and skills to back it up. Pegasi could hike up their prices by virtue of being pegasi. Supply versus demand, and all that.

Not every pony in every brothel was there willingly though. And not every earth-bound buck with a penchant for feathers was interested in merely 'renting'.

Had she been an earth pony or unicorn; I would have flat out refused to bring her along and told her exactly why. The price I'd get for a blank-flanked filly of either of those two types at a slave market wouldn't have been worth the trouble. But a pegaus foal...one who would be easy to contain, and young enough to train right...I bet I could find a buyer willing to pay a heavy bag of caps; and I'd need some seed money once I got to Seaddle...

The filly squirmed uneasily under my appraising gaze. Before she started to suspect my less-than-altruistic intent, I changed my intended denial to an acceptance, “alright,” I left it at that. Can't appear too eager. It would put her off. Apathy was the best approach for now. I didn't need to sell her on coming along, since she'd been the one to make the initial proposal. All I had to do was keep her feeling at ease...until I'd managed to get a buyer's bomb-collar around her neck, at any rate.

The filly blinked at me in clear surprise, “R...really?”

I shrugged and offered a slight smirk, “sure. S'long as you bring your own water,” I nodded at the wellhead, “be nice to have somepony to talk to anyway.”

The ivory-coated pegasus filly nodded vigorously and dove back into the thistle bale she'd been hiding in before, emerging soon afterward with a set of tiny brahmin-skin saddlebags. She emptied out a few Fancybuck wrappers that looked to have been licked clean, and replaced them with filled water bottles. In less than two minutes, she was packed up and ready to leave.

Our departure was silent. The foal's elation at finding somepony to help lead her to safety was short-lived, as the sight of her ravaged home greeted her. I guided us around the house, rather then through it. If she hadn't already seen first-hoof what the White Hooves had done to her home and family, then she certainly didn't need to witness the aftermath. She'd seen enough horrors already; and would surely be subjected to more later. No reason to add to them needlessly.

“You got a name?” I asked conversationally, in order to distract her. Besides, if we were going to be traveling together, I'd need something to call her other than, 'pegasus' or, 'filly' or, 'hey, you.'

“...Windfall.”

“Well, Windfall; I'm Jackboot. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” she sniffed again, wiping at her eyes. They were drying up, I noticed. Tough little filly. For now, anyway. I'd known foals who'd lost their families before. They'd held up for a while, putting on a brave face. Most eventually broke down after a couple weeks. Granted, I wasn't sure if the breaking was because the loss had finally gotten to them, or if it had been because of the enslavement...

“Sorry about your folks,” I meant that. The White Hooves weren't something I'd have wished on anypony; least of all a family of ranchers. Well...I'd probably wish them on the bounty hunters fool enough to track me to Seaddle if they ever popped up.

The filly sniffed once more, but her eyes remained dry, “yeah.”

Silence again.

“Thank you,” the filly surprised me by saying, “for helping me, I mean. I'll...find a way to pay you or something.”

I suppressed a wince, “don't worry about it,” I'd be getting my caps worth out of her when we reached Seaddle anyway.

“No, I mean it,” the filly insisted, her eyes hardening, though they remained directed ahead of her, “Pa always said, 'pay yer debts' and I will. I don't know how, yet, but I will!” Another sniff.

I decided that it was time to turn the subject off of caps, “so you've never left the ranch before, I take it?”

The filly nodded, “Pa always took my brother, Holstein into town with him. Pa had a bad knee, and Holstein was the only one strong enough to pull the cart. I wanted to go last time. Ma said I had to stay...”

There was another bout of quiet, then a whispered question, “will I ever see them again?”

To lie, or not to lie; that was the question. She deserved to know the truth, I figured. It had been her family, after all, “the White Hooves are big on slaves,” I told her, matter-of-factually, “but they're not big on selling them. They get you, you'll die in their camp. Worked to death, or whipped to death.

“Only way you'll ever see any of them again is if they get you too,” minus whomever it was they'd butchered in the house's kitchen, I didn't add.

“Oh...” the filly didn't sound too surprised by my answer. I'm sure she knew pretty well how unlikely it was that she'd ever see them again. Then she glanced up at me with slightly narrowed eyes, “how...how do you know so much about the...White Hooves?”

“Everypony in Seaddle knows about them,” I answered easily; which was a true enough statement. Granted, I probably knew more about that particular subject than was attributable to 'common knowledge'. Of course, a home-bound foal like Windfall was unlikely to know what was, and was not, 'common' to know about those brutal ponies.

“You're from Seaddle? What are you doing way out here?”

No need for lies...yet, “heading back. Did some business in Hoofington, and now I'm coming back home.”

“Alone?”

She wasn't a complete moron, I'd give her that, “yep. This is—or used to be,” I amended with a nod back in the direction of the ranch that was shrinking into the distance, “a pretty safe trip. Too few travelers for bandits to make scouring this territory worth their time. When I left, the White Hooves didn't operate this far east,” what was Whiplash's angle on that, anyway? Had she already poached out the canyons? Even so, the Commonwealth was usually better at keeping them in check...

What else had changed since I'd been away?

“The Commonwealth's still around, right?” I inquired curiously.

“The who?”

Well, that wasn't encouraging, “The Seaddle Commonwealth? They controlled most of the area south of the Rodeo Grand when I left,” I frowned, “in fact, your family should technically have been citizens of it...”

“Oh, you mean the NLR; yeah, they're still around.”

“NLR?”

“Yeah, they changed their name a few years back when the Princess returned.”

That got my attention. I came to an abrupt halt and whipped around to look at the little green-maned filly; which in turn startled her a fair bit, “the who returned?!” I gaped.

“Princess Luna,” the filly replied, quirking an eyebrow at me, looking a little amused, “you didn't hear? She came back a few years before I was born and took over. Now everypony's part of the New Lunar Republic; NLR for short.

“So, yeah, we're citizens,” the foal winced, “were citizens...”

I managed to regain enough of my sensibilities to resume walking, though my mind was still racing. Princess Luna had returned?! How could I just be hearing about this now? How was something like that not news that had been broadcast across the entire Wasteland non-stop for weeks on end? Now, I'll admit that I didn't exactly tune into to every one of DJ PON3's news reports, but I still felt that something as world-changing as that would have been information that I would at least have picked up in passing!

My education about the Old World was perhaps not as comprehensive as what some more historically obsessed ponies might know about it. White Hoof foals were versed in Pre-Wasteland lore as our tribe's elders knew it. I was confident that there were some frightful gaps, seeing as how few genuine history texts existed in the camps. I did know about the Princesses though. They'd ruled over us during the war, and had died at its climax. Or, so I had been told, anyway.

I'll admit, I'd known the elders weren't completely right about everything they'd ever told us. I certainly hadn't seen any dragons living in the mountains when I'd crossed them, either time. Nor had I spied the ghost of Rainbow Dash, the former leader of the Shadowbolts, zipping around below the clouds. Still, I had figured that they might have been correct about something as significant as the death of the demi-goddess rulers of the Old World.

There was a deep part of me that felt giddy at the prospect of the return of one of the Princesses. Perhaps it implied that the other would not be far behind. Maybe Equestria would soon be restored to its former glory! No more perpetual cloud cover. No more roving bands of raiders.

Granted, it would mean that I'd have to find an alternative vocation. Banditry probably hadn't had much of a place in the Old World. Still, if it meant that I didn't have to worry about cannibal raiders, I could deal with finding a new job.

“I guess I've been away longer than I thought,” I murmured, “catch me up?”

Windfall didn't know everything about the last ten years since I'd left the Seaddle area of course. She was only six years old herself, and hadn't been beyond the ranch she'd been born on. All she knew was what she'd either overheard her parents talk about, heard on the radio, or been told by her older brother.

What it boiled down to was: two years after I left, Princess Luna had returned to Equestria, accepting control of the Commonwealth from then-President Ebony Song; who graciously demoted himself to Prime Sinister. That was the title that Windfall had used, anyway. Whether she'd misheard from her parents, or if they'd merely been that cynical, I couldn't tell. I presume that the actual title was “minister”; though the cynic in me approved of the alternate designation. Ebony had been a bit of a bastard back in the day; and I doubt he'd extracted any sticks from his ass since receiving a divine mandate to govern.

The Commonwealth had promptly renamed itself to honor their returned goddess and the nation was christened the New Lunar Republic. So-called because, unlike the ancient feudal government of Equestria, the NLR retained many elected positions that the Commonwealth had possessed. I presumed that the position of 'Princess' was not one of those positions to whom somepony could be voted into though.

Things had gone well for a time after that. The Princess made regular broadcasts throughout the area, appraising her subjects of the great things that the NLR was doing to tame the Wasteland and restore things to the way they'd once been. And, it had started to look like they would. The local bandits and raiders were beaten back; those that hadn't flocked to the Princess' banner when she'd returned anyway. Critter populations had been brought to heel, and caravan trade had picked up in the area.

Then, four years ago, the Steel Rangers had shown up, out of the blue. The NLR's citizens had assumed they'd come to pledge their allegiance to the rightful ruler of Equestria. Instead, they had declared war.

That revelation threw me about as hard as learning the Princess had returned. The Rangers had launched an all-out war against Luna? Were they mad?! Windfall didn't know the state of their mental faculties, of course. She just spoke of them with an enmity that was born of being raised to know that somepony was the enemy. Granted, I hadn't met many ponies in my life who'd thought kindly of the power-armored xenophobic technophiles. Hard to earn a lot of good will from your neighbors when you were willing to kill them for their spark-batteries.

Still, of all the various factions in the Wasteland, I would have thought those old Ministry of Wartime Technology relics would have been the first to bend their neck to the Princess. Hadn't she been the very alicorn that their ministry had been created to serve?

There was a mystery there that needed solving...

...and I'd make it a point to someday ask the pony who solved it.

According to Windfall, the Steel Rangers had done a number on the NLR forces before things were eventually brought to a stand-still. Now the two sides just skirmished along the NLR's borders, neither making any bold advances against the other. The Steel Rangers were low on numbers, and the NLR had lost a lot of resources. Add to that the little renaissance that the White Hooves had entered into once the bulk of the Republic's attention was lifted off of them...

Whiplash was never been one to let an opportunity slip by, I grimaced. It explained how she was able to operate freely so deep inside Common—NLR territory. The Steel Rangers weren't pushovers, what with their horded technology from the war. As well equipped as the old Commonwealth had been, they'd be hard pressed to keep their power armored attackers at bay.

Which pretty much brought us to the current situation: The NLR and Steel Rangers were stuck in a stalemate, the White Hooves were growing again now that they were largely unopposed, and I was strolling right into the middle of it.

Well...horseapples.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Bonus Hoof-to-Hoof Damage -- +2 Damage with hoof-to-hoof and melee weapon attacks.
Speech skill at 25

CHAPTER 3:...I'D HAVE BAKED A CAKE

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“You don't look like much of a fighter.”

“Is that Seaddle?”

Windfall's question caught me off guard. It was the note of awe that had done it, more so than the words themselves. A glance confirmed the filly's widened eyes as she regarded the scene ahead of us with clear amazement. I looked back towards our destination and was unable to suppress my derisive snort, “hardly.”

I suppose that wasn't fair of me. If the young pegasus had truly never left the ranch of her birth, then I supposed that, by comparison, the little crossroads trading post probably did in fact look like some sort of sprawling metropolis. All three shanties of it.

One of those shanties sported a piece of plywood mounted on its roof, announcing itself as the place to get 'the best grub this side of the Rodeo Grand'. A dubious claim, but given that up to now it had been the only place I'd yet seen to offer food, I supposed there was a measure of subjective truth to the assertion. I was certainly willing to put it to the test. Dried apple chips that were probably a month old may have been on a whole other tier than Sugar Apple Bombs; but after nearly two weeks of them, I was in the mood for a change of pace.

The pegasus looked a little crestfallen, “oh. So what is that place then?”

I nodded in the direction of another sigh, this one painted on a panel of rusty corrugated metal, “Southbound Trade Post,” I informed her, “pit stop for travelers and caravans making the trip between Seaddle and New Reino,” I cast my eyes towards the distant northern mountain range, “I'd say we got another...three days before we hit Seaddle.”

Windfall groaned, “I feel like I've been walking forever...”

My eyes rolled on their own initiative. I'd never been this whiny at her age. My father had seen to that. Any hint of an impending complaint was preemptively cut off by a swift strike to the side of the head. On occasion, he'd even taken measures to remind us of what would happen if we stepped out of line for real by issuing out the odd unprovoked beating every now and then. I learned early on not to speak in his presence unless I was specifically told to do so.

It'd taken a few months to get the message to really sink in though. I doubted I'd have enough time to teach that same lesson to the filly before we reached Seaddle. I'd leave that to her future owner.

“We're more than halfway there,” I assured her, my pace picking up slightly as I caught the whiff of the so-called 'grub' wafting in on the breeze. That was no bloat-sprite roast! In fact, it smelled like...

“Awe...not leek soup,” the filly grumbled, having caught the same scent, “I hate leek soup,” her voice trailed off on a petulant note.

Well, more accurately, it faded into the distance as I cantered on ahead. I heard her faint exclamation of dismay as she realized that I was no longer walking beside her. I had picked up my pace considerably, my eyes locked on the cafe's tin-sided shanty. The olive unicorn mare behind the counter saw me coming and put down the plate that she had been wiping down with her pink telekinetic aura. Either correctly anticipating my request, or simply only having the single dish available, the cafe's owner doled out a serving of the hot soup into a bowl and set it on the counter in front of an empty seat.

I plopped down and reached for the bowl, my mouth watering. However, before my hooves touched the bowl, the ladle still hovering nearby lashed out and struck my fetlocks. I recoiled with a hiss and glared at the mare accusingly.

“Five bits,” the unicorn said dryly, nodding towards a nearby chalkboard that displayed the day's menu. Sure enough, the only thing on it was “leek soup”, and the listed price was five bits. Below that was a notation that provided a price in caps: seven.

That was right, the Commonwealth had been big on trying to restore everything they could to how they were before the war; to include reintroducing the old currency. In fact, caps had been all but phased out when I'd left. It was actually rather fortunate that they seemed to be making a resurgence. I didn't even argue the inflated price as I fished out the little aluminum disks. Compared to what prices were in Hoofington, seven caps for freshly made soup—made with actual food—was a bargain anyway. The mare's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the caps, but the cook swept them into her dirty apron all the same, once she'd verified the amount.

The bowl was magically nudged closer to me and I gratefully gathered it into my hooves and plunged my muzzle into the warm fluid, drinking deeply. Oh, sweet, merciful goddesses; why did I ever leave?! Food! Fresh, honest-to-Celestia food that hadn't been produced before my great grandmare was born! I swallowed that first massive mouthful and sighed with near-orgasmic relief, drawing a odd stare from the old brown buck sitting next to me and an amused smirk from the server.

“Hey! Wait up!”

Oh, right. I hadn't been alone...

Knowing what was coming, and knowing that I'd do well to show up to the slave markets with a healthy, well fed, filly rather than the half-starved one that was currently scampering towards the stall, I produced another seven caps. The unicorn smiled at the filly and served her a bowl as well; one that was more full than mine had been, I noticed.

The filly looked at the bowl's contents and wrinkled her nose. She looked like she was about to turn it away, until I reached for it, muttering, “well, if you're not hungry...”

Windfall hunched protectively over the bowl and growled. Well, to be fair, only her stomach had actually growled. The rest of her simply looked embarrassed. Putting aside her distaste for the proffered meal in favor of sating her hunger, the little filly proceeded to follow my example.

“You must be from out east,” the unicorn commented conversationally as she returned to the dishes that she'd been wiping down before we'd arrived.

I wiped my mouth and swallowed, “that obvious, huh? Was it the caps or the appetite?”

“Little of both,” she nodded with an amused smile. She eyed me, her eyes seeming to notice something about my stiff leather barding, “going to do some trading?” her tone suggested that she was doubtful.

My first impulse was the lie. Feed the mare a story that sounded plausible, without leaving any lasting impression. However, my eyes darted to the filly drinking her soup next to me, and I quickly fought the impulse. Windfall couldn't be counted on to go along with anything I said to the unicorn that the little filly already knew to be untrue from our conversations over the last few days. The pegasus was a little naïve, and had shown little in the way of a dishonest streak during our travels thus far. Not that I knew an overwhelming amount about the filly's personality. Which was sort of the problem. She was simply too much of an unknown quantity at the moment to rely heavily on when it came to trying to sell a tale to somepony. Being caught in a lie would only cause trouble for me right now.

So I opted for the truth. Or, at least, as much of the truth as I had already revealed to Windfall, “nope. Moving back home. Thought I'd be able to find my fortune out east, but I struck out. Now I'm back.”

The unicorn nodded, “So, you're a Seadle native?”

I nodded, “from way back. Born just outside of Riverton; back when this was Commonwealth territory,” I took another small sip, eying the mare, “I hear that a lot's changed. New name, and a new ruler?”

The unicorn's eyes seemed to brighten at the reference to the returned princess, “it's true,” she gushed, “Princess Luna has come back! Once those treacherous Steel Rangers are dealt with, she's going to rebuild Equestria. You and your daughter couldn't have picked a better time to return.”

Windfall sat up straight. My eyes widened and I mentally winced. I hadn't thought to talk to her about a cover story, and now I was really regretting that. Granted, it would have been difficult to convince her of why it was a good idea to tell others that we were related. I knew that a father-daughter pair traveling would raise fewer eyebrows than a strange buck/young filly duo. However, the pegasus foal wouldn't have understood that. From her point of view, I was being a decent pony; escorting a young foal to safety.

More cynical ponies would see something very different going on. Which meant that in three seconds, when she told them about how her home had been destroyed, her family enslaved, and how I, an armed and armored lone older buck was escorting her to a place of safety in Seaddle; things were going to get...awkward. Especially since it had only just now occurred to me that, with Luna's return, more might have changed in the NLR than just its name.

The Commonwealth had not exactly 'endorsed' slavery; but nothing had been actively done to stomp in out within their borders either. Even the government had adopted indentured servitude as a means to punish more tepid crimes. But, if Luna was truly restoring things to the way they had been before the war...

Factor in the White Hooves and their boldness on top of all that. They were certainly still using slaves. I bet bucks and mares like me—armed freelancers—were a common enough sight: ponies poaching for the White Hooves. I knew that back in the day, we had been amenable to outsiders bringing us slaves. In those times, the Commonwealth had kept us out of their inner territories; but smaller groups of slavers managed to slip through the patrols. Often using the guise of being a 'legitimate' bounty hunting party, looking for Commonwealth fugitives.

If the conclusion that these ponies came to was that I was taking this little filly to the White Hooves, and I had no way to convince them otherwise to their satisfaction...

If they insisted on seeing what lay between my shoulder-blades...

But, it was too late to do anything about it now. Time to get ready for a run.

Windfall's mouth opened...

...she hesitated for a brief moment. Then she asked me, “can I have seconds...Pa?”

I nearly spit my bit.

Before anypony noticed my wide-eyed gape, I quickly turned my surprised gag into a small coughing fit, “wrong pipe,” I wheezed, then cleared my throat and dug out another hooful of caps, “sure, sweetie,” I held the filly's gaze for a brief moment, wanting to ask her a whole slew of questions. They'd have to wait though.

The unicorn waved away the caps, ladling an additional portion in the filly's bowl with a warm smile on her face. The little pegasus thanked her and resumed her dining.

“That's a healthy appetite you got there, darlin',” the olive mare remarked in a kindly tone.

Windfall's eyes looked to me. When she didn't answer right away, I took the hint and spoke up “long trip,” I supplied, “didn't pack as much to eat as I should have. We had to leave on pretty short notice,” wasn't that the truth...

“Ran into some trouble, hm?” the cook concluded. I responded with a wan shrug. It seemed a satisfactory enough answer, “well, like I said: no better time than now to come back. The Princess has big plans in the works. In fact...” her voice trailed off and she turned her head towards a radio softly crackling in the back. Her horn glowed briefly, answered by a sibling glow around the volume nob on the small brown box.

The music that had been playing—an old Octavia piece, heavy on the cello—was cut off mid-note, and the speakers crackled for a bit. Then a prim older buck's voice spoke up through the static, “Greetings Republic citizens,” he began, “I am Prime Minister Ebony Song, and I am privileged to announce your regularly scheduled State-of-the-Republic address from our noble ruler, Princess Luna,” all nearby ears, including my own, were now intently focused on the little box. I felt my heart catch in my chest. Was I really about to hear...her?

There was a brief pause, and then a mare's voice came over the speaker. This one was far richer, and louder than even the buck's had been. It dripped with an authoritative air that left no doubt in the listener that the pony that was speaking knew exactly what courtesies she was due, “Greetings, Subjects. Your Princess desires your attention. It is with glee that we inform you that this morning, valiant Republic forces repelled an attack by the heretical Steel Rangers, slaying many of the aggressors. Though a number of Our brave defenders lost their lives in the fight, their sacrifice shall never be forgotten by Us.

“As long as you, our noble subjects, stand strong, and remember your duties to Us and the Republic, and the new Equestria that We are building here, we cannot fail. Your Princess will not allow us to fail. However, victory cannot be achieved without noble ponies like yourselves. If you feel moved to help your Princess build this shining future for all of ponykind, then seek out you local Republican Guard recruitment office, and join the fight against heresy! For your Princess. For Equestria!

“That is all.”

There was another burst of static, and the sound of a cello's somber notes could be heard once more.

“I can't believe it,” I murmured, my meal forgotten. My eyes didn't leave the radio, “she's really back, isn't she?”

The mare behind the counter nodded, “they say that she appeared during a White Hoof raid. She swooped down from the clouds and blasted the tribals with her magic, driving them away,” the awe in her voice was clear. Honestly, I couldn't fault her. I very much wished that I could have been there to see it; for a few reasons, “President Ebony Song called the Senate together and they unanimously agreed to turn over control of the Commonwealth to the Princess that day. Luna appointed Ebony Song as her Prime Minister, and proclaimed us to now be the New Lunar Republic.

The unicorn's demeanor grew suddenly dark, “then those Celestia-damned Steel Ranger heretics showed up and demanded that we turn the Princess over to them. As if!”

“Yeah, what's up with that?” I asked, not bothering to hide my confusion, “I'd think they'd be the first ones to bend knee...”

“Steel Rangers have always had a stick up their ass,” the mare pointed out derisively, and I couldn't disagree with that assessment, “they think they have a claim on everything from the Old World. They probably hate that Luna chose us to usher in the new Equestria; entitled assholes.”

“What about—” my next question was interrupted by a sudden outburst from the nearby radio, which had ceased playing the Octavian symphony.

“Hello, children! DJ PON3 here with the news. Our top story of the day: the Manehattan Mare-do-Well is still at it, and she's out to set a new personal best for good deeds done in a single day.

“Our heroine started her morning yesterday just before sunrise with a surprise attack on a band of slavers heading to Fillydelphia, keen on selling Red-Eye a dozen innocent ponies. Ten minutes and five dead slavers later, she'd freed every one of them. Next, she cleared out a nest of manticores that had moved into an old supermarket, making it safe for scavenging once again. Then, to cap off the day, Miss Mare-do-Well ended the Talon siege of New Appaloosa. Our regular listeners will recall that the griffons had decided to begin interdicting all trade to and from the town in an effort to strong-hoof a new defense contract from the locals. Looks like there's at least one mare out there who thinks that extortion is a 'no-no', and is willing to voice her objections...with bullets.

“If anypony out there meets Mare-do-Well, feel free to give her a helping hoof. After all, she's giving one to you. That's all I have for now, children. This is DJ PON3, bringing you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts. And now, Sapphire Shores...”

My eyes were on the radio, my previous question completely forgotten. The volume was turned down as a sultry mare began singing about the joys of a long trot on a summer's day. Beside me, a little white pegasus was practically bouncing in her seat with poorly contained excitement.

“Oh, wow! She is sooo awesome!”

It was then I recalled the brief radio broadcast I'd caught back in Stable 69. Could this have been the same mare that the Manehattan broadcaster was talking about? “The Mare-do-Well? What the hell is that?”

Windfall's eyes locked onto me with a look of incredulity, “you've never heard of the Manehattan Mare-do-Well?!” I frowned and shook my head, looking to the cafe owner for details. However, it was the filly who seemed insistent on giving them to me, “she's only the coolest mare who's ever lived! She was the daughter of this wealthy caravan family, only they got hit by bandits and her parents were killed. So she buys all these guns and finds the bandits and she totally annihilates them!” the pegasus pantomimed unloading an assault-rifle fitted battle saddle, her forward folded wings playing the part of the barrels. She added some rather unrealistic onomatopoeia to her display, “da-da-da-da-da! Blam!”

I blinked and looked to the olive unicorn mare for confirmation; but it seemed that Windfall had not finished regaling me with the Manehattan resident's accomplishments, “then, she found out that the bandits had been hired by this other caravan company, and so she tracked down the owner and blew her away—pow-pow! After that, she decided that she was sick and tired of ponies abusing other ponies to make a few caps and she vowed to stop it.

“She's my hero!”

“Stop it? How?” exploiting ponies to make a quick cap was just...the way things were. This 'Mare-do-Well', whoever she was, would have better chance of clearing the skies than ending slavery and banditry.

“By killing all the bad ponies until the bad ponies decide it's safer to be good ponies,” Windfall nodded defiantly, sounding very much like she wholeheartedly approved of the mare's chosen methods. Given what she'd recently been put through, I found it hard to fault her for that. Not that I thought for a moment this mare back in Manehattan had even the slightest chance of succeeding in her goal without resorting to outright genocide. Good ponies in the Wasteland were like a sunrise: they'd died with the war.

Even if this mare did opt for the wholesale slaughter of bandits and slavers, she'd be hard pressed to put a dent in their numbers. Killing all the “bad ponies” in Hoofington alone would have taken a lifetime. So, unless she was a ghoul, it just wasn't going to happen. One pony couldn't change the Wasteland.

All she was going to accomplish was to make a lot of enemies very quickly. Enemies with resources, and a vested interest in stopping her. All I did was knock over a single caravan and piss off the Finders and I had to contend with a veritable army of bounty hunters. I could only imagine what that mare would face after antagonizing the Talons, Red-Eye, and whoever elses' hooves she trod on.

“PON3 has a story about her every other day or so,” the cafe owner confirmed, “she'd been causing quite a stir out east. Wouldn't mind her coming out this way. Sounds like she could thump those Steel Rangers pretty good.”

“...and the White Hooves,” Windfall added quietly.

The unicorn nodded in agreement; not seeming to notice that there shouldn't have been any way a filly who was supposed to be recently arrived in the Seaddle area should feel such personal animosity towards the tribe. She seemed to just take it for granted that everypony knew about how bad the White Hooves were. A fact for which I was grateful, as I had no reasonable way to explain how Windfall could feel so passionately about them, and still be my daughter who'd only been here a week.

At about this time, I heard a commotion coming from the north and we all cast our gaze in that direction. The three of us were greeted to the sight of a caravan of three massive wagons being pulled by pony teams rolling into the trading post. Another half dozen ponies armed with battle saddles formed a protective perimeter around the wagons. A reasonable precaution when you were transporting that much stock.

One pony, who appeared to have forgone armored barding and heavy weapons in favor of a business suit and pearl-handled revolver that was more fashionable than functional, strode out in front of the train of loaded wagons and began barking out orders for the harnesses to be detached. The ponies pulling the wagons were uncoupled from their burdens and all given some caps to purchase food and drink. None of them were wearing slave-collars, I noticed. They were paid laborers.

...paid in caps!

The caravan owner—I guessed that was why she wore a suit anyway—strode up to the cafe we were seated at and submitted her own order for “the best food you have!” Which was the leek soup, of course. Like me, she really didn't seem to notice that, relatively speaking, this was poor fair as far as cuisine went in the Seaddle area. Definitely a pony from out east; where only Society residents and Tenpony snobs could get their hooves on food this fresh.

I looked back at the carts to see what it was that these ponies were trading.

Deja vu: dried apple chips. Along with sacks of granola, and bales of fresh hay. Food. No weapons, scrap, or Old World electronics. Just...food. Fresh food, though. A load like this back in Hoofington would make these ponies very wealthy. Really, a no-brainer as far as trade routes were concerned: food from Seaddle, transported to Manhattan. It would be a month long trip; the the profits could set the team that made it for a year or more.

...so then why had I never heard of one coming through before?

Maybe the owner knew, “heading to Hoofington?” I inquired politely.

The suited mare sitting next to me, a maple earth pony with a golden mane, swallowed her current mouthful of soup and dabbed at her lips were a kerchief, “indeed,” her accent betrayed a well-to-do Manehattan upbringing. Made sense; she'd have needed some decent start-up capital to get this setup together before making the trip. A Tenpony resident would have had those resources. She continued, sounding proud of herself, “I'll make a killing in those markets with this haul. Then I can use some of the profits to buy up surplus weapons and sell them up here for a massive turnover. There's a war on, you know!”

I did...now. It made so much sense. Too much sense. Food here was cheap, and guns now at a premium. Meanwhile, back in Hoofington, you couldn't take two steps without tripping over an old rifle, and food was something ponies fought to the death over. A caravan route like this should have been obvious to any trader with enough sense to get out of the rain.

“And just wait until the ponies back east hear that Luna has returned!” the caravan owner continued, nearly crowing, “there'll be dancing in the streets!”

That was the other thing: according to the cafe owner, Luna had been back for years. Heck, she was making daily radio broadcasts! So how come nopony back out in Hoofington and Manehattan knew anything about it?!

I then recalled the destroyed caravan I'd encountered in the mountains on the way here.

There was the possibility of a really good reason why news hadn't made it that far. The question was: who stood to benefit from keeping this a secret?

Did Whiplash somehow catch wind of what the traders were planning to do, and decide that she didn't want the NLR to get their hooves on additional weapons to be used against her? Maybe, but...I shook my head a little, dismissing the notion privately. No. She'd have hit the caravans on their way back west, and taken the weapons for herself; give the White Hooves an edge...

The Steel Rangers maybe? But I could hardly see a reason why they'd do it. Those caravans weren't hauling advanced weapons or Old World tech. So what if word got out that Luna had returned; what did they care?

Nothing about that caravan's destruction made sense, even within the context of preventing word from reaching Hoofington.

“Good plan,” I commented, nodding, “good luck with it. Watch yourself in the mountains. They're pretty treacherous.”

The brown pony grinned, “thanks, friend; will do. Here, have a round on me,” she tossed a couple of caps onto the counter in front of me and then looked to the server, “there a place around her that has any mattresses?”

The green unicorn gestured in the direction of a nearby shanty, “Lofty has some beds she rents out,” her eyes wandered to the other dozen members of the caravan, “but we rarely get groups this big through here.”

She waved her hoof dismissively, “most of them will be watching the wagons anyway,” she cast a wary eye in Windfall's direction and cleared her throat, “I don't suppose there are any...'services' available?”

The olive green cafe owner offered a smirk, “'fraid not.”

Not to be swayed, she turned an appraising eye towards the mare, “are you doing anything tonight?” she offered a broad smile.

“Yup. Don't know what it is yet,” she admitted dismissively, “but I know it won't involve you.”

Ouch.

I stifled a snort, which drew a glare from the rejected caravan owner. I glanced up at her and chuckled, “don't look at me, honey,” I didn't have the time for a romp; even if I thought she was actually into bucks.

She looked like she was about about to offer up a rather unkind comment when the gray-coated older buck on the other side of her spoke up, “I ain't got any plans. How much ya' offrin'?”

I got a piece of leak lodged in my nose. Which set me into a coughing fit. The caravan owner apparently decided that she'd been put through enough and excused herself. Windfall, for her part, simply gaped in confusion. Ah, innocence...

We took our leave of the trading post not long after that, staying long enough only to buy a few pounds of granola to supplement our food rations for the remainder of our trip. With a dozen more hungry customers to tend to, the cafe owner had not been able to answer many more of my questions. So, we packed up and headed north.

Besides, most of the pertinent questions I had at the moment weren't for prying ears anyway.

I looked down at the little pegasus filly trotting at my side, “you want to explain what that was back there?”

Windfall glanced up at me in surprise, shifting her gaze back towards the vanishing shanties, “you said it was a trading post...”

“No,” I shook my head, fixing her with a stern gaze, “I mean the 'Pa' thing,” the filly winced and looked away, “I'm not saying you did wrong,” I added quickly, “but I am curious.”

“I didn't want you to get in trouble,” she admitted quietly, “if they knew you weren't my pa, they might think you were a bad pony; and I didn't want that, since I know you're a good pony. So when she thought I was your daughter...I just didn't correct her.

“I'm sorry.”

I was silent for a time. Had to have been the first time that anypony had ever known me for more than five minutes and still concluded that I was a 'good pony'. I suppose it helped that she was a filly, and I didn't really get going on that sort of thing. I wondered how good she'd think I was the moment an explosive collar clicked closed around her neck.

“You don't need to be sorry,” I told her, “you did the right thing. You're right: they'd have been suspicious if they knew what happened at the ranch,” and those suspicions would have been confirmed if they'd seen the brand that lay between my shoulders.

“So that'll be our story from now on,” I continued, “you're my daughter, and we're from Hoofington.”

“Hoofington?”

“It's a place back east,” I informed her, “you don't need to know anything about it; nopony here does. Just let me do the talking.”

“Okay.”

…

“Jackboot?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

“...Don't mention it, kid.”

“Why are we hiding?”

I flashed the source of the sound a sharp glare, and the little pegasus filly at my side cowered and bit her lip. Seeing that she was unlikely to issue a further outburst, I returned my gaze to the binoculars I was holding; and through them the little farm that lay a couple miles ahead of us. It was off of the main road, and would have been easily missed. I'd only noticed it because I'd caught sight of the faint haze of green out in the distance as we'd been walking.

The scrub-land had been getting thicker and greener as we neared the Rodeo Grand, but that sudden and drastic shift in plant coloration off in the distance had struck me as a little odd. I could see now that the source was a genuine farm. One that was using an impressive setup that incorporated both an irrigation system and an array of floodlights and heat lamps. I'd known already that the Common—NLR...capitalized heavily on the agrarian technology scavenged from local stables, and had heard of similar operations. But, I'd never personally seen one this extensive.

It took the Society an army of slaves to cultivate the kind of yield that I bet only a few ponies were tending to here. A small number of ponies who could not only afford to run this sort of high-end farm, but also the defenses that protected it. I'd already spied a couple of machine gun turrets and I was pretty sure that at least one of the outer fences was ringed with landmines. They weren't perfect defenses, but they were more than enough to convince groups like the White Hooves that this place wasn't worth the cost it would take to capture what few ponies lived here.

But, if somepony had a way to get past those defenses, I was pretty confident that the residents had a good stash of liquid wealth that an opportunistic buck like myself could really use. Since learning of Princess Luna's return, I'd become less certain that the slave trade was alive and well in Seaddle, and I had pretty much nothing left as far as money went. The few chems that I hadn't hocked in Flank, some food, ammunition, and my personal weapons. Nothing that I could afford to sell off and still be able to make a living. I certainly wasn't going to count that memory orb as anything worthwhile until I tracked down a reliable unicorn to tell me what was on it.

Windfall was supposed to have been my source of seed-caps for my new start.

With selling her off looking like a long shot, I needed to think about hedging my bets; and that meant filching the money from somepony else. And the turrets aside, I doubted that I was likely to find an easier target anytime soon. Certainly not one with the sorts of valuables that these ponies must be protecting. Besides, I was pretty sure that I had a way in with these ponies.

My eyes wandered back to Windfall.

“You hungry?”

“Now remember,” I whispered to the filly in hushed tones as we slowly approached the farm's front gate, “I'm your father. Your mom died giving birth to you. We're on our way to Seaddle, and want to know if they can spare a bed for the night. Understand?”

The little filly nodded, “uh-huh.”

“Other than that, try to say as little as possible. Let me do the talking.”

“Okay.”

We neared the gate and I stuck out my hoof to stop the foal beside me from going any further. She looked up at me in confusion, and I nodded towards the turret that had begun to track our progress. I felt her shrinking in closer to my side, hiding nearly completely under me.

Gamble number one: hoping that the ponies who lived here weren't as cynical as I was and hadn't set the turrets to shoot absolutely anypony who came anywhere near them. I figured that they wouldn't want to risk employing fully automated turrets, for their own safety if nothing else. I'd seen more than a few old defense systems in ruins that had gone completely whacked out over the centuries and just shot at anything that moved. Wasn't much of a security system if it killed the same ponies it was supposed to be protecting.

The question was: did they have some sort of identity talisman setup, or...

Cameras.

I spotted the little metal rectangular device mounted on one of the nearby light poles. It was pointed directly at the pair of us, and a little red light blinked in the corner, near the lens. I hoped that somepony was looking through those cameras now; and that they were wired for sound.

“Hello!” I waved at the device, “my daughter and I are on our way to Seaddle, and, well, we were kind of hoping you had a spare bed? We can pay you.”

The light continued to blink. The turret's barrel maintained its ominous stare in our direction. The gate remained closed.

I swallowed. Gamble number two: the ponies inside weren't the type to kill me, and sell Windfall off to the White Hooves as a means of appeasement to preemptively dissuade any attacks. It's what I would have done.

The thought that my own life depended on strangers being better ponies than I was made me inwardly grimace.

Then there was the sound of the turret's motors whirring to life and I saw the gun turn away from us and resume an orientation facing outward into the Wastes. Then the gate clicked and swung ajar. I let out the breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding and prodded the cowering filly forward as we passed through the gate. I looked to the camera and nodded, “thank you.”

The two of us walked in between two fields of tall barley stalks. They looked green and healthy; they'd brown in a month or so, and then be ready for harvesting. Unbelievable, when one considered what the plant life beyond the farm's fences looked like. I'd remembered what the brahmin on Windfall's family's ranch had been subsisting off of. Either the pegasus' parents had been uncharacteristically poor, or these farmers were particularly wealthy. I really hoped it was the latter for the sake of what I was intending.

A stern looking white unicorn was standing on the porch to meet us. A double-barreled shotgun wrapped in a cyan glow that matched the one emanating from his horn hovered at his side. A pair of crossed golden wheat stalks adorned his flanks. I noticed that the shotgun tracked our movements much like the turret had as we approached.

“That's far enough,” the buck announced in a firm baritone. We stopped in our tracks. His eyes locked onto the pistol holstered at my side, “drop your gun on the ground. The knife too,” he added after a moment's thought.

Oh, that was not good. I was pretty sure that he wasn't trying to take us hostage or anything, the unicorn just didn't want an armed stranger wandering his property. I could respect that. However, I wasn't about to turn over my weapons to somepony I planned on robbing. I also couldn't just tell him no deal and leave; he'd probably rightly assumed I'd had ill-intent and shoot me on principal. Didn't know what he'd do with Windfall after that. Didn't really care, since I'd be dead anyway.

My eyes darted to the trembling filly again and I realized that she might be my ticket to getting what I wanted once more.

I stepped forward, placing myself directly in between the shotgun toting buck and the little winged foal. Puffing out my chest and leveling a defiant look at the unicorn, I growled, “I'll thank you to point your gun away from my daughter. I don't know you from Celestia, mister; and I'll be damned if I'm going to give up the only means I got o'keeping her safe!”

The unicorn narrowed his own gaze at me and the shotgun rose in the air, hovering a little closer to us. The barrels were focused directly at my forehead. I felt my gut grow cold, “this is my property,” the older stallion hissed through gritted teeth, “you'll do as I say!”

Gamble number three: I could pull off the 'determined father' look.

“She's my daughter; like hell I will,” I glared at him. Beneath me, I could hear Windfall let out a terrified squeak as she withdrew into a trembling pinion-studded ball. In front of me, I saw the hammers behind both barrels click back.

Horseapples.

Dying while feigning protecting a filly I'd met just a week ago. Somewhere in the bowels of Tartarus, my father was laughing his ass off.

I glared at the buck behind the weapon. Fine, asshole; shoot. Do the filly a fucking favor. Any guilt you might feel at having put down a doting dad will vanish when you look under my barding...

Then I saw the shotgun dip and point at the ground. The unicorn's expression softened—barely—and he nodded his head, “I can respect that. Alright, you two can stay the night.”

Holy fuck. It worked!

Another breath I'd been unaware of holding escaped my lips in a relieved huff. I needed to work on that or I was going to wind up passing out during one of these stare-downs; and wouldn't that be embarrassing! I reached out and tapped Windfall gently on the shoulder. She tentatively glanced up at me, and then towards the unicorn. Seeing that we were no longer being held at the business end of a pellety death-dispenser, she managed to rise up onto trembling legs and walk shakily at my side.

Probably a good thing for the filly that I wouldn't be able to sell her in Seaddle. Poor thing wouldn't last an hour under the training whip.

We were ushered inside. I glanced around as we stepped slowly down the hallway. Something was...off. Nothing that represented a threat to either of us, I think. Just...little things. The house was big. Too big for just one pony. But, at the same time, it didn't feel like anypony else lived here. The air inside was thick with the unicorn buck's musky scent, and only his scent. If there had been other ponies living here, it'd be a mingling of different odors.

At the same time, I saw clear signs that others had lived here at some point. Three chairs at the dining table. A couch in the den that bore multiple indentations from consistent use by at least two concurrent occupants. I bet that we'd find several beds upstairs too.

The buck was alone now, but he hadn't always been. The fact that I latched onto was that he was alone now. One pony, who was still wary, but not overtly hostile. If he weren't a unicorn, I'd try to take him right here and now while his guard was dropped and I had a perfect excuse to be near him as I'd passed by to go through the doorway. But he was a unicorn, and I wasn't crouched in the shadows where he couldn't see me clearly. If I made a sudden move, his shotgun would be up and splattering my head into so much bony red mist before I could even lay a hoof on him.

It looked like I'd be leaning on Windfall for a third time tonight.

I glanced down at the filly and placed my hoof on her shoulder. Then looked to the buck, “I don't suppose you have any water? We ran out yesterday. She hasn't had a drink all day.”

Windfall was about to open her mouth and point out the falsehoods I'd included in those statements, but a slight and sudden application of pressure on her shoulder reminded her that I'd given concise instructions for her to say nothing beyond brief answers to direct questions. She closed her mouth on her intended protests and instead cast her gaze towards the unicorn, offering her own slight nod of corroboration.

The unicorn looked between us for a moment and then sighed, “this way,” he nodded towards the kitchen at the far end of the hall.

“I, uh, don't suppose there's a little colt's room around?” I offered a sheepish grin and shifted uncomfortably between my hind legs. The ivory buck frowned at me in annoyance, “I won't lie: you gave me a really good scare there a moment ago. Loosened things up a tick.”

He snorted and gestured up the stairs, “second door on the left,” I nodded and trotted gingerly up the stairs towards the bathroom. Meanwhile, the unicorn ushered the pegasus filly into the kitchen. I exchanged a knowing glance with Windfall before she left my sight. I just needed her to keep the buck distracted for a couple minutes. All that she had to do to accomplish that mission was say nothing and drink some water. I should be able to trust the filly with that much at least.

Once upstairs, I paused and listened intently to what was going on below me. I heard the clink of glasses, and the squeal of a steel water pump. Good. I probably didn't have long to search though. Hopefully the buck was the sort to keep his valuables close to where he slept.

Now I just needed to find out where that was. I scanned the upstairs hallway and grimaced. Five closed doors.

Horseapples.

Well, the second one on the left was the toilet, I knew that much. He probably didn't keep his bits in there. I pressed my hoof on the door just before it. The sturdy oaken surface didn't budge more than a hair before I heard a soft metal clack. Locked. Probably not the buck's bedroom then. He was unlikely to keep the door to his own room perpetually locked.

Though, given that he lived alone out in the middle of nowhere, I was a little curious to learn exactly what he did keep locked up in his own house. No time for that though. I didn't have long before he'd get suspicious—er, more suspicious. I pushed on the next door I came to, on the right side of the hallway. This one swung open freely, it's well-maintained hinges issuing hardly any sound as they swung inward.

A bedroom alright, but...not the one I was after. The bed looked unused, and the air was stale. Whomever had used to live here with him. I glimpsed a picture on a dresser in the fading evening light shining in through the window. A buck and a mare. The mare bore a strong resemblance to the unicorn downstairs, though she was an earth pony. The buck was a young teal unicorn with blond hair. They looked happy.

Mystery solved. He'd once had a daughter of his own. I guessed that the teal buck was her husband; but he could have been a brother or cousin. Hard to know for certain. They weren't here now obviously, and hadn't been for some time. Whether it had been raiders, White Hooves, or just some sort of mundane sickness was impossible to know without asking our host. I wasn't inclined to do that though, as it would involve revealing that I'd been snooping about. I'd only just barely gotten in through the front door without getting my head blasted off.

If the mare in that photo was indeed his daughter, then it was probably only thanks to Windfall that I had made it in. The unicorn had likely empathized with a lone father trying to do right by his filly.

If he only knew.

I backed out of the room and checked the next door down. Linen closet. Last, but not least, then.

Jackpot. Another bedroom, but obviously lived in. I slipped inside and quickly checked all of the usual suspects: under the bed, in the bottom dresser drawer, nightstand; but this buck was old-fashioned. He kept his money in a small lock-box in the back of the closet. At least, I presumed that the jingling sounds I heard upon giving it a test shake were bits. Might have just been loose nuts and screws.

Only one way to find out.

I craned my neck down to my fetlock and drew my knife. The box was just a simple thin metal container, nothing too substantial. I should be able to pop the lock with a little force. I pried the edge of the steel blade into the seem just to the side of the lock as far as I could manage. I took a cautious look around my surroundings, listening for the sound of anypony coming up the stairs. Hearing nothing, I braced the box with one hoof, and with the other delivered a sharp strike to the hilt of my combat knife. The lock popped with a sharp crack and the lid flew open. I winced and once more looked behind me. Still no sign of movement.

With a relieved sigh, I collected my knife and surveyed the fruits of my labor. I was rewarded with the sight of what had to be over a thousand bits. I suppressed an urge to whistle in wonder at the sight of the shiny gold coins and began to quietly shuffle them into my bags. When I had cleaned out the box, I closed the lid and placed it back in the closet. It would be instantly obvious to the farmer the next time he picked it up that the lock had been broken, but by then the filly and I would be long gone.

Now, all I had to do was get back to the bathroom, flush, and head downstairs like nothing was—

CLICK. CLICK.

Horseapples.

I flipped my head to the side and whipped out my 9mm. My pistol didn't even make it all of the way out of my holster by the time the twin barrels of the unicorn buck's shotgun belched their loads of pea-sized lead pellets into me. What my reflexive draw had at least done was take my head out of the path of that lethal cone of destruction. Instead of my exposed skull, it was my barding covered shoulder that took the brunt of the blast. Not that the thick boiled leather swaths deflected much—or really any—of the shot that burrowed deep into my flesh.

At least I was still breathing.

It was pretty much all I was doing; well, that and bleeding. I was doing a lot of bleeding. Screaming too. My pistol had been thrown clear of my mouth when I cried out in pain. The buck had apparently been furious enough with my trespass to inflict both barrels on me, which proved to have been my saving grace. After a fashion. He had not thought to bring more shells with him, and thus lacked any additional ammunition to use to finish me off.

Not that he really needed any more rounds to do that. I was down on the floor, my right shoulder a mangled mess of flesh and exposed bone. The pain was so overwhelming that I couldn't hardly move at all. I just screamed and writhed on the floor.

The unicorn buck didn't seem to feel that just compensation had been exacted yet though. I felt fresh bolts of pain course through my body, and heard sickening cracks within my chest as the butt of the spent firearm was hammered into my side, over, and over again with the consistent delivery of force that only a unicorn's telekinetic magic could deliver. Through the haze of the pain, I could hear him roaring at me.

“You fuck! You come,” CRUNCH, “into my house,” CRACK, “and you dare,” WHUMP, “steal from me?!”

He was kicking me now, his forehooves joining the shotgun that was magically wailing at my ribs. I tried in vain to deflect his blows with my own legs, but the unicorn just batted them deftly aside with the levitating weapon and continued to pummel me with his broad hooves.

This was it. I was going to die. Brutally beaten to a bloody pulp by the pony I'd just robbed. If Whiplash ever got wind of this somehow, I was sure she'd feel cheated. After she laughed herself into a fit upon learning that some podunk farmer had done me in with his bear hooves.

...horseapples.

POP!

The beating stopped. I heard the clatter of metal on the wooden floor, coupled with the nearly simultaneous sound of something large and soft collapsing beside me. Then there was silence.

I'd recognized that sound though. That sharper pop of pistol fire. I knew it well. A 9mm. My 9mm. Of course, I was pretty sure that I hadn't been the one to fire it, seeing as how I'd lost track of the thing when it'd been thrown from my mouth. Somepony else, and my brain had a fair idea of who, had fired that shot.

I opened up my bleary eyes, noting that one of them felt like it was starting to swell shut, and looked out at the scene before me in the master bedroom. The unicorn buck lay on his side. A small puddle of grayish-pink mush and blood protruded out the right side of his forehead. A little round hole just behind his left ear explained way his brain had developed a sudden and violent need to extricate itself through his skull. Behind his corpse, sitting up on her haunches, a blued pistol clattering in her teeth, a green haired pegasus filly with teary eyes the size of bloat-sprites, stared down at the destruction that she'd wrought with a single flick of the trigger.

She'd never fired a gun in her entire life, I'd bet. Probably never even held one before. Thank Celestia she'd proved to be a good shot. No telling what would have happened if she'd missed. I mean, I'd have been beaten to death, that was a given; but I doubted that the little filly could have mustered up the courage for a second shot. With the state of fury he'd been in, the farmer buck probably would have killed her too.

Damn lucky.

I tired to get myself up, but I don't think I even managed to move more than an inch before groaning.

The pistol fell from her slack jaw and Windfall bounded over to me, keeping well away from the ivory corpse, “I...I didn't...” she sputtered, snot starting to dribble from her nose as a full on cry began to manifest. Oh, fuck, I thought to myself. Don't fall apart now. I need you to hold together just a little bit longer or I'm toast anyway. Breathing was a chore, and I felt my coat growing wetter with every passing second. It wasn't the filly's tears that my rust colored hide was getting soaked with either.

A grunt was all I managed. One that became more pronounced when the pegasus placed her hooves on my chest, “I heard the shot, and I...I saw...” she sniffled, tears streaming down her cheeks, “I just wanted to scare him! I didn't mean...I didn't...”

“Potion!” I managed to cough out, flecks of blood splattering the floor in front of me, “bags!”

“Huh? Oh!” the filly began to rummage none-too-gently through the saddlebag draped over my haunches. Eventually she just flipped it over and upended the contents onto the floor. Bits and food and loaded magazines spilled out. Along with a couple of purple fluid-filled vials. She grabbed up one of them, peeled back the wax stopper, and put it to my lips. At least she knew basic first aid. I guess there were plenty of ways that a pony could get hurt on a farm though.

Shotgun blasts to the shoulder among them, it seemed.

The potion helped. A little. I felt it get easier to breathe, and the pain in my shoulder lessened...barely. I could feel a second vial being pushed onto my lips after I'd finished the first. My initial impulse was to refuse it; tell Windfall to cork it back up and save it in case I got fucked up again later. Then I considered my current situation: I was laying half dead in the bedroom of a now vacant farmhouse surrounded by a perimeter of semi-automated turrets. Nopony was going to be along anytime soon to help me; and I was more fucked up now than I ever remembered being. Besides, a unicorn like this one would have a stash of healing potions somewhere in this house.

I drank down the second dose. The pain ebbed even more significantly this time. The magic of the elixir was no longer trying to pull me back from the brink of death, and so could mend my lesser wounds. It'd gotten to the point where the simple and necessary act of breathing no longer felt excruciatingly painful. Hurray.

Of course, with nothing left that Windfall could do to help me; the filly had fallen back into her semi-coherent babbling of apologies, “I didn't mean it, I really didn't! I didn't wanna' kill him! I just...you were yelling; and he was yelling...I'm sorry!”

I wasn't convinced that she was apologizing just to me. I struggled to move my left foreleg closer to the blubbering pegasus, and managed a pathetic little pat on her hoof, “s'alright,” I wheezed, “you did...good,” she'd killed the wrong pony. She would have been better off letting me die, and then relying on the unicorn take care of her.

The filly sniffled, “are...are you going to be all right?”

I was never 'all right,' was the first thought that crossed my mind, “yeah,” was what I said out loud. Followed almost immediately by a pained hiss as I found myself suddenly and desperately grasped by a hug from the distraught filly, “bones! Broken bones!” I wheezed. However, it seemed like she couldn't hear me over the sound of her own crying.

I tried to squirm out of her grasp, and that was when my eyes caught sight of something rather...surprising.

“Huh,” I said in bewilderment, “you got your cutie mark...”

It was something so antithetical to the current situation: I was laying half dead on the floor, she was crying over having killed another pony; yet I couldn't contain my observation. I was fairly positive I hadn't seen it there two minutes ago...

Hell of a way to find out what your talent is.

...hell of a talent. My eyes wandered back over to the body of the unicorn with half his brains transported to the outside of his head by the filly's application of a bullet to the back of his skull.

“Wha-?” Windfall wiped tears from her reddened eyes and looked around at her flank. A silver sword superimposed over a crimson heart, flanked by a pair of golden wings. Her eyes grew suddenly wider as she looked between her newly materialized mark and the dead body a few feet away. I watched as her body began to tremble. Then her head began to desperately shake from side to side, “no,” she whispered, drawing back from her mark; as though she might somehow be able to separate herself from that half of her body, “please, Celestia...no...” her voice cracked as a new wave of sobs wracked her little body.

“I don't want to be that...I don't want it!”

I didn't stop her from crying into my cracked ribs this time.

I looked at her cutie mark. I'd only known a certain kind of pony who acquired a weapon on their flank to showcase their certain 'special something'. I'd received my own mark, a black spiked horseshoe, the same day I'd beaten that first colt to death in the ring. I remember showing it off to my father as I trotted out, splattered in the dead foal's blood. He'd beamed at me, genuinely proud of me for perhaps the first—and only—time I could remember.

Getting that mark on my flank had been the proudest day of my own life. Of course, I'd been raised to want a mark like that. Trained in how to get it. I doubted very much that Windfall had.

Yet, here we were; a week out of her home, and a little filly who'd grown up milking brahmin had become the kind of pony who earned a weapon for a mark.

Welcome to the Wasteland, kid. Happy fucking Cuteseñera...

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 4: BIG TOWN

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“Well... how do you like our little town? Bored yet?”

It was two days—and a third healing potion—before I was well enough to walk for any significant length of time. Windfall had ceased the worst of her crying by the next day, settling instead for sitting around staring at the floor without speaking. She communicated exclusively through nods and shrugs for the duration of our stay at the farmhouse. The most constructive thing she did during my convalescence was to dig up a small cloak from a trunk and drape it over her back. She made certain that it completely covered her new cutie mark.

Not, I discovered later, because she was worried about what others might think when they saw it; but because she herself could not stand to look at it. Seeing the silver sword appear on her flank after killing the unicorn buck had traumatized the little pegasus more than the actual death had, I think. She'd must have lived some sort of sheltered life on that ranch; she was hardly in the minority where brutal marks were concerned.

My own mark, which was hidden by my barding, was a spiked black horseshoe. I remember the day I gotten it: beating another foal to death under the watchful eye of my father. A sort of right of passage thing. It had been a very proud day for him. I had been pretty happy too. It wasn't often that my father showed any outward signs of approval of anything me or my sister had done; so hearing him state how satisfied he was with my performance had filled me with a sense of accomplishment. I'd strutted out of that ring with my blood-splattered head held high.

Some ponies are just good at killing. There isn't anything wrong with that. Someday Windfall would come to realize that.

On the morning of the third day, I decided that we'd best be on our way to Seaddle. I cleared out the house of everything of value that was economical to take with us and shut down the defense grid just to be on the safe side. For the briefest of moments, I had entertained the idea of staying. Then I'd quickly dismissed the notion. I knew less than nothing about farming, let alone how to maintain any of the equipment that was necessary to keep the crops healthy. And while I doubted the buck had a lot of company stopping by on a regular basis, somepony was bound to come around eventually who knew him; and then they'd know that something was wrong.

Seaddle wasn't like a lot of places back east: there was organized region-wide law enforcement; especially this deep into Commonwealth—NLR—territory. An actual investigation would be conducted, and a lot of questions would be asked. Even if they didn't charge me with anything immediately, all they had to do was bring me in for questioning and peak under my barding. After that, a short jaunt over to the gallows and then Windfall would wind up under somepony else's care.

Shit, my barding. It was pretty shredded, but that wasn't the real problem. The bigger issue was that I had to be very careful about who saw me without it, or something else, over my back. Windfall was just about the only pony I knew here that I could be naked around without raising an alarm; and that was only because I hadn't let her back into her house where she might have seen the white symbol painted on the interior wall.

Fuck! I couldn't even hook up with any of the local whores!

Life here was going to suck.

I may have been recovered enough to continue our trip, but that didn't mean I was able to maintain anywhere near the pace we had been keeping to before. What should have been a two day trip took nearly five. Fortunately, we weren't short on food or water rations for the remainder of the trek to the Seaddle Ruins. Even if we had been, we would have been able to top off from the caravans that shared the road with us. They'd increased dramatically in frequency the closer we got to the city.

I got a few concerned looks because of my wounds, and one or two asked if I'd received them as a result of recent White Hoof or bandit activity in the area. I would respond with “bandits”, and Windfall would wince, keeping her eyes cast downward.

Her silence actually began to get to my nerves by the time we reached sight of the city's gates. The filly may not have been a chatterbox before, but she'd been a steady source of conversation at least. Not talking during a trek I could deal with. I'd spent enough time traveling on my own to be used to quiet; but I was a little put off by traveling in silence while another pony was with me.

Not every trip I'd undertaken back east had been on my own. Every once in a while, a caravan was willing to hire on freelance guards for decent pay, and I'd taken those jobs if they were heading somewhere I wanted to go. I'd conversed on those journeys. Traders got nervous when the pony they hired to keep them safe from dangers out in the Wastes wouldn't share so much as a single kind word. And now I could see why.

This was...unsettling.

Even when we reached sight of the gates, and I announced to her that we'd arrived; all I received back was a morose shrug. I pretty much gave up trying to extract a reaction from her then. She could be depressed for the rest of her life at this point. Let some slaver deal with her pouting.

Hopefully. The topic of slavery's presence in Seaddle wasn't something I could easily broach, even with the traders we'd been passing. Too risky. If Luna had outlawed it, then asking about it with a filly in tow would have probably raised some curious eyebrows.

What I had decided was that, if my original intent was a no-go, then I'd simply cut my losses and send her on her way. I'd acquired plenty of bits from the farmer, and a few valuable pieces of equipment to sell. I really didn't even need her anymore. I had told her I'd take her to Seaddle, and I had. Where she went from here was none of my concern.

Seaddle wasn't a place that was so very different from places back east when it came to physical appearance. Like Flank, or New Appaloosa, the settled regions of the Old World metropolis were enclosed by walls and barricades designed to fend off the less desirable monsters and bandits. A couple gates served to funnel traffic in and out of the city. What was different was the décor of the guard ponies who patrolled along the tops of the walls. They were uniform in their dress, seeing as how they all wore genuine uniforms. Though, the style had changed a fair bit from what I remembered.

Once upon a time, the soldiers of the Seaddle Commonwealth had dressed in khaki barding with yellow trim. The tan tones to blend in with the generally dusty surroundings, and the yellow accents as an homage to their stable dwelling origins. Commonwealth soldiers had been one of the few truly regimented armies that I'd ever seen in the Wasteland, and they had dressed the part.

Now, the uniforms I saw leaned heavily towards the indigo side of the color spectrum, with jet black trims and silver insignias. Banners spaced along the walls that had once depicted a running brown pony on a field of white, now flapped in the wind with a white crescent moon framed by silver wings over a dark blue backing. The Commonwealth was dead, and in its place the New Lunar Republic had risen from the ashes; here to stay.

I would admit this, the new uniforms were certainly more intimidating in their appearance.

Passing through the front gates of Seaddle was a bit of a shock from how things happened out east. Nopony asked me for a toll. The reason for this was that the government was collecting taxes from the residents and businesses inside the city, so they didn't really need to get bits off of ponies coming through the gates. Seeing the inside of the city was an eye-opener too.

While significant sections of the outer wall were cobbled together from rubble and large pieces of scrap, the buildings on the inside were an eclectic mixture of the old and the new. Buildings that had endured both the war and the centuries of time that followed had been converted from their original purpose to suite whatever was needed, be it homes or businesses. Those structures that had not held up quite so well had been torn down and new buildings erected in their place. Most using actual construction materials and proper engineering techniques.

You could easily spot which buildings had been built during which era though, as the current generation of inhabitants were not as stylistically inclined as their ancestors had been; but the inner workings of Seaddle at least didn't look like the converted scrapyard that a lot of places back east had. Though, to be fair, Seaddle was a bit of an exception out west as well. The trading post Windfall and I had passed through a week ago was a lot more typical of the style that one could expect to find in the Neighvada region of Old Equestria.

Seaddle's edge came from the skilled labor that the city had absorbed from the surrounding stables.

Though, it was more than the construction that set this city apart from what I had learned to expect during my time back east.

Ponies here seemed...content? It felt odd to see. For a few reasons. I knew that there was a war going on, I'd heard it on the radio, both at the trading outpost and the farm house during our stay. But the ponies going about their life here didn't seem to care. Then there was how clean the place looked. The roads appeared to be competently maintained, the pot holes filled in with gravel and sand. Shops were painted and well kept.

At least the sight of the bustling city finally seemed to get a reaction out of the despondent filly walking at my side. She hadn't said anything, but I could tell from her slack jaw and wide eyes, that she was certainly impressed. I doubted that she had even considered that this many ponies existed in the entire world, let alone in one single city.

I caught sight of a large bulletin board just off to the side of the main avenue that was utterly plastered with notices. Most of the papers looked to have been tacked on there by random ponies looking to advertise services and job offers. However, a few were rather large and uniform in size, written in a flowing blue lettering. At the bottom of each was a dark blue circle containing a unicorn horn flanked by spread wings and a crescent moon. Those I took notice of and trotted over to read.

As I'd suspected: royal decrees. A couple dated back years, the paper looking weathered and faded. I was pretty certain of what I'd find, but I read them anyway. Best to be up to date on local policies.

The most recent announced that, in order to support the war effort against the heretical ranger traitors, farmers were required to tithe one quarter of their crop to the Crown for use by the military. I bet that was a popular law. There was a notice about additional taxes to be paid in at the magistrate every month. For the war effort, of course. Then there was...yep.

ON THIS DAY, THE 3RD OF MARCH, HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, PRINESS LUNA, HEREBY DECLARES THAT, FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, THE OWNING AND TRADING OF SLAVES WITHIN THE REPUBLIC SHALL BE FORBIDDEN. ALL SLAVES CURRENTLY HELD IN BONDAGE BY REPUBLIC CITIZENS SHALL BE FREED. THIS DOES NOT APPLY TO THOSE HELD IN SERVITUDE FOR THE RECOMPENSE OF CRIMES COMMITTED, OR UNDER CONTRACT FOR DEBTS OWED...

I sighed. Oh well, I'd figured as much. Fine. I had acquired all the seed money that I would need for my new life here from that unicorn farmer anyway. I really didn't need the filly any more.

Windfall was at my side, looking at an advertisement for quality steel horseshoes. I frowned and dug out a small pile of bits, about fifty or so. It was the least I could do for the pony who'd saved my life and then nursed me back to health. No matter what the brown buck in my head insisted I should do to 'thank' her instead.

I held the bits out to the filly, “I said I'd take you as far as Seaddle, and here we are. See you around, kid.”

Windfall looked up at me in shock, and then down at the offered bits. They'd be enough to feed her for a few days; maybe buy her passage to some other nearby settlement. Slowly, her eyes now looking back down at the street, she reached out an took the money, slipping it into her own small bag.

“Good luck,” I turned to leave. I hadn't taken more than a half dozen steps when an outburst brought me to a halt.

“Take me with you!”

Oh, for Celestia's sake, I thought to myself, don't turn this into a 'thing'. I turned back around to regard the filly with a cool gaze. Figured that she starts talking again now, “why?” I asked her sternly.

I don't know what response she had thought she was going to get from me, but I guess that hadn't been it. She began to stutter, searching for something compelling to say. I took a couple steps towards her, narrowing my eyes at the little pegasus, “what can you do? Can you fly?” I glanced at the cloak that covered her wings. The filly cringed and bowed her head, “no? Can you charm bucks with your amazing 'feminine wiles'?” she recoiled slightly with a look of disgust, “no? Can you shoot? Would you shoot?”

She looked away again.

“I'm not your dad, kid. I appreciate that you helped me before, but I ain't looking to adopt.”

I turned my back on her once more and resumed walking away. I made it three steps this time before she spoke up again.

“Teach me!”

I had been prepared to ignore anything else she said, determined to start my new life here without anymore complications than my brand would already provide me with. Those words though, they made me stop in my tracks. Did she really mean what it sounded like she was asking? I peered back at the filly, “what?”

Windfall bit her lip, hesitant, but then dug up a bit of courage and looked me resolutely in the eye, “teach me how to shoot. Please.”

“I told you, I ain't looking to adopt...”

“I'm asking to be your apprentice, not your daughter,” the filly shot back, discovering a bit of a backbone that it didn't look like she'd even known that she'd had. That at least caught my interest. She'd spent most of our time together behaving timidly and demure. It was an novel experience to see the filly with a determined expression, standing up for something she desired, “I'll pull my own weight. I just need you to show me how.

“I'm...” her words faltered, her blue eyes briefly darting towards her hip, “I'm pretty sure I'll be good at it. Shooting, I mean.”

My mouth opened, about to rebuke her once more...but I hesitated. I wasn't growing soft or anything. That wasn't it. This was the same filly I'd been ready to sell off for a pile of bits just an hour ago; and if the Princess rescinded her decree in the next five minutes, I still would sell her. However, that option was off the table, unless I tracked down some White Hooves, and that would just end up with me dead or wearing a collar too.

What I was considering now was whether or not taking this pegasus on would actually be worth it, in the long run. She wasn't much use now, flukes with violent farmers aside. But she was a pegaus. And a filly besides; which meant that one day, she'd be a full grown mare. If I was any judge, she'd become a pretty one too. Beauty and wings were two big advantages in the Wasteland. Add to those a competence with guns, and I was in a position to eventually have a very capable partner.

I made it a general rule not to associate with other ponies for long periods of time, for the simple reason that I didn't think I'd be able to trust anypony not to turn on me. I'd been bitten pretty sorely in the past because I'd taken the quality of the loyalty in my peers for granted. To say nothing of how many times that I had capitalized on the misplaced trust of others to my own benefit, and their peril. As a result, I considered myself to be practically paranoid when it came to other ponies.

However, Windfall presented me with a very special case. She had a huge incentive not to turn me any time soon: as I would be the only thing keeping her alive, free, and unsoiled until she was of an age and ability to effectively look after herself. After a decade of relying on me for education and training, as well as her own personal safety; I felt confident that I could instill in the young impressionable filly a sense of devotion that was as adamant as anypony could hope to have from a partner.

The little pegasus filly had already shown herself willing to kill in order to protect a relative stranger; imagine what she would do for somepony she actually cared about...

This was definitely a long-term payoff I was looking at though. Closer to a year before she would be barely capable of pulling her own weight. Maybe as long as a decade before she'd be at her full potential as a partner. Even in a region like this, there was no guarantee that I'd survive another decade, let alone a little filly.

Still, she'd proven somewhat of an asset so far. The 'protective father' persona would put other ponies at ease around me—it'd mostly worked on that unicorn back at the farm anyway. I was certain to seem like less of an overt threat at first glance. Ponies that traveled alone; there was a reason for that, and it often put others on their guard almost immediately. A buck traveling with his daughter though; well he was just a father struggling to do what was right in a harsh world. A noble soul. Good ponies trusted noble souls, and the rest underestimated them.

…

“Fine,” I saw relief flood the filly's face. Before the elation could completely overwhelm her, I leaned in close and glared at her, “but you have to do everything I say, understand? No questions, no hesitation. I say hide, you hide. I say shoot, you shoot. You step out of line even once, and I will leave your feathered ass by the side of the road.

“Got it?”

The pegasus somehow managed to grow pale beneath her white coat, her eyes widening in fear. She swallowed and nodded shakily, “got it,” she offered quietly.

Maybe that ultimatum would have sounded harsh to some ponies; but if this filly was going to be in a position where a misstep could get us—and especially me—killed, I felt that imparting the gravity of the situation was important. I pulled my head back and nodded, “we'll see,” I looked around in the direction of the city's main market plaza, “we have some shopping to do.”

The pricing differences for equipment here when compared to what I remembered from Hoofington was amazing. It was like everything had been reversed. Food and water cost hardly anything at all. Hell, there were even cafes that offered free samples or their specials to passing ponies! If a pony in Old Appaloosa offered you free food; even money said that it was drugged and you would wake up wearing a slave-collar.

Conversely, weapons and bullets cost nearly three times what they were back east. The .22 pistol that I bought to teach Windfall basic marksmareship was nearly the cost of what a hunting rifle was in Megamart. Nearly two hundred caps for the pistol and fifty rounds of ammunition. At first I thought I was being taken for a sucker; but if that was the case, then every pony in Seaddle selling guns was in on the scam, because that was actually the best price I found for a decent weapon.

Getting my barding repaired would have to wait apparently, since that cost three times as much as the weaponry. Even with the bits I made from selling the few valuable items I'd taken from the farm, and after buying additional medical supplies and a few...pharmaceuticals, my—our—finances weren't what I would have liked. A few hundred bits, which we'd need for a place to stay while I got her trained up enough to take along on a job.

Oi, jobs. That was something else I needed to look into. There were a couple of caravan guilds in the city that would be willing to hire on a guard. Whether that guard would be allowed to bring along dependents...

Bounties, maybe? They'd be more dangerous, involving actually looking for trouble; but there was at least a higher likelihood that bringing Windfall along could be an initial benefit. Nopony would be looking for a hunter with a kid tagging along.

Prospecting was always an option. Her small size would mean that the filly could get in places that a buck like me just couldn't. Might even find some valuable scrap that was missed in the last two centuries of scavenging.

Well, first things first: teaching Windfall how to shoot ponies in the head with consistency.

We weren't far outside the city. I didn't want to risk being stumbled upon by any wandering bandits or prospectors that were feeling bold. A couple blocks away from the gate, so as not to make the guards too nervous about a couple of ponies firing off rounds. I set up a few tin cans on top of cinder-blocks with a concrete wall as the backdrop. Ten paces away, I passed Windfall the weapon and showed her how to load and chamber the small caliber pistol.

“Now, you want to hold the grip firm in your teeth, but don't chomp down,” I instructed the ivory filly as I stood behind her. I certainly wasn't about to be anywhere even vaguely in the direction that the pistol's barrel was aimed, “when you grind down on it, you start to shake the gun and throw off your shot. But, if you hold it too loosely, the kick of it can make you miss too; and some of the more powerful guns will end up cracking a tooth.”

The pegasus filly shifted her jaw around a little. Experimentally, I nudged the weapon with my hoof. Satisfied, I continued with my instructions, “now, like I explained to you earlier, put the post at the front of the barrel, level with, and in the middle of, the notch on the back,” Windfall closed her left eye, peering down the barrel with her right, “push your tongue against the trigger with steadily increasing pressure. Don't anticipate the shot. Use your lips to absorbed the recoil.

“Fire when you're ready.”

As I looked down at the filly, I saw her reset her jaw a second time. Then a third. She peered down the top of the pistol with such intensity that I was convinced she'd pop her eye right out of its socket. After about a minute and a half, there was a sharp pop, followed immediately by a squeak as the filly jumped. In the distance, I saw a puff of concrete burst from the partially collapsed wall in front of us. The rusted tin can sitting on the cinder block seemed completely oblivious to the fact that it was a target.

Still, not bad for a first attempt. At least she'd hit the wall, “don't be afraid of it. Little thing like that .22 ain't gonna hurt yah. Now, line it up and try again.”

The pegasus filly nodded and set her jaw, lining the barrel up beneath her eye once more. Again, another long, silent, wait as she continually re-sighted and played with the grip in her mouth. Then a second pop.

To her credit, Windfall didn't jump nearly as high this time and refrained from any audible outbursts at all. A second pock-mark erupted into being on the wall. The can once again seemed not intimidated in the least by the filly's efforts. Though, I noted that the second divot had been nearly on top of the first.

“You're pulling high and to the left,” I noted, “try again. Without the jumping please,” I smirked down at the filly.

Twenty rounds later, and the score was Windfall: two; cans: eighteen. The session hadn't been a complete waste of time though. The two hits had been during her last four shots. She was improving. We'd also just about narrowed down her problem too, since she was consistently shooting up and to the left of her target. I had my suspicions that she wasn't lining up the pistol's sights quite right. I'd draw up an illustration later to make sure.

“Put the safety on and eject the magazine,” I told her, “Don't forget tho clear it.”

The filly spat the small .22 onto the ground and looked up at me. As small as the weapon was, it was too much of a mouthful for the little pegasus to speak around coherently, “can't I keep trying? I'm getting closer.”

I shook my head, “we need to get a move on. I don't want to be out here when it gets dark; and I don't know what buildings have already been picked clean,” the contract I'd picked up on our way out the gate was to recover a dozen fresh spark-batteries for use in the city's turret defense grid. It was a government contract, and I got the impression that it was a frequently posted one. I imagine that it took a lot of power to repel Steel Ranger attacks.

The bounty for recovered spark-grenades was outrageous: nearly three hundred caps a piece. If I had known that, I'd have loaded up on the things back in Flank.

“We'll try again tomorrow,” the filly frowned at the other three cans that had withstood her barrage unmarred, “now clear it and let's move on. I think the factory district is another mile to the west. We should find some batteries there.”

Windfall depressed the magazine release and tugged back on the slide. I collected the weapon and ammunition—making a show of setting it to 'safe'—and placed them back into my saddlebags. We started back down the road, the little filly walking close at my side. Fortunately, we hadn't seen anything more threatening than a rad-roach. I didn't expect that little run of luck to last much longer though. Industrial buildings were notorious for housing malfunctioning robots and turrets.

“Jackboot?”

“Yeah?”

The little pegasus paused, as though considering her question, “you used to live here, right?”

I glanced back at the winged foal. She looked like she was regretting her question, afraid it had upset me somehow. I needed her obedient; not terrified. I'd seen what could happen when you taught foals to consider you a threat. Not sure if that was the lesson my father had intended to teach; but...it was one I'd taken to heart.

I needed Windfall to trust me; and that meant that she'd have to know at least something about who I was. Not everything, but some, “yeah. Long time ago.”

“Why'd you leave?” my answer had given her a little more confidence with her questioning.

“...I had a falling out with my family. Sort of kicked me out.”

“They kicked you out of the whole valley?”

“It was a big family.”

“But you're back now?” Obviously, “does that mean you and your family get along again?”

“Nope.”

“So, why'd you come back?”

“A few ponies back east didn't like me much. They asked me to leave.”

“So you had to come all the way back here?”

“...They really didn't like me,” damn. Didn't really realize how screwed I was until I started answering this filly's questions. Was there anywhere in the Wasteland that I could go where somepony wasn't trying to kill me?

“Did you say you were sorry?”

I glared balefully back at the filly, which made her shrink back a bit. Exactly how naïve was she? “they weren't in a talking mood.”

“Oh.” Yeah, 'oh'.

“What'd you d—”

“Before you finish that question, kid,” I cut her off abruptly, fixing her with a cold glare, “you better be damned sure you want to hear the answer,” the filly bit her lip, “and I'll tell you right now: you don't.”

The rest of our trip to Seaddle's factory district passed in silence.

I wasn't a historian or anything, so nopony could say that I was any sort of expert on what had gone on out here during the war. From what I knew though, the Seaddle area was a source of raw material for the war effort. Iron, copper, tin; pretty much any metal came from one of the mines in the surrounding mountain ranges. The raw ores were brought down into the city and processed into usable metal; which was then shipped out east to the factories there which built the weapons and machines the military needed.

One thing that this had meant was that by the time StableTec came around, the Seaddle mountain ranges were just about saturated with tapped out mines which made ideal sites for their shelters. You couldn't walk a quarter mile up in those peaks without stumbling across a stable or some sort of reinforced bunker. I wasn't even certain that they'd all been found. A lot of the zebra balefire bombs struck those same mountains, targeting the fortified military strongholds built into them; and a lot of landslides had happened as a result, burying the entrances.

What this had meant for the area in the early decades after the bombs fell was that there was a lot of Old World technology available for the reconstruction. The Commonwealth had been really good about capitalizing on that.

Back east, the mindset seemed to be predominantly: “find a stable, take their stuff, kill and/or enslave the inhabitants.”

The Commonwealth had taken another approach. Whoever founded it had had a much longer view of things. When the Commonwealth found a stable, they did everything they could to make peaceful contact and encourage the residents to join up willingly. Stables were more than just a source of electronics and talismans, after all. They possessed one other resource that was worth more than any pile of caps: education. A whole society of workers who had all been taught and trained with rare, technical skills. Computer technicians, doctors, water treatment specialists, experts in hydroponics; skills and fields of study that pretty much simply did not exist in the Wasteland.

Ponies who could operate, and even build the same technology that had sustained their stable for decades or centuries. The Commonwealth sought to assimilate these ponies and use them to rebuild Equestria.

Trouble was: intact stables turned out to be quite rare. I don't know what went wrong, but from what I'd heard: only about one in seven stables still had any living occupants; and only one in four surviving populations weren't complete equicidal maniacs.

I'd checked out a stable once myself, hoping to find something worth salvaging. That place had scared the shit out of me. Messages written in blood, piles of corpses in nearly every room, ranting logs that explained, in horrific detail, how to kill ponies over a series of weeks so as to inflict the most pain. I'd gone no further in than the first level, and then decided that whatever salvage was left in there was best left in there.

Whatever had gone wrong in that place; I didn't want to know.

That being said, over the last century or so since it had been founded, the Commonwealth—New Lunar Republic now I guess—had integrated a hooful of stable populations. Comparing Seaddle now to places like Manehattan, I could see the difference. Here, a concerted effort was made to get the Old World factories and refineries operational again. It was a very slow process, since it often meant first overcoming the rather stalwart defenses that were still running. There was also the issue of power.

I guess that Seaddle had not possessed its own electrical grid, and had been dependent on some other location for power. Until that place was found and returned to operation, everything in the area was being run on spark-batteries. It was understandably hard to get heavy machinery to run for very long on a battery that was meant to power a small appliances for a couple of months.

I put my hoof out, halting the small filly, and came to a stop, my eyes spying movement ahead. In response to my prodding, the foal scooted over and the two of us ducked behind a dumpster.

“What is it?” she asked in a thankfully low whisper.

“Robopony,” I informed her grimly. Great.

A wartime effort to free up ponies from internal law enforcement duties for deployment to the front lines, the equine-shaped robots were widely used for facility security purposes. A testament to quality engineering, most of them were still operational to this day. Not to say their designs had been perfect; as they all pretty much shot at everything that moved that wasn't also a robopony.

Their armored casings were also infuriatingly resistant to pistol rounds. With a few notable exceptions...

“Stay here,” I hissed at the filly and carefully crept around the side of the dumpster.

The key to dealing with a security robot, when you didn't have a spark-grenade or rocket launcher on you, was their design as it related to maintenance. I supposed that back before the war, these robots received periodic servicing—probably to keep them from becoming laser spewing maniacs. During an examination of a thankfully defunct robopony, I had discovered that they possessed a small access panel located at the base of their neck that was about as thick as the side of a tin can. Below that rested some very vital circuitry that appeared to connect their processing talismans to their spark reactors. This translated to the robots being instantly disabled by one or two rounds being pumped through that panel.

Of course, I'd have to actually reach that panel first. And since it was mounted on the top of the robopony's back at the base of their neck, I'd have to pretty much be riding the damn thing. If it detected me before I was close enough to mount it, then I'd be rendered into so much glowing dust by its magical beam weapon.

I closed most of the distance crawling on my belly next to the pock-marked wall of a warehouse. Fortunately, the robopony looked to have crippled one of its wheeled feet at some point, and so was moving at an extremely slow pace, which allowed me to close the distance pretty quickly.

Breathe, Jackboot, breathe—but not too loudly!

The robopony seemed to be completely unaware of me by the time I was nearly on top of it. I carefully drew my pistol out and held it firmly in my mouth. I continued to close the distance until I was directly behind the mechanized pony, and took a breath.

This was going to be my only real chance.

Committing to the attack, I coiled back on my haunches and sprung into the air, landing on the back of the steel-plated robot. Instantly, I could hear it squeal in alarm, recognizing that an intruder was in the area and needed to be dealt with. Of course, the robopony's only weapon system was a single laser mounted into its chest, so I was relatively safe at the moment. That was, until one of its friends showed up.

My eyes locked onto the rust-covered panel just in front of me. I placed the barrel of the pistol right up against the thin metal plate and fired off three shots. The robot screeched, smoked, and went still.

I held my breath for a moment longer, in case some sort of redundant circuit kicked in and returned the robot to life. When it seemed clear that the life had gone completely from the automaton, I allowed myself a sigh of relief. I turned back towards where I'd left Windfall in order to give her the 'all clear'...

...Which was when I caught sight of a second robopony rounding the corner of a building. This one noticed me immediately, and I saw the barrel of the laser built into its chest extend. A red glow appeared at the tip of the barrel, growing in intensity.

“Horseapples,” I mumbled around the pistol's grip.

I was standing right on the back of a disable robopony in the middle of a street that had been built wide enough to accommodate wagons loaded down with freshly mined ore. There was exactly one source of significant cover larger than an empty soda bottle that I would be able to reach before the other automaton opened fire. So I wasted no time in rolling off the steel statue I'd created and cowered behind it as blast after blast of deadly magical energy lanced against it's metal side.

Already, I knew that I was completely fucked. Every so often during a lull, I would peek around and fire off a couple shots from my pistol, hoping to get in a lucky hit, but the bullets did little more than spark off the armor of the robopony pinning me. I simply did not have the ordinance to punch through its armor at this range; and the only paths to get to other cover would take me right out into the open, making me a perfect target.

I looked more closely at the disabled robot I was hiding behind, specifically at the laser cannon mounted in its own chest. I'd only taken out the circuitry connecting the power generator to its AI talisman—I hoped. The cannon was intact, and the spark-reactor should still have a charge. So, in theory, there should still be a way to get the laser to fire and use it against the robot attacking me.

I had a way out. Now I just needed to teach myself Old World electronics and robotic engineering in the next thirty seconds and I'd be home free!

I glanced up at the overcast sky and snarled, “well, fuck you too, Celestia!”

“Hey! Leave him alone!” I heard a distant CLANG, like the sound of a rock bouncing off of a metal sheet.

My ears perked up. Had that been...? No; she was a little inexperienced sure, but she wasn't a moron. Was she?

Risking a peek, I craned my head around the now partially melted lump of slag that my cover's hind quarters had been turned into by the barrage of crimson energy. Every explicative I knew tumbled into an incomprehensible blurt as I saw the little green maned filly standing in a window overlooking the street. In her hoof was clutched a small chunk of concrete. Below, the robopony was rotating on its balled feet. I watched in horror as the robot's rear end lowered to the ground, increasing the angle of its chest, and allowing for the forward facing weapon to target the building's second story.

Windfall squeaked and jumped back from the window as bolts of scarlet light lashed out at the side of the building, blasting away chunks of plaster and cinder-block. I completely lost sight of the pegasus through all of the smoke.

That...stupid, little...

I blinked. The robopony was no longer shooting at me. For now. It was certainly going to reacquire its previous target once it was satisfied that it had reduced the filly to cinders. Which was certainly the case.

Without wasting another second, I bolted from around the melted steel blob that had once been a robot, and sprinted for the alley I'd emerged from. A loud crackling sound from off to my right caught my attention, and I glanced over. The robopony had ceased shooting at the wall, taking notice of me once more. It's laser was being brought to bear on my running form, and I wasn't certain that it would miss with every shot it was about to fire.

Then the building fell on it.

Well, not the entire building, to be fair. However, all of its blasting had not done the two-hundred year old wall facing the street any favors. I watched, in awe, as a slab of steel-reinforced concrete toppled from the building's second floor and completely crushed the robopony whose shots had dislodged it. A blast of gray dust erupted along the street, blocking the entire scene from view. No bolts of laser fire issued out from it.

I backpedaled to a halt, shock freezing me in place.

There was no fucking way that had just happened.

The dust cleared after a few seconds, and the mangled shape of the now-defunct robopony was clearly visible. It had been completely crushed by the thousands of pounds of building that had fallen atop it. A glimmer of movement above caught my eye, and I looked up in time to spot a little white and green form creeping towards the edge of the gap where the building's wall had once been.

Windfall peered down at the destruction she'd inadvertently wrought and gaped. Her eyes darted to me and then back to the robot's twisted corpse, “woah...”

'Woah' indeed.

“Duraspark Portable Power, LLC,” I mumbled as I read the fading sign that took up most of the front of the massive production plant. The parking lot that the two of us stood in was littered with the remains of large carts that looked to have been designed to be pulled by teams of four ponies. A few shattered crates could been seen still sitting in the rusted husks of the transports, each emblazoned with a 'DPP' logo. They were all empty of course.

A spark-battery factory was the obvious place to begin our hunt. Of course, being obvious meant that pickings would be slim. The NLR contract was a standing bounty, which meant that they were always paying for the crystal-fueled power cells. Other scavengers would have been all over this place over the past century. A pony could even be forgiven for thinking that a place like this would have long ago been picked clean.

However, any veteran scavenger knew that there was no such thing as a building that had been 'picked clean' in the Wasteland. These places were riddled with robots, turrets, locked doors, ghouls, and other terrifying horrors that encouraged most scavengers to not venture any deeper than they absolutely had too. Add to that an interesting tendency for the local robots of a given region to redistribute themselves in order to compensate for losses inflicted by explorers, and you had yourself a city that was effectively always crawling with hazards.

Maybe we would have to go deeper into the factory than was advisable, but I was confident that we would find ourselves a crate of fresh batteries in their somewhere.

“Stay low,” I cautioned the filly. Slowly, I nudged one of the front entrance's double-doors open and poked my head in. The reception area was full of the expected: skeletons and garbage. A couple of broken computers sat on a counter on the far side of the room. A pile of rusted slag in the middle of the floor testified to the past escapades of prior looters of this particular ruin. Hopefully the immediate coast had remained clear since their foray into the factory.

The two of us trotted carefully into the room. My eyes scanned the choice of corridors that lay before us. One door to the left, one to the right, and a pair past the desk. We'd need to venture deep into the interior if we wanted to find a place that had remained untouched thus far. Which meant one of the two doors on the other side of the room.

“This way,” something about going right had always sort of sat well with me, so the door on the right it was.

Offices for the most part. A pair of restrooms. Ah, there's the ticket: factory floor!

“Wow,” Windfall whispered, awed by the sight of the cavernous interior of the production side of the factory.

Conveyor belts took up most of the floor space, lined by various machines that likely participated in some aspect of the assembly of fresh spark batteries. Walkways crisscrossed the air above the floor, allowing for the long-dead workers to observe the process and ensure that everything was functioning accordingly. At the moment, it served as a causeway for a single robopony that was dutifully patrolling the factory. I quickly pulled the little filly with me, ducking behind a toppled metal cabinet.

“Don't make a sound,” I whispered in a low voice. The pegasus folded her fetlocks over her mouth, barely even breathing. The memory of what one of those same robots had nearly done to me just a half hour ago was no doubt still quite fresh in her mind.

Unlike that encounter, however, I possessed no clear route of approach and Windfall was fresh out of second story windows. This would be an ideal moment for Windfall to showcase her power of flight. Of course, even if the little feathered filly could somehow bring herself to pry her wings away from their fear-fueled iron grip at her sides, I'd yet to see those pinions do more than flutter when she panicked.

What I'd give for a spark-grenade.

I craned my head around the top of the toppled cabinet and took survey of the catwalks. Rickety and rusted, with the occasional collapsed section, but they seemed to be stable enough for the moment to support the automaton’s weight. Perhaps if I could set some sort of explosive charge under part of it and detonate it at an opportune moment? Yeah, that was a possibility that could prove effective...

...If I had any explosives. I'd never had the sort of hoof-eye coordination that made grenades particularly practical though.

I continued to watch the robopony's progress, looking to see if it was following a predictable patrol pattern. If nothing else, maybe the two of us could slip on past it while it was elsewhere.

Nearly a minute of watching the robot skitter along the catwalk on its rounds suggested that such a hope was a futile one. It had adopted a rather narrow patrol path, allowing it frequent coverage of nearly all of the production floor. Damn that efficient metal bastard. I simply did not have the firepower to take this thing in a straight fight. In order to do that, I'd need some sort of automatic grenade launcher or something, and what kind of sociopath walked around with one of those handy?

Then I noticed that the robot's course took it through a tangle of dead electrical wires. It wasn't particularly surprising that the wires weren't live; most of the ruins of Seadlle were completely without power. Except for those few facilities which possessed their own emergence spark-reactors, most of the buildings lacked any sort of active electrical current. In just about every other location, those dead wires would be an unimportant detail. However, I wasn't in just any location.

I was in a spark-battery factory. I was in the assembly area of a spark-battery factory. Somewhere in this room, hopefully within hoof reach, was a source of magical energy that I could use to juice up those lines and electrocute the robot.

I began to look around the assembly belts within view. Of course, being assembly belts, there was naught but bits and pieces that had yet to be combined into a working battery. Perhaps if I checked in one of the cabinets or lockers? Maybe there were hooftools that used spark-batteries in one of them that I could find some way to wire into the system.

The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up on end as I heard the whirring of the robopony's motorized feet stop, and a dry, monotone, synthetic voice blare through the room, “HALT! TRESPASSING IN THIS FACILITY IS FORBIDDEN! PLEASE STAND BY TO BE VAPORIZED!”

Horseapples...

As quickly as I could, I threw myself to the mesh floor near the turned over cabinet. A moment later, there was a loud 'VOORP! VOORP!' as beams of crimson energy splashed over the steel locker. The thin sheets of metal offered barely any resistance to the magical onslaught, melting away into slag. Shit! This trip had gone wrong in a big way! This was why I preferred dealing with other ponies when it came to acquiring wealth: they rarely had magical energy weapons, and they were usually very susceptible to bullets from my pistol.

I entertained the notion of making a run for the exit and calling this outing a wash. There were other ways to get my hooves on some caps. Maybe find a trade caravan with a fat coin purse...

Of course, with the robot's attention firmly on me, there was little chance that I'd clear even that short open space without being rendered into a glowing red mist. Frustrated, and lacking in options, I drew my pistol and quickly popped off a trio of shots at the robopony firing down on me. I didn't even note where the rounds ended up before slipping back behind my dwindling cover. Lingering too long for an aimed shot would just get me killed anyway. The most I could hope for was a lucky hit...

As a barrage of scarlet beams lanced the cabinet, I heard another series of crisp 'pops' coming from over to my right. Surprised, I chanced a look and saw that Windfall had taken out her little .22 and was bounding along the conveyer belts. Her wings hummed furiously between jumps, carrying her slightly further than her leaps alone would have. I noted the sharp 'TINK' the resounded as one of her tiny bullets actually managed to ricochet off of the robot's thick metal hide. While I doubted that the damage inflicted by the hit would have been visible without the use of a magnifying glass, the strike did seem to draw the robots attention.

The robot rotated on it's wheeled feet and began to track the pegasus filly's path with its chest-mounted cannon. Seeming to forget entirely about the rust-colored earth pony that it had had pinned not ten seconds ago. My eyes shifted from the pegasus to the doorway nearby. The coast was clear. With the robopony distracted, I'd be able to make a clean getaway.

All I had to do was leave Windfall to die.

Wouldn't be the first time that I'd left another pony to face death while I got to safety. As I sprinted through the doorway, I noted that it probably wouldn't be the last either.

“Jackboot?!”

I heard the surprised outburst follow me down the hallway as I ran from the assembly area. She'd hate me, but only for about another minute or two if the sound of the robopony's relentless torrent of fire was any indication. Then her problems would be over.

You're doing your Dad proud, son, a voice in my head commended me, little fillies are meant to be thrown away when it suits your own needs. This wasn't an effort by my twisted mind to use reverse psychology. It was what my father had genuinely believed; and not just where filly's were concerned. Everypony was expendable in his eyes. Everypony that wasn't him anyway. Let somepony die for you today, live to kill again tomorrow.

Another burst of magical laser fire, followed by the sound of something electronic exploding into a shower of sparks. A filly's terrified scream, “Jackboot! Help!” Another explosion. Hysterical sobbing, interspersed with pleas for my return to aid her.

My legs wouldn't carry me any further. A crying filly. This was fucking ridiculous. I should be gone from here. Instead, I felt an urge to actually go back. A vision of a blue armored buck dying because he'd been more concerned with cradling his dead daughter than his own well-being flashed through my mind. Sentiment was a stupid reason to die. So what if she was crying? Of course Windfall was crying; she was about to die, violently. That was a perfectly acceptable reason for a filly to cry, and itwasn't my problem.

You let me cry too, Whiplash's voice sneered at me, because you like listening to a filly cry, don't you? Just like him.

I didn't like it. She knew that.

And yet, you never did a damn thing about it, did you?

What had Whiplash expected me to do about it? Take Steel Bit on in hoof-to-hoof combat to protect her? He'd have torn me apart! Then he'd have killed me for defying him. How was my dying supposed to have done anything to help her?

What if you'd won?

Because that was what would have happened, I thought derisively. A six-year-old colt would have whopped the flank of the strongest White Hoof alive.

Awe, what's the matter? Couldn't kill one decrepit old buck? Not surprising. You can't kill one rusty robot either, Whiplash chided mockingly, admit it: you just want to listen to her beg. You like it when fillies beg! Crying gets you off!

Fuck you! You know I didn't like it then, and I don't like it now.

Prove it.

She just wanted to see me die. The pony that got away from her, cut down by a robopony in an abandoned factory while trying to save a filly who was too dumb to make her own escape while I'd been the one getting shot at. Wouldn't that have just tickled her pink?

And wouldn't it just piss me off if you lived?

As I spun around and cantered back towards the sounds of screams and laser fire, I knew that this was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing that I had ever done in my entire life; and it was going to get me killed. As I sprinted into the large open assembly area, I saw that the robotic pony was still blasting away at a section of conveyor belt. Underneath which I could only just barely see a cowering ball of white pinions. She wasn't dead yet.

Of course, I still didn't have much of a plan for dealing with this thing; other than providing another target for it to shoot at. It was a start. I pulled out my pistol, took aim at the distracted automaton, and fired a pair of slugs at its head. I was disappointed to see that the shots simply sparked harmlessly off the steel casing of its cranium, doing no harm. Oh well, at least I'd draw it off of Windfall long enough for her to get out. Maybe I'd even be able to somehow slip away too.

“Hey, you!” I yelled defiantly above the din of laser fire, “your mother was a snow blower!” for good measure, I blew a raspberry around the grip of my pistol.

Sure enough, sensing that there was a somewhat more pressing threat to deal with than a cowering pegasus filly, the robopony once again turned and drew a bead. I wasted no time diving behind a bin of battery parts; just as a barrage of magical death washed across where I'd just been standing. I winced as the laser cannon mounted in the robot's chest spat numerous bolts into my cover.

Then I heard another sound. The piercing cry of metal as it warped under the weight of something heavier than it was capable of adequately supporting. The next couple of blasts from the robopony ended up missing the bin I was crouched behind and struck the floor. The the automaton corrected its aim and once more began scoring more accurate hits. Curious about what had happened, I chanced a quick peak around the side.

The catwalk that the robot had been patrolling was now slightly canted. In front of the robot, one of the support struts that attached the mesh walkway to the building's ceiling had obviously only recently been compromised, the melted stubs still glowing orange where the magical laser blasts had inadvertently chewed through it.

I pulled my head back behind my cover, just as the floor beneath it was blackened by a well placed bolt. A dubious smile touched my face. An idea formed in my head of how exactly the two of us could take this thing out of commission. Of course, I would need Windfall to participate; assuming that she was capable of pulling herself out of the tightly rolled up ball that she'd formed herself into.

“Hey, kid!” I yelled across the assembly floor, “you dead yet?”

“J-Jackboot?” came the rather surprised response from the filly, “you came back?”

“I never left,” I lied, cringing as a section of my cover burst into a shower of molten slag, “just had to get to better cover. You ready to take this thing down?”

“Are you crazy?!” the little flier demanded, “bullets just make it mad!”

“I have a plan,” I assured her, “we need to get it to shoot at us-” I was cut short by another burst of slag.

“That's not a plan!” Windfall retorted with terrified indignation, “that's what's happening right now!”

“Just...trust me,” saying those words to other ponies had allowed me to kill more than a few naïve souls. It felt strange to actually mean them. I idly wondered if they'd still get somepony killed, even if they were genuine this time, “we need to get it to shoot out the struts. Which means I need you to get its attention again. Try to get it to fire at you through the supports that are holding up the scaffold.”

“You'll just run away again!”

Damn it, “I didn't run away before,” I called back, sounding as genuine as I could manage, “I just had to...get to a better position. You know, to get it to shoot out a strut. Look for yourself!” I needed her to trust me. Otherwise that thing was going to end up melting the both of us in the next couple of minutes. Another burst of molten slivers. I was quickly losing my cover to the robot's relentless onslaught. Didn't those things ever run out of ammunition?!

“You can either distract this thing for ten seconds, or wait for it to kill me; your choice!” hopefully that ultimatum would do something to spur the filly into action. It was certainly the truth of the matter though, “But choose quick, or this thing'll choose for you!”

It was a true enough statement. Less than half of the bin that I had chosen to hide behind remained at the moment, and there was less of it with each passing second. I kept an ear peeled for the filly's answer, listening over the whine of the energy discharges being continuously hurled in my direction.

Nothing.

I didn't dare risk a look to see if the filly was out of her cover yet. Not the way this thing was laying into me. Besides, I doubted that I'd be able to catch sight of the filly from where I was anyway. All I could do was wait, and hope that Windfall hadn't taken after her mentor and fled while the getting was good. I had to hope that she was a more faithful pony that me.

This was so stupid. I was so stupid. I had been free, damn it! I'd been halfway out the door, and I'd come back. Why? Because I'd heard a filly break down and cry in the face of certain death. What the fuck was wrong with me that I was going to get myself killed for something as pathetic as that? Another symptom of my insanity, I guess? Hearing voices in my head wasn't enough, I had to commit suicide by altruism? Just so that I could sell the filly out at some later date anyway, I was sure; assuming we both somehow survived this.

A trio of sharp 'paps' rang out, a couple of them clinking off of something metal, “hey, bolts for brains! Over here!”

Stupid filly should have run while she had the chance. I was just going to end up ditching her at some later date in order to save myself anyway. Hopefully, I'd get far enough away that I wouldn't hear her sobs and come back when that time came too.

Just as before, the robot ceased its attack on my position and directed itself methodically towards the filly, who gave a terrified 'eep!' and began to flit about the room madly. Her erratic hovering spurts seemed to be difficult for the robopony to anticipate with its targeting talisman, causing it to miss by significant margins. No telling how long to little pony could keep up her quasi-flying acrobatics though; and if my distraction went up in a puff of dust and feathers, then my plan would be worthless.

I dashed from my hiding spot and galloped to a new perch. I sidestepped a little bit to my left, squinting at the robopony's position on the scaffolding, hoping that I'd lined myself up right. When I was satisfied, I drew my pistol and once again got the robot's attention, “hey, laser lips!” a pair of 9mm slug sparked off of its flank. The robopony executed its turn once more, lining the barrel of its cannon up with me. I took another half step to the right, noting that the robot pivoted slightly as well. When the tip started glowing with a magical charge, I dove forward.

The blast erupted forth, catching another one of the catwalk's supports full on. The steel strut exploded in a shower of orange molten slag and the mesh structure squealed once more. The whole assembly listed to the side, causing the robot to skitter along the rusty flooring. It was only just caught by the railing, where it hesitated as it tried futilely to right itself. Though now precariously oriented on a tilted catwalk, the threat it posed had not been completely neutralized quite yet. The cannon's barrel seemed to enjoy a rather broad range of movement for something that was mounted in the robot's breast.

My hooves skittered along the concrete floor as I sought fresh cover from the robpony's lasery response to my taunt. The energy weapon melted fresh holes into the mesh floor of the faltering platform that it was sitting on as the cannon sought to eliminate its current priority threat. Unfortunately, the fresh rends that it was creating in its efforts to vaporize me were not contributing to the complete collapse of the structure. In fact, from what I could see, it was going to be nearly impossible to trick the robot into finishing itself off. It was currently positioned well below the remaining intact struts, and had little reason to shift its direction of fire towards the ceiling where the last two struts were located.

To make matters worse, running had just ceased to be a viable option, as the robopony had a clear field of fire that covered the only path that lay between myself and the exit. It had me pinned, and I had no way of getting it to shoot where I needed to to. I knew going back was going to get me killed. Sentiment. Damn, fucking, sentiment.

Awe, but you're going to die so heroically, Whiplash's voice teased, saving a helpless little filly...oh. Wait. She's going to die here too, isn't she? Oh well, guess you're dying a failure after all!

Fuck. You.

I shook the phantom in my mind away and started combing my brain for a plan. I had a couple of grenades in my satchel, so that was on the table. Of course, I wasn't really much good with the damn things; I'd be more likely to either blow myself to bits, or somehow collapse the doorway entirely and guarantee that neither of us could get out of here. Ideally, I could use one of them to finish off the platform, but that would stand a much better chance of working if I could place the grenade, as opposed to throwing it. Which meant that I had to either find a ladder or...

...fly.

Where was that damn filly at anyway?

As though on cue, I heard a high-pitched scream coming from the direction of the robopony. My blood froze as my minds first thought was that Windfall has been shot. With the filly out of action, I would be doomed to death as well not long after. Then I realized that the yelling was not the cry of an injured filly, but rather an angry one. Then there was the sound of tiny hooves clattering over steel plating.

The barrage of laser fire subsided and I chanced a peak at whatever insane plan Windfall had devised. My eyes widened, and a swarm of epithets cascaded out of my mouth as I watched the reckless little pegasus execute the plan of a desperate fool.

Using periodic spasms of her tiny wings, the filly clambered up the robotic pony's flank and cantered along its spine. A couple of rounds from the pistol still held in her mouth pinked harmlessly off its armor. However, I got the impression that Windfall's plan had not been to disable the robot by use of its access port. I'd been remiss in explaining that helpful little fact to her, and she hadn't had a clear view when I'd done it an hour ago. Her shots seemed intended to serve mostly to insure that she had the robopony's undivided attention. Which she certainly did.

Windfall vaulted onto, and then off of, the automaton's head and began frantically scrambling up the catwalk's newly acquired incline. The robot's menacing laser canon whipped around and began to track the pegasus' movements. Though—I noted with hopeful trepidation—it was doing so with considerable difficulty. Brilliant crimson beams missed the filly by inches, scourging white hot holes in the mesh flooring of the listing suspended walkway.

She's going to die, I concluded. She is going to die in the next few seconds, and if I don't get out of here while I have half a chance, I'm not going to live for very much longer either. All I had to do was leave her behind—again—and make my run for it. It wasn't my fault that the little pegasus had decided to commit suicide by tangling with that thing up close. I'd been in the middle of formulating a workable plan that should have saved both of our lives. Now she'd gone a fucked it all up.

Which meant that I could get out of here with a clear conscience...ish.

All I had to do was run for the door.

Easiest thing in the world. Run for the door. I did it, like, two minutes ago. Just needed to do it again.

One more time.

Let's go.

…

Horseapples.

I watched the filly desperately clambering her way up the steep slope of the catwalk while the robopony's shots slowly bracketed her. In a few more seconds, it wasn't going to miss, not with her out in the open like she was. My eyes darted frantically around, looking for an opening or vulnerability that I might not have noticed from where I'd been behind my cover. Unfortunately, I wasn't seeing much. The robopony was too high for an earth pony like me to be able to get up onto its back and fire the necessary disabling shots.

It needed to be lower to the ground, which meant that at least one more of the supporting struts had to be taken out. That should finally collapse the structure completely. Then I could finish it off. The trouble was going to be severing another one of the supports. The only thing that had the firepower needed to cut through them efficiently was the robopony, and right now it was busy shooting at Windfall...

...who was currently clambering towards one of the struts.

Oh. So, the filly had been thinking ahead. Mostly.

She would be nearly twenty feet off the ground by the time she reached the strut. Assuming that the robopony didn't reduce her to glowing mist before she could get it to blast eh support, the filly was going to be in for quite the fall. I'd be less concerned if I'd ever seen her manage more than a flutter every once in a while.

I was going to have to catch her. Horseapples.

My eyes were fixed on the ivory pegasus as she made one final leap up the mesh incline. Her wings buzzed frantically in an effort to give her the necessary height to grab onto the strut that she'd been running for. She only barely managed to reach it, desperately grabbing onto it with her forehooves, panting furiously. Windfall looked back over her shoulder at the canted automaton, and her eyes widened. The barrel of its magical energy weapon was already glowing crimson.

"Jump!" I bellowed at the top of my lungs, scrambling out from behind my misshapen cover. My eyes were on the filly as she let out a terrified scream. Her hooves unwrapped themselves from the vertical metal support and her wings buzzed once more. The movement propelled the filly off of the metal strut just as a bolt of scarlet energy struck her perch. A shower of glowing slag exploded outward from the point of impact, pelting the filly in midair. Her scream of terror morphed into one of pain as she dropped through the air.

I cringed. That last little burst of her wings had sent the filly off of the course that I'd anticipated. I was forced to leap to catch her. The small limp body threw off my balance when she made contact with my outstretched forehooves, and the pair of us landed on the hard concrete factory floor with little in the way of grace. For my own part, I felt at least one rib crack, and I'd landed with more of my weight on the little pegasus that I had intended.

What Windfall's plan had lacked in elegance, it made up for in effectiveness. Above us, I could hear the remaining supports scream their protests at the increasing loads that they were being asked to bare, now that their comrades were no longer among them. The catwalk groaned and screeched for several seconds. Then there were several loud snapping sounds as overstressed bolts sheared in half. The structure collapsed to the ground in a cacophonous roar, crushing several pieces of machinery in its wake. Fortunately, it missed the two of us completely.

My eyes went to the limp filly in my hooves. Initially, I was convinced that she had been killed by the robopony's attack. However, she was still breathing. Barely. No telling what sorts of injuries she had sustained in the fall, and blood matted her coat where shards of molten steel had embedded themselves in her face and chest. This filly was due for a healing potion or two, at the least.

I began to sift through my saddlebag for one, but halted abruptly when I heard noises coming from within the wreckage of the catwalk. Noises that sounded suspiciously like a robopony trying to right itself. Bullshit. That thing had survived? Damn those Old World ponies and their quality engineering!

Maybe it was still operational, but it was also on the ground. I could kill it on the ground. Leaving the unconscious filly where she lay, I scampered for my pistol. The pain in my chest as the movements caused my broken rib to shift around was rather distracting; but I doubted that it would be lethal any time soon.

I picked up the pistol from where I'd dropped it while making my leap for the filly, and turned towards the wreckage of the catwalk. A lot of machinery and scattered spark-battery components littered the middle of the factory floor. I could barely make out the quivering shape of the robopony, let alone identify which way it was facing. I had to get at the plate on its back.

The weight of the weapon in my mouth suggested that I needed to entertain the notion of reloading at some point in the near future. It might even be prudent to do so right now. Which was why, as I moved to fetch a fresh magazine from the pocket sewn into my saddlebags, the pile of twisted steel mesh in front of me exploded in a shower of orange molten sparks and give a great heave as the robopony rose up out of the middle of the mess. Me, catch a break? Nah!

No time to reload now! I clambered around the pile of scrap, circling to get at the automaton's rear. It may have managed to right itself somehow, but it was still very much restricted in its ability to move around. Mentally, I tallied up the number of rounds I fired to reassure myself that I would have enough to shut this metal monstrosity down.

There'd been two in the street. Three initially on the factory floor. Then two. Plus two. Plus one was...Had it been three in the street? Three plus three plus two plus one plus...fuck! Oh course I hadn't been keeping track of my bullets. Why would I bother keeping track of my bullets? It's not like that was a really important thing to do when you were fighting for your life!

Whelp, time to find out exactly how much Celestia hates me...

I could see the cannon mounted into the robopony's chest making every attempt to track me. Fortunately, the magical energy weapon could pivot only so far in any given direction. With its wheeled legs still confined by the wreckage around it, I was able to slip out of the robot's firing arc. Safely behind it, I jumped up onto its back, wincing as my ribs protested once more. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. I was finally no longer having to sprint for my life under the threat of disintegration. The robot couldn't reach me from here.

It could still reach Windfall though. Recognizing this, and apparently deciding that it would just as soon remove the intruder that it could shoot, rather than concerning itself with the one it couldn't, I saw the cannon line itself up for a shot at the prone filly on the floor.

Ah, horseapples! Of course I wouldn't be allowed a moment to breath just yet. Fumbling with the pistol in my mouth, I put the barrel of the 9mm up to the access plate and tongued the trigger repeatedly, emptying the rest of the clip into the vulnerable nape of the robopony's neck...

...Which amounted to a single bullet before the slide locked back, caught on the weapon's empty magazine.

Oh for fucking fuckity-fucks sake!

That single round had managed to mangle the access plate beyond recognition, and I suspect do at least some minor damage to the crystalline circuitry within; but the robopony was clearly still very much active. And the cannon was still glowing, ready to fire at any moment. I didn't have the luxury of time to reload, not if I wanted to keep my investment alive. That severely limited my options.

With an exasperated groan, I drew out my knife. The hilt clutched firmly in my teeth, I plunged the steel blade as deep into the automaton's interior as the weapon's guard would let me. I was rewarded with the sound of crunching circuitry, and the smell of burning plastic and silicon. I was also 'rewarded' with the sensation of a great deal of magical energy traveling up the blade and setting my body to jerking. A testament to the idiocy of the action, that blow might very well have killed me if not for the fact that it also succeeded in deactivating the robot's power supply.

I pulled my mouth off of the blade, which was still buried in the robot's back and proceeded to exercise my jaw. The experience had left my mouth feeling both numb and fuzzy at the same time. I couldn't taste anything either. Oh, this was unpleasant. This wasn't going to be permanent, was it? Like, I hadn't just ruined my ability to speak or something for the sake of that filly, had I? Because I was going to be pissed off if that was the case. That pegasus owed me for this.

Oh, shit! Right, the filly. I should probably make sure she was going to live. Otherwise most of this effort would have been a waste. A few more awkward licks of my tongue and experiments in speaking coherently as I retrieved my weapons and dismounted the lifeless robopony. This filly had better be worth all of this effort. She'd better grow up to be a Luna-damned beast of a fighter after all that I was putting myself through on her behalf!

First things, first: making sure that she would at least live through the night. I bent over the filly and examined her. I wasn't any sort of expert on medicine, but I had learned enough over the years of treating my own wounds to recognize when something was serious or not. There were a lot of cuts on the filly, and her white coat was speckled with blood. None of it was flowing though. No serious nicks of any major blood vessels, so she wasn't going to bleed out on me. I prodded her ribs to see if any of them were floating around. The filly didn't respond to the poking, and none of the bones in her chest seemed to be moving in any way they weren't meant to.

No broken limbs. No discoloration of her belly. Nothing leaking out of her ears or nose. One monster of a lump on the side of her head though. Must have happened in the fall. Knocked unconscious then. She'd probably have a pretty serious concussion when she finally came to. Some Dash might bring her out of it right now, but I didn't have anything that would help her if she starting feeling dizzy or nauseous. Because that's what I was going to need out in the Ruins: a filly stumbling into everything and puking all over out haul.

Best to let her come to on her own, whenever that may be. She wasn't very heavy at least.

I found an old leather tool belt in one of the lockers near the assembly area and used it to strap the unconscious pegasus to my backside. It would keep her in place if I found myself having to make a quick exit. We'd already run into more than a couple of threats thus far. I fully expected to encounter more.

Now, to finally continue with our search for what had brought us into this Old World death trap in the first place: Spark batteries. There weren't going to be any to be found in the assembly part of this factory, but it had to have some sort of storage area for finished product waiting to be delivered. I just needed to find out where that was.

As it turned out, I didn't have far to wander before I found myself in another cavernous room. Creates of all sorts of shapes and sizes were scattered over the floor. Each one bore a familiar 'DPP' logo on their sides...and each of them was empty. Oh, for Celestia's sake...This couldn't have all been for nothing, could it? There had to be something left!

I scrounged around through the stacked crates for the better part of an hour. I figured that the boxes near the bottoms of the stacks had to be full; but they were empty like all the rest. Every crate showed signs of having been rummaged through or broken into. Of all the rotten luck...each empty box egged on my fury at having been robbed of my prize after working so hard to get it.

This culminated in one box receiving a rather intense double buck that shattered it against one of its fellows. Both wooden containers exploded into a cloud of splinters and scrap. When the dust settled, all that remained was a pile of trash fit only to be firewood, and a glowing terminal.

I blinked. I hadn't noticed that Old World computer at all during my rummaging. It had been perfectly concealed by a crate. Curious, I approached the machine and peered at the words on the screen.

It was a log of some sort. Dates, number of units, lot numbers...this was a shipping manifest! Records of every batch of batteries that had been produced here and where they'd gone to! Maybe I wasn't going to be left with nothing after all.

Computers and ancient technology weren't my strong-suit, but everypony in the Wasteland learned enough at some point to at least be able to muddle their way through basic menus. Hard not to when hundreds of these terminals remained functional all throughout the Wasteland. Some were even put to practical use in more developed areas. Myself, I'd occasionally diddled on them while exploring the odd ruin in search of valuable scrap. So I knew the basic commands.

I also knew the day that the megaspells detonated way back then. It was the last day of most archived data on these things. So, in order to find an intact stash of batteries nearby, I just needed to look at recent shipping dates and quantities delivered...bingo. One week before balefire burned Equestria, an order of twenty spark-batteries was sent out to a place called 'Ceerilee's Home for Orphaned Foals'. The best part, the location didn't seem to be all of that far of a detour. No way that an orphanage could use all of those batteries in such a limited amount of time.

Pay-dirt had been struck at last.

Windfall had had begun to stir by the time we finally arrived at the ancient orphanage. Four hours since she'd lost consciousness. Not bad. I doubted that she was going to be cognizant of her surroundings any time soon, but it was a good sign that she was even moving at all. With luck, she'd be fully recovered in a couple of days. Otherwise, I'd probably just go ahead and cut my losses and abandon the filly. She was no use to me 'damaged'.

The orphanage itself wasn't much to look at. Had I not known what I was looking for, I'd probably have missed it entirely. A narrow pale yellow building two stories tall, squished between two other similar structures of differing faded colors. The sign wasn't even hanging above the door anymore. Hopefully, that meant that the contents within were untouched. At least, the contents that I was after. I cast a glance at the filly on my back to make sure that she was still securely in place and then stepped inside.

Dim. Dirty. Depressing. The trifecta of Old World ruins. The first floor looked like a series of common rooms. One had a smattering of broken and half-rotted toys. Another had an assortment of tables ringed with chairs. Dusty dishes suggested that it was a dining area. The kitchen was beyond that. This didn't look so much like an orphanage as it did a moderately sized home. The number of chairs in the dining room amounted to a little over a dozen. A dozen children and their caretaker living together in this place? Must have been pretty crowded.

The upstairs confirmed my estimation. Two rooms to either side of the upper hallway each held a trio of bunk beds, with only enough room left over for a few footlockers. Looks like the foals here had had to double up when it came to storing their possessions. A bathroom with a vanity that was positively choking with toothbrushes. A linen closet that was bare of linen. With the number of beds in this place, I could guess why. How long had this place even been up and running? So much of it looked like it had been put together rather hastily.

At the end of the hall was the master bedroom. Presumably where the pony running this place had slept, as it contained the only full sized bed that I had yet seen in this place. Even had been used to sleep foals, by the look of the set of bunk beds in the corner. It was here that I also discovered all of the building's occupants.

A cluster of skeletons in the far corner of the room.

I took step closer, and paused as I felt something crinkle under my hoof. Glancing down, I noticed a piece of parchment that had faded with time. The writing upon it was an elegant script made with ink that was a light shade of pink. Curious, I picked up the piece of paper and read the message upon it.

CHEERILEE,

I CAN NEVER THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR WHAT YOU'RE DOING. THIS STUPID WAR HAS COST EVERYPONY SO MUCH, BUT NOPONY MORE SO THAN THESE POOR FOALS. THE MINISTRY OF PEACE HAS STANDING ORDERS TO GIVE YOU WHATEVER FUNDING YOU NEED TO OPERATE THE ORPHANAGE. IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, DON'T HESITATE TO ASK. THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING YOU'RE DOING.

FLUTTERSHY.

My eyes looked up from the note's flowing letters, towards the collection of skeletons. A dozen or so tiny sets of bones. Tiny bumps on some of the skulls, and barely visible delicate wing bones on the floor suggested that all three pony types were represented here. All of them were gathered tightly around the remains of a fully grown earth pony. Children seeking safety during their last moments. Their carer comforting them as best they could, likely assuring them that everything would be alright in the end.

The building was intact. No balefire blasts had killed these ponies. They had died slow, choking on the radioactive fallout that followed. There would have been a lot of crying and begging.

I narrowed my gaze at the larger skeleton in the middle of the group. Specifically, at the little golden trinket that the bones were clutching tightly to their ribs; just as the foals had clung to her. Upon closer inspection, I found that the object was in fact a little statue of a pony. A pegasus mare to be precise. Nor, I discovered as I neared it, was it a statue made of actual gold. It was simply a yellow mare with a flowing pink main and tail. What an odd thing to cling to in your last hours, I thought to myself.

It didn't look to be particularly valuable, other than whatever sentiment it had held for the pony holding it. Though, I had to admit that I was impressed with how new it looked. It had to be well over two centuries in age, much like everything else in this room, yet its vibrant colors and pristine appearance could have convinced anypony that it had been manufactured just yesterday. I'd known that the ponies of Old Equestira had built things to last, but damn!

Knocking aside the skeletal hooves of the earth pony, I reached out and took the statue from its embrace for a closer look. The pony felt...familiar somehow. I obviously couldn't have seen her somewhere before, but...there was something. The statue's expression was calm, reassuring. The big blue eyes of the mare seeming to convey this sense of security that I imagine would have made anypony feel safe if she'd really been there. Even surrounded by all of this death, it was having a calming effect on me.

On the base were inscribed two words: Be Pleasant.

This statue was the strangest object I'd ever come across in the Wasteland. It didn't look to be very practical or useful though. Given the vibrant nature of its colors, and its remarkably life-like appearance, I bet that I could find an interested buyer in a place like Seaddle. The wealthier politicos were always in the market for unusual art pieces. I placed the idol into my saddlebag.

It was probably a good thing that Windfall was unconscious for this. The filly had been through enough traumatizing experiences for one week. I didn't need her breaking down again. Or just breaking altogether. I'd seen what happened to the slaves who'd been put through too much psychological torture too quickly. They'd become withdrawn and distant. They stopped fighting. Good for a slave, bad for a pony that I was hoping to mold into a partner. I needed her pliable where my instructions were concerned, true; but I also needed her spirit intact. Otherwise she'd be useless in a rough situation.

My eyes went to an ajar door to my left. A closet. What was inside brought a smile to my lips for the first time in a long while. A box of spark-batteries.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

Footnote: Level Up
Perk Added: Run 'n Gun -- halve bullet spread while firing on the move.

CHAPTER 5: BEATIN', BANGIN', AND SCRATCHIN'

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“What's a nice mare like you doing in a place like this?”

I slammed the door to our little closet of an apartment open with enough force to send it bouncing back towards me after it'd collided with the wall. This only served to compound my unwarranted animosity towards the slab of corrugated steel, and I slammed it into the wall a second time for good measure. The filly on my back stirred again, but didn't rouse. Which was fortunate, since I hadn't needed her to witness my fury mounting ever since I'd finished turning the batteries in to the magistrate's clerk for our payment.

“'War tax' my ass! That little shit pocketed the money, or I'm a mule!” I was not particularly concerned with how effectively my voiced carried through the predictably thin walls to whomever our neighbors might be.

Half! Half of the bounty we'd been promised had been withheld immediately as 'tax' to fund the war effort with the Steel Rangers. What the fuck kind of sense did that make?! The NLR was the one paying us! How could the put a tax on the very bits that they were handing out?!

All they had to do was not offer the thousand bits in the first place. If all they were going to give us were four hundred and fifty bits—fifty bit 'bounty processing fee', that was a lark!—then they should have just offered the four hundred and fifty bits! On the other hoof, I wouldn't have gone out there if all they'd offered was four-fifty, so I guess I could see their reasoning. Still, it felt like I'd been robbed.

I also felt that it wasn't entirely hypocritical for me to feel upset about getting robbed...

After restocking expended ammunition, the health potion I'd given to Windfall when she still hadn't woken up after eight hours, the cost of this room for the week and dinner; I'd come out with a net profit of just one hundred caps. That would have gotten me just an hour of 'quality time' with Saffron back in Flank. An hour without all of those kinky little activities I'd only recently been able to talk her into. Ridiculous.

“That's the last government contract I take,” I grumbled, striding towards the room's single bed. I grabbed one of the pillows off of it and set it on the floor. This was where I deposited the limp lump of filly that I'd been carrying on my back for the better part of the day. If her concussion caused her to vomit, I didn't want that getting on the bed. I then plopped down in front of the bed and began shucking my barding, which had gotten progressively more damaged since my encounter with the farmer. The rend his shotgun had torn in it was widening as I continued to exert myself without the materials to do a proper patch job.

Unfortunately, I still didn't have the money for those materials, and the longer I was gallivanting about trying to scrape them together, the more damage the barding was sustaining. It was a proper perpetuating cycle at this point. I'd never have the funds to get it mended at this rate. Pah, at this rate, it'd be nothing but unrecognizable shreds of leather in a month. I couldn't recall it ever being this hard to keep from getting shot at back east.

Was I losing my edge or something?

How was I even supposed to gain any sort of headway here? I wasn't exactly the kind of pony who was contented to work a nine-to-five job and live hoof-to-mouth for the rest of my life. My ideal existence was a big score every few weeks, separated by non-stop drinking and rutting. Not that I saw myself with much of an opportunity for the latter here, even even I got the funds together.

Though, the drinking I could do something about. In my current aggravated state, it seemed like an opportune night to do so, as well.

I tossed my barding off to the side and proceeded to dig through my saddlebags for the one article of actual clothing that I possessed. Unlike most of what was in my bags, this was perhaps one of the few things that I owned that had been procured legally, using genuine honestly earned money. It was early on in my time out east. I had just finished escorting a caravan to Tenpony Tower for the Society. I'd been on a walkabout through the place, having heard a lot about it from the other guards; felt like seeing what all the hype was about.

The jacket had caught my eye while I passed a clothing boutique. The fresh pouch of caps in my saddlebags cried out to be spent, and there I was looking at a black leather jacket with a pony skull emblazoned on the back. It'd been just a couple of months since my exile, and I was feeling homesick. Given that I didn't have to cover my brand in Manehattan, I guess it was a little silly to worry about buying clothing; especially an item that wasn't so different from my brand. But, even I had once been known to do silly things out of a sense of misplaced sentiment.

Ah, to be young and stupid.

I looked at the writing on the back of the jacket for a brief moment, 'Tartarus's Hounds', before slipping it on. The boutique owner had informed me that the Tartarus Hounds had been some sort of pony clan or something before The Great War. The notion that there had been tribes using skulls for their brands before the Wasteland had tickled me a bit. I'd wondered if my own tribe could have been a remnant of theirs.

In any case, the jacket would serve to hide the mark of the White Hooves that rested between my shoulders. I'd be able to move around the city freely.

My eyes went back to Windfall, who was still laying quite still. If she hadn't improved by morning, I'd leave her somewhere. Maybe outside the Seaddle clinic or something. In case she awoke at some point while I was out, I left out a basin of water and a couple of bars of granola that I'd bought for dinner.

I turned to leave, but I hesitated at the door.

I looked in Windfall's direction again. The alabaster pegasus was breathing softly, but lay still otherwise. After her actions today, I was having fewer doubts about her prospects as a partner. The filly had impressed me.

She'd saved my life today. Not entirely by accident either. While I didn't think for a moment that the little filly had planned for that first robopony to do itself in by dislodging the side of the building; she had at the very least been hoping to distract it long enough for me to get somewhere safer. The young pegasus had taken the initiative to pose as a distraction, and had had the courage to intentionally attract the attention of a machine capable of rendering her into a pile of glowing ash. Even if she had been unaware that magical energy weapons could have that specific affect, she at least saw what those scarlet lances were doing to my cover.

Thinking about the situation, and if our places had been reversed; I wasn't entirely certain that I'd have done the same. Actually, I was certain that I wouldn't have. I'd have left the filly to die and saved myself. Nearly had, in fact.

Looking at the slumbering pegasus, knowing what she'd done for me; that knowledge that a monster like me had been saved by a filly like her...

You don't owe that little cunt a damn thing!

Not for the first time this week, I told that voice inside my head to shut its damn mouth. Then I stepped through the door, and locked it behind me.

It was the first time I'd left Windfall alone for any significant length of time since finding her at the brahmin ranch. I'd wanted her in my presence as much as possible, in order to help the filly to bond with me in her own mind. Tonight though, was different. She'd earned some rest with all that had happened the last few days; and I figured that I'd earn some 'me' time too.

Which left me on my own making my way through Seaddle during the rather lively evening hours.

Seaddle, like just about any settlement in the Wasteland, had no shortage of bars. Alcohol was a very popular solution to the problem of dealing with how much life out in the world sucked. So, naturally, the business of providing alcohol was a very widespread one. The only real variation was the atmosphere that surrounded the alcohol. You had your loud and upbeat clubs that promoted music and dancing. Then there were your social clubs that featured shows and gambling.

Then you had my preferred scene for the night: the secluded, quiet, dive. I didn't dance, I'd had enough of loud noises for a while, and I didn't need to be surrounded by a lot of ponies. All I wanted was to buy a few rounds of whiskey to help deal with my shoulder pain. Liquor worked almost as well as Med-X when it came to pain management; maybe not as rapidly, but it still numbed the body over time. It was also quite a bit cheaper per dose, and the withdrawal wasn't nearly as bad if you developed a dependency, in my opinion. Not that I had a drinking problem.

I was very satisfied with my drinking.

Fortunately, I didn't have to look for very long to find the sort of place I was interested in. It helped that I was familiar with where you could find those bars. They were frequently off the main roads, nearer to the less costly side of towns. Which meant that I didn't have very far to limp before I noticed a little shanty with light spilling out from under the door and a dim sign on the wall.

COLLARD'S

I could smell the cigar smoke and booze from here. This place would suit my needs just fine.

A haze of blue-gray smoke hung near the ceiling. A couple of dim lanterns connected to spark-batteries hung from the rafters, casting the room in soft yellow light. Beside the door, an aging brown earth pony leaned back in a chair, dragging his hooves across the strings of a guitar in a slow progression of chords that might have been a song. Aside from Guitar Pony and the lime green buck tending the bar, there might have been four other patrons in the place. None of them were talking, and only a couple looked to be actively nursing anything in front of them.

The barpony looked up in my direction, offering a slight nod from where he was leaning lazily against the bar. I returned the gesture and walked stiffly to an empty stool a couple spaces down from the nearest patron. The green buck kept his gaze on me. When I was seated, he raised an eyebrow, begging an unasked question.

“Wild Pegasus. Double. Straight,” I supplied. The barpony wordlessly brought out a glass and a bottle, pouring in the requested amount and bringing it over to me. He kept his hoof over the top of the drink.

“Three bits.”

I fished out the payment and he left me to drink in peace. Not bad. The whiskey was hardly watered down at all. I might have just found my regular hangout.

My attention was drawn by the sound of a door behind me opening. It wasn't the bar's entrance; that was off to my right. Curious, I looked back over my shoulder to see what the commotion was about. My eyes widened slightly.

“Hey, Green,” the cyan unicorn mare called out, a wry smile on her face. She didn't sound drunk, or sway on her hooves. If it was possible, she appeared to be genuinely happy about something, “you're out of TP...and down one washrag.”

The barpony grunted, but made no other response.

My eyes didn't leave the mare as she strutted up to the bar. I was drawn to her eyes first. They were...off. Cloudy yellow, like a ghoul's might be. That wouldn't have surprised me much. Not all ghouls were mindless zombies with a hankering for pony flesh like those at the sawmill had been. Some could be quite cordial; if a little odd at times. However, except for her eyes, there was nothing else about the blue mare that lent credence to her ghoulishness. Her hide was taught and nearly immaculate, except for a single faint scar running across her muzzle. She didn't look like a pony with mange that had been dried out in the sun like a piece of jerky. So, not a ghoul then.

Her sandy brown mane was tied back in a loose bun, leaving thin wispy bangs to fall across her brow. Her tail looked like it could have used a brushing, though it certainly wasn't a completely tangled mess. The dusty white bow tied at the base was a nice touch. It matched the color of her dress. Well, I called it a dress, but it had probably originally been lingerie before the war. It was lacy and shier in places, and completely form-fitting.

I was pretty confident that I had her profession pegged; if not the reason for her eyes looking the way that they did. It could be an early-onset ghoulification I suppose. Still, she was pretty enough, despite the scar, and a unicorn besides. If it weren't for ponies in Seaddle being a lot more knowledgeable about what my tattoo meant than ponies out east, I'd have definitely propositioned her. Still, one glimpse of the mark on my back...

“I'm blind.”

The words caught me off guard. The mare hadn't looked in my direction even once during her trip to the bar. She was looking at me now though, with those milky pale yellow eyes of hers. A wry smile on her lips, “so you can stop staring now. Or at least have the courtesy to say something.”

I guess I had been staring. I blushed a little, like a foal who'd been caught sneaking Sugar Apple Bombs before supper. My mouth opened to offer an apology, then I paused. Wait a minute, “if your blind, then how did you...?”

Her horn flared with a yellow light for a brief moment, and then the aura dimmed. It was only then that I realized that her horn had been glowing this entire time, just very dimly. Some sort of perpetual incantation, that I assumed helped her to perceived the world around her, “magic!” she looked towards the barpony, “pour me some apple schnapps. Put it on his tab,” she nodded her head in my direction.

I furrowed my brow, “what makes you think I'll pay for your drinks?”

The mare walked up to me, tilting her head coyly. She was looking almost perfectly in my direction, but not quite. Her eyes seemed to look right past me, not meeting my own. However she was able to use her horn to perceive the world around her, it wasn't perfect, “because you want to get under my tail,” she replied simply, reaching her left hoof up and rubbing it on the shoulder of my jacket, “and buying my drinks is a good first step.”

My snort seemed to surprise her. That I turned away to resume facing the bar and sip my whiskey compounded her confusion, “I don't do this foreplay shit,” I informed her bluntly, “give me an hourly rate or get lost.”

The mare sounded a little offended, “you think I'm a hooker?”

“Your either a hooker, or a slut,” I quipped. Then, seeing her glare, I amended, “or you're just trying to scam some drinks off the new buck,” the momentary look of embarrassment on the mare's face confirmed my guess. The look shifted into a scowl as she looked like she was about to retort, “I ain't a charity. You want booze from me, you better be offering more than some flirty words and a nuzzle on the neck.”

The barpony, in his first blatant show of outward emotion, burst out laughing. Not a little snicker either. The lime green buck was doubled over guffawing, “ha! That's got to be the quickest anypony's ever caught on to you, Vis,” this earned the barpony a glare from the unicorn as well, but he flatly ignored it.

“Nothing personal,” I went on after taking a sip of my whiskey, “you're pretty and all; but I nearly died earning these bits. You want 'em?” I glanced at her. Specifically, her eyes. If she really was blind, then that meant that there were certain details she was unlikely to notice. Depending on how perceptive her magic was, “well, you're right: I wouldn't mind a peek at what you've got going on under that bow. More than a peek, to be honest.

“So throw out a number, and we'll negotiate from there. If we reach a deal, then we can talk about that drink.”

“Wh-?!” the unicorn sputtered, “I am not that kind of mare!”

“Shame,” I shrugged, turning back to my drink, “if you were, I bet you could afford your own booze.”

Admittedly, I might have gone a little too far with that one. I could have just let the conversation drop right there. If this mare had scruples, then she was unlikely to help me with my rutting deficiency. It was becoming obvious that she wasn't actually a prostitute; she just liked trying to get bucks to buy things for her to save money. Perhaps it was just because I found her reaction to the insinuation rather out of place. Out east, you couldn't throw a pebble in a town without hitting a mare who was willing to spread her flanks for caps. Maybe there was a stigma in Seaddle that I'd forgotten about?

Still, too far or not, I wasn't just going to sit there and let her hit me. I had plenty of pains already. So, when the cyan mare lashed out to land a solid smack across my muzzle, I deflected it away with a quick swing of my hoof. I didn't strike her back, just blocked her blow. From the look on her face though, and the expressions on a couple of the others in the bar, you'd think I bucked her upside the head.

I looked at the barpony, ignoring the fuming mare beside me, “you let all your paying customers get assaulted like this? 'Cause, I could take my bits someplace else...”

That got the green buck's attention. He grunted at the unicorn, “Vis, why don't you take a walk?” it wasn't phrased like a question, “come back when you cool off.”

The unicorn kept her glare on me for a few more seconds. Then, with a snort, she turned and headed for the exit. I don't know what that spell of hers did to compensate for her blindness, but it certainly seemed affective. She didn't so much as brush a single stool or table on her way to the door, which she levitated open and then slammed shut behind her.

Another sip of whiskey. Upset or not, if that mare was bind...

She was certainly attractive enough, and a unicorn to boot, “does she have a story, or is she just naturally a bitch?”

“Vision?” the barpony said, glancing towards the door.

I snickered, “seriously?” the blind pony's name was 'Vision'? “Is that actually her name, or just a cruel joke?”

The barpony frowned at me, “name. Golden Vision. For her eyes, I think. The joke was what her ex-lover did,” I quirked an eyebrow, “the bastard blinded her. Took a pot of boiling water to her face. Gave her that scar too; but I think that was earlier.”

“Why'd he do that?”

The green buck shrugged, “since when did anypony need an excuse to be an ass? He got pissed off, cut her up, and splashed some boiling water in her face. Mare like her doesn't have the bits for an autodoc, so...” another shrug.

Not a rare story to hear.

Two hours and four refills later, I was ready to cash in for the night. The bar would still be here tomorrow after all. I paid off the rest of my tab, left the green buck—Collard Green was his name, I learned—a tip for stepping in to calm the mare down before things went further—and in hopes that the next time he'd bring out the better liquors—and headed for the door. Between the stiffness and the alcohol, my progress was very slow and deliberate. Perhaps I even appeared drunk, though the truth was that I was far from it. I certainly felt the alcohol gently caressing my brain, but I was a far sight from impaired.

Seaddle probably didn't sleep. As late as it was by now, there were still signs of obvious life. Ponies coming and going from various clubs and bars, some singing and laughing. Ponies enjoying life, as though the world wasn't completely fucked up beyond the walls of the fortress-city they lived in. Somewhere, I was certain that a squad of Steel Rangers and NLR soldiers were exchanging fire. A ganger was raping a mare unlucky enough to get caught. A foal was starving to death.

But right here, in this city, those realities were far from the minds of these ponies.

And who could blame them?

I rounded a corner and began making my way back to the apartment. I hadn't gone far when I heard the sound of hoofsteps behind me. Soft. Light. Likely a young colt or filly hoping to snatch some bits out of the saddlebags of a drunken buck stumbling his way home from the bar. They were going to be sorely disappointed.

This was going to be uncomfortable though. My shoulder wasn't going to be happy with this at all. But, a little pain was better than being robbed of my hard-earned bits.

I kept walking, pretending I hadn't heard anything. I even went so far as to exaggerate my stumbling, making it look a little bit more like I was genuinely inebriated. The steps grew closer.

When they sounded like they were almost directly behind me, I feigned a stumble. My right foreleg buckled out from under me. A pony who was genuinely drunk would have rolled forward onto their side; however, I was not drunk. Instead of falling forward, I swung my hips around in a one-hundred and eighty degree arc. Now facing my would-be assailant, I pushed myself back up with my foreleg, wincing at the pain as my injured shoulder protested the movement. On my hooves again, I leaped forward with a powerful thrust of my hind-legs, launching myself at my stalker.

There was a surprised scream that was cut off abruptly as my fetlock caught them in the throat and pitched them backwards. Now standing over my assailant, I grinned down at them, “Thought you could sneak up on me, punk—huh?”

I was staring into a pair of wide milky yellow eyes framed by a cyan face. Then there was a flash of yellow right in front of my eyes brighter than anything I'd ever seen in my life. It was as though somepony had created an orb out of a thousand spark-battery powered lights and placed them right inside my eyeballs. I reflexively recoiled, crying out as I felt my eyes start to water. Then four dainty hooves connected with my chest and pitched me backwards. I hit the ground with a grunt.

I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see a damn thing. It was all a swirling mass of green and red, “the fuck?!” I shook my head, futilely trying to restore my sight, “you blinded me, you fucking bitch!” if I had any idea which direction she was, I'd have charged her and pounded her face into mush. I. Was. Pissed.

“You attacked me,” Vision defended, sounding like she was a few yards in front of me.

I lunged in the direction of the sound, but I didn't find anything, “you were sneaking up on me!”

“I just wanted to talk,” she was off to my right now. I lunged again, and missed a second time, “calm down. It'll wear off in a minute.”

My lips curled back in a snarl, but I refrained from making another grab for her. I was just making a fool of myself groping around in the sea of swirling colors. It galled me that this unicorn was genuinely blind, and yet possessed a better awareness of her surroundings than I did. I guess it came with practice...and being a unicorn. Fucking magic, “so talk,” I growled.

“You said you risked your life for those bits,” if this was some sort of robbery, I was going to snap that mare's neck; sight or no sight, “did you kill for them?”

What was this, an interrogation? She wasn't with the city guard, and even if she was: she couldn't just go up to them a say, “he killed somepony” and get me arrested. Especially in the NLR, she'd need proof. A body and a bloody weapon for starters. Not that killing crazy robots was a crime. That old farmer maybe, but technically, I hadn't killed him.

“I've killed ponies before, yeah. Who hasn't. So what?”

There was a pause. The swirling colored mass in front of my eyes was growing less opaque. I could see sources of light in the distance, but little else, “if I paid you, would you kill somepony for me?”

That caught me off guard a little. Trying to get me caught for conspiracy? The street had been empty when I jumped her, but who knew how many ponies were around us now. If a couple of guards were nearby, talking about arranging a hit on somepony might be enough to get me locked up. Though, her voice had gotten pretty low at this point. Plus, I was pretty sure a hit contract wouldn't be subject to any NLR 'war tax'.

“Depends on who,” I replied softly, in a hesitant tone; just in case this was a setup, “and for how much. Death is cheap. Killing ain't. And considering you can't afford your own booze, I doubt you could offer me enough for whatever it is you want,” I could finally make out shadowy forms. The mare wasn't too far away, and we were alone as far as I could tell.

“What about a trade?”

I made my way cautiously out of the middle of the narrow street, “maybe. If it's stuff I can pawn or use.

“Who do you want dead?”

“His name is Adz. He leads a small crew out in the Ruins,” her tone was cold. This was personal, and very serious.

“How big a crew?”

“A dozen. Maybe a few more by now.”

“What's their racket?”

“What?”

“Drugs? Slaves? Raiding,” I offered, a little annoyed. At least my sight had just about completely returned though, “what does Adz's crew get into?”

“Oh. Raiding.”

So, that meant a lot of firepower. They'd need to be well armed to overcome any security a target might have, and they'd probably be holed up somewhere very defensible where they could sit on their hauls until they could fence them. Somewhere that they could bunker down and repel an assault by NLR forces. A lot of firepower means a lot of risk.

“Three thousand.”

Her jaw dropped, “three thousand?! To kill one buck?”

“Three thousand to, first, fight my way into a fortified gang lair full of raiders, kill 'one buck', and then fight my way out. Unless you can think of a way to get him alone,” I looked at her curiously, “then it'd just be five hundred.”

“I don't have five hundred bits,” she admitted, “I can come up with three hundred in a few days...”

“Then call me when you have five hundred and know how to get him alone,” I turned around and started to walk away.

The unicorn rushed after me, cutting me off. Her face was a mask of fear, “please! You have to help me!”

I narrowed my eyes at her, “I don't have to do anything. Certainly not for you. Come up with a plan and five hundred bits, and then we'll talk.”

“He's going to have me killed!”

“Then go to the guard,” I tried to step around her, but the cyan unicorn stayed in my path. This was actually starting to get annoying.

“Why would the guard help me? They don't go after raiders unless one of the caravan guilds pays them to.”

“Then I guess you need to get those bits.”

“Three-fifty!” she blurted desperately.

“Five hundred,” was my even reply.

“I can't come up with that kind of money in time!”

“Oh well,” I shoved past the mare, knocking her out of the way.

I made it a half dozen steps when I heard the mare's next outburst, “a night!”

My hooves came to a stop. Peering back over my shoulder, I could see the cyan unicorn looking uneasy. I wasn't sure if I'd understood her correctly, but I had a feeling that I had, “excuse me?” I stepped closer to the mare so that she wouldn't have to talk so loudly.

She glared at me, “one night. You wanted under my tail, at the bar? One night, if you kill him. I can lure him out.”

“One night,” I nodded, a smile touching my lips. I wondered just how well her magic allowed her to 'see', “and three hundred bits.”

The mare's look was baleful. For a moment, I thought that she might refuse the offer, but then she bowed her head and gave a slight nod.

“Alright. Let's talk then,” I directed the mare to walk at my side so that we could work out the details of the hit. Her discomfort at the agreed upon price of the contract made her uneasy, so I was careful not to crowd her too much. There would be time enough for that later, “how do you plan to get him alone?”

“I don't—”

“Actually,” I cut her off, “why is he after you? Maybe we can use that,” the mare didn't answer, “these details could keep you alive and make him dead. Either talk or go away.”

She glared at me again, but this time she answered, “we have a history,” the buck who blinded her, I guessed. That made some sense. The bar pony had made it sound like it had happened years ago though. There certainly was no evidence of any recent injury on the mare's face. If Adz hadn't thought maiming her was enough of a punishment for whatever transgression Vision had committed against him, then why wait so long to come after her? “I got away, but a couple weeks ago, he found out I was in Seaddle. He arrived a few days ago. Came into town; said I could either come back to him, or he'd kill me.”

“Unicorn or earth pony?”

“Earth pony.”

I thought in silence for a minute. Best case scenario, we get Adz to meet us at a neutral site in the Ruins. We could set up an ambush and catch him off guard. Or, perhaps convince him to meet us in town. That would restrict the support he could bring, but it'd be harder to kill him and get away with it. If NLR soldiers showed up, we'd be hard pressed to plead a case of self-defense. Adz probably wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything in the city either; especially if he'd opted to stay outside of it thus far. What wasn't an option was meeting him on his own terms.

“Is it purely personal? Why's he after you? Just a possessive jerk, or did he buy you?” slavery had only recently been outlawed in the NLR, and something told me a buck like Adz didn't have much regard for legality anyway. Knowing what motivated him would help me determine a way to get him to do what we needed. If Adz was nothing but a spurned lover, that would make things complicated, but if he'd looked at Vision as his property...That opened up possibilities.

The mare winced. She didn't meet my gaze, “...yeah. He bought me...”

“So he's after property,” I murmured, “good. We can work with that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Send a message to him. Tell him that you want to buy your freedom.”

She shook her head, “Adz isn't interested in bits.”

“You aren't going to use bits,” I informed her, “you're going to offer him another mare. A pegasus filly. I bet a buck like him is open to trading up to a younger model,” nopony went as far as this stallion had just to walk away empty hoofed. However, nopony who dealt in slaves, in my experience, would be opposed to walking away with a different slave than the one he'd come for; especially if that one was a young exotic filly that he could 'train' to his own tastes. Adz shouldn't be able to resist the bait that I had in mind.

Vision looked at me in bewilderment, “how's that going to work? He's not going to hang around long when he sees it's just us.”

“Just you, actually,” I corrected, “you and the pegasus filly. I will be out of sight.”

“You know a pegasus filly? Here?”

“Yep,” I nodded. A plan was forming in my head. I had the bait, the execution, and the target; now all that was needed was a location that would give us the advantage, without putting Adz ill at ease. Someplace in the Ruins. I recalled now the little orphanage that Windfall and I had found during our spark-battery foraging. It should suit our needs perfectly.

“Here's what you're going to tell him...”

This day may have ended on a low note, what with being swindled out of money that I had earned honestly for the first time in years—see if I ever bother with that again—but it was looking like tomorrow was going to be a brighter day. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The prospect of both earning some easy bits by shooting some buck in the head, coupled with the anticipation of my secondary, much more precious, compensation had put a renewed spring in my step. I almost felt like I was on my way to Stable 69.

Of course, there was still one little detail to iron out on my end while Golden Vision contacted the target: I needed Windfall coherent. It wouldn't be enough for her to simply be there. She had to be able to function. Both so that Adz would be compelled to see the filly as a viable product, and so that the young pegasus could actually contribute to the plan that I had in mind. I could only be in so many places at once, and despite our instructions to the contrary, there was no way that Adz was about to meet with Vision alone. He wouldn't have lived as long as he had if he was stupid enough to do that.

I needed a second set of eyes—no pun intended—and, more importantly, a second weapon at hoof.

That was, assuming, that Windfall hadn't ended up with more than a bump on that noggin of hers. If that was the case, then this was going to be a lot more complicated.

I slipped the key into the lock of the door leading to the apartment and gave it a twist until I heard the telltale click. I pushed it open and reached over to flick the switch on the nearby spark-battery powered lights in the room. My eyes went to the pillow where I had left the filly, expecting to see her still there curled up and sleeping. Imagine my surprise when she wasn't.

My head whipped around the room, searching for any sign of her. It didn't take long to scan it, since it was pretty much just one single room with a wash basin on one side, a bed on the other, and a locker in between them. Yet, there was no sign of the little pegasus filly. That was...peculiar. It wasn't like there were any windows for her to climb out of, and the door had most certainly been locked. She had to be here!

I took a few cautious steps inside, my eyes darting up to the ceiling briefly just in case. She was a pegasus after all. Then my ear twitch as I detected the faint sound of a muffled whimper. It had come from the direction of the bed. With a grimace, I bent my head down and peered along the floor. Sure enough, there she was; curled up into a tight downy ball of fluff and pinions. Crying about something too, by the sound of it. Perfect.

“Come out from there,” I said in a bored tone. I was tired, a little liquored, and still a bit aggravated about the bounty issue. Right now my patience for dealing with tears was pretty thin.

At my words, the filly jerked her head up. A little too quickly by the look of things. She also seemed to have forgotten where she was, and ended up smack herself pretty good on the underside of the old box-spring. That would do her concussion a lot of good, I bet...

The filly seemed to recover rather quickly from that knock though. The next thing I knew, she had bolted out from under the bed and latched herself onto my neck like a white and teal slave collar. All the while, a string of incomprehensible babbles came cascading out of her mouth.

“OhthankcelestiaIdidn'tknowwhereIwasorwhereyouwereorifyouwerealiveandwhenyouweren'thereIthoughtI'dbeen takenbythewhitehoovesandIwasscaredand-”

I recoiled in a futile attempt to get away from the blubbering filly that had wrapped her hooves around my neck in what I would have called a fair approximation of a stranglehold if it weren't for all the crying. It was certainly tight enough to restrict my ability to utter more than choked demands for the filly to let go and slow down.

I liked her better when she was unconscious...

“Let...go!” I finally managed to croak out loud enough for the little pegasus to hear over the din of her own prattling. Her words stopped abruptly and the filly dropped down from around my neck. She did not, however, calm herself very much. At least when she continued, she was only clinging to my leg.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” she sobbed, “I was just so scared. I woke up, and there was blood all over me, and you weren't here. I thought,” her voice caught for a moment, “I thought the White Hooves had gotten me!”

I took a moment to massage and clear my throat. If she didn't loosen her grip on my leg, my hoof was going to start to go numb in a bit. I tugged away from the filly with the leg, hoping that she would take the hint let go on her own recognizance. When the filly didn't, continuing to whine about how scary the nice warm room with food and water had been for the twenty minutes since she'd woken up, I began to get a little annoyed.

Beat the tears out of her, a gruff buck sneered in the back of my mind.

It worked for me, a mare added without the usual notes of sarcasm that I had come to expect from her, it taught me to be tough.

I hesitated, mulling over the advice that my delusions were feeding me. On the one hoof, what my father had done to Whiplash had made her the sort of ruthless mare that I was hoping this pegasus might one day be. On the other hoof, she had not regarded him with any sense of devotion either. Still...the filly did need to learn some discipline. I wasn't going to tolerate much more of this sort of reaction from her. In the past, when I'd thought of her as somepony else's problem, that was one thing. She was going to be my problem now though. That meant she needed to learn when she was, and when she was not allowed to grab me.

My free hoof rose into the air, ready to deliver a solid smack across the filly's face and shock her out of the state that she was in. She'd understand why I'd done it in time.

...Be kind...

I froze. I'd heard voices for a long time. Just about as far back as I could remember really. However, there had only ever been the two of them, and they had been very specific voices. Ones from my past. My dead father, and my backstabbing sister. I knew their voices and tones well. They'd haunted me all through Hoofington and Manehattan. They'd followed me back to Neighvada. In some ways, I was even comforted by their presence—despite how much they could aggravate me sometimes.

But those words just now...the voice that had uttered them...

I didn't know it. I'd never heard that voice before.

How much more of your mind are you losing, Jackboot? What did that voice even mean anyway? 'Be kind.' 'Be weak' was more like it. Kindness was a personality flaw that I had been taught to exploit at every instance. If a pony approached you in friendship, you took him into bondage and made him work for you.

I didn't need to be kind to this filly. I needed to be firm with her. She had to learn boundaries. If that meant a smack to the face ever so often, where was the harm in that?

Again, I drew back to strike Windfall, even as she continued to extol upon her fears that I had been killed by the robot in the factory.

Again, the new voice invaded my mind, be kind...

Windfall was just scared. She had ever reason to be. Her last waking memory had been of a robot five times her size shooting at her with a magical death beam. When she had woken up, she'd been alone. Bloody. In pain. The only pony she knew in this whole city—me—had been absent, without leaving so much as a note or any other indication that I'd survived as well.

She didn't need a hoof strike to set her right.

Slowly, my upraised arm lowered. It came to rest on the filly's back. This startled the little pegasus to silence. Her tear filled eyes looked up at me expectantly.

“Everything's fine,” I assured her. My tone wasn't what could be described as gentle. I wasn't used to speaking like that to anypony I wasn't trying to proposition. But, it should at least do something to put the filly more at ease, “I ain't hurt, and a little water will get you cleaned up and looking good as new,” I was rewarded with the sight of the filly relaxing noticeably, “I wasn't here, because I was out finding more work for us.”

Windfall's ears drooped a little, “we didn't get the batteries?”

“No, we got 'em,” I frowned now at the memory of my exchange with the clerk, “that contract just didn't pay as much as I thought it would. Political bullshit, or some such. So we need another job, and I got us one that should be a little easier.”

“Will we have to fight more robots?” she asked, sounding fearful. I imagined that the pegasus would have a healthy respect for the lethality of roboponies for the rest of her life now.

“Nope. Just a couple of ponies,” I informed her.

This revelation made Windfall even more fearful, “what?! But why?” her tail curled up around her cutie mark, concealing it from view. Her 'reward' for having killed a pony in the past.

Because a nice mare has offered to let me fuck her if I do, was the answer I gave inside my head. Anticipating that the filly would not see the merit in such a contract, I fed her a much more palatable line, “because they are raiders who have been harassing a blind mare around here. I'm pretty sure they're trying to catch her and make her a slave. She has offered to pay us some bits if we take care of them for her.”

Most of the concern melted from the filly's face, “we're helping somepony fight bandits? Just like the Mare-do-Well?”

I frowned for a moment, not realizing at first what the filly was talking about. Then I recalled the pegasus' penchant for listening DJ-PON3's frequent accounts of the actions of some mare in Manehattan. Apparently this mare had decided a smart career move was to piss off every slaver and bandit in Equestria; and all accounts had her doing it without any sort of overt monetary compensation. The radio jockey calls her, 'the hero Equestria needs,' whatever that means. My opinion was that she was a dumbass who was looking to get herself killed for nothing.

But whatever helped the filly rationalize this. Besides, we were helping out somepony with a raider problem. I knew the Mare-do-Well had done that once or twice. Though I doubt she'd done it under contract for sex. Never knew though, “pretty much,” this seemed to assuage Windfall's concerns.

The crying abated, and Windfall's mood seemingly improved over what it had been upon my return, I set down to divulging my plan to the filly.

I tugged on the string with my teeth, cinching the knot down on the stem of the tiny metal sphere. I made sure that the grenade was held in place by the rubble I'd collected and then laid out the string deep into the orphanage's interior. I passed the end of the line to Windfall.

“I don't know exactly how many of them will be coming, but the moment the first one steps into the doorway, yank on the string. Then get down as low as you can. Don't get up until I tell you it's clear. Understand?”

The filly nodded, taking the offered end of the line, “got it,” I turned away to continue with the preparations.

The plan for this encounter was simple: Adz shows up with a few goons despite being requested to come alone—because raiders weren't complete morons. Vision offers to buy her freedom using Windfall as appeasement. Adz agrees and then immediately renegs on the deal and tries to take them both—because that's what raiders did. Windfall detonates the grenade the moment he steps hoof inside the entryway, maiming—hopefully killing—most of them. I come out of hiding from across the street and gun down the survivors.

On paper, it was a solid plan, I thought. Still, things often had a tendency to go wrong. A dull pain in my shoulder and my shredded barding were keen to remind me of this. However, I was short on contingency options. Vision was blind, and though she'd found a way to somehow let her magic guide her through the world, I wasn't going to trust her was a gun if it came to that. I didn't even know if she'd ever fired a weapon before. Depending on how long she'd been a slave, the answer was probably never.

That left: Windfall. I'd been taking her shooting, and she'd at least learned the principals of marksmareship. That said, I still recalled clearly her reaction upon shooting the farmer. The filly probably couldn't be counted on to do any killing if it was needed, but I still would feel better about a second firearm on our side in this equation. If nothing else, it might help to divide the attention of the attackers if the grenade failed in its mission.

I passed the .22 pistol to the little filly, “keep it under your wing. Out of sight,” the pegasus looked nervous as she took the weapon tentatively, “don't worry, you shouldn't need it,” I hoped. The assurance didn't look like it had helped her much.

Next was finding a suitable location from which to observe Adz and his crew approaching, where they would not be able to easily notice me in return. Ideally, that would be from one of the upper floors across the street. I'd have the high ground, a clear line of fire, and a long line of sight on the street. What such a location would not allow me to do, was make a speedy entry into the shop if anypony from Adz's crew survived the grenade. I'd have to be at ground level.

My eyes went to a dumpster in an alleyway. Eyes on the orphanage entrance, and not immediately visible to anypony who wasn't suspecting a trap. Which, I hoped that Adz wasn't. I couldn't see why he would. To him, Vision was just some dumb slave that was lucky enough to give him the slip, and had now just arranged a secluded meeting with him in order to buy her freedom. His plan should undoubtedly be to swoop in, nab Vision and Windfall both, and go back to his little lair to enjoy his good fortune.

Speaking of, I couldn't believe what being a month into my current bout of celibacy was prompt me to go through for a night of satisfaction. Don't get me wrong, I've taken on some long odds before, but never just for a single night with a mare I'd never known before yesterday. Especially a mare who wasn't a professional. Whores like Saffron had years of experience under their saddles, and really knew how to make sure you got your bits worth. And while I was confident I knew the sort of duties that Vision had been expected to perform while in Adz's company; that didn't mean that I could count on the raider pony to have given the cyan unicorn any real education in that department.

Whatever. It wasn't like I had a lot of options here.

My plan of action clear in my mind, and Windfall positioned and ready for her part, I glanced around for the third player in our performance today. She should be arriving any moment now...ah, there she was. A cyan unicorn popped into view, walking towards us down the road. There was something surreal about a blind mare walking through the Ruins of Seaddle looking so at ease. This place was rife with robots, gangs, and monsters that posed a serious threat even to ponies with perfect visual acuity. I'd offered to escort her here personally, since I couldn't collect either facet of my pay from a mare who died on the way to the meet, but she'd insisted that it wasn't necessary. I really needed to ask her what her spell did exactly that allowed her to navigate with so little difficulty.

I waved at her to get her attention...

...and then immediately face-hoofed. I had just waved to a blind pony.

And then she waved back. Of course she waved back. I started to doubt if she was actually blind. Maybe her eyes were just off-colored.

When she got nearer, I motioned towards the orphanage; suddenly less self-conscious about using leg gestures when communicating with Vision. She'd seen my wave, after all, “we're ready here. All you have to do is get Adz to follow you inside. Windfall will detonate a grenade, and I'll finish off anypony that's left,” I withheld mentioning that Windfall was armed. The unicorn already knew that the pegasus was a filly, and had seemed quite uncomfortable with the plan thus far. I didn't need her to start voicing objections about its composition right now. Adz would be here soon.

The unicorn mare looked at the surroundings, examining the interior of the building. How thoroughly, exactly, could a blind pony examine anything? She glanced in my direction, with her milky yellow eyes that looked past my own. Her expression was one of concern, “what do you mean 'anypony that's left'? It's just supposed to be Adz...”

I cracked a lopsided smile, idly wondering if Vision could perceive facial expressions too, “Adz won't be alone. Ponies like him never go anywhere alone,” Vision began to look even more nervous than before. The last thing I needed was for her to start having second thoughts. Realistically, it was too late to back out now. As close as we were to the planned meeting time, we'd almost certainly run into Adz and his crew on our way back. And without a handy ambush, he'd tear us apart.

I needed to offer up something encouraging to put her more at ease, “but don't worry, I've taken on tougher stallions than wannabe punks like this Adz.”

Vision began to shake her head, “you don't know Adz,” she insisted, her voice starting to quaver, “he's no pushover. He's...he's...”

“A dead pony the moment he puts a hoof through that door,” I assured her, doing my best to hide my annoyance. All I needed her to do was stand in the middle of the toy shop. That was all that she had to do, “you need to trust me on this; I've dealt with his kind before, and worse,” every once in a while, the White Hooves found it necessary to...'encourage' lesser groups to be more receptive to our rightful dominance of the region. Compared to the tribes and gangs that we'd tangled with just in my own lifetime, Adz and his small crew of robbers were insignificant.

“Besides,” I assured her, “anypony who makes it inside with you and Windfall will have been fucked up by the grenade. They shouldn't be much of a threat.”

“Okay,” she sounded at least a little bit less regretful of this undertaking now, if not comfortable with it. She glanced around, “who's Windfall?” she asked. I nodded my head inside. She could see that, right? Er...detect it? Whatever. She turned and looked anyway.

“Hello,” the pegasus filly greeted amiably, stepping up to us, “you're the nice pony we're helping, right?”

Vision smiled weakly at the little white pony, “yeah, that's me. Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem,” at least Windfall sounded optimistic about what was supposed to happen today. I suspect that thinking of herself as a younger version of the Mare-do-Well had a lot to do with that.

The unicorn flashed me a brief look. I wasn't certain how I was supposed to take it, but I didn't get the impression that she was wishing me any sort of goodwill. Whatever. She didn't have to like me. She just had to keep up her end of our agreement. After that, she could do whatever the hell she wanted, and think of me how she pleased.

I looked around once more. We needed to get into position, now that the pleasantries were out of the way. I ushered to two mares into the building, double checking to make certain that Windfall still had the string, and that they were standing clear of the blast.

“They'll be here soon,” I murmured. I looked at Vision, “get them to come to the doorway. Whatever it takes,” without another word, I ducked out of the shop and dashed low across the road to the alley across the way. I slipped into the dumpster, cringing at the rotted contents. Even after two hundred years, certain articles somehow still felt wet and slimy. Something told me that ponies had continued to use this thing for its intended purpose since the balefire bombs had dropped. Lovely.

My hoof went into my saddlebags and dug out a vial of Dash. Vision had brought up a good point: I didn't know Adz. For all I knew, he was some sort of massive cybernetic monster with chainsaws for legs. I mean, I highly doubted that was the case, but the argument remained: I was going into this fight blind. I hadn't tailed his crew for the better part of a day to observe their firepower and habits. That's what had gone wrong with the farmer. I hadn't been able to learn that he was a properly paranoid son-of-a-mule who toted that shotgun everywhere he went, even in his own damn house. It had allowed him to catch me unawares.

I wasn't going to let Adz do the same.

It was nearly fifteen minutes before I caught sighte of anypony in the street. Six ponies walked leisurely into view. All of them were armed, and most wore some sort of armored barding. At the front of the group was a tan earth pony with chocolate hair and some sort of chisel looking thing for a cutie mark. He wasn't wearing any barding, but I did see a larger caliber submachine gun tucked snugly into a holster at his side. Two other ponies, a reddish unicorn and a silver earth pony, were engaging him in conversation; exchanging the occasional laugh. The other three were casting their gaze up and down the street, watching out for trouble.

Horseapples. He'd brought half his fucking crew! This was going to suck. My shoulder was still pretty stiff from the incident at the farm, and there was more than a little pain radiating from the freshly cracked rib; though it had dulled considerably from yesterday. I wasn't going to be in my best form for this fight, even with the Dash. No help for it though. We'd stick with the plan. I still had the element of surprise, the Dash, and I'd be hitting them from behind after an explosion. Even the ponies who escaped being maimed by the blast's shrapnel would at least be disoriented by the noise and concussion wave of the explosion. It should also firmly anchor the attention of the lookouts away from my hiding place.

I held the inhaler in my mouth, and loosened the 9mm in my holster for a smoother draw. I was ready to take a puff and swap for the weapon as quickly as possible, watching them near the entrance to the orphanage. Vision stood in the doorway, looking in the direction of the group of raiders. I could see how scared she was from here. She'd naively expected Adz to come alone, and even though I'd warned her that he would bring support, I doubted that she'd anticipated so many others with him. I certainly hadn't.

What kind of raider thought he'd need six ponies to nab two 'unsuspecting' mares; one of them blind?

“Well, well, well; ain't you a sight for sore eyes,” the gruff voice of the lead buck greeted, chuckling to himself. Puns, really? That had to be Adz, “Never thought I'd see you again, Vision,” a second—or did her name count as the third?—offense in as many seconds. I'd be doing the Wasteland a favor killing this stallion, in more ways than one.

“And you won't ever see me again,” the mare countered, her voice wavering slightly. I hoped that she'd be able to keep herself together and execute the plan, “that's the deal. I give you a new...companion, and you leave me alone forever. Agreed?”

“Sure, sure!” the buck waved a hoof dismissively, as though their agreement was more than satisfactory. Had he even tried to conceal the insincerity? I certainly hoped not. Only a complete moron would have believed him. That was fine. It's not like we were planning to hold up our end of this bargain either, “but first I'll need to see what I'm getting...” Seriously? He'd even already used that one. The least that he could do was come up with fresh material.

“...She's inside,” Vision turned and strode inside the doorway. Adz and the others followed after her. I placed my hoof on the Dash ampule, ready to administer it.

“Ho-ho! A pegasus filly!” I could hear Adz crow happily from inside the orphanage, “you do have an eye for fin-”

Thankfully, and perhaps even as an act of cosmic justice, the buck gang leader's latest attempt at sight-based derisive humor was punctuated by an explosion and a half dozen screams. A cloud of gray dust enveloped the doorway and masked everypony from sight for a few seconds. I depressed the Dash inhaler and took in a deep breath. The world obligingly slowed down for me. The empty inhaler was swapped for the textured grip of my pistol, and then I was leaping out from the confines of the dumpster that I'd been hiding in.

The haze of smoke was clearing as the breeze blowing down the street carried it away, revealing the aftermath of our trap. The Dash saturating my body allowed for me to spend a copious amount of mental seconds processing what was before me as I closed the distance.

Gangs of raiders are an abstract concept. By their very nature, there isn't anything standardized about them, like there is with professional armies or mercenary groups. By that I mean, there isn't a armor style that is only employed by ponies in a gang. Though I will grant that many of the higher profile groups do adopt certain visual cues to broadcast their affiliations. Generally only after their group has attained a certain amount of regional notoriety though. Flashers were mares that wore glitter and garish paint, specializing in magical energy weaponry. Reapers favored red coloring, and were considered masters of hoof-to-hoof combat. White Hooves painted their feetlocks with bonemeal and had a penchant for blades. That sort of thing. The ponies ahead of me didn't seem to have any strong theme going.

That being said, they did give off a certain gang 'vibe'. Mostly because of how little they had in common, interestingly enough. It was clear that the barding and equipment that they were wearing was just what the individual ponies could afford; and this being a small low-profile gang, that wasn't much. It certainly hadn't been very tough armor either, judging by how much damage that single grenade had done.

At least two of them had been killed outright by the blast. I couldn't get a clear look through all of the blood to confirm whether or not either of the ponies was Adz though. Not that it mattered right this moment. I was coming to finish off the lot of them. To that end, I lined up the pistol's sights on the nearest reeling buck.

Three bullets punched through his thin leather armor and ripped into his chest, pitching mists of crimson blood out the other side of his body. The buck let out a choked scream and collapsed to the ground, still. Two more bullets went into the neck of a mare who had been in the process of getting herself up off the ground after being knocked back by the blast. She didn't even see who shot her as the two lead slugs opened up her neck. Her eyes went wide as she thrashed about in a vain effort to staunch the thick flows of blood with her hooves.

My third target managed to recover enough of his wits to realize that his life was in imminent danger. A dull orange unicorn stallion whose face was streaked with blood from a dozen tiny shrapnel wounds had heard the gunshots coming from behind him and reeled around to face their source. A purple glow appeared around a nearby shotgun, which leaped up into the air and directed itself at my head.

The Dash allowed me to process the scene in fine detail. If I turned and charged, I'd be presenting him with a much narrower silhouette to aim at, but I wouldn't be able to maneuver as much. Plus, if he did score a hit, it would most likely catch me in the face. Not keen on getting a dozen lead pellets blasted into my eye socket, I instead continued my tangental charge, carrying me towards the building's exterior wall. I was sprinting full tilt, so hopefully I would be moving fast enough to make a difficult target, despite presenting him with a broader profile to hit.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blast of fire and smoke erupting from the barrel of the unicorn buck's weapon. Moment of truth.

Behind me, I heard the distorted sound of metal gouging out chunks of concrete. I also felt a sensation similar to somepony snipping off several hairs of my tail with scissors. I didn't dare spare the second to confirm my suspicions, but I was confident that the ganger buck's shot had been much closer than I would have preferred. It didn't impede my progress at least.

I arced my path slightly as I neared the wall. To my left, I could hear the shotgun's pump sliding back to ratchet another shell into the chamber. My hind legs propelled me upwards as the rest of my body twisted, planting my forelegs on the painted wooden siding. The momentum of my run carried me as I effectively 'ran' along the side of the building for what was barely a single step. The plank ahead of me exploded, spraying my chest and jaw with splinters of yellow wood. The buck nearly had me bracketed.

The shotgun chambered a third shell. In all likelihood, the unicorn would not miss me this time, and I was close enough to the weapon that the shot spread would be nearly non-existent. Any hit he scored on me would be completely unswayed by my tattered barding and burrow deep into my body. To put it simply: I'd be fucked.

Fortunately, I was finally in a position to deliver my own attack. I pushed off the wall with my fore-hooves, using my rear legs to add additional power to my blow. The buck gritted his teeth and brought the weapon around to catch me with his shot, but the Dash was still flowing through my veins, and my body was moving far more quickly than even his telekinesis could react to. My fore-hooves caught him in the chest and pitched the orange stallion backwards. The magic field surrounding the shotgun evaporated and the weapon fell to the ground, unfired.

I bent my head down, the pistol still gripped in my mouth. The ganger's violet eyes widened as he looked up at me. There was fear there now, where before had been anger and hatred. He knew that this was his end. I'd been in a similar situation not too long ago. So I had a pretty clear idea what he was thinking about.

The pistol bucked in my mouth.

That made five corpses visible in the street. There had been six live ponies a minute ago though. I looked around at the bodies, seeing if perhaps I had miscounted. Maybe I had been wrong and three of the gangers had been killed in the explosion. Then my blood froze.

“Drop your weapon!” I heard Adz yell from beyond the doorway of the orphanage. His words were slightly slurred, as though he was speaking around something between his teeth, “drop it and step where I can see you,” there was a worried tinge in his voice; but it was nearly drowned out by his rage, “do it, or I drop both these bitches!”

Horseapples.

Adz hadn't been killed in the blast after all. He'd made it deep enough inside to escape the trap set for him. Naturally this'd be the one time that I encountered a three-to-five second fuse on a grenade that lasted for the full five seconds...

I could feel the Dash leaving my system too; which was rather inconvenient timing, I thought. If the chemical had still been coursing through my body, I'd have risked charging in armed, confident in my ability to take out one pony quickly using my pharmaceutical edge. But now, with the after-effects starting to set in, I'd be more likely to shoot Vision. Or even Windfall. My best option was to cooperate and hope that I could find someway to buy time. With luck, he wouldn't shoot me the moment I poked my head in.

I spit my pistol onto the ground, “alright! I'm coming in.”

“Slow!” the buck cautioned.

That was hardly necessary to stipulate. With the aftereffects that I was feeling, I wasn't confident enough in my steps to move with any sense of urgency for the time being. So, mindful of where my hooves were going, I stepped into the doorway, moving carefully over the body of a dead blue mare that had taken the brunt of the explosion. Ahead of me was a rather grim scenario.

Adz was holding the 10mm automatic weapon in his mouth. The barrel was pressed firmly against Vision's head. The stallion's left arm was wrapped around her neck, keeping the blind mare close to him. His eyes kept flashing between me and the mare's horn, which was completely devoid of its usual dim glow. He was prepared to blow her away at the first hint that she was using any magic. Off to the side, Windfall was looking at the pair with wide, scared, eyes. She looked to me as I entered the room and swallowed.

There was no sign of the .22 pistol on the floor of the room, which I hoped meant that Windfall still had it hidden away under her wing. If Adz didn't know that there was a second weapon involved in this little standoff we had going, that might be the edge we needed to get us out of this.

I looked at the filly, “you alright?” she nodded, but said nothing. Would I be able to convince her to take the shot herself; or should I try and arrange some sort of transfer so that I could take down the target? I'd seen the pegasus filly kill before when she saw me threatened, but she'd admitted that it was more of an accident.

Could I count on Windfall to bring herself to kill on purpose?

“She's fine. For now,” Adz cautioned, interrupting my thoughts. The sandy brown buck with a spiked black mane tightened his stranglehold on Vision's neck, causing the mare to let out a little choked cry, “whether they stay that way...that's up to you.”

Again I looked to Windfall. Adz wasn't going to let me get close to her, not if he intended to take them both as his slaves. If anypony was going to get the drop on the raider, it would have to be the filly. It was time to see how dedicated to this partnership the little pegasus really was, “it'll be alright. Just stay calm; like with that crazy farmer.”

The little pegasus' eyebrows furrowed for a brief moment, and then her eyes widened again. Her gaze darted briefly to her right wing. I made certain that my eyes didn't leave the filly's face. Adz was watching me very carefully. Hopefully that meant that he wasn't paying much attention to the 'helpless little filly' cowering in the corner of the room.

My gaze returned to the stallion. Now I just needed to give Windfall a decent opening, “so...what's the deal?”

“The deal?” the buck seethed around the weapon in his mouth, “the deal is that you iced my fucking crew! That's the deal! I ought to gun you down right where you stand...”

“...but you know if you take that gun off Vision, she'll snatch it with her magic,” I interrupted, allowing a wry smirk to creep onto my lips. The sneer that Adz flashed me confirmed my suspicion, “maybe you get me. Maybe you can wrestle the gun back. But maybe...you don't. So...?”

“So,” the buck snarled at me, obviously not at all happy with the situation he was in. He may have been the only pony in the room he knew to be armed, but he was still outnumbered, “you're going to step inside, and walk over to that corner there. Then, you're going to stand there, while me, this lying bitch,” he drilled the barrel of the weapon held in his teeth into the side of the mare's head, eliciting a pained squeak, “and the little filly, all leave. Together.

“Now, come in, and go over there,” he jerked both his and Vision's heads towards the right side of the room.

I kept my gaze locked on the stallion as I slowly made my way over to the side of the room that he indicated. The only thing that kept him from shooting me was his fear that the unicorn hostage in his grip would take advantage of that movement. Adz had also rightly assumed that I was not about to take any aggressive actions, lest he kill Vision. It wasn't that I particularly cared about the cyan mare. I may not have been able to collect my payment from a dead client, but I would forfeit payment gratefully if it meant surviving this encounter. However, if he killed her, then nothing would keep him from shooting me as well, and I was in no condition to cross even this short distance before he could do that.

As I moved, so too did Adz. We circled each other. My back to the wall as I sidestepped deeper into the lobby. His back towards Windfall as he moved closer to the open doorway. When the two of us were at the halfway point, I paused. Windfall was now standing directly behind him. Ideally, with the small caliber pistol drawn and at the ready; through I couldn't actually see her past Adz and Vision at this point.

Surprised by my move, but not about to get any closer to me than was absolutely necessary, Adz came to a halt as well. He glared at me, “the hell? Move!” he pushed the gun into Vision's head for emphasis. The mare cringed and whimpered.

I didn't move, “I want the filly to stay with me,” I informed him evenly, buying time. It was all I could do to keep myself from sounding anxious. I knew that Windfall had a tendency to spend a long time lining up her shots, but Adz was a lot closer and a lot bigger than those cans at the range had been. He should be nearly impossible to miss at this range, even for her.

So what was she waiting for?!

The other stallion glared at me, “are you fucking kidding me? This isn't a negotiation! Half my crew is dead, I ain't about to leave without compensation.”

“You have Vision,” I pointed out, keeping my tone level and calm. Which was getting harder with every passing second. He was going to start suspecting something any moment now, “the filly's mine,” damn it, Windfall; take the fucking shot!

“This bitch was already my property,” Adz reiterated back, squeezing her neck again, “the filly is compensation for what you did to the others. I got ponies back home who're gonna' be mighty upset their pals're dead. The pegasus will help them...cope,” a wicked smile played on his lips for a moment before the sneer returned, “so move!” he whipped his head around, using his grip on Vision's neck to keep the weapon pressed against her skull, “you, filly. Stay close t-”

POP!

There was an earsplitting scream.

The buck collapsed into a heap. Vision as well. Beyond them, I could see Windfall standing on shaking legs, the little pistol held in her mouth. Her eyes went wide, the weapon falling away as she rushed to the side of the blind mare. Had she somehow managed to hit the both of them, even with such a small caliber? I couldn't even see an exit wound on the buck.

It was soon clear that Vision hadn't been killed though. She was whimpering far too loudly for that.

I walked over and kicked the discarded submachine gun away from Adz's body. Just in case. I peered down at the buck, making certain that he was dead. If the bloody hole where his right eye had been was any indication, the buck was most certainly not going to be a threat any time soon. I looked over to the filly. She was proving to be quite an amazing shot. Especially when it came down to the wire. Most impressive.

“Miss Vision!” the filly called out, prodding the prone shivering mare with her hooves, “Miss Vision, are you alright?”

The unicorn's whimpers began to subside. She didn't look around, which was certainly understandable, “I...I thought...” her words trailed off.

I understood now. Unlike every other time I'd seen her up to this point, her horn hadn't even maintained that faint glow that suggested she was compensating for her blindness. Adz had probably insisted that even the slightest hint of an aura would be met with lethal reprisal. She hadn't noticed my look at Windfall, not registered that the filly had been behind the two of them. She certainly hadn't known that the filly was armed. All that she had known was that a gun was being held to her head, and that she'd heard a gunshot.

The poor mare had likely believed that she'd been the one shot. The slight scent of urine in the air probably couldn't be attributed entirely to the dead buck's own loosened bladder.

“You're alright,” I assured her. I pawed through the gang leader's belongings. A lot of ammunition—10mm of course—and some sort of collar. Not the explosive type that I would have expected him to bring in anticipation of acquiring a slave. This one was studded with a polished black stone. Jewelery? I pocketed it. Some bits, a health potion, Med-X. I'd search the other bodies on our way out, “Adz isn't going to be a problem for you anymore.”

Vision sat up and looked around. I saw that her horn was glowing with a dim yellow light once more. Her gaze didn't land precisely on where the brown buck's body lay, but it was close. Her expression was one of...relief? Like some ball of stress that she had carried around with her for a long time had been released. I suspected that she'd spent a good deal of her life looking over her shoulder—figuratively speaking—after running from Adz's clutches. Now, she no longer had to. I could only speculate on whether the surviving members of his gang would carry out any retaliation in his name, but that was her problem. I'd been contracted to take out Adz; and I had done that.

Well, okay, technically Windfall had taken him out I guess; but I looked at it as a group effort.

“I guess...that's it then,” Vision said quietly. Almost like she couldn't believe that it was over.

“Yep,” I replied, “we're done here. I'll meet you outside Collard's tonight to collect payment. You want us to walk you home?”

The mare looked around for a moment before getting to her feet on unsteady legs, “no. No, I need to get the bits together to pay you. I should head back before any shops close for the day.”

I nodded. To the pegasus, I said, “stay here while I check on the bodies outside.”

The filly nodded. I noticed that Vision's gaze lingered on the little white pegasus before she left. Then the unicorn mare looked at me. It was uncomfortable. Her head was facing in my direction, but her eyes peered slightly off target; looking just past me. Her mouth opened, then she paused. Her lips closed, the words unsaid. Then the cyan unicorn turned and walked out.

Weird.

The sun had nearly set by the time I saw Vision again. I'd arrived at the bar about an hour ago after hocking all the gear I was willing to part with and seeing that Windfall was fed and settled back at the apartment. The little filly had done very well today, and to show my appreciation, I'd bought us a radio to set up in the apartment. The little pegasus enjoyed the frequent broadcasts from DJ-PON3, and followed the exploits of that Mare-do-Well pony religiously. She was also engrossed by the daily speeches made by Princess Luna. Those sessions were rarely as revelatory as what the Manehattan disc-jockey had to report, but it was still the Goddess Returned.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that yet. I'd heard the stories about how things were before the war; every foal did. I knew that Luna was our real and true ruler. A goddess. She would bring paradise back to us. At least, that was what her speeches promised.

It was just...surreal. Maybe in time I'd come to terms with it.

In the meantime, I was looking forward to collecting the agreed upon payment. The three hundred and fifty odd bits she promised to pay me paled in comparison to what we'd gained by selling off the collected gear from Adz and his crew. Which was fine. Bits hadn't been what I'd been interested in anyway. It'd been nearly a month since my last session with Saffron. In that time, I'd acquired a hefty amount of stress that needed relieving; and Vision was the only pony in this city aside from Windfall that I'd dare risk exposing my bare backside to, even in the dark.

To an extent.

A blue unicorn mare rounded the corner, a simple gray cloak draped over her back.

“Beginning to think you'd reneged,” I greeted, smiling to indicate that the line had been meant as a jest.

Naturally I'd once again forgotten that the mare was blind. Hoof waves I guess she could...detect? But facial expressions were apparently not something she could pick out. Her face shifted to a mask of fear, “I wouldn't do that!” she insisted, “you'll get what you want,” I noted the tinge of trepidation in her words, “follow me.”

I fell into step beside the mare. My eyes traced over her body as she walked. The unicorn was tense, but I was confident that she'd relax soon enough. I wasn't in the mood to test limits like I had been with Saffron. Tonight was purely about getting in a good long rut to help myself relax. After that, Vision never had to see—hear from me again. Unless she wanted to. Who knew? Maybe she'd discover that this was something she needed too.

If it were possible, Vision's apartment was more pitiful than the one I shared with Windfall. I couldn't quite understand why. A pretty mare like that? She could have been pulling in the caps hoof over fetlock if she wanted to by spreading her flanks a little. If the gossip I'd picked up about certain political figures in the NLR was to be believed, she could even be living quite comfortably as some Minister's 'personal aide'. Yet, here we were at the door of some mold-ridden little hovel, that was squeezed in between two other identical closet-sized rooms. I hoped her neighbors were out. Or that they didn't mind a little noise.

As Vision's magic manipulated the lock, I took the opportunity to lean in and nuzzle the unicorn behind her ear. The mare flinched away reflexively at first, but then she seemed to remember what the two of us were here to do and allowed me to brush up against her neck. Her muscles still felt incredibly tense, “you need to relax,” I whispered.

The unicorn nodded slightly. The door clicked and swung inward. She turned her head over her shoulder in my direction. A smile struggled to her lips, “so...bits first, or...?”

I rubbed my muzzle against her horn gently, “pleasure first,” I murmured, “business can wait.”

Vision swallowed and led me into the dark room beyond. I half expected her to turn on a light...and then mentally face-hoofed...again. I would remember that she was blind. I really would. I swear!

“I can get you a light...” she offered nervously.

“Nah,” I replied, rubbing a hoof along her back, “I know my way around a mare in the dark.”

There wasn't a reply at first, then the mare's hesitant question, “so...what do you...like?”

The anticipation of tonight was already getting to me. Honestly, I wasn't in the mood for anything special. No foreplay, no games. Just a good rutting was all that I wanted right now. Maybe next time—if there was a next time—I'd be more open to some adventurous activities. But for now, “Just drop the cloak and get on the bed. We'll keep it simple tonight.”

There was no reply, but I could hear the sound of fabric rustling. Then the room lit up with faint yellow light as the cloak floated away. It permitted me a brief glimpse of the room. The bed was just a mattress. To the side was a simple wooden trunk that must have contained all of her belongings, since nothing else was visible in the room. Heck, there was nowhere to put anything. The chest was the only piece of furniture.

I released the clasps the kept my own jacket closed and let it fall to the moldy wooden floor. Ahead of me, I could hear the rusty springs of the mattress creaking. Crouching down on my hooves, I let my nose lead me around in the dark. Nudging her tail out of the way, I found what I hadn't so much as glimpsed in a month. The scent was intoxicating. As my muzzle brushed up against it, I could feel her tense again.

Be kind...

My ear twitched. I paused for half a heartbeat. That other voice again. The new arrival to the cesspool that was my mind. The same words as before too. Well, if it didn't have anything worthwhile to say to me, I may as well just ignore it like I often did to the other two. Besides, I was going to be 'kind' to this mare. No biting, no crop, no cuffs. Just a good rutting...

“Relax,” I murmured, “I ain't going to be as rough as he was,” I didn't notice her relax. Oh well, I'd tried.

My mouth wasn't what I was interested in introducing to her posterior though. I crawled onto the bed, keeping the prostrate mare between my legs. I could feel her trembling beneath me. My head bent down, nipping lightly at the back of her neck, hoping to get her to calm down a little. My experience with slavers taught me that ponies like Adz were rarely concerned with the comfort of their partners; especially when they viewed those partners as property. So I had a fair idea of what Vision had come to expect from sex. Another lesson courtesy of Dear Old Dad. However, I wasn't going to inflict that on her tonight. Hell, as long as I'd gone without, she'd have me on her for only about thirty seconds anyway.

As my nips traveled up her neck and curved around to her cheek, I became aware of a slightly salty taste. It caused me to pause and pull my head back. I looked at the mare, “are you crying?”

There wasn't an answer at first. Then I heard a quiet sniff, “do you...want me to?” the dread in her voice was palpable. I bet Adz had enjoyed her crying.

“No,” I snorted, “stop it. This'll be nice, I promise. Just, stop crying.”

A mare crying while I mounted her brought back certain memories that I really didn't care to relive at the moment. I heard the unicorn sniff again and then bury her face in the mattress. Beneath me, I could feel her shivering; and not in anticipation of a good night, I imagined. Whatever. As long as I didn't hear it, I should be able to perform. All I was here for was a rutting anyway. A mare between my loins, release, and then leave with my bits. She was free to cry herself to sleep after that all she wanted.

Be kind...

I felt a pair of sad blue eyes looking at me, but when I looked around, I saw nothing. It was a pitch black room; of course I was going to see nothing, even if there had been somepony there. Which there couldn't have been.

So how did I know what color her eyes were? They weren't Vision's, she had yellow eyes. Did I even know anypony with blue eyes?

A vigorous shake of my head cleared the hushed plea and the vague image of an eerily familiar yellow pegasus from my mind.

Steeling my resolve, I positioned myself and mounted her. Below, I could hear Vision gasp, and let out a brief sob for a half second before she remembered my previous command and bit down on the mattress to muffle herself. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it. My thoughts were diverted towards concentrating on how it felt to once again have a soft warm mare on my member. I thrust, adopting a rhythm I was familiar with.

I made it four pumps before I stopped. I wasn't done. Not even close. Far from it, I was even beginning to lose firmness. Beneath me, I could feel the mare continue to tremble, the occasional deeply muffled bout of weeping reaching my ears. Vision's apartment was emptier than I thought; I swore I could hear her cries echoing, like there was a second weeping mare nearby.

With a frustrated sigh, I pulled myself off of Vision. I couldn't do this, not with her in the state that she was. Crying mares and fillies...they put me off. A lot of memories and feelings began to well up within me, and I had to forcibly beat them into the deepest corner of my mind.

Beneath me, I felt the cyan unicorn stir, “what's wrong?” I could still hear the sniffling in her voice, and the fear.

“Forget it,” I mumbled, pulling back and groping around for my jacket, “we're done.”

I could hear the unicorn sniffling more audibly now as she pulled her head up. I could see the faint glow of her horn as she turned to face me, “what?”

“We're done here,” I repeated, “just give my bits, and I'm out of here. We're square.”

“But you didn't-”

“No!” I snapped loudly, causing the mare to recoil, “you're damn straight I didn't! You lyin' there blubbering like a fucking filly,” I grumbled, slipping my legs through the sleeves of my leather jacket, “all you had to do was keep quiet, but I guess that was too much to ask,” I didn't bother to hide my ire. I felt like I was being cheated out of my payment. This right here had basically been the whole reason I'd risked my life in the first place. Bits I could make anywhere in this city. Flank, that was scarce for me, “could have gone to sleep for all I cared; but no, you had to...”

My voice trailed off as I reached for my saddlebags. I only then recalled the little glass sphere that was nestled in the bottom of one of the leather pouches. I still didn't know what was contained within the cloudy orb, but it was something that the gray caravan mare had seemed to find soothing. Leastways, she'd considered it a way to relax in the evening; even though it had cost her her life in the end.

Unicorns didn't feel anything while connected to the memories in these things. If Vision connected with it, she'd become completely placid. She wouldn't even know anything was happening. At the very least, it should keep her quiet.

I rummaged around in the bag and pulled out the little orb. The perpetual soft teal light seemed all the brighter in this dark room. In its glow, I could see Vision's tear-streaked face looking at me in trepidation.

“What's that?” she asked tentatively.

“A memory orb,” I replied. I guess she'd never seen—encountered—one of them before. Adz had been an earth pony like me, so I doubted he'd been keen on keeping any of these that he may have come by, “ponies from before the war put their memories into them. Don't ask me how, it was some sort of unicorn magic.

“But I do know that if a unicorn connects with one, they go into a sort of...coma? I don't know,” it sucked having to explain something to somepony when you didn't really understand anything about it yourself. I didn't even have any sort of context for how magic worked at all. I could already see that my lecture wasn't doing much to assuage Vision's confusion either, “point is, if you touch your horn to this, you won't feel anything. Okay?

“I'll do my business, then collect the bits when you wake up again.”

Vision stared at the orb for a moment. Directly at it, not off slightly to the side like she did with most other things. Maybe she could perceive magical things more accurately using her detection spell? She seemed to be considering my offer, then looked towards me, “is it a...happy memory?”

“I think so,” I admitted, “I've never seen it. Not a unicorn,” I tapped my bare forehead. The mare hesitated a few seconds longer, straining my patience, “look,” I prompted, an edge creeping into my voice, “you promised me a night. Now, if you can't keep yourself together, then either touch your horn to the orb, or come up with another five hundred bits or so.”

The mare cringed and lowered her head. Another faint sniffle, then, “...okay.”

I reached out with the orb, and Vision inclined her horn to the polished surface. For a brief moment, her horn and the orb flared, and then they both dimmed. The mare's sniffling stopped, and her breathing settled into a slow, even rhythm. She could have been asleep.

Experimentally, I nudged her with my hoof. She didn't react. The unicorn mare was completely oblivious to what was going on around her. Maybe now I could get down to business in peace. With a little bit of prodding and nudging, I maneuvered the mare into a suitable position on the bed and mounted her once more.

Then I hesitated again.

Be kind...

What was wrong with me? I'd been a month without. I had a good looking unicorn laying under me. She wasn't crying or anything. Yet, for some Celestia-damned reason, I couldn't bring myself to mount her. She wasn't crying anymore, damn it! That was my one hang-up: crying mares. If they weren't crying, I could go through with it. Right?

Be kind...

Apparently not.

Fuck. This. Bullshit.

I pulled back from the bed. Thoughts of just leaving drifted through my mind. I'd made a tidy profit from the gear that Adz and his crew had carried anyway. Maybe I couldn't get what I'd really wanted, but it wasn't a complete loss either. Just turn and walk out the door. Fuck the caps, fuck the orb too. Didn't do me any good anyways. Vision could keep it. All I had to do was leave her there on the bed, helpless and unaware, in this closet of an apartment on the seediest side of Seaddle, past an unlocked door.

All I needed to do was leave.

Only Celestia knows why I stayed.

I curled up on the floor nearby and rested my head on my folded hooves, waiting for Vision to wake up.

Radscorpions are some nasty business. Big, thick shells, and the larger ones have a stinger that can skewer a grown pony from mane to tail with a single well-placed jab. Damn near impossible to kill without heavy ordinance. Even the White Hooves gave their nests a wide berth. Except for the breeding pair that we kept locked up in the Pit, we limited our encounters with them as much as possible.

Today, a hundred painted warriors were gathered around the edge of the deep hole designed to contain the pair of arachnids. A thick wooden plank extended out over it. A lone golden earth pony mare was being prodded along it by a unicorn warrior's dual hovering spears.

I watched, just a young rust-colored colt overshadowed by his father, as the mare was encouraged to the end of the plank. The pair of radscorpions, each larger than the mare was by a factor of two, milled around below. They knew what to expect. So did the howling warriors. Caps and jewels exchanged hooves as members of the crowd placed their wagers on how long the mare would endure.

My father's hoof slid around my neck, directing my gaze toward the doomed mare, “do you see that one, boy?” I nodded, “do you know why she's there?” I shook my head, “she refused me. A slave, refused to submit to one of her masters.

“So I took her anyway,” he went on, “I kept her chained in my tent until she foaled and weened. Now she is to suffer her due punishment.”

I looked on, as the mother of my younger sister was nudged to the edge of the plank. Then a swift jab from the butt of one of the hovering spears knocked her into the pit.

The screaming lasted for less than five seconds as the massive razor-sharp claws of the giant radscorpions chopped her to pieces.

“Now the next slave I approach will not refuse me,” my father smirked, casting his gaze in the direction of a group of collared mares who'd been made to watch the grisly execution. He then locked his gaze with mine, “never let a transgression go unpunished.”

My eyes shot open. It took me a moment to remember where I was: Vision's room. I hardly recognized it with the light on. A paltry little bulb hooked up to a dying spark-battery. Surprising that a blind mare would have had such a thing at all. Probably came standard with the apartments. I imagine that Vision had never even bothered to replace it since moving in. It would explain why the light was so faint.

The light was bright enough to allow me to see her clearly though. The cyan unicorn was crouched on her mattress, the memory orb cradled in her hooves. I could see fresh tears flowing down her face. A faint smile touched her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes turning slightly in my general direction for a brief moment before drifting back to the orb. For a while, I wasn't sure why, or even what, she was thanking me for. Then, “I...I could see...” her words choked off.

Damn her. I'd saved her from slaving raiders. I'd let her keep her fucking dignity. Now I'd let her see again. This mare had gotten everything from me, and I'd gotten fucking shit from her. Damn her.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

You've grown weak, boy, my father's voice taunted. I quickly suppressed it. I didn't need my dead father's shit right now.

Without a word, I stood up and headed for the door. I could feel Vision watching me—ish—as I prepared to take my leave. It wasn't until my hoof was on the door that she spoke, “don't...don't you want your pay?”

Fuck me if I didn't. Thinking about it now, I actually had an impressive stash. A few hundred left from the farmer, a few hundred from the batteries, and nearly a thousand more from Adz's crew. Probably closer to two thousand, all told. Don't think I ever had that many bits or caps on me at any one time back east. I always found a way to spend it on hookers. Since that wasn't an option here, the money had simply begun to pile up. I'd barely thought about it until now.

I had more than enough money to get a new set of barding for myself, and even a set for Windfall, with plenty left over. Funny how rich you got when you had nothing to spend money on.

So, did I want the bits that she owed me? No. Was I going to take them anyway? “yeah.”

I was getting something out of this damn mess.

The chest's lid levitated open, enveloped in an amber glow, and a small pouch floated out in my direction. I snatched it out of the air and slipping it into one of the pockets of my jacket. I could already tell that it was lighter than it should have been. Probably two-fifty at the most. A voice in my head urged me to wheel on the mare and take the diference out of her hide. It'd certainly be one way to relieve the frustration that was mounting up inside me. Becoming my father for a couple of minutes was quite tempting at the moment.

Be kind...

I wasn't him though. I'd never be. I'd seen how that turned out.

So, I simply nodded and proceeded out the door. Once again, Vision interrupted my exit, “don't you want the orb back?”

Again I paused. It was mine. Take it back. Demand to know what was on it, take it back, and sell it to a trader who was interested in dealing with that stuff, “do I look like a fucking unicorn to you?”

I slammed the door behind me.

I made it a block before I was no longer able to suppress my frustration. That trash can had never harmed a soul in its life, I was sure of it. Yet I wailed on it as though it had perpetrated the most grievous crimes imaginable to ponykind. First with a solid buck, and then with repeated strikes from my fore-hooves. I'd caved in skulls, shattered rib-cages, and pulverized limbs with these hooves. The trash can that had survived two hundred years of the elements and neglect, crumpled under my rage-infused beating.

When I was satisfied that the trash can would never again offend another pony with its mere presence, I continued back to the apartment that the filly and I shared. In the back of my mind, a small yellow pegasus that I'd only ever seen as a statuette looked at me was a sad smile.

Damn that little yellow mare. Damn the both of them.

“Good evening, children! DJ-PON3 hear with, the news. Our top story tonight, the Manhatten Mare-do-Well has come out and given an ultimatum to the self-proclaimed ruler of Fillydelphia, a pony calling himself 'Red-Eye'. I even happen to have a little audio here of the message that our Wasteland heroine sent the would-be overlord of ponykind.”

There was a brief hiss of static, and then a mare's voice crackled over the radio's speaker. It sounded very different from how DJ-PON3 sounded. More distant, and little grainier. Like a recording of a recording, “...you tell your boss I'm putting an end to his bullshit” the gruff mare snarled at some unknown slaver, “him, and every pony that dares take another as property. His 'grand plan' has no place in Equestria. I'm going to tear down his empire stone by stone, and kill anypony that gets in my way. I see a Red-Eye banner, I kill the pony waving it! So run, you curs! Run! Tell Red-Eye and all your buddies that I'm coming! You tell 'em I'm coming, and Tartarus is coming with me! You hear? Tartarus is coming with me!”

The deep baritone of the disc-jockey stallion returned, “and there you have it, children: take a slave, and you might just take a bullet from the Mare-do-Well. Good on her. It's about time somepony took a stand and fought the good fight. I implore all my good listeners out there to help the Mare-do-Well. Give her a discount, a safe place to sleep, or even just a simple 'thank you'. She's fighting for you, Wasteland.

“So, from me to Miss Mare-do-Well: Thank you. Swing on by and I'll see if I can't rustle up some bullets for you to personally deliver to Red-Eye, express-style.

“And now, Sweetie Belle, with a song that tells us how everypony can fight the good fight, in their own way...”

The DJ's voice trailed off, followed by a sweet sound of a young, long dead, mare's voice singing a rousing tune that seemed like it had been meant to encourage civilians to support the ponies off fighting on the front lines. Suggestions about conservation, community farms, and writing letters of support and encouragement for the troops on the front line to boost their morale.

It was only after the buck's voice died away that Windfall seemed to take notice of my return, “Hey, Jackboot! Did you get the money?”

I stifled the frown that fought to cross my face, “yeah, I got it,” most of it. Not that the money was what I had really cared about collecting on.

“We did good today, didn't we? We helped her, just like the Mare-do-Well would have?”

“I don't know about that,” I smirked. Something about the way that DJ PON3 talked about the Manehattan mare suggested that she rarely tried to extort sexual favors from those she aided, “but we did get a few bandits. You did very good today, by the way,” I was able to smile more genuinely at the filly this time, who blushed for a brief moment at the rare praise, “you picked up on my hint, even though we never talked about using codes like that.”

“Yeah,” the filly rubbed the back of her head, “I was confused at first. Then I remembered the gun,” her features darkened a bit at the memory. She paused for a moment, then looked up at me, “he was a bad pony, right? The buck I ki...shot?”

I closed the distance to the pegasus and put my hoof around her shoulders. I recalled what killing another pony had done to the filly the first time. She seemed to be taking it better this time around, and I hoped that was a good sign. Still, she needed to know that she'd done good by doing what she had. Positive reinforcement, “yeah. He was a bad pony. He robbed ponies, and he raped Miss Vision. He was going to do it again; and to you too. Shooting him was the right thing to do. It was what you had to do.

“Nice shot, by the way. Right in the eye.”

Windfall looked up with a wan smile, “I was aiming for his jaw,” she confessed, “I wanted to shoot the gun out of his mouth.”

Up and to the left. Again.

“We'll hit the range again tomorrow,” I assured her, suddenly less confident about being downrange of her.

“Hold up!” I hissed, jabbing out with my right hoof to halt the filly walking beside me. Windfall lightly bumbed into the outstretched limb and froze in her tracks. Her eyes darted about, seeking out whatever danger I had noticed that she'd been oblivious to.

I pointed at the dust ground in front of us, “look there,” The pegasus craned her neck and peered intently at the dirt. However, after several seconds of fruitless squinting, she looked back up at me with an apologetic expression and shook her head. I fought back a frown. She didn't know what she was supposed to be looking for, “the grooves,” I elaborated, indicating where the dust had been marred.

Again Windfall turned her gaze downward. This time she did see the tracks, though I knew she couldn't identify the creature that left them behind. I began to scan the horizon, “Radscorpions. Not the giant ones, but bad news all the same. No telling how close they...hello...”

This pipbuck was amazing. Sure enough, Off to the west, I could see a small group of red dots. Judging by how rapidly their position shifted as I moved my head, they weren't that far off. Likely underground in their nest. We'd need to tread carefully, lest we alert them to our presence.

“This way,” I directed the filly southeast and the two of us made our way carefully around the nest.

Once the blips vanished from view, I heaved a sigh of relief. Beside me, I could see Windfall looking far more concerned with our surroundings than she had been just a couple of minutes ago. Her eyes were all but glued to the ground, which wasn't going to do her much good. Maybe she'd spot other tracks—not that I believed she knew what exactly to be looking for—but she was certain to miss spotting anything coming over the horizon; and I appreciated having a second set of eyes looking out for trouble out here in the Wastes.

“Eyes up,” I instructed the filly. The pegasus looked up at me, a worried expression on her face. She opened her mouth, about to issue some sort of concern. Whatever she had to say, it was immaterial, so I cut the filly off, “radscorpions are territorial; even when it comes to their own. There won't be another nest for miles. Any others will be on the surface; either out hunting for food, or looking to wipe out that nest and claim it for themselves. So keep your eyes looking ahead and behind us.”

The filly swallowed her rebuked protests and nodded, resuming her regular vigil. A few moments later, “how did you learn so much about those things?”

“My uncle taught me,” I lied...ish. Steel Bit hadn't taught me any sort of wilderness survival directly. He'd delegated that burden to one of his lieutenants. I don't think that he'd actually been my uncle, but he'd filled a very similar role in my life: an older male role model. It was a close enough comparison for the purposes of this conversation anyway, “I learned a lot about life in the Wastes from him. What to look out for, what you can eat, where it was safe to sleep.”

“Oh,” the pegasus responded softly, “you're pretty lucky,” I suppressed an urge to laugh derisively. The personification of Whiplash that was living in my head felt no need for any such restraint and let loose with a mighty cackle, “I never knew my uncle. Mom said I had one, but he was killed by raiders before I was born,” the filly frowned as she went deep into thought, “she said he worked as a...tenor?”

“He sang?” I quirked an eyebrow. I knew that Seadlle ponies had it better than most, but to make a living singing?

“What? No, he did stuff with brahmin hide that my Pa would sell him when one died.”

“Tanner,” I corrected the filly, “he probably made barding a saddlebags and stuff.”

“Yeah, that was it,” Windfall said. Her expression darkened, her ears and tail drooping a little. Her eyes landed on her right forehoof, and the thick leather cuff that encased it, “I guess he used to make stuff like this.

“Jackboot? Why do ponies have to die?”

I stopped in my tracks, my head turning back to the pegasus filly, “what do you mean?”

“Like, raiders and bandits,” Windfall elaborated, “the White Hooves. They're always killing other ponies and making them miserable,” a dark glint flashed across her eyes, “and for what? There's no reason they have to be that way! Why can't they just leave good ponies alone?!” the filly stamped at the ground in aggravation, “this place is bad enough without them killing everypony!” her hoof shot back in the direction of the radscorpion nest, illustrating her point.

I rolled my eyes, despite the filly's obvious exasperation at the state of the world. What was she expecting from me? I didn't make the world. I just survived in it. The same as she was going to have to. All I could do was pass on to her the same wisdom that Steel Bit had once passed onto me, “not everypony has to die.”

“They don't?” Windfall blinked in surprise.

“Of course not. Only the weak die. And it's because they're weak that they do die.”

“Then why doesn't somepony help them?” the filly demanded, “can't somepony make them stronger so that they can protect themselves? Like...the Mare-Do-Well! She's helping ponies!”

“That's because she's a strong pony,” I explained, “when you're a strong pony, you can use that strength any way that you want. Most use it to make themselves even stronger; by killing and stealing. Like the White Hooves.

“Like us,” I added, casting a glance back at the filly to gauge her reaction.

“W-what? We're not like that,” there was a note of doubt in the filly's voice.

“We're not?” I quirked an eyebrow, “you're wearing new barding that we bought with bits that we got from killing gangers. Got a lot of food and bits from that farmer you killed too, as I recall.”

“That was different!” the filly shot back desperately, “they were bad ponies! They were trying to kill us!”

“And so we killed them,” I conceded with a nod, “we were stronger than they were. And with the supplies we got from their corpses, we bought weapons and barding to make ourselves even more effective at killing whatever threatens us.

“If those Vipers had captured us, and sold us off; they'd have used the bit they made to buy weapons and armor too; to make themselves better at capturing ponies. They did what they did for the same reasons we do.”

“I don't believe that,” Windfall shook her head furiously, “I'm not like them...”

“Says the filly with a sword for a cutie mark.”

Maybe that was a cruel thing to remind the pegasus of at that moment; but the world was a cruel place. Much like Windfall had just recently pointed out. The look of shame that darkened Windfall's face spoke volumes, even though she didn't utter another word that day.

She didn't close up entirely, the way that she had after killing that unicorn farmer stallion. I figure that she just needed time to process what I'd told her and realize for herself that what I'd said was the truth of how life was. Windfall proved to be receptive to my lessons at least for the remainder of our trip. She paid careful attention to every plant and bush I pointed out to her, explaining what was safe and what wasn't. After the isolated incidents where a critter happened upon us, I would use its corpse as another tool for learning. Windfall was a little more hesitant about those lessons, but she at least seemed to take note of the vulnerabilities of various Wasteland monsters.

To my disappointment, my attempts to spur the pegasus filly to flight were for naught. I don't think it was necessarily anypony's fault between the two of us. Flying was no more an involuntary action than casting a spell was for a unicorn. It took practice, and especially guidance from somepony who knew the skill. Windfall had never had the opportunity to receive any sort of mentorship from a pegasus; and I didn't know any more about flying than, 'move wings really fast.' Which, unsurprisingly, didn't seem to be all that there was to it. She could hold herself aloft for a few seconds, or extend the height and length of a good running leap. That was about it.

My dreams of having a companion that could rain death from the sky began to wilt a little more with each fruitless attempt. On the bright side, her marksmareship had been steadily improving. She was nearly as good as I was, and still determined to increase her level of skill. The only thing that limited our practice at impromptu ranges was our supply of ammunition. I didn't think that having a few magazines of .22 rounds would really make a huge difference if we ran into trouble; but one never new. It wasn't like that little pop gun of hers hadn't helped out in the past, after all.

Over the past few days, now that we had a lot of open space that was perhaps as safe as we were likely to find, I had also taken the initiative in beginning one other suite of instruction: hoof-to-hoof combat. This, Windfall was not excelling at...

“Get up,” I sighed, stepping back from the filly's prone form. The little pegasus groaned and slowly made her way back up onto unsteady legs. She wiped away at the side of her mouth with her fetlock and winced at the sight of the drop of blood that had beaded at her split lip. In my defense, I hadn't actually intended to hit her that hard; however, she had attempted to leap backwards instead of to the side like I had been teaching her.

Perhaps, this time, she would remember, “again,” I stated, lowering myself into a fighting stance. A few paces away, Windfall did the same, adopting an identical, if mirrored, stance. Her feet were spread apart, her body canted slightly, ready to hop sideways out of the reach of an oncoming strike; or, if she was feeling lucky, she could opt to instead lunge at me with a strike of her own. It was a very basic stance, and had been the first thing I taught her about fighting without weapons.

I opened up our next bout with a couple of feints, hopping in towards the smaller pegasus and swiping at her with my left hoof. Windfall responded properly by hopping to her left just out of my reach. Then I forced myself to stumble slightly, giving her an obvious opening. Again, the filly responded 'correctly' by lunging inward to deliver a strike of her own. I recovered and slipped away deftly.

“Good,” I commended the filly, “now try a block,” I again moved in closer and lashed out. This time, Windfall didn't jump away. Instead, she lifted her foreleg and knocked my strike off its target. Her deflection hadn't been particularly powerful, and if I'd put any real power behind my attack I would have still struck her, but injuring Windfall was not the purpose of these fights...yet. Accidents not withstanding, of course. For now, I was simply checking to make certain that she had remembered our prior lessons.

“And again,” I lashed out once more. Again the filly blocked the strike. Good. She had retained some of her grasp of the basics.

Now to see how well she could think on her feet.

“Again,” I warned her. However, unlike the last two strikes, I did not paw at her with my left hoof. I instead pivoted on my front hooves and bucked at her. I wasn't aiming to deliver a particularly powerful blow, but it would hurt if she took it wrong. I'd learned as a young colt: pain was a great educator.

Windfall squeaked in surprise. Realizing that her one small foreleg would not be enough to fend off two large hind hooves heading for her face, she reacted on impulse. A bit of a mistake really.

Her tiny little wings buzzed as they fluttered madly. They helped to lift her up onto her hindquarters, letting the little filly use both of her forelegs to stop my buck from finding a home on her ribs. However, the posture left her horribly off balance. My hooves connected with her crossed fetlocks, and the pegasus filly was pitched back with a great huff, tumbling backwards to the ground. She didn't immediately get back up, instead opting to groan in pain.

“That was cheating,” she hissed from her prone position.

“How so?” I asked, amused, as I walked up to her side. I peered down at the prostrate filly. She glared back up at me, accusingly, licking away at a second drop of blood that was growing on her split lip.

“You didn't tell me you were going to buck me!”

I smirked down at Windfall, “so? Do you think a ganger's going to call his attacks out in the Wastes? You need to be ready for anything.”

I saw the glint in the filly's eye. Not ire. It was just the faintest glimmer of satisfaction. Then I saw the twitch in her shoulder as her right foreleg put more pressure against the ground.

Clever girl...

My left fetlock shot up...

...just in time to catch the kick that Windfall had attempted to hit me with from her prone position. Unswayed by my deft deflection, the filly rolled away from me, ending up standing on all four legs, her expression was a mixture of satisfaction and frustration. She'd lured me in close enough to get in a strike, but had been unsuccessful in landing the sneak attack.

My smile was genuine now, “well played,” the filly had a sneaky streak. Good.

“Not well enough,” she smirked, starting to circle around cautiously. I mirrored her movements.

“You just have to learn to hide your 'tells',” I advised her, “you planted your hoof in order to use it as an anchor. Hard to avoid that; so use it. Make it into a feint.”

I tensed up and launched myself headlong at the filly this time, both of my forelegs outstretched in front of me in a clear attempt to tackle the smaller pegasus to the ground. Being so much larger and heavier than she was, Windfall would be hard-pressed to throw me off if I connected. So, she did the only thing she could: she hopped backwards out of the way.

If I had been going for a true tackle, that would have been enough to rob me of a successful strike. However, hopping directly backwards put the filly exactly where I needed her to be for what I really had planned. When my fore-hooves hit the ground, I used them to propel me further forward, flipping onto my backside into a somersault, which ended with my hind legs once more bucking at the filly.

Windfall issued out another surprised squeak. This time, however, she didn't react in time to block the hit and my hooves connected with her chest. The pegasus filly's grunt was much deeper and more pained. She flopped onto her side and rolled rather ungracefully to a stop a couple strides from where she'd been standing. She feebly rolled onto her feet, letting out a burst of raspy coughs as she tried to recapture the breath that had been so forcefully expelled from her lungs by the hit.

I rolled onto my own feet, cringing slightly. I'll admit, I hadn't meant to hit her quite that hard. I wasn't used to holding back in a fight...

“Always be ready for a follow-up,” I told the filly, who was still coughing intermittently, “and watch for tells.”

The little filly grimaced and nodded. Her legs were still a little unsteady under her body, so the filly crouched back down on her knees. She winced and looked at me, discomfort clear on her face, “can we take a break, please?”

I nodded, letting myself down onto my stomach as well. She was still very new at this, and a little filly besides. She'd have time to get better; and beating her into submission was not my intent with these lessons, “sure.”

Awe, I thought you were enjoying that, too...

I ignored Whiplash's voice.

Windfall coughed a couple more times, though she was sounding noticeably better, “where did you learn this stuff?”

“My father taught me,” I replied simply.

“Were his lessons this rough too?” she asked sardonically, flashing me a smirk.

I returned the smile, my eyes twinkling, “rougher. Got my first broken leg from him. And my second. Third,” seven broken limbs in all over the years. I stopped counting ribs when they outnumbered the days in a month. Pain was an educator.

This little revelation seemed to take the filly aback, “oh. Did he...hate you or something?”

“No,” I shook my head, “he just wanted me to be able to stand on my own,” I cleared my throat and adopted my best imitation of the great and glorious Steel Bit, “'you can put your faith in the Goddesses; but only a fool puts his faith in other ponies. Either stand on your own merits, or submit to those who can,'” I flashed Windfall another wry smirk, “he had some pretty high expectations; but he meant well,” by me anyway. At the time he'd given me that particular gem of advice, he'd been crushing the windpipe of a warrior who'd allowed a slave to escape.

Windfall cringed, “gee, sounds like a charmer.”

“My father was a lot of things. 'Charming' wasn't one of them. He felt entitled to a certain lifestyle, and there wasn't much that he wouldn't do to maintain it. It got him killed in the end,” I mumbled under my breath.

The filly looked at me with a cocked brow, “what? I thought you said he was killed by a White Hoof?”

I nodded, “that's true,” my smile was mirthless, “remember what I said about the strong using the weak to get stronger?” the filly nodded hesitantly, “well, the son-of-a-mule thought that he was stronger than one of them; and he was wrong. Got killed for his trouble. Served him right.”

“But he was your pa,” the filly stressed, still seemingly unable to grasp how I could be so cavalier about the murder of my parent.

“He was,” I acknowledged with a nod, “but that doesn't mean he didn't have it coming. You can be a father and a bastard, you know.”

Windfall paused for a moment, “you're really not sad that he's gone? Didn't you love him, even a little?”

I was silent, not having an answer ready for that question. Honestly? I'd never thought about it. 'Love' hadn't been a concept I'd even encountered until I made my first appearance in Hoofington. Even then, I was pretty sure I'd received a rather warped definition of it. As I'd come to know the term with the White Hooves, I'd 'loved' Saffron. She was the one mare, of a selection of available mares, that I wanted to fuck more frequently than the others.

It wasn't until I'd taken on work with a couple caravans and listened to the traders talk fondly of the mares and foals they had waiting for them at home that I'd come to know what love—real love—was meant to be. Though I still possessed only an intellectual grasp of the concept. I'd never caught myself thinking about anypony the way those caravan ponies seemed to have. I'd definitely never felt that way about my father.

Could you miss somepony you'd never loved? What did it mean to miss somepony? Was it enough to simply long for them? If that was the case, then I missed Saffron far more than I'd ever missed my father. Though, it wasn't actually Saffron herself that I longed for; but what she had provided for me in the way of comfort and carnal pleasures.

I missed sex, I guess. But my father?

“No,” I finally replied, “I'm not sad that he's gone,” how could I be, when he chastised me constantly from beyond the grave?

“Oh,” Windfall said softly. A pause, then, “I'm sorry.”

My confused gaze fell on the pegasus, “what are you sorry about? Not like it was your fault he was a dick...”

“I know, it's just...in some ways, I think you had it rougher than I do as a foal,” I blinked, “I may have lost my family, but it sounds like you never had one. Whenever you talk about your pa, you insult him. You've never mentioned your mother, or any siblings.

“Didn't anyone care about you?”

Isn't she a sweetheart? Whiplash cooed, how about it, big brother? Were you ever coddled the way you should have been?

Judging by the way that Windfall's expression shifted to one of concern, I hadn't succeeded in suppressing my sneer this time. If I ever found a way to make the voices stop...

What the hell was Windfall getting at anyway? So I didn't particularly care for my father. I wasn't overly thrilled with my sister either; and the death squad she'd sent after me suggested the feeling was at least mutual. Saffron was the closest thing I had to a pony who 'cared' about me; and she'd just been after my caps. Which was fine with me, since all I'd been after was what lay between her flanks.

No, nopony had ever really cared about me; and that was only right. Since I had never cared about anypony else either. All was right with the world. What would it have mattered anyway?

“I don't need somepony to care about me,” I answered firmly.

Windfall held my gaze, “well, for what it's worth, I care,” to emphasize her statement, the filly leaned in and put her head on my shoulder. If she noticed me tense up, the pegasus gave no indication.

A little yellow mare with blue eyes and a pink mane clopped her hooves together excitedly as she executed a midair somersault. As though this had somehow been her hoofwork. The smiling pegasus was soon overshadowed in my mind by a smug mud colored stallion.

Not bad, kid, his gravely voice commended me, she'll be asking you to fuck her in no time...

Too bad Dad hadn't thought to warm up to me like that, Whiplash added acidly, might have kept me from crying so much the first time...

The pair had completely smothered the pegasus mare, who seemed to now be struggling frantically to reassert herself at the forefront. However, that newcomer apparition was going to be hard pressed to drown out the voices of two hallucinated ponies that had been part of my whole life. Especially not when all she knew were two soft words that had little place in the Wasteland.

That wasn't to say I was inclined to put that much more weight on what the other two were saying either. Or Windfall's own words for that matter.

I frowned down at the filly, “yeah, we're not done sparring for the day,” good effort though.

Without moving her head from where it was lovingly nestled into the side of my neck; nor with a shift in her soft smile, the little pegasus uttered a single word:

“Horseapples.”

Footnote: Level Up
Small Guns: 50
Perk Added: Foal at Heart--Added dialogue options with colts and fillies.

CHAPTER 6: IF I DIDN'T CARE

View Online

“I wish I had a limit break...”

“Get down,” I hissed, knocking the filly next to me through a nearby open door. It looked to lead into what was once a small shop, but that didn't interest me. What did have my attention at the moment was the robopony rambling down the road towards us. I didn't believe that it had yet spotted us. Leastwise it hadn't opened fire; so that was a good sign.

I discarded any notion of trying to take on the automated menace. I had learned my lesson last week. This time I was keen on opting for sneaking around it on our way back to the settlement's gates. It had taken us the better part of the morning, sifting through the homes of the more well-to-do former residents of Old Seaddle, to find a sufficient number of Aphrodite talismans. During our romp among the mansions of the Wasteland ruins, we'd managed to avoid running into anything more dangerous than a radroach. It was a welcome change of pace to go up against something that was vulnerable to small-caliber bullets.

We were getting closer to downtown now, though. On the other side of the heart of the city ruins, we'd find safety within the current bounds of Seaddle. This meant that robopony patrols would be more common on the main thoroughfares. We'd have to stick to alleys and back streets from here on out. It wouldn't be as direct a route, taking longer to get back to the gates; but it should be a safer path at least.

Though the interior of the shop we were in now was unlit, the light spilling in through the doorway and shattered plate glass window was enough to allow me to make out the far end of the store's interior. There was the outline of a small doorway leading deeper into the building. A back room, I presumed. Hopefully there was also a rear exit through there as well. I prodded Windfall and gestured towards the doorway.

We stepped gingerly past the shelves lined with all manner of rotted books and magazines, making our way as quietly as we could to the back of the store. Once through the door, and deeper into the darkness, I quickly spotted the tiny sliver of light spilling under a closed back door and moved towards it. I placed my ear against the mold covered wood slab and listened for any signs of movement coming from the other side. The last thing we needed was to blunder into a second robotic security pony while trying to avoid the first.

After hearing nothing for about ten seconds, I pulled the door inward and peeked out. It was an alley. Aside from garbage, bones, and the odd puddle of feted water; there was no sign of anything that could threaten us. I motioned for the pegasus filly to follow me and crept out of the shop. Hopefully, this would provide us with a means to bypass the robopony.

“What's a 'viper'?” the little filly asked.

“A kind of snake,” I replied softly, a little irritated that she had chosen now of all times to begin a quiz session. Then a thought occurred to me, “why?” I peered back at her.

My eyes widened. I saw the little white foal reading a message that had been painted on one of the alleyway walls.

VIVA THE VIPERS!

Horseapples! We were on gang turf. Hell, for all I knew, the gang lived in one of these buildings that we were walking past. The sooner we got out of here, the better.

I urged us to a quicker pace.

We hadn't gone more than a dozen steps when I heard something metal from above and behind us creak. My first thought was that somepony had stepped out onto a fire escape and was now lining up a shot to take us down. Reflexively, I drew my pistol and turned my head back in the direction of the sound, ready to lay down some covering fire as we made our escape.

My eyes caught the sight of a rat skittering along a gutter. I allowed myself to sigh with relief and continued walking....

...Which was about the time I tripped over a trash can and went tumbling to the ground in a heap.

Oh, how I hoped that we weren't anywhere close to a gang hideout. The sound of the can sliding along the pavement of the alley and crashing into a nearby wall had echoed rather loudly up and down the block. Even my pistol had slipped from my mouth, adding its own higher-pitched clattering to the cacophony. Windfall came to a stop next to me, her face a mask of terror.

At least she seemed to grasp how dangerous our situation was.

Uttering a string of hushed curses, I rolled back onto my feet and retrieved my weapon. I turned my gaze back to the offending metal cylinder, contemplating a swift buck of retribution despite the noise it would have caused, and promptly froze. The pegasus didn't look afraid because of all the noise that had been generated.

She had seen the body.

The pony hadn't been dead for very long. Relatively speaking, of course. Most of the city's streets were littered with skeletal remains of the residents who had died centuries ago during those horrific few hours when the balefire bombs had devastated Equestria; or who had died over the next couple weeks of the magical radiation the bombs unleashed. By contrast, this body had probably only been here two weeks or so.

The unicorn pony's coat had mostly fallen out, leaving behind a corpse of bloated black flesh surrounded by sticky residue. What drew my eye though was his attire: a blue and gold jumpsuit bearing the number “137” stenciled across the back. A stable resident. Or, rather, a former stable resident. No way to know how long he had survived outside before he'd died, but experience taught me that it probably hadn't been very long.

A sniffling drew my attention back to the little filly. She hadn't seen this sort of scene before. Dead ponies were nothing new to her, obviously; but there was a difference between a fresh corpse that at least still looked like a pony, and this bloated rotting mass. I frowned, but placed a hoof over her shoulder and carefully directed her to where she couldn't see the body. Hopefully she would be able to calm herself down; because I wasn't one to come to for sympathy over having seen graphic scenes.

My eyes scanned the alley again. No signs that my fall had been heard yet. Which was rather fortunate; since it would provide me with time to search the stable pony's remains.

I could already see the pipbuck on his left foreleg. I'd seen them around before in passing; and not always on their original owners. However, I'd never really gotten a good look at them up close. According to what I'd heard, they were supposed to be immeasurably useful. They kept navigational information, had a built-in communications suite, and even aided in combat somehow. I could probably get a lot of caps for something like that.

The dark gray device lay open, cupping the rotting flesh of the unicorn's blackened limb. I reached out and dragged it away for a closer look. It resembled a hinged tube, with a screen and buttons on one side. I tapped at a few of the buttons, but nothing happened, prompting me to frown. I didn't know what the battery life on these things was supposed to be like; but I was hoping that it was just out of power, and not completely broken. I imagine that a broken pipbuck would fetch a much lower price than one that simply needed a charge.

I stared down at the device for a moment.

Eh, what could it hurt?

I leaned down and placed my left foreleg into the device and snapped it closed.

Then I promptly screamed.

A lot of things happened at once. The first thing that happened was a sudden jolt of pain in my wrist. It felt like a half dozen needles had been jabbed into my flesh simultaneously. Though the pain hadn't been very severe compared to the sorts of injuries I'd had inflicted on me throughout my life, it had been a rather unexpected development.

Almost as unexpected as the lights that sprung up all around me. My vision was suddenly filled with words and numbers and symbols everywhere I looked. The writing seemed to somehow be physically attached to my eyeballs. No matter which way I looked, they stuck with me. I couldn't even make sense of half of what I was seeing. Some things were intuitive, like the little compass at the bottom left of my vision. Honestly, that was just about the only thing that made sense to me right away.

Whatever “AP” was, I had absolutely no idea.

Then words began to scroll across my eyes:

>>NEW USER DETECTED

>>...

>>TUTORIAL MODE AVAILABLE

>>ENGAGE TUTORIAL MODE? [YES/NO]:__

What the fuck was a 'tutorial'? Fuck it, I wasn't about to let this damn thing do anything until I'd spoken with somepony who knew how these things worked.

...So how did I select, “No”?

An “N” appeared next to the prompt just as I'd thought it, and the words vanished. The compass and a few other little items near the bottom of my vision remained though. Damn. Those things were going to be as distracting as fuck, I just knew it. How did stable ponies not go completely insane using these things?

“Are you okay?” Windfall asked, concern saturating her voice. An understandable reaction. After all, her survival was almost completely tied to my being able to perform effectively. If I had been handicapped by this device, while the two of us were out here in the middle of the Seaddle ruins, the chances of us living long enough to get back to the safety of the walled settlement diminished drastically.

“I think so,” I admitted, shaking my head furiously. The hovering numbers and text that were both there, and not there simultaneously, was instilling within me a slight sense of vertigo. It was playing hell with my depth perception, that was for sure, “it just surprised me, that's all. It's showing me all this writing. It's annoying.”

I'd had enough of the damn thing. With a sneer, I reached down and tugged at the seam of the device. It refused to budge. My eyes widened as fear nibbled at the back of my mind and I pulled harder, even lending my teeth to the effort to remove the offending pipbuck. Still, it remained stubbornly attached.

Maybe the release had to be toggled through some combination of button commands? I tentatively tapped at the three large red buttons arranged below the yellow and black display. However, all they did was cycle between three screens; neither of which seemed to possess a “remove pipbuck” option. Horseapples.

Well, there was bound to be somepony back in the settlement that knew how these things worked and would be able to do something about it. I turned to address Windfall, but paused with my mouth open. A new blip had appeared above the compass. I looked down at it; which earned me a rather concerned look from the filly as I suddenly went cross-eyed. Curious, I slowly looked back and forth, watching the little yellow dot as it moved from side to side. After a couple of nods, I realized that the blip was Windfall.

“Huh,” I muttered. Interesting.

“Uh...Jackboot?” the pegasus ventured uneasily, obviously a little confused by my actions.

“I think this thing shows me where ponies are,” I informed her, finally uncrossing my eyes, “wonder how far off it works?” I shrugged, “let's keep going.”

We reached the end of the alley and stopped. I peered cautiously around the corner one way and then the other. No sign of any roboponies. I nodded back at Windfall and we crept out into the street once more.

As the two of us made our way across the street as quietly as we could, the filly's eyes darted to the pipbuck on my leg, “what is that thing?” she asked in a loud whisper.

“Pipbuck,” I responded, “it's a computer thing that ponies from stables wear. They're supposed to be really valuable.”

“Stables?”

Right, isolated ranch pony, “stables were places that ponies went to when the bombs fell and destroyed the world. They kept them safe,” mostly, “some stables opened up after a couple decades. Some are still closed today.

“They say that every pony alive today descended from a pony who lived in a stable.”

The filly paused for a moment, “and what do you say?”

“Huh?”

“You said, 'they say'. Does that mean you don't agree with them?”

A small smile tugged at my lips. The filly may be a little ignorant as a consequence of her upbringing, but she wasn't an idiot to have caught that, “not every pony died in the bombing. The zebras only had so many missiles. They couldn't hit every little town. Some ponies were far enough away to escape the balefire.”

“How do you know?”

I glanced back at the filly slyly, “you're looking at one of their descendents,” that was a White Hoof 'claim to fame' actually: that their ancestors had not come from a stable but instead survived the apocalypse that befell Equestria.

The story was that a couple of outlying farms in the Seaddle area had survived the bombing. Their fields remained intact, their crops relatively untouched. Untouched that was, until the pegasi closed up the sky. The crops didn't last very long without the sun. It didn't take very long after that for the small community of friendly farmers to become a lot more ruthless once their food supply was cut off. Suddenly, the priority was: kill off competing tribes to reduce competition for the food present in the ruins of the city.

Windfall seemed to be somewhat impressed by the revelation of my heritage. Honestly, I didn't think it was very significant. Wherever your great grandmare was born, most ponies in the Wasteland today had been born out here. The filly wasn't really all that different from me; upbringing not withstanding.

“Anyway, these pipbucks are supposed to do a whole lot of things. Hopefully I can find somepony in Seaddle who's willing to pay a lot for one...and who knows how to take...it...off...” my words trailed off as something else distracted me from our conversation.

The pegasus cocked an eyebrow, “what is it?”

“Red blip,” I responded, going cross-eyed again. What was a red blip? I shook my head again and noticed that it wasn't moving as much as Windfall's blip had. Further away then, I supposed. I looked ahead, but there was nothing there except for a wall.

Then the blip split into two. Then a third appeared. I didn't like this.

“This way,” I hissed at the filly, darting towards a nearby open doorway.

We'd only just reached the door frame when I heard the crack of a rifle, followed instantly by a brick of the building's exterior exploding right by my head. A cackling laugh carried over the air from the direction of the blips. I risked a glance just before I ducked inside the abandoned apartment lobby.

So, apparently, red blips meant ponies that had a shooting disposition. That was good to know. Maybe this thing wasn't going to be entirely useless after all. I glimpsed three ponies; a unicorn and two earth ponies. They were attired in piecemeal barding that looked to have been constructed almost entirely of leather and zippers. Portions of their thick leather armor were painted a deep green, the color wrapping around their bodies in a helical pattern.

Vipers.

A bolt-action rifle embraced in a cyan glow hovered near the unicorn—a satisfied looking mare with a brown coat and red matted mane. The bolt ratcheted back loudly, the spent casing springing free and twirling through the air with a clear ringing sound before clinking on the asphalt. Then the bolt slid noisily forward, locking another round into the chamber. Beside her, two earth pony stallions—one yellow and one green—stood gripping long scraps of sharpened metal in their mouths.

Three ponies, one of them a unicorn, and all the two of us had to defend ourselves was my 9mm. I supposed I could have tossed Windfall the .22; but I honestly believed that she'd be more likely to shoot me than the gangers if I let her try to help me in a firefight. My eyes scanned the room that we were in, searching for an escape route. However, most of the building seemed to have collapsed inward. Looking at the lobby now, I realized that the area near the door was just about the only area of the first floor that wasn't a wall of impassable rubble.

We were trapped.

Part of me wondered if that hadn't been the Vipers' intent, moving in on us the way that they had.

“Ain't no reason to die,” the mare yelled out to us, not bothering to hide her smug tone, “toss out yer guns and come along peaceful-like. We got some pertty new jewelery fer y'all to try out,” she and the two bucks flanking her started chuckling.

“Flip you for first run on the filly,” I heard one of the buck's snigger to the other.

They had us trapped, dead to rights. The only way out was past the trio, and there wasn't a lot of cover to be had. I never had been one prefer straight fights either. My mind raced to search for alternative strategies, but I was coming up short.

These gangers seemed to be interested in taking a slave or two though, and not just murdering us for our possessions. Maybe that could give me an out. If I offered them the filly without a fight, I might be able to convince them that it was a better deal than fighting me for her...

Be kind...

I felt Windfall press herself up against me, shaking. She was relying on me to keep her safe; had been since I took her off that ranch. I knew what they'd do to the little filly if I gave her over. A little yellow pegasus in the back of my mind did too; and she was begging me to come up with another plan. I reminded myself that it wasn't my place to get myself killed for this filly.

Be kind...

Even though this filly had saved my life more than once. Looking back, I sort of did owe her more than she owed me at this point. Not that that should really matter; what did I care about squaring debts?

Be kind...

Fine! I'd keep Windfall safe. But just this once! Damn if my psyche wasn't a stubborn bastard...

I put a hoof around her and gave the filly cowering beside me a brief little squeeze. I needed her to be clear-headed right now, so I was willing to give her a little comfort if it calmed her nerves. It didn't seem to do much for her though.

Couldn't blame her really. She knew that she would be useless in this fight; and up to now I hadn't exactly demonstrated myself as some kind of superpony when it came to combat.

Of course, these weren't roboponies that would just laugh at my pistol rounds. The barding that they were wearing didn't look to be much more robust than my own. Add to that the fact that the only pony with any ranged weapons was the unicorn with the rifle, and I actually had a chance. Not much of one, but enough that I was willing to take it over capitulation.

Plus, this time I'd be at the top of my game.

A linoleum tile at the base of the doorway exploded as a second rifle shot rang out, followed by the sound of a ratcheting bolt, “I said to come on out! Otherwise, we won't be very gentle with yer daughter there.”

“Stay here,” I whispered to Windfall, reaching into my saddlebags and fishing out an inhaler and a little brown bottle. I hesitated for a moment, and then I took out the .22 pistol. The filly looked at it with concern when I pushed it towards her, “if it goes bad, don't try to fight them.”

“Then why...?” the pegasus asks, gesturing to the weapon.

Funny, I couldn't bring myself to look at her, “that isn't for them.”

She was a smart filly. Hopefully, if this did go tits-up, she'd know what I meant. Asking a foal to think about doing that though...

Exactly how fucked up was I?

I shook my head and doled out a couple of the tan pills from the bottle. They were followed by a deep hit from the inhaler. Then the world became a very different place.

Everything was...clearer. Slower. Drawing my pistol from its holster sounded like unwinding a long strip of duct tape. The weapon in my mouth, I took a deep preparatory breath, and then I launched myself around the corner at a dead sprint.

Apparently, the three gangers had anticipated that the insinuation about the depraved acts they intended to perform on my assumed offspring would motivate me to surrender; since they all looked very surprised to see me barreling at them with my weapon drawn. I guess that many fathers were concerned about what happened to their fillies. I knew for a fact that not all were though...

As reckless and stupid as it was to charge three armed ponies on my own, I was smart enough to not run at them in a straight line. That unicorn mare's rifle was of a high enough caliber that it could have stopped a charging earth pony stallion dead in his tracks, even while pumped up on Buck. Instead, I was bounding from side to side in long smooth strides. The Dash kept the world moving along in slow motion, letting my mind carefully plan out where I was going to plant each hoof, and how best to push off for my next step. In fact, it was almost frustrating in a way; as to my brain's perception, the rest of my body was moving like molasses.

I saw a puff of dark smoke and fire burp out from the rifle's barrel. Then the thunderclap of the discharge buffeted my ears. A chip of pavement flew up past my cheek.

Now was my opening.

The mare moved like she was trapped in a whole other dimension of time. I could see the bolt handle slowly twisting around as the unicorn cycled the weapon. I took the opportunity to straighten up my body and line up the pistol on the mare's head. Curious that the Viper's expression remained unconcerned. She had to see how quickly I was reacting, and notice than my weapon had her locked in.

I tongued the trigger twice in quick succession. The slide jumped back, the muzzle rising; and again, launching two copper jacketed slugs at the unicorn's head. My body started to turn toward the two bucks when I noticed that the mare was untouched by the rounds.

I blinked in shock.

The Dash allowed me to move a little quicker, but I wasn't running at anywhere near the speed of a bullet. I should have seen the effects of my rounds. Instead, all I saw were two brief cyan shimmers, followed by two impacts on the distant wall behind her.

Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding!

This mare just had to possess one of the rarest magical talents in the world: kinetic deflection. I'd only ever really just heard about it before. No wonder she hadn't flinched away from my pistol.

Fine, then we'd do this 'old school'. I was better at it anyway.

I spit the useless pistol from my mouth, freeing my lips up for a guttural scream. This at least seemed to get a reaction from the mare. The bolt of her rifle finally slid back into place, but I wasn't about to give her the time she needed to line up her shot. With a powerful push of my hindquarters, I was airborne, arcing towards the unicorn's head. My left forehoof lashed out, batting the weapon aside with the casing of my recently acquire pipbuck. I then proceeded to twist the lower half of my body, swinging my hips around, and catching a now very concerned mare in the side of her head with my rear hooves.

The blue field of telekinetic magic wrapped around her rifle vanished instantly, and the weapon spun away, clattering to the ground off in the distance. The brown mare reeled back from the blow delivered by my double buck, stunned and out of the fight for the moment. I brought my right leg up to my mouth and drew the knife sheathed there with my teeth before finally landing upon all four of my hooves amidst the two bucks. Being the two attackers that still possessed weapons, they had become my immediate concern.

I could feel the world around me starting to ebb back to its original speed. The Dash was going to wear off soon. The bucks were as wide-eyed as the mare had been as they turned to engage the rusty earth pony that had jumped between them. Not a lot of ponies in the Wasteland were graced with much in the way of competency when it came to bare hoof brawling. So, to see it personally could be a little jarring to the unsuspecting.

My lip curled up in a satisfied smirk as I took in their reactions. That's right, assholes; 'daddy' has some skills. Now, to choose which stallion I'd garote first.

Right was always my preferred side.

With another powerful push of my Buck-enhanced legs, I sprung at the green stallion, swinging my head around madly in a figure-eight motion. My opponent recoiled, but his reactions weren't being augmented by pharmaceuticals, so he didn't draw back as quickly as I was advancing. The first of my strokes to connect swatted his improvised machete aside, the second split his lip and knocked his chin upward.

The third opened his throat.

My ear twitched at the grunt coming from behind me. I rolled to the left, falling just under the yellow buck's frantic swing with his own sharp, rusted, blade. Now on my back, I coiled in and lashed out with both rear hooves, catching him under his jaw. The Buck easily doubled the strength behind what would already have been a devastating hit to the stallion's head. Instead of a blow that would have normally merely sent his head spinning, I delivered a dual-hoofed kick that utterly crushed his trachea and shattered his cervical vertebrae. The ganger was dead before he hit the ground.

I rolled to my feet once more.

One buck dead, another sputtering and choking in the street behind me. That just left—

Oh, hello there normal-proceeding time, how've you been?

I cried out in pain as the ragged edge of the sword raked itself across my backside. I'm sure my barding did a little to mitigate the damage, but I doubted that it had been a whole lot. A bar at the bottom left of my vision lost about a third of its length. If that meant what I thought it did, then I really didn't want to let that happen many more times. Hell, I didn't want it to happen even one more time!

The floating length of jagged steel swung around to deliver another hit, but I fended it off with the casing of my recently acquired pipbuck—this thing was actually starting to prove really useful. Sparks flew as the sharpened metal edge glanced off the leg-mounted computer. I saw the machete, cradled in blue light, swinging around for another strike. The brow mare stood about twenty feet away, glaring balefully at me, blood running down her chin from a badly split lip. It looked like a live capture was no longer a priority for her. My resistance had prompted her to settle for one corpse, and a captive filly.

Distance was more her friend than mine; as was the case when facing unicorns in combat in general. Their telekinetic fields weren't particularly strong when compared to the kind of grip that a mouth could achieve upon a weapon, but the range was worth the tradeoff so long as the target was at least a few yards away; which I was. Her horn's range wasn't unlimited, and it would be possible for me to back far enough away that she couldn't deliver effective blows; but with her kinetic barrier spell, there wasn't anything that I could do to her from afar with just my pistol.

So, up close and personal it would have to be then.

I sprinted at her once more, noting that it was very different doing this without the helping hoof that the Dash had offered me just a minute earlier. It was actually a little worse as well, since the side affect of coming down off of a Dash high was muscle fatigue. Which, incidentally was also a side effect of Buck, which would likewise be wearing off any moment now. If I didn't finish this fight in the next few blows, the unicorn would steamroll me.

The mare backpedaled at my approach, trying to keep herself out of range of my knife. Though I was no longer assisted by Dash, the Buck was still working its glorious magic, letting my legs propel me faster than they could have otherwise with their more powerful strides. I ducked under another vicious swing and lunged forward. The unicorn leaped aside, in an effort to dodge my strike, but was only partially successful. I'd intended to catch her in the chest, but instead only managed to slice into her shoulder.

It was at least enough to make the mare stumble. I ceased my charge and rounded on the unicorn, rearing up. My fore-hooves pummeled her head, my strikes targeting her horn. The first caused her magical field to flicker, halting what had likely been a swing of the nearby hovering machete that was directed at my neck. The second extinguished the glow entirely as the concussion took hold. Magic, even simple unicorn telekinesis, took concentration. Disrupt it, such as with a hoof to their head, and you could break whatever spells they were casting.

Again and again I struck the mare's head, spreading my hits across the entirety of her face. The brown unicorn reeled under the blows, stumbling to the ground as she lost her sense of balance. She was soon prone on the ground, but I wasn't stopping...

It was raining. The older unicorn mare standing in front of me was looking up with terrified eyes. Her tone was pleading as she begged for me to grant her village an extension on the tithe they owed. Something about diamond dogs moving into the ruins they scavenged for us. It wasn't my problem what perils they faced in the ruins. I was just here for the tithe.

They didn't have it.

My father wasn't with me. He had other duties to attend to. But he had sent one of his lieutenants to observe and coach me on how to handle our vassal villages. They paid, or they died.

This village couldn't pay.

The old mare in front of me knew what was going to happen, I think. She'd accepted it the moment she stepped out to greet our contingent of warriors. I informed her that her excuses were meaningless, and the price for failure would be exacted. The village elder simply bowed her head.

I reared up, and began to beat the old earth pony mare to death. Behind me, the pony who served as my father's eyes and ears looked on intently, contemplating how he was going to report on my performance.

I think I was screaming again; but I don't know about what. I wasn't even sure how long I continued to beat on the unicorn Viper after she was dead. However long it took for the effects of the Buck to wear off, I guess; since when I did finally stop, it was only because I could no longer keep my legs steady under the weight of my own body. It was suddenly like I weighed three times more than I had two minutes ago.

It was all I could do not to pop another couple of tablets.

I'd been down that road before.

Panting in ragged breaths, I turned away from the puddle of pink and red mush that was the mare's head, and started walking unsteadily back towards the lobby where I'd left Windfall. My eyes locked onto a hazy blur of white and green standing in the doorway. When I got closer, and the filly came into clearer focus, I could make out the expression on her face. I recognized that look. I'd seen ponies look at me that way before. Often.

She was terrified of me.

I tried to take a step towards her. I'm not certain exactly what I was going to tell her, if I was even going to bother to say anything. Either way, I didn't make it very far. My foot buckled right out from under me the moment I went to put my weight on it. I collapsed in a most unceremonious fashion. It was when I attempted to get back up that I realized that I could no longer feel anything on that entire half of my body. Unfortunately, it must have been the only part of me that didn't feel; since the rest of me was hurting pretty good. Some parts more than others.

Oh, right. Sword. Back.

In the bottom left corner of my vision, I could see that little bar of yellow light shrink a little more. There was definitely no way that was a a good sign. I couldn't see the wound that the ganger's sword had left behind, but I could imaging that it was pretty bad. I glanced as far around as I could, and I saw a rather frightening quantity of blood dribbling over my armor.

The bar shrank by another sliver.

I strained my neck, trying to reach my saddlebags. However, I didn't even get close before the movement prompted a wave of pain to course through my body. I cried out and descended into a little convulsive episode, which simply caused even more pain. The whole ordeal left me panting through gritted teeth, tears welling in my eyes.

Horseapples.

After my second failure to reach the healing potions in my bags, I simply let myself go limp. I just couldn't take the pain moving caused any longer. My breathing was ragged, and I could barely move at all now. The pipbuck on my leg was visible, the screen depicting a rather simplistic image of a pony looking like he wasn't doing very well. His torso was composed of a dashed outline, while the limbs and head were made of solid lines. A little picture of a droplet blinked where the pony's heart would approximately be.

I didn't know a lot about what the information displayed on the pipbuck was supposed to mean in most cases; but I was pretty confident that right now it was letting me know that I was dying. As though I'd somehow be unable to come to such a conclusion on my own. Exactly how clueless were stable ponies that they needed a fetlock mounted computer to tell them they were hurt?

Dying out here in the ruins at the hooves of three ponies that I'd already killed didn't sit very well with me. I'll admit, dying in general wasn't something I looked forward to doing; but I'd long ago come up with a list of ways I would prefer to die. Such as having a heart attack at the age of ninety while getting ridden by a harem of young limber unicorn mares. That was my preferred way to die.

Bleeding out in the street while a filly watched was not anywhere on that list, interestingly enough.

Speaking of which, “don't just fucking stand there gawking, kid!” I spat, suppressing a cringe when I heard how tired I sounded. At least I wasn't frothing blood this time, “get out here!”

I swear, if that foal just stood by and watched me die, I was going to kill her. Not literally, obviously. But, just before I kicked it, I would come up with very clear mental scenarios where I brutally murdered the white pegasus. If I was going to die here, I'd take even small comforts.

Windfall took a frightened step back. Wrong way, moron, “I'm dying, stupid! Get out here and dig out a potion.”

At least this time she started moving in the correct direction, “that's it,” I breathed a little easier, “hurry up,” then my eyes widened again when I saw her begin running. The filly wasn't running towards me though.

She was running away!

Without thinking, I tried in vain to get onto my hooves, “where the fuck are you go—AHH!”

That was a bad idea. The moment my head whipped around to scream after the pegasus, crippling pain set me to writhing on the ground, which caused even more pain. Fortunately, it was not a completely self-perpetuating cycle and eventually it subsided. However, by the time the worst of it had passed, I was reduced to a panting heap of misery.

“...Come back,” the phrase was barely above a whisper. I wasn't sure that I could manage much more than that. The yellow bar had been whittled down to a quarter of the size it had been when I first put the pipbuck on. The picture of the pony on the screen was flashing now, and his eyes were closed. I could empathize. I wanted to close mine too.

Horseapples.

Just fucking die, the familiar voice of a young mare said in my head. I could see the smug look on the pale yellow face of my earth pony sibling, her eyes dancing with cruel glee at my suffering. Just the way they had when she'd ordered our father's guards to apprehend me, die, alone and worthless, like you always knew you would.

“fuck you,” I mumbled feebly to the pony in my mind, “I bet you're already dead anyway,” our tribe hadn't had a female chieftain to my recollection. Whiplash may have been ruthless to a tee, but sooner or later some big strapping warrior would have come along, challenged her, and then assumed the throne for themselves.

I bet I didn't die like a little bitch.

“I died killing three ponies,” I shot back weakly.

You died begging a little filly to help you after barely managing to take out three pathetic piece-of-shit posers.

Even in my own mind, Whiplash knew how to bring me down a peg. Fucking figured.

My sister's voice vanished, leaving me behind in silence. So I started doing what everypony does when something goes wrong: blaming anypony else for what had happened.

I blamed my father for being a piece of shit. He'd been a cold-hearted bastard to me; and I didn't give a damn that he'd justified everything under the pretense of 'preparing me to lead'. Under his tutelage, I'd been forced to murder over a dozen foals my age. I'd murdered, stolen, and raped; all because he'd insisted that was what I needed to know how to do in order to be successful in the world.

I blamed him for picking backstabbing pieces of shit to be his lieutenants. The ponies that were supposed to have supported his chosen successor after his death had instead run me out of my birthright. If my father had worked on instilling within his subjects a sense of loyalty, rather than fear, then I'd be enjoying the attentions of a couple of my wives right now.

Then I blamed Whiplash for slitting his throat in the middle of the night. My father had been a colossal ass, and had certainly deserved to be put down for the things he'd done; I wasn't going to dispute that. But then she'd paid off his lieutenants to try and kill me so that her succession wouldn't be challenged. Because of her, everything that I'd been taught about how to survive in the Wasteland became moot. Outside the White Hooves, and without the position of Chief, taking a passing mare and having my way with her didn't get me respect; it got me thrown out of brothels...or worse.

Then I blamed the Finders. If they wanted their caravans to remain unmolested by bandits, then they should have damn-well made them mark themselves as being under the protection of the Finders! How the fuck was I supposed to be able to know what traders I could get away with murdering and which ones would get a bounty put on my head?! Make them paint a bottle cap on their carts or something!

Next on my list of ponies whose fault all of this was, was Windfall. The little shit had run off and left me to die. And why? All because she'd seen me become a murderous psycho and pound a mare's head into jelly. It wasn't like she'd never seen me kill anypony...

Huh. Actually, this had been the first time she'd seen me kill with her own eyes. Still, she had to have known that it was either them or us. She knew what would have happened if they'd caught us...

Or, she would have if I'd ever bothered to explain it to her at some point.

...For somepony who decided to take a filly into his care and teach her to survive in the Wasteland; I was actually doing a really shitty job. I'd basically just been teaching her to shoot. Not to say that wouldn't be a valuable skill; but there was so much more to living through the day than being able to put rounds downrange. I'd never talked to her about slavers in any detail. I'd never covered 'law of the Wasteland' survival. I just kept her out of the way and let her shoot a pistol for an hour a day.

I was supposed to be training her to be a partner to watch my back; and I was treating her like a liability. Treating her like a foal.

The pegasus had lost her family and her livelihood. She'd even killed ponies. She'd borne witness to death, destruction, and suffering first-hoof; and had even managed to stay relatively sane so far. That little pony had even saved my life a time or two. Whatever her temporal age, she wasn't a 'foal' anymore.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I was still dying, and I'd run out of other ponies to blame.

Face it, Jackboot; you deserve this.

This time, it wasn't the voice of my father or sister that I heard speaking words in my mind. The voice was my own, you've killed, stolen, raped. You spread misery to everypony you ever met; just like your father.

And now you're going to die like he did: betrayed by a filly you were supposed to be protecting.

“Fuck you,” the words were barely a whisper, and they took great effort to utter. But I felt compelled to defend myself to...well, myself, I guess, “I protected her...”

You're using her. You have been this whole time. First to sell off for money, then as bait for a robbery. You treat her like a tool. Something you can abuse for your own selfish purposes and then ignore when she's inconvenient.

“Ain't...her father,” I could feel my breaths getting more shallow. I can't even be certain that I'd managed to say anything at all; but I had intended to utter those words at least. The one benefit of my imminent death was that this voice would finally shut the fuck up.

Funny, at least my internal monologue had the energy and ability to laugh, because you're acting a lot like your father...

I'll admit it, that last quip stung like hell. I wanted to refute it; but even if I'd still had the ability to, I wouldn't have possessed the nerve. That little part of me was absolutely correct. I had treated Windfall in much the same way that my own father had treated Whiplash. Perhaps without all of the incestuous raping, but I certainly hadn't regarded the pegasus with much more worth.

I was using her, and had been from the start. Manipulating her, and picking what I said around her in order to mold the filly into the sort of asset that I thought I'd need to help me continue my life of robbery and slaughter; which was the only life I'd really known up to this point.

The best thing that Windfall could have done to improve her chances at a decent life, was exactly what she had done: leave me to die. Whoever else she came across in the Wasteland, short of another White Hoof, would make a better guardian than myself.

Hope you're proud, Dad. Your little colt is following right in your own hoofprints. Even unto death.

I breathed out a resigned sigh, and waited for the last of the blood to flow from my body.

Then I felt the sensation of something—or more likely somepony—tugging at my saddlebags. I grit my teeth and opened my eyes, prepared to offer up one final epithet to whomever hadn't had the decency to wait for me to finish dying before looting my corpse. However, the words died in my throat when I glimpsed the tiny ivory wing and sprig of teal and veridian tail in the corner of my dim vision.

“Please don't be dead,” I heard her pleading, as though from a great distance, “I'm sorry; just please don't be dead!”

I remained silent as the little filly rummaged through the leather pouch and fished out a bottle of purple liquid. She tore off the cap with her lips and upended the magical contents onto the wound. Little tendrils of warmth began to spread throughout my body once more, and the pain ebbed, if ever so slightly. My lungs heaved suddenly, and I gasped as they took in the first full breath of air that they had in a good while.

Most of my body still felt like it was on fire, and I couldn't do much more than lift my head, but I was at least able enough to physically drink down the second vial of healing liquid potion that was offered, this time to my lips. I gulped it slowly, relishing the feeling of the pain leaving my body, and sensation returning to my extremities. The yellow bar in the lower left corner of my eyes had grown to almost a quarter of its original size, though a trio of letters continued to blink at me.

Finally, I was able to move enough to get a good look at Windfall. Her expression was one of shame, mingled with fear. She'd known that she was leaving me to die when she ran off. Guilt had compelled her to return. Remorse. Feelings that I'd only recently begun to experience for myself. In a reversed scenario, I wouldn't have come back. I knew it with certainty.

Yet, right now; if there did come a time when the little filly needed me to save her life...I think that I could bring myself to do it.

I couldn't decide if Windfall's presence was making me into a better pony, or a weaker one.

She continued to look at me in silence, her expectant eyes wary of what I'd say to the apprentice who'd betrayed her teacher. I suppose that I could have justifiably cussed her out. Beat her for the betrayal. Something told me that she would have accepted such a punishment without reproach. Few other ponies would have blamed me in this situation.

A week ago, I would have done it too.

Be kind...

But right now, I chose a different response.

“Thanks, ki...” no. Not 'kid'. She wasn't a foal anymore. She hadn't been one for some time. She'd saved my life on no fewer than three occasions since we'd met. That was more than any pony had ever done for me in my entire life. To include my own father. Windfall deserved my respect.

She'd earned my respect, “thanks, Windfall.”

Finally, the timid little pegasus looked up, her guilty eyes tearing up, “I'm sorry I ran,” she mumbled, “I was just...” She looked away, choking on her own words, unable to finish. She glanced up, seeking signs of forgiveness in my expression. So I kept my features soft when I supplied the words she'd likely been looking for.

“Scared?” the filly nodded, looking down again, “we're going to work on that,” I told her, offering a weak smile, “don't know how yet; but I do know that the two of us have a lot of work to do.

“But not right now,” I amended, slumping to the ground again and looking at the screen of the pipbuck. Back up to a third and holding. My eyes went to the caved in lobby, and then back to the dead Vipers. I'd seen the graffiti, this was their designated territory. The chances were good that some more of them might eventually wander this way. We couldn't be here when that happened.

A cursory examination of the pegasus reinforced my assumption that there was no reasonable way for the filly to drag me all the way back to the Seaddle city limits. I certainly didn't have the ability to get there under my own power, and I doubted that I could even muster the strength to limp there using Windfall to lean on. We still needed to get out of the open though. The partially collapsed lobby that we'd sheltered in earlier was looking like our only option. Hopefully, the two of us could manage to make it that far.

“Listen close,” I rasped, looking at the filly sternly. I needed her to be acutely aware of how serious our situation was, “we're in a very dangerous place. Those ponies will have friends nearby,” I nodded in the direction of the other three ponies that lay nearby, “we need to get out of sight. Help me get inside,” I jerked my head weakly back in the direction of the nearby building, “pull on my barding while I push with my legs.”

Windfall nodded and trotted around to my backside. I propped up my legs as best I could and mustered up as much energy as I thought I could manage in preparation for the filly's tugs. When I didn't feel anything for a while, I glanced back as far as I could, “ready?”

“There's a lot of blood...”

I heard the trembling in the young pegasus' voice. Damn but we did not have time for her to break down now. I bit back a scathing comment and took a breath. I needed her calm. If she locked up, we'd be dead or worse within the hour. Once I was confident I had my tone under control, I began to speak, “Windfall, listen to me: you have to do this. I can't get there by myself. I need you to help me. It's just blood. It's not going to hurt you.

“Now grab the damn barding a pull with everything you've got!”

I heard the young filly take a preparatory breath and bite down on one of my armor's leather straps. On my command, the two of us pushed a pulled with all the strength that we could muster. I screamed almost instantly, and I felt the overwhelming urge to relax and cease straining my vehemently complaining muscles. At about the same time, I felt the tension on my barding release. I went limp with a groan.

Judging by the smear of blood on the pock-marked pavement, we'd moved only a few inches.

“Are you okay?” I heard the filly ask worriedly.

Of course I wasn't fucking okay! Nopony could lose this much blood, scream this loudly, and be 'okay'!

“I'm fine!” I seethed through gritted teeth, preparing myself for another push, “again! Don't stop pulling until we're inside,” would I even be able to remain conscious until then?

Once more I felt Windfall take hold of my barding, and once more I commanded her to pull. True to my instructions, she didn't let go of the strap this time, regardless of how pained my outbursts were. I pushed with all the might that I could muster, but I could feel how feeble those efforts were. The slick pool of my own blood that I was being dragged through didn't help matters, as my hooves kept slipping. I could feel the wind from Windfall's rapidly beating wings buffeting my backside. The dust and debris that they whipped into my wounds compounded the burning pain that was already pulsing through my body.

But we were making progress. It was tortuously slow, but it was progress all the same. By Celestia's grace, we somehow managed to make it through the open doorway and into the interior of the old lobby. I urged Windfall to keep pulling me deeper inside when I sensed her slacking off at the door. We needed to be as protected as we could, and that meant being deep enough inside to be out of sight of cursory inspections of the area by wandering ponies. Few who ventured by here could be counted on to be anything but hostile.

Finally, I judged us far enough into the lobby to warrant a stop. Which was fortunate, since I wouldn't have been able to move any more even if I wanted to. I'd noticed that the little yellow bar had been shrinking for a good while now, and the trail of blood that we'd left in our wake lent considerable evidence as to the cause. I'd exacerbated my wounds and opened them back up again.

“Healing potion,” I croaked out. I should still have the one left.

Windfall didn't hesitate this time. I saw the little filly sprint past me towards the lobby's exit. She whipped around nearly in place a few yards from the doorway, scooping a purple vial up into her mouth from where it'd fallen out of my pack when she'd rummaged through it earlier. She then cantered back inside, slipping a little in my blood.

My eyes regarded the young flier as she fumbled with the vial's cap in her blood soaked hooves. She looked like one of those cannibal raiders from back east in Hoofington. He ivory coat was splattered with dabs of both drying, rust-colored blood, and fresh scarlet fluid around her hooves and mouth. Her teal and green tail was a matted bloody mess as well; turning almost black in places.

I thought to myself, a few more weeks, and she'll look just like me...

Windfall finally managed to dislodge the potion's cap and held the vial to my lips. I drank it down, feeling the pain ebb a little more. The pipbuck confirmed that I was recovering from my previously grievous state. Though a few concerning groups of letters remained on the visual display. I would need a lot more than what I had on me if we were going to make it back to the city limits.

“Alright, next,” I instructed the filly, “you need to go search their saddlebags,” Windfall looked over her shoulder with trepidation. Given how she'd reacted to the prospect of handling a living pony covered in blood, I could only imaging how much she relished the thought of rifling through the possessions of corpses. But it needed doing. Looting your kills was something that had to be done in the Wasteland if you hoped to survive, “potions, bottles, or any syringes that look like they might hold drugs: get 'em,” I saw her eyes go wide. The filly looked back in the direction of the carnage with fear.

I reached out with a hoof and directed her head to look back at me, glaring into her face, “yes, they're dead,” I stated firmly, “It's gross, and it's icky, and there's a lot of blood,” the filly's eyes began to tear up and I gave her head a little shake. I needed her to hold herself together a little longer in order to complete the task ahead, “but we need what they have, and I can't even stand right now.”

The pegasus swallowed and nodded again. Her movements were painfully hesitant and slow, but at least she was moving. I wasn't bleeding to death any longer, so there was a little time to play with. Not as much as I would have liked, I'm sure; and dangers certainly abounded. Those Vipers could have friends in the area. I hoped it was a slim chance, and that groups out looking to snag a few wayward ponies didn't want a lot of competition in the area, even if it was 'friendly' competition. I supposed that we'd find out how safe we were in due time.

A few minutes later, Windfall returned and laid out an arrangement of items in front of me. There was some Buck, a couple of doses of Dash, an injector of Stampede—I didn't know if I was going to need that yet or not—a couple doses of Rad-X, and an item that my eyes locked onto with intense relief. I weakly jabbed my hoof in the direction of the syringe, “that. Remove the cap an stick it into my shoulder.”

The filly gathered up the needle and stood over me, “which shoulder?”

I glared at her, “the red one.”

“Oh. Right,” there was a brief moment of pain as the hypodermic needle was jammed into my flesh, and then I felt no discomfort at all as the plunger was depressed. I let out a sigh of immeasurable relief as the last little motes of pain finally vanished from my back. A few other parts of me still ached, but the worst was far behind me. My injuries were no more healed than they had been thirty seconds ago, but at least I wouldn't scream with every little movement for an hour or so. Too bad those gangers had had any other healing potions on them.

Experimentally, I tried putting a little weight on the leg that had been most affected by the strike to my shoulder. I instinctively braced myself for the jabs of pain, but they were thankfully absent. However, it seemed that what healing had been done hadn't been enough to allow my leg the range of motion or stability I'd need to stand on my own power.

I'd need more drugs to make it.

My eyes went to the injector of Stampede. I bet I could make it back to Seaddle with that stuff coursing through my veins. I'd seen ponies hopped up on that stuff shrug off a hail of gunfire without so much as a falter. They died once their hearts were perforated of course, but aside from that, their bodies had seemed perfectly willing to function despite any physical wounds they suffered. Pain became something that didn't matter.

The strain though...I'd only recently come down off of Buck and Dash; which was likely compounding my current level of physical weakness. Putting that stuff into my system this soon might get me back to Seaddle, but I doubted that I'd survive the crash when it wore off. I'd need to wait a good while before risking it. Two hours at the least.

Which afforded me an opportunity to have a long overdue conversation with Windfall. I turned my head from side to side, my eyes watching for any red blips. When I saw that the coast was clear, I turned my attention to the pegasus filly. She was still watching me intently, seemingly ignorant of the blood drying on her own coat.

“Do you understand why I had to kill those ponies?”

Windfall swallowed and nodded her head, “yes.”

“Then tell me.”

“...They were bad ponies.”

I was unable to contain my derisive snort. It wasn't her fault though. She was young, and saw things in such a narrow view. Those 'Mare-do-Well' news reports that DJ PON3 put out every few days on the radio probably wasn't helping things either. The Manehattan DJ seemed to be just as black and white in his moral world view. You had 'bad ponies' and 'good ponies', and it was the job of the good ones to deal with the bad. Violently. Did it really matter who was doing the killing? 'Good', 'bad'; you were still an equicidal maniac running around killing folk. Bandits had families too. Mares and bucks and foals waiting for them back at their camps.

The only difference between the Mare-do-Well and the slavers she was slaughtering, in my opinion, was some radio personality's choice of words when reporting on her actions. When a raider killed a pony, they were a villain; when the Mare-do-Well did it, she was a hero. I'd just killed three raiders ten minutes ago, would that have made me a hero in PON3's eyes? Was I still a 'hero' even though I'd gunned down a family of merchants six weeks before that? Did it mean I broke even?

“Bad ponies,” I scoffed, “the world's full of 'bad' ponies. You go around killing a pony because they're 'bad', you'll wipe us all out. Liars, cheaters, crooks, killers; everypony out here does those things,” I informed the filly, noting her expression of disbelief, “No, I didn't kill them because they were bad; I killed them because they were a threat.

“Do you know what they wanted to do to us? What would have happened if we were captured?”

The filly offered a hesitant nod, “they were going to hurt us?”

“'Hurt' don't even begin to touch it,” I corrected, “those gangers would have beat the shit out of us, and then put explosive collars around our necks,” I began. This conversation was going to be hard for her to hear, as young as she was, but it was important that she understand the stakes out here in the Wasteland. We weren't on her parents' ranch anymore. The world that this little pegasus had been forced into was a cruel one, and she needed to understand that if she was going to deal with it.

That may have been one of the few things that my father had done right by me: teaching me how fucked up the ponies around me were, “I'd have gotten off pretty light,” I went on, “they'd have beat me up, made sure I wouldn't put up a fight. Broken a rib or two to put me in my place. You? They'd have raped you,” I saw the filly flinch away and shut her eyes. Maybe she hadn't been able to see what the White Hoof raiders had done to her mother from her hiding place in the barn; but I was willing to bet that she'd heard it, and that she was reliving the memory of those sounds right now.

I didn't stop, “those two bucks would have passed you around, had their fun in every hole they could find on you, and then given you to other bucks in the gang for them to do the same.

“For starters.”

It was clear on Windfall's face that I was upsetting her. Tears were streaming from her eyes and she was shaking her head fervently, quietly begging for me not to say any more on the subject. Tough. I continued to speak. When she covered her ears to drown out my words, I spoke louder, “when they were done with you, they'd have contacted the White Hooves. We'd have been traded for weapons and drugs; maybe a few bits too. After that? Well, it goes downhill from there.”

Sorry, Windfall, but the Wasteland is a harsh place, and you need to understand that if you're going to last longer than the average stable pony, “Me? I'm young enough. They'd have worked me to death in the mines; maybe the fields. If I was lucky. If I pissed somepony off, they'd put me in the arena. Let one of their younger warriors fight and kill me to earn a little prestige. Either way, I'd be lucky to see five more years.

“You? You'll wish you were me,” I spoke loudly, as Windfall had crouched down and buried her head under her hooves, “they'll rut you worse than the Vipers did. When your old enough, they'll give you to a warrior who's proved themselves. You'll bear his foals. You'll bear them until you either die in foaling, or get too old. Or until he gets himself a younger brood mare. After that, they'll probably toss you into a barrel filled with baby radscorprions and bet on how many stings it takes for you to stop screaming,” Windfall was bawling now. I couldn't stop yet though; not quite.

“So, yeah. I killed them. I saved our fucking lives! I get that you're scared. I get that this is all new to you. I'm sorry it sucks, but that's the Wasteland. It's a brutal place filled with death and bastards.”

I paused now, watching as Windfall wept. I think that now was when everything was finally hitting her. I'd thought that she seemed to be handling losing her family too well. After all, I'd known plenty of colts and fillies who seen their families die; sometimes even by my own hoof. They'd cried and screamed for hours and days. They'd shut down and given into their new lives as property of the White Hooves.

At first, I thought that Windfall might somehow simply have been strong enough, emotionally, to have dealt with that sort of tragedy. This was the Wasteland after all. Everypony suffered from an early age. Most ponies would at least loose a sibling or fiend at an early age, if only to sickness. It was looking like Windfall had been an exception though. She'd grown up in a sheltered existence. She'd never seen a raider or ganger before. She had a caring family, a livelihood, a safe place to stay...

Then in a day it was all taken away from her, violently.

Now it started to really hit her. This wasn't just some trip to town that was hitting a few bad patches. This wasn't a bad dream that she was having that would vanish at any moment when she sudden;y awoke safe in her own bed with her mother cradling her.

This was her life. What we had just dealt with today wasn't some random fluke; but perhaps an ordeal that could easily become a weekly occurrence.

When her sobbing began to subside, I reached out and placed a blood-soaked hoof on her shoulder. It did little to muss her already soiled coat. The touch drew her attention. She sniffled and looked up at me with reddened, teary eyes. I offered as much of a comforting smile as I could manage, but I was sure it looked pretty pathetic coming from a face that was haggard and splattered with blood and gore, “this place sucks, but...I'm going to do what I can to keep you alive. I just need you to promise to do the same for me.

“Deal?”

The filly looked up at me with her watery blue eyes. I expected her to nod, or perhaps even offer up a choked little acknowledgment. Instead, she remained silent for another couple of heartbeats. Then she launched herself at my neck, wrapping her forelegs around me in a tight embrace. I could feel her shuddering as she resumed crying into my shoulder. At least she'd had the courtesy to weep into the side that hadn't been cut open by the sword slice.

I sighed and patted her back, “I'll take that as a, 'yes'...”

I'd be walking with the limp for a while. All things considered, I'd gotten off pretty light. The Stampede had been enough to get me to the gate, and the guards were kind enough not to shoot two blood-drenched ponies charging them on sight. One more incident in which Windfall's proximity had likely saved my life, as the presence of the foal—who'd been running behind me, thankfully—was likely the only reason for the lack of a reception in the form of a hail of gunfire. Somehow she'd managed to convince the soldiers at the gate that we weren't psycho-cannibals, despite my frothing muzzle and our blood-drenched state. She even got them to call a trauma response team to treat me.

Despite the obvious severity of my own injuries, and the lack of any actual wounds on Windfall; the medical ponies had been rather keen to address any needs that the pegasus had first; even after repeated assurances from the filly that none of the blood was her own.

It could have gotten bad fast from that point on though. The trauma team wanted to take me back to the clinic for treatment. Somehow, I managed to retain the presence of mind to refuse them. They'd have needed to remove my barding in order to get at my wounds; and that would have led to a very awkward moment of revelation that the ponies working there would have reacted badly to.

I managed to coherently impart that my injuries looked worse than they actually were, and that all I needed was some Med-X for the pain, a little Fixer for the Stampede, and a lot of bed rest. The trauma team and guards had been understandably skeptical, but I was obviously injured and I had the bits to pay for the drugs, so they sold them to me and let us go on our way. Mostly.

The medical ponies had insisted that Windfall go with them so that she could be properly examined and cleaned up. Refusing that request would have caused a bit of a scene and maybe prompt some questions I'd prefer to avoid, so I bowed in to the demand. The filly had insisted that she didn't need to go, but by that point, even I was telling her to let the clinic clean her up at least. I needed to play the role of the dutiful parent. Which would typically also have meant going with my 'daughter' to ensure that she was alright.

I managed to dodge that responsibility by insisting that the only way I'd be able to cover the expense of her treatment was by selling what we'd salvaged that day; which meant getting to the shops before they closed for the day. I certainly wasn't about to be entirely truthful and inform them that I'd already lined up a buyer that would be paying generously for what we'd retrieved. In the end, the trauma team and Windfall relented and went to the clinic without me while I sought out the pony whose contract we'd been fulfilling.

Despite the trials we'd faced that day the trip had proven worth it. The pony who'd contracted us seemed obviously well-versed in the hardships of delving into the old ruins; she wasn't put off at all by my bloodied appearance. A lot of the ponies I passed on the street gave me a second glance or three though. Hard to blame them. I must have looked quite the sight with my bloody barding and pronounced hobble.

I don't know what the mare was planning to sell the talismans for; but she'd paid me three-hundred bits a piece for the three that we'd managed to recover from that neighborhood. The best part was that I hadn't immediately had half of that amount confiscated under the guise of 'taxation'.

My next stops were at various smaller traders to pawn off what we'd recovered from the Vipers that we'd killed. The rifle had proven to be in decent condition, and had fetched a reasonable price along with the rounds that went with it. I kept most of the recovered drugs, as it looked like I'd be needing them if Windfall and I had many more encounters like that.

After replacing the supplies that I'd used recovering from the fight, and selling what had been looted from the gangers, that left me with a profit of a little over seven hundred bits.

It would be enough to keep the two of us fed and sheltered for a couple of weeks at least. Plenty of time to get a good start on Windfall's orientation before we went back out on another contract. If I'd learned anything in the last few days, it was that I was starting to get too old to do this on my own. Windfall's assistance had proven invaluable thus far; and she would only prove even more of an asset with some competency under her saddlebags. Honestly, I shouldn't have waited this long to do that. Just wasn't used to having somepony around who was genuinely ignorant of the harsher realities of the Wasteland.

The business end conducted, I made my way to the clinic to retrieve Windfall. The building that served as Seaddle's primary care facility had once been an old apartment complex back in the days before the war. Some of the walls between adjoining units had been knocked down in order to create decent sized wards. Others had been left intact to create luxuriously sized suites for the more affluent ponies that sought treatment here. Since Seaddle was the seat of government for the New Lunar Republic, the majority of their governing officials made their homes here. When they needed medical care, they expected to be catered to here just as they were at their jobs.

My appearance prompted a speedy response from one of the nurses on duty in the reception office, but I waved her off quickly, “I'm fine.”

The yellow unicorn mare dressed in a faded pink and eggshell gown regarded me dubiously, “you don't look fine,” she gestured at the blood that stained my barding a coat.

“It's not mine,” I lied. The nurse quirked an eyebrow, her gaze shifting to the obvious laceration visible beneath the rend in my barding, “mostly,” I amended. I cleared my throat and shifted the topic of our conversation, “I'm here to pick up my daughter and pay for her treatment. The little pegasus filly that was brought in a while ago?”

Any concern that the nurse had for my well-being dried up rather quickly at that moment, “you mean the poor filly all covered in blood?” she asked coolly, “you should be ashamed, endangering her like that.”

Oh, I so did not want to have this conversation. Still, I had to make my role convincing, “you'd rather I leave her here on her own for days at a time? Waiting and worrying that I might not make it back?”

To her credit, the nurse didn't seem to view that as a much more preferable alternative, “what about her mother?”

“Died in foaling,” I quipped tersely, the lie ready at my lips, “I'm sorry that I'm too busy raising my filly to get the training for a nice safe job like yours,” I rounded on the nurse, turning the conversation on her and hiding my satisfaction at her rebuked expression, “it may not be as safe as I'd like, but what I do provides for her. Did she look like she'd missed a meal to you? Were there any scars on her body? No?”

I nodded my head back at the gouge in my shoulder, “I nearly died protecting her today; and I will die before I ever let any harm come to a single hair on Windfall's head,” my tone grew cold with my next words, dripping with ire, “imply that I don't care about my daughter again. I dare you...

“Now where is she?”

“Dad?”

Both mine and the nurses head whipped towards the hallway across the lobby. The movement was a little more rapid than my wounds would have liked and prompted a wince.

The little pegasus filly was definitely looking the better for her brief stay here. The blood had been scrubbed from her coat, mane, and tail. I'd never seen her looking better, honestly. Behind her stood a jet unicorn stallion with a blond mane and some sort of knife emblazoned on his flank. Odd mark for a medical pony, I mused.

With a parting glare at the nurse, I approached the ivory filly, “you doing alright?” the young flier nodded. She kept quiet otherwise, her eyes occasionally looking towards the staff ponies scattered through the lobby. We needed to play this convincingly, so I put on my warmest smile and stretched out a hoof, drawing her into a gentle hug, “I'm sorry about what happened today, honey,” I could feel the movements beginning to illicit pain. The stupendous doses of medications I was on were going to be wearing off soon. We needed to expedite this.

“S'alright,” Windfall said softly, leaning into the embrace.

My gaze shifted up to the black unicorn nearby, “you a doctor?” the stallion nodded, “she's alright?” I knew she was, but I had to be the concerned parent.

“Windfall is in good health,” the rich baritone of the physician informed me, “we cleaned her up, fed her, and I took the liberty of giving her a few precautionary vaccinations,” beneath me, I noticed the filly's face sour as she absently rubbed her hindquarters.

“I appreciate that,” I lied. It wasn't that I was against him having fed or treated her, per say. But I suspected that his actions were going to inflate whatever charges I was going to owe for the check-up anyway, “what do I owe you?”

“The vaccinations are free to foals,” the doctor informed us, “part of the Princess' new initiative to improve the lives of the Republic's colts and fillies. They are the future, after all,” that was fortunate at least, “the cleaning is just fifty bits. You can pay at the front desk.”

The doctor then bent his head down and addressed Windfall directly, “it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Windfall.”

“Thanks for everything,” the filly nodded. She directed her gaze up at me, “can we go home now? I don't want to get another shot.”

Her remark prompted some smiles from a few of the staff. We gathered her things from the front desk and paid what was owed. I was relieved to find that our departure wasn't hampered. It was time for us to get back home.

The effects of the Med-X had nearly completely worn off by the time we'd reached the door to our apartment. The pain served as a testament to exactly how serious the wound on my back was. The chances felt pretty high that all of the walking around that I had been doing—to say nothing of the run here—had perhaps greatly exacerbated my injuries. Without the numbing affects of the analgesic, I couldn't even move most of the left side of my body without throws of agony. That I had no more Med-X to use was most most unkind reality to face when the full brunt of my condition became apparent as far as the pain was concerned.

I had been tempted to purchase additional syringes at the clinic; but I had been trying to play off the wound as nothing serious, and the quantities that I would have required would have either shot that story all to Tartarus, or gotten me marked down in their files as a doper. I might need pain management from them at some future time, so best to not be seen in that sort of light.

It was fortunate that the pain dulling effects of the Med-X kept the agony at levels that were just barely tolerable enough for me to make it to the bed. Shucking off my barding had not been possible though. I lay, fully clothed and bloody, on the bed, panting, for nearly a full minute before I was composed enough to speak. What was ahead would not be pretty, and probably wasn't very wise of me either. Unfortunately, this was not Flank or Appaloosa, where I could freely expose my bare shoulders to anypony without concern for what they would see. In Seaddle, letting most ponies catch sight of my brand would, quite literally, get me killed.

That left Windfall as my only reliable source of care for the foreseeable future.

“You ready for a course in battlefield medicine?” I prompted the filly, trying to pour a little wry humor into my words. Not really so much for Windfall's sake as my own. Things could got pretty bad for me in the next few days if this didn't go right, “help me get this barding off.”

I had to walk Windfall through nearly all of the steps involved; as this wasn't going to be like most of the times I'd shucked my barding after returning to the apartment. The boiled leather segments that made up the protective garment were connected by an array f buckles and straps. Most of these remained connected even during the normal disrobing process; needing only to be loosened a bit to allow for the armor to be more easily manipulated.

This time I decided that it was a better option to simply completely disassemble the armor. I could barely move without screaming as it was. Wiggling out of the stiffened barding was out of the question. It would be a pain to put it all back together later, but as I got a good look at the swaths being peeled off of my back, the more convinced I was that my barding was beyond a simple patch job. I would need a whole new set.

Windfall tugged at the straps, slipping them out of their various knots and buckles, while I did little more than scream. A lot of the segments of the barding had been bonded to my wounds by dried blood. Each time a piece was removed, it enticed fresh streams of blood to begin flowing again. Especially those swaths of leather that were around my shoulders and back. The little yellow bar started trickling away again.

“Potion,” I managed to get out through gritted teeth, already feeling the tendrils of unconsciousness tugging at the edges of my mind. Passing out now would be very ill-advised. The pegasus didn't know near enough about tending wounds to do the repairs that were required on her own. I had to be able to walk her through them if I was going to recover from this without serious permanent damage.

The purple fluid was brought to my lips. I felt the magic tingle through my body, but it was a much more subdued feeling than the other times. Those potions weren't meant to perform the sorts of repairs that I was demanding of them. They were more akin to stopgaps; a means of stabilizing a pony long enough to get them to a real clinic. But I couldn't go to a clinic.

“Jackboot?”

The filly's voice sounded distant. Like it was coming from behind a closed door. That wasn't a good sign. The room seemed darker too. I sincerely hoped that it meant the spark-battery powering the light was dying, but since I'd hooked up a fresh one from our trip to the factory a couple weeks ago; I knew that wasn't the case. Dash and Buck weren't going to help. I was out of Stampede and Med-X.

“Jackboot?!”

The only thing that I was hearing clearly right now was my own breathing. At least the pain was easing. Not that that was a good sign either. I felt cold too. Fuck. I was going into shock. Too much blood. I'd lost too much blood. Any second now, I was going to pass out, and Windfall wasn't going to have the first clue about what to do about fixing me up. She'd panic. The little filly would run to the clinic and bring the medics here to help me.

They'd see the brand...

Through my hazy vision, I saw the white blur of the young pegasus heading for the door, “I'm gonna get help!” she assured me, “It'll be okay, Jackboot; just hang on!”

No! I wanted to call out. I had to stop her. My body refused to move, despite all my efforts. The only thing that had kept me going since that fight had been an unhealthy concoction of drugs, and I'd bled most of them out onto the mattress by this point. No words came out. Not even a whimper.

Fuck. Damn it, Celestia! I kept her safe! I even promised to look after her, for real this time! Now you're going to let her get me killed like this? Fuck you, Celestia! Fuck you to the moon and back...

A soft yellow hoof combed through my blood-matted mane. I was able to clearly see the blue eyes framed by a pink mane that belonged to a pegasus who was more in my own mind than she could ever be in this room. My own brain entertaining its final delusions in the form of a statue come to life. If my subconscious was going to be kind enough to send me off to a sleep from which I would never awake in the arms of a mare; couldn't it have at least been a unicorn? Not that the yellow pegasus wasn't a hot piece of flank in her own right, but a lithe unicorn mare with a slender horn poking through her delicate bangs would have given me a bit more comfort in my final deluded moments.

Besides, I wasn't feeling particularly thrilled with this mare right now. She was why I was even in this mess.

Be kind...

Fat lot of good being kind did me...

My eyes fell closed.

I'll admit, I never expected to wake up again. In my mind, the likely scenario played out as follows: Windfall brings the medics by. They see the brand. They usher her outside and summon the guards. Soldiers arrive and put a couple rounds into my unconscious skull. The pegasus is put into fosterage. The end.

That was the most plausible scenario in my head; but I suppose it wasn't the only possible one. Maybe they might have suspected that the White Hoof hiding out in their capital was some sort of spy looking for weaknesses. Maybe they'd hold off on the execution long enough to pump me for information about what Whiplash was planning. I could then either plead the truth of my innocence or make up a bunch of lies. Either way, they'd still kill me eventually for the crime of being a White Hoof.

So, as surprised as I was to wake up at all; I was outright flabbergasted when I woke up still in our own apartment. The pain was gone, and I could feel somepony curled up next to me.

Great, I was still dreaming. It was the only rational explanation for how I could feel so miraculously better while not being in chains in an NLR dungeon. I was dreaming, and at this moment was being dragged into an interrogation room from which I would not be leaving alive.

Well, fuck it. If I was going to be allowed one final dream before waking up in hell, I'd at least make the most of it. I turned my head to look at the body curled up against me, expecting to see the yellow pegasus again. However, I turned out to only be half correct. While the pony in the bed with me was indeed one of the feathered variety, it was not the personification of the tiny statue that had so pervasively invaded my psyche these last few days days. It was Windfall.

I quirked an eyebrow, annoyed at the discovery. So much for getting in a little fantasy 'fun' before my impending bout of drawn out suffering. Thanks a lot, subconscious. Couldn't let me catch just a tiny little break, could you?

“You're awake.”

My head whipped around towards the back of the room, looking for the unanticipated speaker. The quick movement caused me to gasp as a spasm of pain shot through my back. Okay, so not a dream then, if I was still feeling pain. The bed was still a bloody mess too, if dried. I was really here; and the presence of the third individual in the room lent itself towards an answer for how that was possible.

“You,” I groaned quietly, still a little groggy, “what...?”

“Windfall,” Golden Vision supplied. The blue mare finished filling a small basin with water and levitated it over to the bed, setting it down in front of me on the mattress, “she tracked me down. Said you were in trouble.”

Without prompting, I drank the offered water. My throat was parched. After I drank my fill, and felt a little more capable of speaking, I ventured onto my second question, looking around at where my shoulder had been split open. Only, it wasn't open any longer, “how...?”

The unicorn cracked a wan smile, “Adz and his crew tended to get hurt quite a bit on their raids,” she answered, stepping closer to the bed. I felt a tingling sensation as little yellow motes of magic drifted down from her horn and danced along the sutured wound. The pain ebbed some more, “I was expected to patch them up.”

Made sense. Not like Adz was the kind of pony that could have gone to see a doctor when he got fucked up on a heist. Kind of like me.

Now, for the third question. One that I was genuinely having a hard one coming up with a probable answer for, “why?”

Vision was silent for a long while. Then, with a nod in the direction of the sleeping pegasus, “because she asked me to,” my eyes went to Windfall. The little white flier was snuggle up against my own rusty hide, sleeping soundly. I was mindful to keep my movements as minimal as possible so as not to wake her. The little filly had done well. Surprisingly well.

“She was really worried about you,” the unicorn went on.

“Can I ask you a question now?” Vision asked. I regarded the unicorn and nodded. Fair was fair, “why didn't you,” she choked out the next word, quietly, “mount...me?”

What was I even supposed to say here? How was I supposed to give her an answer, when I didn't even have one for myself? I could have told her that a little yellow statue begged me not to, but I doubted that Vision would feel relieved knowing that I was nothing more than a crazy pony who was rather good at killing raiders. That night, even when she'd been completely quiet and still, I'd decided not to take what was promised. Against my own desires, and even my own principles.

Why? For one stupidly simple reason that didn't hardly make any sense even when I said it aloud, “...because you didn't want it.”

In my head, my sister cackled, my father cursed, and the newcomer mare smiled and clapped her hooves. Quite the menagerie of insanity I was collecting inside this head of mine. A few more loose screws, and I could stop stressing over every little thing and just put all of my future decisions up for a damn vote! Barely felt like I was making my own decisions anymore anyway...

Fuck Seaddle.

I don't know what Vision was making of my answer. Probably not much more than I was. Knowing what I did about her past, I can imagine that my reply made little sense to her. Since when had it mattered to any stallion that ever mounted her whether or not she wanted it? The unicorn had been a slave; her desires were immaterial. Even in our little arrangement, she'd promised herself as payment. It's not like ponies were supposed to care about whether or not bits wanted to be spent. Why should it have mattered to me if Vision wanted me on her, when she'd already volunteered herself?

...because I'd all but blackmailed her into it. If she was trotting up to strange ponies she'd only just met at the bar that night desperately hoping for their help, then Vision had long since run out of options. I bet she'd already approached the guards and been turned down. She'd probably even put up a contract offering what few bits she'd had. Given how little she'd managed to scrape together to pay me with, no wonder there'd been no takers. So, the unicorn had been reduced to asking random bucks whom she thought capable or willing to take on raiders.

Going so far as to do something I bet she'd promised herself never to let happen again: let a stallion touch her the way Adz had.

Vision hadn't wanted me. She just hadn't wanted Adz to get her more.

I guess it wasn't crying mares that I couldn't stand after all.

“Thank you,” Vision said.

Awe, a gruff mare's voice cooed in my head, isn't she a sweetheart. Wonder if she'll let you throw it to her now, being that you're such a gentlecolt and all?

Shut up!

I shut my eyes tight, blocking out the words of my sister. My father's own opinion wouldn't be far behind unless I quashed things quickly. I hadn't spared Vision for her sake or her thanks. I hadn't done it to 'be kind' either, so that smug looking pegasus floating around in my head could stuff it too. The only reason I stayed off her was because I couldn't perform with a mare in that state. Put a mare like Saffron in front of me, and I'd rut her from now until the Second Apocalypse with a shit-eating-grin on my muzzle. If she demanded money when I finished, then I swear to Celestia I'd put a bullet through her fucking head too! Because that was how you survived in the Wasteland; and fuck any damn statue that said different!

I should sell that piece of shit to the next junk dealer I came across.

Not looking so satisfied now, are you, you little yellow bitch?!

Threatening a delusional manifestation of a souvenir statuette...I have completely lost my fucking mind.

“I don't want your thanks,” I rebuked the unicorn. I needed time alone. Had to get my head right again. There was a lot that Windfall and I needed to get done before I risked the two of us taking another trip out into the Ruins, “I helped you, you helped me,” I gestured cautiously to my shoulder, not knowing how long Vision's numbing spell would last, “we're even.

“Don't let the door hit you on the way out.”

The cyan mare recoiled slightly at my harsh tone, looking taken aback. Good. Maybe she'd take the hint and never let me see her again, “fine,” she responded tersely, heading for the door, “tell, Windfall 'good bye' for me.”

“Whatever.”

A yellow aura surrounded the corrugated steel portal leading out of the apartment and it swung open. Golden Vision cast one final parting glance back towards the bed. I imagined more for Windfall's sake than mine. Then she stepped through and closed it behind her.

It seemed that the sound of the door closing was enough to rouse the slumbering filly at my side. Windfall's eyes blinked open, a yawn escaping her mouth. When she noticed that I was awake as well, the little pegasus let out an elated gasp and rubbed her head up against my uninjured shoulder. I could feel moisture seeping into my hide from her teary eyes.

“You're okay!”

I'm healthy...ish. I doubt I'll ever be 'okay' though.

Outwardly, I offered the filly up a smile and a nod, “I'm alright.”

Windfall stood up on the bed and looked around the room. When she caught no sight of the cyan unicorn that she'd brought to my aid, the pegasus glanced back at me, “where'd Miss Vision go?”

“She couldn't stay,” I informed the filly, “she had to get back to work,” I had no idea where the mare had gone. I didn't care. Her presence only served to remind me of how much I'd changed since leaving the White Hooves. How weak I'd become.

“Oh,” the filly's ears wilted slightly. She looked at the recently sewn rend on my backside, “are you feeling alright?”

I inspected the cyan unicorn's handiwork too. She'd definitely had to stitch up her share of wounds in the past. The suturing she'd performed wasn't novice work, even for a mare who couldn't actually see. The pain was manageable, but I still felt really weak. I'd be out of action for a day or two at the least. Which was fine. We had the funds to languish for a while, and I needed to focus a little more on Windfall's didactic eduction about the Wasteland anyway. Then we could hit the range, do a little hoof-to-hoof work, find some decent barding...

“I'll be fine in a couple days,” I assured the filly. Then I added, “you did good, Windy. You did real good.”

The filly beamed and curled back up next to me. She scooted up against my side and laid her head over top her folded fetlocks, resuming her nap.

Isn't she just the sweetest thing, Whiplash's voice cooed, she's like the daughter that you'll someday be able to fuck; and have her thank you for it.

Fuck you. I resisted the urge to snarl aloud at my own psychoses. It wasn't easy. I wasn't my father, damn it. I wouldn't touch a filly.

She won't be a filly forever, the voice was keen to point out, one day, she'll be a grown mare. She'll adore you. She won't care what's etched into you spine.

I didn't reply to that. Windfall wasn't a unicorn though-

Like you ain't ever wondered what it'd be like to fuck a Dashite.

Shut up and go away, you bitch!

Make me.

I closed my eyes tight, gritting my teeth against a desire to scream. Why couldn't the voices just leave me alone! I didn't need, or want, any of their bullshit. It's not like they weren't telling me anything that I hadn't already considered a dozen times over.

Yeah, Windfall wasn't going to be a filly forever. That was pretty integral to my plans for training her up to be a partner to watch my back. I needed an ally out here. Preferably, one that could provide covering fire. Windfall was going to be that ally. Maybe there'd been a rough patch or two, some touch and go moments like this morning. She was still learning; and so was I to a degree. Still, things were generally working out so far. The filly was eager to learn, and she'd demonstrated on a few occasions that she was concerned with what happened to me.

My plan was working. At this rate, in a few years, she'd obey my commands without hesitation or reservation. She'd defend my life with her own. Anything I asked of her, she would do; and she would do it gladly.

I knew very well what I had asked willing mares to do in the past.

Would I regard Windfall any differently? Should I? Mares had needs, the same as stallions. Someday, she might come to me. On that day...

Be kind...

Another wince marred my features. Not even a minute to my own thoughts without somepony intruding on them. With all these voices in my head, it probably wasn't going to matter what I would do when Windfall got older. By that time, I probably wouldn't even be sane enough to care.

“And...go!”

At my command, the alabaster filly drew out the .22 caliber pistol from its holster on her left shoulder. Simultaneously, the pinions on her right wing manipulated a full magazine of ammunition, sliding it into the pistol's grip until there was an audible 'CLICK'. Her left wing pulled back on the slide and chambered the first round. The small firearm popped off rounds in quick succession as the little filly plinked the cans and bottles sitting atop the low wall at the opposite end of the range I'd set up.

Unexpectedly, and well short of the sixteen rounds that the magazine should have held, the slide locked back, indicating a lack of remaining bullets. I had intentionally stacked the filly's clips light without informing her of how many rounds each actually contained. The goal was to see how quickly she could react to an unexpected need to clear a jam or reload a weapon collected from a fallen enemy. You couldn't always count on getting your hooves on a fully loaded weapon in the middle of a fight, so being able to swap in a fresh magazine at a moment's notice was important.

To the filly's credit, her pause was a rather short one as she depressed the magazine release, her wingtip already fishing out a fresh replacement. Six seconds—according to the timepiece on the pipbuck mounted on my fetlock—after the pause in gunfire, the pegasus was able to resume her assault on the erected targets. She finished out the remainder of the rounds in the second clip before ejecting it as well and once more holstering the weapon. I noted the total elapsed time on the pipbuck.

The filly sat patiently on the asphalt, staring ahead at the cans. Her posture was a little awkward, as she was still getting used to the armored barding that she was wearing. It was newly fashioned by a tanner in Seaddle and still retained the pungent odors of the oils and turpentine that had been used during its creation. Barding sized for smaller ponies wasn't a particularly huge market, so Windfall's barding had required putting in a custom order; which the pricing reflected. Not that we had much else to spend our money on, and I certainly wasn't knowledgeable enough to make something like that myself.

In time the barding would soften up and stretch a little as it molded to her body, allowing the filly to sit and move more naturally. However, that required her to wear it as often as possible in order to encourage the armor to mold to her body.

The filly wasn't the only one getting acclimated to a new wardrobe either. My own leather barding had been beyond salvaging, just as I'd feared. I'd taken the opportunity to not only acquire a new set, but to get my hooves on more comprehensive protective barding. Much more of the ensemble was comprised of hardened leather segments, and even a few metal plated areas along my spine and flanks. It didn't hinder my movements as much as I was afraid that it might, but the weight was certainly going to slow me down for a while until I adapted to it. Not that my shoulder was going to allow for quick maneuvers any time soon. The pain was little more than a dull ache, but it still suggested that aggravating my injury would be an ill-advised course of action.

I stepped up next to the filly and peered down at the little flier. She maintained her forward facing posture, looking ahead, as I examined her weapon. I reached out with a hoof and tapped her left fore-leg, “you're crippled,” I stated flatly. The filly looked between me and her leg, confused, “safety's off. You shot yourself,” Windfall cringed, her ears drooping. Her left wing flipped forward, one of her feathery tips engaging the pistol's safety.

My eyes then went to the targets, drawing out my binoculars. I silently counted out the number of missing or damaged targets that I'd arranged, “fourteen,” I announced aloud. Out of twenty. Not horrible, given that she'd been practicing for only about a week or so. Still, she could do better. I glanced back at the pipbuck to note the elapsed time once more, “thirty-nine seconds.

“You're getting faster, but your accuracy still sucks,” was my assessment of the filly's performance. Windfall cringed again, looking down at the ground. I plucked two more magazines for the pistol out of my saddlebags and deposited them into pouches sewn into the filly's barding, “again,” the pegasus straightened up and looked determinedly at the remaining targets. I looked down at my pipbuck, “and...go!”

Gunfire once more filled the air, interrupted by a brief pause as the filly's pistol ran dry. She reloaded more swiftly by a full second and resumed firing. Her accuracy wasn't much improved though. That said, she'd have made the cut if the filly had enlisted in the Lunar Republican Guard. They required only a sixty percent minimum at their ranges for their soldiers; assuming that they maintained similar standards to the old Commonwealth. Windfall was meeting that mark with consistency.

I didn't share that fact with Windfall though. I'd been raised to see the Commonwealth soldiers as inferior to myself and the other warriors of the White Hooves. A bit of that biased still remained even after all of this time, and I doubted very much that the NLR had upped its standards since changing its name. 'Good enough for government work' didn't mean that it was good enough for me. Organized militaries could afford to slack off, since they could often rely on numbers to see them through a battle. With just the two of us, I wanted Windfall to be able to hit her targets a lot more often than about half the time.

Windfall's pistol went silent once more. I watched her as she cleared the weapon—remembering the safety this time, I noted—and holstered it. Her eyes were once more focused straight ahead, waiting for my appraisal of her performance. The binoculars went back up to my eyes as I scanned the range, “fifteen hits,” my eyes darted to the pipbuck, “thirty-seven seconds. Better. Again.”

My hoof fetched out two more magazines and passed them to the filly. She tucked them into the pouches on her barding and assumed a ready stance. I hovered my hoof over the fetlock-mounted computer and prepared to time her performance yet again, “and...go—wait..”

The pegasus nearly fumbled her pistol, her eyes regarding me curiously. I stared at the pipbuck in consternation. The screen wasn't showing me what it was supposed to; I'd hit the wrong button. Not the first time I'd made such an error since I'd begun exploring the device. Probably wouldn't be the last either. For a brief moment, I reevaluated my decision not to have one of the Seaddle residents give me a lesson in basic pipbuck operations.

Given the history of the Commonwealth's founding, there were still more than a few residents who owned pipbucks, or were at least familiar enough with them to know their fundamental functions. However, knowledge didn't come free, and they didn't seem to make it cheap either. No sympathy for the 'simple-minded' pony who'd stumbled onto a piece of pre-war technology that was beyond his ken. I must have seemed quite quaint to them. As stubborn as I was, I had made the choice to take the autodidactic route rather than giving any of them the satisfaction of being able to look down on me.

Foals Windfall's age were supposed to be able to use these damn things. No reason I couldn't figure it out...eventually.

In the meantime, I'd resigned myself to the inevitable stumbles that were bound to come with my trial-and-error method of discovery. So far I'd learned about the pipbuck's ability to monitor physical wellness, the timekeeping function, and how to turn on its spark-light. It seemed that I was about to discover yet another set of menus with whatever my errant keypress had been.

A list of words was visible on the small green display. Diary or journal entries of some sort, judging from the titles. On the other side of the screen were groups of numbers and dashes. They were similar to one of the strings of numbers near the top of the display, which I'd come to know as the current date according to the Anne Princeps calendar that ponies had used before The War. Judging from the divergence of these numbers from today's date, the entries were less than two months old.

“What is it?” Windfall inquired, seeing the curious look on my own face.

“Don't know yet,” I answered as I manipulated the selection nob on the pipbuck, guiding it to the earliest entry on the list. May as well start at the beginning, “let's find out...”

I tapped the button to play the recording.

The small speaker mounted beside the screen fizzled to life, and the heavily accented voice of a buck began speaking in a deep baritone, “Survey Log, Entry One,” he began, sounding rather grim through the grainy recording. Windfall leaned in close to hear more clearly, “this is Supervising Technician Ten Penny. The Overmare's asked for volunteers to go topside and see if we could reach any nearby stables and trade them for spare air purification talismans. I and three others drew the short straws. If we fail to locate any suitable talismans, we are to evaluate the feasibility of surviving on the surface.

“I'll say right now that I hope we can find the talismans. The radiation isn't as bad as we feared, but this place doesn't look anything like the pictures we had in the archives. Neighvada used to be some sort of lush green valley. Now it's a dust bowl.

“We're making our way to Stable 126 first. According to the archives, it's about twenty miles to the southwest. We should be there by tomorrow.”

The recording clicked off.

I looked pensively at the device. Presumably, the voice that we'd just heard had belonged to the corpse in the alley than I'd recovered the pipbuck from. It sounded like the buck had gone out with a group. Yet he'd been the only one that we'd found in that place. I wondered what fates all of his companions had met with. How many of these recordings would I make it through before I found out? The Wasteland had a steep learning curve, and stable ponies were rarely up to the surface's challenges.

My eyes darted to the nearby pegasus filly. Knowing what I did about the fragility of stable ponies when it came to their first experiences in the Wasteland, the little flier was about to get quite the eye-opening account about how much it sucked out here. If she hadn't figured that out by now, that is.

I selected the second entry and set it to play.

“Survey Log, Entry Two. Something went wrong,” the buck's voice trembled as he spoke. I could hear him swallow through the speaker, “I don't know what it was, but Stable 126...we found some working terminals. According to the records, Stable-Tec was trying some sort of...social experiment. 'Trying to make a better Equestria', or some shite.

“Well, they sure fucked up with this one. Big time. Apparently, Stable-Tec theorized that the war's chief cause was because ponies couldn't agree with each other and find harmony. Their solution? If everypony is actually the same pony, then they have to agree with each other.

Another long pause as the buck composed himself.

“Clones. 126 is...it was a stable full of clones. Bon Bon was her name. Their name. Seven hundred of them.

“There aren't any logs of what exactly went wrong, but we have a general idea. The end result is indisputable: they killed each other. On every wall is scribbled some variation of, 'I'm the real Bon Bon!'

“There are no talismans here. Most of the equipment was smashed in the fighting. Our next stop is Stable 131, to the west. Celestia willing, it's a...normal...stable.”

There were fifteen more entries after this one. Something told me that the next stable wasn't going to be any more fruitful than 126 had been. My own morbid curiosity spurred me on to select the third entry.

“Survey Log, Entry Three. Tack Weld died today. We ran into some sort of nest. A lot of giant scorpions poured out of a hole we got too close to. We killed the lot of them, but Tack was stung in the fight. The poison worked fast, and nothing we had made a difference.

“Three of use left now. One week out, and we're down a pony. I pray to Celestia that 131 has the talismans.”

One week. Not bad. They'd made it longer than some.

“Survey Log, Entry Four. 131 is a bust,” the buck sounded despondent now. Hard to blame him, given what he'd described encountering in just the first few days out of the stable. Life in the Wasteland was hard; not every stable-pony could take it when the hits kept coming like that, “We don't know if it's intact or not. Landslide buried the entrance. We don't have the tools or the time to dig it out. Next on our list is 108.”

I took another look at the list. There were still roughly a dozen more entries; and whatever details they held, I knew how the story ended: failure and death. I played the next one.

“Survey Log, Entry Five: We saw our first signs of pony life today. A group of ponies and some sort of weird two-headed cow-beasts. They were walking along a trail. We were heading to meet them, ask if they knew where to find any air purification talismans; but then they were attacked. Other ponies, wearing paint on their hooves, swarmed them.”

My eyes went to Windfall. I instantly knew how this tale was going to end; and I imagine, so did the pegasus. We were about to hear an account of a White Hoof raid.

“The cow-ponies fought, but they were outnumbered. The painted ones were screaming like madponies. They didn't seem to care about the gunfire from the cow-ponies at all. The painted ponies beat them all down, butchered the two-headed cows, and then dragged the ponies south. We didn't follow. We've agreed to keep away from any painted ponies, just in case they were that aggressive with everypony.”

It wasn't until the recording ended that I noticed the sound of sniffling. Looking at Windfall, I could see the filly glaring at the pipbuck on my leg with watering eyes. Her hoof ground into the asphalt as memories of the raid on her family's ranch flashed through her mind.

Before I could say and word, the filly reached for her holster and took the pistol into her teeth. I started to voice my protests. I hadn't told her to draw the weapon yet, but she ignored me. Instead, she slapped a clip into the butt of the pistol and turned to face downrange. Not particularly keen on confronting an upset pony who was carrying a loaded weapon, I chose instead to watch in silence as the filly vented her frustrations on the remaining targets.

Windfall opened up on the cans and bottles that had chosen to stand in defiance of her previous attempts to wound them. She didn't stand behind the firing line that I had set up though. Instead, she advanced on her targets, firing off a shot every second or so. The wall behind the targets spat puffs of rock dust, announcing her failures to score successfully hits on the arranged articles of trash that she was presumably trying to knock down. By the time the filly exhausted the first of her magazines, she was jogging.

Reloading a pistol on the run wasn't an easy task for anypony except a unicorn, and Windfall fumbled more than a few times trying to get her pinions to slot her remaining clip of ammunition into the jiggling grip in her teeth. She somehow managed it though, and resumed her wild firing at the targets until she was nearly on top of them. At the last moment, the young pegasus leaped into the air. Her tiny wings flipped out and buzzed furiously, becoming a pair of pale blurs to either side of the filly's torso. Her pistol continued to discharge the last of its contained rounds.

She didn't hit anything with her airborne end run, but I imagine that the dented empty can of beans that was her focus would have been more than a little intimidated by her assault if it was capable of perceiving its surroundings. Her fury at the metal cylinder was only compounded by its refusal to be shot. Windfall tackled the can off of its perch, stomping it into a misshapen disc on the ancient city pavement. Her pistol lay empty and forgotten nearby.

Sensing that I could now safely approach without risk of being shot by the raging filly, I slowly made my way towards her. Her sniffling was significantly more pronounced now. Fuck if I knew what I was going to do though. I'd seen her upset before; but never violently so. While I did feel a little encouraged by her demonstrated aggression, I wasn't yet positive how I was going to focus that energy into something productive. I remembered how my father had done it with me; but I was also painfully aware of the possible 'side affects' his methods had.

Especially where young violence-prone fillies were concerned.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Windfall beat me to it, “I miss my parents.”

Well. Not certain that's what I expected the filly to open with, but I could imagine that it was a very true statement nonetheless.

I'd caught her eye wandering to mares and their foals on occasion while we walked through town. Families eating at cafes. Foals playing in the street. I was pretty sure that every time she saw something like that, it reminded the filly of what had been stolen from her. Parents, siblings...family. Not one like the kind I'd had. The father who'd beat me to within an inch of my life, so that I'd learn how to fight. A sister who'd murdered her way to the top of the White Hooves and sicked a herd of hunters on me to remove the last threat to her reign. A mother who'd been little more than a brood slave that my father fancied for a brief period. I think he'd had her executed shortly after I was weened. Don't remember the reason.

He'd probably just wanted to watch her die.

Windfall, though...she'd had a far different experience where a family was concerned.

“Mama was really good with cooking,” Windfall continued, drifting into an unsolicited story. I stood by silently and let her say what was on her mind, “she could make anything taste good; even radscorpion meat,” a wistful, sad, smile touched her lips as she relived the painful memories of her life before the raid, “she'd whip some of the brahmin milk into cream. Really thick cream. It was so thick, it was almost like soft cheese. It was really sweet too.

“Every year, for our birthdays, she'd make us our own little cake out of that cream. Just for us; we didn't have to share if we didn't want to. I always shared mine though; I let her have the first bite.”

The pegasus wiped a fetlock at her glistening eyes and sniffled, “Hayseed's birthday would have been next week. He only let me have a little every year...” another sniff, then she looked at me, “does it make me a bad pony for missing my mama's cream cakes more than my brother?”

“I don't know,” I wasn't the pony to ask about what one was supposed to feel when they thought about family. The only blood relatives I had left wanted me dead; and I can't say that I felt much different where they were concerned either. I'd shoot Whiplash on sight if she ever showed up.

What did Windfall even want me to say here? Was I supposed to agree, and point out how stupid it was to prefer a milk cake over family? Did she want me to point out that he'd been a bit of a dick, so it was perfectly normal for her to not really miss him much? I couldn't relate to this sentimental bullshit.

It didn't look like I'd given her the answer she'd wanted though, judging by the way her head bowed. Damn it. I had to find a way to pull her out of this sulk somehow, or she'd be useless for the rest of the day. At the least. The armor had cost a hefty sum, so we needed to get back on a job pretty soon. The more training we got in the next few days, the better that job would go. Besides, I could already feel that damn yellow mare waiting in the wings of my mind. Be kind. Right. I got it!

Bitch...

“Look, it's alright to not miss ponies who die; even if they are family,” I said in an effort to reassure the despondent flier. Windfall raised her eyes to meet mine, wiping away another little sniffle.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I didn't know if any of what I was saying was objectively true or not. All I could do was speak from personal experience. In any case, it looked like I was on the right track to pulling her out of these doldrums, “I mean, I don't miss my father much. He was killed by a White Hoof too.”

“He was?” Windfall's ears shot up in surprise. I'd been rather vague about my past with the filly; and I still was, strictly speaking. Given what the pegasus had been through, there was a lot about myself that I didn't want her knowing. Still, maybe putting out a few facts would help her to deal with her own issues at the moment.

“Yep,” I confirmed with a nod, “a White Hoof mare killed him in his sleep. Tried to kill me too, but I managed to get away,” I kept my expression even when I saw the sympathetic look on Windfall's face. She was about to waste that effort on the wrong pony, “and, no, I don't miss him. Not at all.”

Hell, that asshole fucking haunted me.

“But, he was your pa,” the filly protested, seemingly unable to comprehend how I could feel such animosity towards a pony whom I bet she had had a rather good relationship with herself.

“Doesn't mean that he wasn't an asshole,” I pointed out, a wan smile making its way onto my lips as some of the more memorable instances of him drifted to mind, “he broke my leg three times. Beat me and my sister. Never loved my mother,” I let out a mirthless snort, “he was a bad pony.”

“Oh.”

“That said,” I went on, “I hate the White Hoof that killed him more,” which was true, if only marginally so, “maybe he beat me. Maybe he was an ass. He probably even deserved to die for some of the things he did,” no probably about it, “but he was my father. The stallion who taught me how to fight...to survive in the Wasteland,” I hated giving that bastard credit, even where it was due, “he made me the pony I am today,” was that a compliment or an insult at his expense?

“Point is,” I tried to bring this awkward ramble of a pep talk to a close. Damn, I really sucked at this, “you don't have to love something more for it to have been important. Maybe you liked your mother's cakes more than your brother; but you still miss your brother, don't you?” the filly nodded, sniffling, “well there you go then.”

Windfall looked away once more, prodding the flattened tin can, “what about what I did though, during the attack?”

“What'd you do?”

The filly delivered a fierce kick to the stomped scrap of tin with her fore-hoof, “I hid! I hid under a pile of hay while everypony else...” her words trailed off. She didn't know what had happened to then. Not exactly. Killed, taken, the filly had never seen. That had to be pretty frustrating, to know that something bad had happened to ponies that you cared about, but not know exactly what. Windfall didn't know if she was supposed to be grieving, or holding out hope for some sort of miraculous reunion in the future.

“I should have fought...”

“Is that what you really believe?”

Windfall looked at me in consternation, “of course! I should have helped them fight,” she seethed, frustrated that there was nothing else nearby for her to vent her rage on, “if I'd been there, maybe I could have done something! Maybe we'd all still be together!”

“Oh, you'd be together all right,” I frowned at the filly, “chained together at the neck in a White Hoof camp. Until you were sent off to where you were needed. The bucks to the mines and the arena; the mares to worthy warriors.

“Is that what you think your family wanted for you? To be a White Hoof slave?”

“If I'd been there, maybe we could have won!” the pegasus protested.

“Bullshit,” I shot back, causing the filly to recoil slightly, “what were you going to do? You'd never even fired a gun before I met you. You'd certainly never killed a pony!” Windfall winced. It was clear on her face that she knew the truth of my words; she just didn't want to believe them, “you'd have been a liability in that fight. A distraction. You're father would have been more focused on his little filly than the enemy.

“You did exactly what you should have done. You stayed quiet, and out of sight.

“You survived.”

There were tears streaming down Windfall's face, “I'll never see them again!”

“Good!” I snapped. The filly drew up, her eyes wide at the sharp tone in my voice. A yellow pegasus was looking at me critically, but I ignored her. Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind, “because I know they don't want to see you!” at the look of pain and confusion on the filly's face, I elaborated, “your mother doesn't want to see some White Hoof stallion plowing her precious little filly while you wail for him to stop!”

A look of horror crossed the flier's face. The yellow pegasus in my head wasn't looking much more composed either, “and you don't want to see them either, Windy, trust me on that. You don't want to see your brother getting his skull bashed in by a young warrior out to prove his mettle. Or see your mother getting fed to a pit of radscorpions because she didn't thank her master for raping her last night.

“Whatever your last memories of your family are, those are how you want to see them. Trust me on that.

“You hid, and you survived, and I know your parents are thanking Celestia every night that you did just that.”

“But you fought-” the filly began, but I cut her off. Is that what this was about? Windfall was comparing herself to me? The pegasus was about to have another little part of her personal world shattered if she was putting me on an alter of aspiration.

“The fuck I did,” I snorted derisively, “I ran my little flank off getting away, and didn't look back.”

The filly looked shocked, “but...your pa...”

“Was dead,” I confirmed, “me dying too certainly wasn't going to help him. I didn't fight them, Windy. I ran, and I hid. Just like you did. There's nothing wrong with that.”

Windfall's shoulders slumped, “it sure feels wrong...”

I approached the filly now. She wasn't sounding quite as distraught as she had before, but I sensed that she was a long way from being alright. Weren't we all, “I get that you feel guilty for not doing more. I wish that I could have done more,” though I doubt for the reasons that Windfall was entertaining. If I'd been able to fight off my attackers and somehow kill Whiplash that night, I'd have been hailed as a worthy leader of the tribe and enjoyed a life of infinite prosperity and pleasures.

Instead I'd run and was now eking out a tenuous life of survival out in the Wasteland. For reasons very similar to the ones Windfall had, “but sometimes the odds are stacked against us, and all we can do is run. Maybe we get a chance to make things right someday, maybe we don't.

“But instead of letting that guilt eat at you, use it,” the filly looked at me, questioningly, “let it drive you. You feel bad about not being able to help? Learn what would have let you help: marksmareship, hoof-to-hoof fighting. The White Hooves hurt you? Find ways to hurt them back: kill their warriors, intercept their slave shipments.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Windfall asked, spreading her wings pitifully, “I'm just a filly...”

“For now,” I agreed, nodding. I took up a seat next to the filly, “but someday you'll be a grown mare. By then, you'll have the money, guns, and knowledge that you'll need to hurt them,” I wrapped my arm around her armored shoulder, “trust me.”

Windfall looked up into my face, “you'll teach me how to kill White Hooves?”

A smile touched my lips, “I'll teach you how to kill whoever you want.”

The filly's eyes wandered down to her flank. Though the barding hid it from view, I knew that she was looking at her cutie mark, remembering the events that had transpired during its appearance. When her gaze met mine once more, I could see the look of fresh determination in them, “give me two more magazines.”

Footnote: Level Up
Perk Added: Bloody Mess -- +5% overall damage, and enemies suffer more violent deaths.

CHAPTER 7: LET'S GO SUNNING

View Online

“So, what's the quest?”

I returned to the apartment from my last minute pass through the Seadlle markets to find Windfall planted nearly up against the radio, listening to the deep reverberating bass of DJ PON3 as he conducted one of his many daily news updates. Unsurprisingly, the subject was once more the deeds of his favorite mare: Mare-do-Well.

“Celebrations in the streets of Arbu today, courtesy of our oh-so-gallant Mare-do-Well. For those ponies who aren't in the know, Arbu recently came under attack by raiders flying Red-Eye's banner. It looked like the small town was about to go the way of Fillidelphia; that is until the mare with a special hatred for slavers came to their rescue. That mare of miracles single-hoofedly took on a small army and came out on top, breaking the siege.

“This DJ wishes to extend his personal thanks to the Mare-do-Well, for all of the righteous good she's doing in the Wasteland. If you're listening, Mare-do-Well; why don't you drop on by Tenpony Tower? I'll have my assistant arrange for an interview so that you can broadcast your message out across the whole Wasteland. Because, apparently, some ponies haven't gotten your memo: slavery in the Equestrian Wasteland is at an end.

“And now, a little Flank Sinatra, to south your savage souls...”

The Manehattan radio host's words faded out, usurped by the deep lilting baritone of a long dead singer from Equestria's past. I stepped over and flicked the radio off, which rewarded me with a frown from Windfall. But, at least I now had the young filly's attention.

“Did you finish packing?” I inquired of the filly, casting an eye towards her saddlebags. To the pegasus' credit, I saw nothing of the supplies I'd laid out for her to stow, and the leather containers at least appeared to be filled to capacity. Windfall nodded, “one week of granola? Four days of water? Three healing potions? Six magazines of ammunition? Blanket?” as I listed off every item that I'd set aside for her to carry on our trip, the filly confirmed that she'd put it into her bags or affixed it to her barding. Similarly, I was mentally tallying my own carried stores.

When I'd exhausted the list, and Windfall had confirmed the presence of every item, I instructed her to pick up her bags, “the sooner we leave, the more distance we can cover before nightfall,” the distance to our destination would have taken me the better part of four days on my own; with a filly in tow, I was anticipating another two days each way, at least.

“Why are we going to, uh...where are we going again?” Windfall inquired as she tightened the straps on her bags.

“Stable 108,” I reminded her, opening the door to allow her outside. I closed and locked it behind us. Not that I'd opted to leave much of our property behind. The pony we were renting from had been paid through the end of the month, and we should be back long before then; assuming we survived. However, I wasn't entirely convinced that he wouldn't just give the two of us up for dead in a week and give the place over to somepony else in our absence.

“Why are we going there?”

“Because according to Ten Penny's logs,” I informed her, “that stable was another failure. It's pretty close, so I'm thinking we can check it out and see if there's any worthwhile salvage.”

Prospecting in a stable probably wasn't any less risky than scouring the Ruins for valuable materials, but the salvage was more likely to be valuable. Even in the stables that failed, there was usually a lot of Old World tech that survived. Circuit boards, rare ammunition calibers, hard to manufacture weapons; dredging up the right stable could set a pony for life. Of course, with the chance of great reward, came the chance of lethal risk. Stables were dangerous; especially the 'dead' ones. Psychotic ponies, vicious critters, magical radiation; there'd be nothing easy about this.

Of course, there had been nothing easy about our time in the Ruins either. It felt like every time we set our hooves outside the gate, disaster was waiting in the wings for us. Gang ambushes, deranged robots; something invariably went wrong. I figured that if I was going to tempt fate, I'd at least try to see a decent reward for it.

Windfall fell into step beside me as we headed for the city's main gate. Seaddle was bustling with activity at this hour. The markets were humming with activity, ponies were chatting at cafes and haggling over wares. Soldiers, both in and out of uniform, trotted along the road those on duty often escorting those not back to their barracks after having been a little too liberal with the Wild Pegasus.

Ponies being flanked by the local militia were a common sight. The guards were always arresting a pony for some infraction or another. Petty theft, tax dodging; Seaddle had a lot of laws, which meant that there were a lot of options that the uniformed soldiers of the city had at their disposal if they felt like making your day a little more difficult. Having a lot to lose from even a casual questioning from the guard, I was extremely mindful about avoiding eye contact when they walked by.

Today though, a pair of guards managed to catch my attention. Or rather, the pony that they were flanking did. A blue unicorn mare with pale yellow eyes was walking in between two uniformed earth ponies. Around her neck, I saw that Vision was wearing a collar. Not the explosive variety that I'd become used to seeing on ponies out in the Wasteland. This one was actually rather familiar. Adz had been carrying a similar collar in his bags.

I soon realized, as they neared, that the collar I had wasn't merely similar to the one that Vision was wearing. It was identical! Down to the polished jet stud in the front. I also noticed that the unicorn's steps were far more unsure that I'd ever seen them. Even blind though she was, I'd never seen the unicorn mistep of hesitate with her hooves before. I'd watched her navigate a crowded bar room with ease. Now though, she faltered nearly every other step, stubbing her hooves almost constantly.

Her horn wasn't glowing; not even faintly. What was up with that?

Part of me wanted to stop the group and ask them what was going on; but I quickly decided that it wasn't worth antagonizing the guardponies with her. If they were in a fowl mood, they might bring me in too for 'interfering' or something. Too much of a risk just to satisfy my curiosity. Best to just keep walking, it was none of my business anyway what was going on with Vision.

Windfall, on the other hoof, felt no such inclination, “Hi, Miss Vision!” the filly called out, waving her hoof.

Horseapples.

This, of course, got the blue mare's attention, and she whipped her head in our direction. Sort of. She was at least staring towards our side of the street. Vision drew to a sudden halt, drawing annoyed glares from her chaperones, “Windfall?” her expression instantly shifted from morose to hopeful, “Jackboot? Are you there too?”

Well, no help for it now, “hey, Vision,” I replied reluctantly, “I see you're busy. Bye,” I put a hoof around Windfall's shoulder and tried to get us back on our way. Whatever this was, I wanted no part of it.

“Wait, please help me!” Vision pleaded in strained tones. It looked like she was about to run to me, but the guards with her grabbed the mare before she got more than a step. Vision whimpered and looked to her guards, “no, you don't understand, he knows me! He'll give me a place to stay!”

“What?” I asked, confused. She had a place to stay, I'd been there. What was all this about? And how had I managed to get roped into it?

One of the guards looked at me severely, “is that true? You know this mare?”

Oh, how I wanted to lie. No, officer, never seen this crazy bitch before a day in my life. But, thanks to Windfall, it was pretty obvious that I did know her. Hopefully, I wasn't about to get dragged into whatever she'd done wrong. If Vision tried to, then I'd cut any deal the guards offered. I'd rat her out for murder. I didn't know who's, but I was sure that some buck somewhere had died; and I was prepared to swear to Celestia that I'd seen her do it myself if it got me off whatever hook that mare was trying to hang me on.

“We've met before, yes,” I responded cautiously, “why? What'd she do?”

The other guard answered, “several ponies reported this mare sleeping on the street the last two nights. We're bringing her in for vagrancy. Unless,” the guard went on, “you're willing to put her up?”

Be ki—

Oh fuck no! That damn yellow pegasus could cram her kindness up her ass! 'Be kind'? Be fucking 'kind'?! I'd let Vision cheat me out of what she'd promised to pay me. I'd given her the gift of sight through that memory orb I'd just let her have for free. I'd killed the buck who'd been hounding her ever since she escaped from him. I had shown this mare more kindness than I'd ever shown any pony in my entire life! And now this cunt of a psychoses was expecting me to give Vision a warm bed to sleep on for who knew how long? I bet I wasn't even going to be allowed to fuck her either, was I?

I could feel the pegasus mare wince under my mental onslaught. I could sense the very idea of extorting sex for room and board making the pony in my head uneasy. I didn't think so. My 'kindness' had its limits; and Vision had exhausted them a long time ago. It wasn't my fault she'd gotten herself in the trouble with the law. Nor was it my responsibility to bail her out of it. She was a grown mare for Celestia's sake!

“Sorry,” I answered, leveling my stern gaze at the mare, “I'm afraid not. I already have my hooves full taking care of my filly. I can't look after a blind mare too,” Vision's face fell into a look of despair. For a moment, I thought she was about to continue to beg for my help; but I guess that something in my tone had suggested that the effort would be wasted.

“But-” Windfall began. A fierce glare from me silenced her though.

“We don't have the room, anyway,” I went on, glaring at the filly until I was certain she'd hold her tongue. Though, something told me that she'd want to continue this conversation later. Fine, as long as it waited until we were outside the city's gates.

“Alright then,” the guard shoved Vision roughly, prompting her to continue walking in the direction they had been, “no more detours, got it?” he hissed at the mare.

“Wait!” Windfall called out after them. Oh for the love of Celestia! It was all I could do not to outright strike the filly. There, satisfied? My act of kindness for the day: not beating the snot out of Windfall for disobeying me. For some reason, the yellow pegasus didn't seem to be all that mollified, “what's going to happen to Miss Vision?”

“The punishment for vagrancy is a five hundred bit fine. She'll be put into indenture until she pays it off,” one of the guards answered, “about six months or so.”

I nabbed the filly by the nape of her neck and roughly dragged her back in the direction we'd been heading. I bid the guards a good day with a grin, and when they were back on their merry way, reeled on Windfall, “don't you ever do that again!” I hissed at the filly in a low growl, “you see guards, you leave 'em be, got it?!” the filly recoiled in shock, her eyes growing wide at the sight of m obvious ire, “they're looking for any excuse to drag anypony away to jail. Do. Not. Talk. To. Them.

“Ever.”

“But-”

“No 'buts',” I cut her off, “you saw them, arresting Vision for vagrancy? Do you even know what vagrancy is?”

“No,” she admitted sounding nervous.

“She slept outside. That's it. That was all she did, and she got arrested for it. What do you think they'd do to somepony who bothered them with too many questions?” That at least seemed to take the last of the back-talk out the filly. She was much more willing to heed my nudges towards the gates. She only looked back towards the blue mare being escorted out of sight three more times before Vision left our view.

I managed to only look back once. Five hundred bits for being homeless? That seemed a might steep. Heck, to hear that vagrancy was any sort of crime at all was more than a little surprising. You certainly wouldn't see security ponies back east concerning themselves with where anypony slept, so long as it wasn't in the bed of the security pony themselves at any rate.

Why not simply throw them out if the city's leaders didn't like ponies sleeping on their precious sidewalks? Levying a fine seemed ridiculous. If they had bits, they wouldn't be homeless! That the punishment in lieu of paying the fine was indenture wasn't lost on me though. I knew that word. From back east. I'd heard a Society pony once use it to describe their serfs: 'indentured servants'. Given the way Society ponies treated their second-class citizen workforce, I'd taken it to be fancy-speak for 'slave'.

Odd to then see that sort of practice in a place where Luna herself had ordered slavery to be abolished by royal decree. Must be some nuance that I wasn't catching. Sounded temporary to hear the guard talk about it. Six months, he'd said? Then what? Put Vision back out the street no better off than she was before? Pick her up a couple days later when she was still sleeping outside?

Quite the racket.

I wonder what sort of work they lined up for blind unicorn mares...

Probably not the same kind of work that I'd lined up for the two of us, I wagered.

Speaking of, “so, what do you know about stables?”

The filly frowned, “you said that some ponies hid there after The War. Other than that, only what I've heard on those recordings from the pipbuck,” she admitted. That wouldn't be much then. Ten Penny had been very light on the details of what they'd encountered in the sites that they had visited. Given his intended audience, I imagine that he had simply assumed that anypony listening would be familiar with what he was talking about when he mentioned stables and talismans. Admittedly, I was a little hazy on a lot of what he was talking about too some of the time.

I did know what a stable was though, “stables were shelters, right. Sometimes hundreds of ponies lived in them for decades. A lot of them opened a long time ago, some of them are still closed today. And, a few,” a lot by some counts, actually, “went wrong. Nopony knows why. Nothing's perfect, I guess. But, what that means is that there are stables out there with a lot of valuable stuff inside. We're going to 108 in order to see what we can find, and hopefully make a lot of bits,” it had been some time since we'd had a big payoff, and funds were getting tight.

“Don't let your guard down though,” I cautioned, “even 'dead' stables can be dangerous. Automated defenses, critters, Celestia knows what could still be in there that's waiting for a chance to kill an unwary prospector.”

“Then why are we going all the way out there?” Windfall grimaced, “there're plenty of things that try to kill us in the ruins; and we don't need to trot halfway across Equestria to get there.”

The filly's bit of cynical humor actually got me to chuckle. She'd grow up to be a sensible mare yet, “because I'm hoping that it's not all that dangerous. Ten Penny and his crew made it in and out alive, after all. We might even walk away with one heck of a payday too.”

The filly was quiet for a moment, “is Vision going to be okay?”

“She's a grown mare,” I frowned, not keen on dwelling on the subject of the mare any longer, “she'll be just fine.”

The two of us stood before the foreboding maw of the cave which the Old World contraption on my left foreleg insisted would take us to the entrance of Stable 108. I hated caves. Nothing good ever came from them. Radscorpions, Diamond Dogs, Timberwolves. Something always seemed to be waiting in caves for unwary ponies to wander in and get eaten. According to the audio logs on the pipbuck, it had been about six weeks since Ten Penny and his expedition went through this same cavern.

Six weeks was more than enough time for something to move in that hadn't been there before.

Only the fact that the pipbuck wasn't displaying any red blips in front of my eyes at the moment was keeping me from turning the pair of us around and heading back for Seaddle. Still, I had yet to put this pipbuck through any serious testing; and I didn't know how it determined what to display as red blips. I didn't even knew if it could detect all possible threats. If it only detected living things, would it know to show a hostile robopony as a red blip? I'd had yet to run into a robot while wearing this thing, after all.

'Caution' was the watchword of the day. I drew my weapon, “pistol out,” I muttered to Windfall in a low voice around the weapon's grip, “keep alert, stay close, and no sounds.”

I looked back and saw the pegasus filly nod, taking her own smaller firearm into her mouth and setting a good grip on the weapon. She stepped closer to my side, and the two of us ventured forth into the cave. A few steps in, and I reached out to tap one of the buttons on the pipbuck with my hoof. A pale white light burnt to life, illuminating the path ahead of us. Another of the device's useful little functions that I'd stumbled upon by accident; and was nearly blinded by in the process...

I was going to get around to learning about this damn thing, I really was!

Halfway in, we still hadn't happened across any critters; but we did find a slew of bones. Not any fresh ones, fortunately. These were old. Very old, judging by the way most of them were dressed. A lot of pre-war clothing; though I bet that the styles had been pretty contemporary at the time these ponies had died. Some of the corpses were huddled in small groups. Larger skeletons curled up around smaller ones. Parents comforting their foals; much like those orphans at the shelter.

Windfall didn't seem to be be put off much by the sight of so many skeletons. I suppose that was a good sign.

By some miracle of Celestia, we encountered nothing in the cave, and soon found ourselves standing before the massive cog-shaped opening of the stable proper. Ten Penny and his team hadn't bothered to close it behind them; and why should they have? It was just an empty stable that had held nothing they needed. I stepped through the opening. Windfall was close on my heels.

These places weren't anything quite new to me. I'd been in one before. Granted, not for very long though. The filly with me however, had eyes as wide as dinner plates. Everything that she was seeing now was completely new to her. Her head craned around, looking at her surroundings in awe. The pistol even nearly dropped from her slack jaw before she regained her composure.

“Focus,” I cautioned her, “these places can be dangerous,” on that note, I peered intently at where blips tended to appear on the pipbuck's overlay. Clear so far.

Next I sat down for a moment and tapped my way through the menus until I came to the stored maps. Ten Penny had been wearing this while he'd explored the stable; and it had retained the map of the facility that he'd downloaded from a terminal in here. Which was helpful, since I understood very little about how computers worked.

“What are we looking for?” Windfall asked quietly.

“Weapons,” I replied, “this stable would have had an armory. Hopefully they left something behind,” there was a war on, after all. Guns were at a premium in Seaddle, and most of those that were for sale had been used and abused for centuries. Any weapons we found here, so long as they'd been properly stored, would be in relatively pristine condition. None of the rust or built up carbon that plagued so many of the firearms currently in circulation across the Wasteland. Anything serviceable we found here would fetch a good price.

I scoured the map on the screen of my pipbuck. Fortunately, it looked like the security station was kept on the upper level. Made sense. If the stable ever came under attack, you'd want its defenders to be between the inhabitants and the doors. It didn't look to be too far out of the way either. Just the other side of a large atrium. My head rose up from the screen and I performed one final check for blips. Nothing. For now.

Once I got an idea of our intended course, I flicked through to the list of recordings that had been left on the pipbuck. A dutiful chronicler, Ten Penny had of course recorded a report on his team's findings in this stable. I'd listened to it a couple of times already, but I was going to play it once more to reassure myself that there wasn't anything I was forgetting to look out for in here.

“Survey Log, entry nine,” the now familiar voice of the engineer pony droned on, sounding tired, “still no luck. We'd held out hopes for Stable 108. The main door had still been closed, and the place looked to be in good repair. Deserted though, as best we can determine. Some sort of emergency protocol is in effect too; only a couple of doors are operational.

“We made our way to the maintenance level, and that's where we hit a snag. Different contractor. The talisman's here aren't compatible with our own stable's systems. I thought about bringing a couple back anyway, thinking we might be able to find a way to jury rig them or something, but Sun Spot insists that it isn't that simple. Something about magical frequencies and energy resonance oscillations. I didn't catch all of it, but I'll defer to our resident unicorn's expertise when it comes to dealing with magic and talismans.

“So, on to the next stable on our list. Stable 148.”

The recording uttered an audible click and went silent. So, lot's of locked doors, no monsters worth mentioning, and a lot of intact equipment. That boded pretty well for this trip, for the most part. No specific mention of the armory, but if so much of the rest of the stable had been left intact...

I stood up and trotted through the open door. There were still working lights in this place. Little red panels mounted in the ceiling and spaced out quite far apart. Presumably, these weren't what would have kept the stable illuminated during normal operation. Some sort of measure to conserve power? Ten Penny had mentioned emergency conditions, this might have been what he was talking about. Might be related to what had prompted whoever had once lived here to leave.

We passed through the small chamber which housed the machinery responsible for moving the massive steel cog that protected the stable, and found ourselves looking out over a vast open gallery. Benches surrounded a patch of dirt. Several tables ringed with chairs were scattered throughout the room. It resembled some of the rotted parks that dotted the surface. A common area, I supposed, where the inhabitants could congregate and convince themselves that they weren't rapped inside of a glorified bean can for the rest of their lives.

The two of us were standing on a walkway that encircled the large chamber. To the left, I could see a rusty set of stairs leading down to the next level. I also spied a door down there at the other end of the atrium with a discolored sign posted next to it reading: 'SECURITY'. The door was open.

I indicated for Windfall to follow me, and the two of us made our way carefully down the protesting set of stairs. The creaking metal echoed through the empty room, seeming to grow steadily louder with each reverberation. Halfway down, I stopped and winced, waiting until the noise had died down. If there were any critters lurking about in these corridors, they knew that we were here now. Best make this visit quick.

The security office wasn't very big. I don't really know what I was expecting, but I guess that it really shouldn't have been much. Maybe there had been a few hundred ponies living here, which would have represented a a lot of potential victims for an individual like myself. On the other hoof, where would I have been able to go if I'd gotten caught? Couldn't exactly skip town if things got hot. Would have been good motivation for staying in line I guess. A place like this probably didn't need a huge guard force, compared to what cities top-side employed. A half dozen lockers, a small holding cell, and a couple of desks with computer terminals on them was all that seemed to constitute the security office of this stable.

My attention was focused on the lockers. I instructed Windfall to keep a lockout at the door in case something wandered into the atrium, while I began searching. Empty. With each bare locker, my hope of a rich haul waned a little more. Of course they were going to be empty. The lack of corpses inside the stable should have been a glaring indicator. We may not have gone very deep into this place, we'd really only just scratched the surface, but I'd seen what a truly 'failed' stable looked like. This place may be empty, but it was beginning to look like it had been more of an orderly evacuation than a true disaster.

Honestly, that was starting to gnaw at the back of my mind a little bit. This...wasn't right.

Ten Penny hadn't mentioned anything about raiding the armory, and even if they had taken the opportunity to replenish arms and armor, the amount of equipment here should have been more than three ponies could use practically. They certainly hadn't shown much interest in bartering, judging from the audio logs I'd heard. Hard to blame them. Considering that the few examples of Wasteland inhabitants that they had met until this point had been White Hooves or raiders, I doubt that they wanted to get very close to the locals.

So, if they hadn't taken the weapons, and the door had been sealed when Ten Penny arrived, then it must have been the stable's inhabitants that took the weapons. Presumably because they were all evacuating the stable for some reason. 'Emergency measures' might have had something to do with why they might have left. Which, made a lot of sense. Something went wrong, so they evacuated, and they took the weapons and armor with them for protection.

This begged the question: what had gone wrong? And, why bother to close up the stable when they left? My eyes wandered to the terminals nearby. Their green glowing screens testified to their operational status. Maybe I'd find some explanations on them. Might even find a way to open the locked doors that Ten Penny had mentioned. It was possible that there was still something worth looting in this place.

I sat myself down behind one of the terminals and immediately frowned. The screen was displaying a message that I had seen more than a few times out in the Wasteland. Whomever had tried to use this thing last, and unlock its secrets, had failed. The system was locked, and nopony short of a digital savant was going to be able to do anything about it. I was not such a pony, so this computer was instantly a lost cause.

The other computer was working just fine. Its security measures had even been conveniently circumvented prior to our arrival. I cast a glance at Windfall to make certain that the pegasus filly was still attending to her assigned task. Contented, I tapped at the keyboard with careful strokes. I didn't know a lot when it came to these things, only a little bit more than I knew about pipbucks really; but I had had a lot more opportunities to play with these things than the rare contraption on my foreleg. I could at least manage to navigate a directory and seek out files.

This terminal had once belonged to one, 'Deputy Cauliflower'. A lot of logs were on this system. Not much that was of any use to us. Arrest records, crime reports, resident complaints, useless drivel. Then I found some personal commentaries. Not a whole lot to pique my interest there either. Until I got to some of the later entries...

'I don't know how comfortable I am about this,' one of the entries read, dated two days before the final entry on the system, 'we can't just assume that all of them are going to go crazy. I mean, like, six of them have in the past couple months, but those could just be isolated incidents, right? Not my call to make though. The Overmare says we need to lock them up for the good of everypony. That's almost a third of the stable's population though. We won't be able to maintain it with so many under lockdown. As much power as that many dampening fields will take, we couldn't run most of the systems anyway. I don't want to leave, but it's not my call to make.'

Well, that was promising, I thought to myself with a visible grimace. Residents were going crazy, so they locked them up, and then they left because that had basically sabotaged the stable somehow. Well, that would mean that the rooms that were locked should still have some valuables in them, right? I just had to find some way to open those doors. The next entry gave me a little clue about how to do that, thankfully. Cauliflower wasn't the sort of pony who knew all the ins and outs of what they'd had to do to lock down such a large portion of the stable, but he had mentioned that it took a lot of power. The maintenance level might be a good place to look for a way to end it.

I pushed back from the terminal and headed for the exit, collecting Windfall on the way, “no luck here. We're going to try to see what we can do about opening the locked doors and loot those rooms,” the filly nodded and fell into step behind me.

The pipbuck's contained map indicated that maintenance was two more levels down. Along the way, I tried a couple closed doors, even though I knew what what would happen. Or rather, what wouldn't happen. Sure enough, nothing I did prompted them to so much as budge.

One level down, I was made to pause when my pipbuck began doing something new: it started ticking.

I glanced down at it with a panicked expression. In my experience, ticking was rarely a good thing. As I did so, a glowing red indicator waxed into visibility before my eyes in the upper right corner of my vision. A radiation indicator. Anypony who spent a week in the Wasteland knew about the magical radiation that poisoned most of the surface, and the sorts of things that it could do to a pony who allowed themselves to spend too long around its sources. I entertained the notion of calling off the expedition if it was going to require us to travel through something like this. Then I hesitated, noting that the levels being reported to me through the pipbuck were extremely low. Low enough that unless the two of us planned on living down here, we shouldn't have much to worry about. Ten Penny and his crew certainly hadn't been swayed by it. It wasn't like we'd planned on lingering anyway.

Windfall was looking at me with concerned, wondering about the audible ticking and my sudden halt, “it's nothing serious,” I assured her. Did she know about radiation? I'd ask her about it later. No reason to stress her out with things like that right now, “let's keep moving.”

I glanced down at the map on the Old World device wrapped around my fetlock periodically, checking our route. These stables were like mazes. Unless you'd grown up here, there were a dozen different ways that you could end up accidentally double-backing on yourself and get hopelessly lost. It wasn't like there were directories or floor layouts posted every few intersections. Then again, I guess it wasn't so bad if every resident had a pipbuck like I did. I idly wondered if the pipbuck's map feature had been added after these places were designed to keep the inhabitants from becoming lost, or if the architects had put no thought into making these places easily navigable because they'd known everypony would have a map on their wrist...

“Um, Jackboot?” the filly behind me asked.

I glanced over my shoulder, noticing that the filly had stopped advancing. I frowned, “what? I told you, the clicking isn't important,” we were almost at the stairs leading down to the maintenance level, and I really didn't feel like entertaining many delays.

“It's not that,” the pegasus said, “it's just...there's a sign over here that says a clinic is nearby.”

“And?” any medical facility in this stable would either be cleared out like the armory had been, or sealed up tight like half the doors were. Either way, it wasn't going to serve our purposes here.

“Well, when I was getting cleaned up at the hospital, I overheard one of the nurses talking,” the filly explained, sounding more confident in herself, “she was telling somepony about a batch of bad spark-batteries, and how they broke a bunch of the computers that they used to store important stuff. She was especially worried about them not having teaching material anymore. She also mentioned that they no longer had any more digital copies of...Bay's Anatomy? She sounded really upset.

“Would a place like this have those things in the clinic?”

I stared at the filly for a moment. That...was actually really useful information to know. If Seaddle's hospital was in dire need of medical texts and other reference material for treatments, then we were in a position to make a lot of money. A stable was exactly the sort of place that would have that information. With no access to the outside world after the main entrance sealed closed, places like this needed to be self-sufficient; which meant being able to handle every conceivable medical emergency that might arise. Since most stables were intended to last for multiple generations, they'd also possess a database that could be used to train new doctors and nurses as well. While the residents might have cleaned out the physical supplies when they left, there'd have been no reason for them to delete any educational material stored on their terminals.

“Yeah,” I responded, “it would. Where's this sign at?”

A short walk and two turns later, and the stable's convenient signage put the two of us right in front of the clinic's doors. The clinic's open doors, mercifully. Though, there didn't seem to be all that much left of it.

Three beds that appeared to be bolted to the floor remained, but their linens had been stripped. The tables and cupboards around them were bare of whatever supplies they had at one time held. The larger supply cabinets were likewise empty of bandages and medicines. Given the state of the stable's armory, I had pretty much anticipated this. Hopefully, the doctors and nurses had not cleaned out their computer system's this thoroughly. There had been information on the security station's terminals, and there would be nothing to gain by erasing whatever data these computers held. So long as the doctors here had not simply been spiteful bastards...

I sat myself behind the reception desk and began to peck at the keyboard with my usual hesitant jabs. A frown creased my lips. Most of the files on this computer were locked behind passwords. Something about 'patient privacy requirements' or some such. Guess I could understand that. I bet most of the ponies in Flank wouldn't have appreciated the resident doctor there blabbing about which stallion and mare had stuff growing betwixt their nethers. Fortunately, none of that information was what I was keen on acquiring.

“Did your dad teach you to use these things?” Windfall asked from beside me.

I couldn't hold back the snort at the image that question conjured in my mind. Steel Bit operating something as technical as an Old World terminal. As if. Shit, most White Hooves had little time for the more advanced technology that littered the Wasteland's ruins. Our ancestor's priorities had been finding enough food, potable water, and Rad-X to survive the balefire fallout. Terminals rarely offered access to any of those things. After a while, technology simply ceased to become a part of our lives.

We ignored it for the most part. Destroyed it when we were feeling spiteful, but generally let it be and went about our lives. So, yeah, nopony in the White Hooves had ever talked to me about operating ancient computer consoles.

“Taught myself,” I said, still browsing the contents of the terminal, “you run into these all the time in the Wasteland. Started pecking at the keyboards of some of them, seeing what worked and what didn't. Turns out that a lot of the time, they'll help you out. Guess even ponies that used them all the time weren't experts.”

“What do you mean?” the pegasus filly asked, propping her hooves up on the desk and leaning in for a better look at the screen.

I glanced at the filly, and then at the clinic's open doorway. I should have her watching the hall for signs of trouble. Not here pestering me with questions. I frowned. The pipbuck was insisting that the two of us were the only ponies in the stable. Not so much as a single rad-roach was anywhere near us. I still only had a vague idea of the range of this thing though, and I couldn't know if there were still parts of this stable that held dangers that were beyond that range. The possibility was still there that something could sneak up behind us and ruin what had so far been a low-lethality trip.

I also needed a companion that was capable of pulling their own weight. Better in the long run if I taught the filly what I knew of these computers sooner, rather than later.

So, I scooted over a little and let Windfall get a better view of the screen that I was looking at, “see here? This is a list of the files in this directory. Some of them are also directories themselves that contain even more files,” I looked over and saw that the filly's face was a little scrunched up. As little as I knew about these computers, she knew what I did the first time I ever saw one. Time to get really basic, I guess.

“Directories are like boxes,” I explained, pantomiming with my hooves, “the files are the things in the box. Ammo, food, junk, you know,” the filly nodded, “sometimes the boxes have smaller boxes in them that also have things.”

“Like a box with a bag of bits in it. The bits are in the bag, and that bag is in the box,” Windfall supplied by way of analogy.

“Exactly,” she wasn't a moron, this filly, “you can see on the screen now are a list of the directories, the boxes, that I'm looking at. I got this list by typing out: D. I. R. and then pressing this button over here,” I did so again, and the list of words that had already been on my screen refreshed, “now, in order to look at what these are, you type out the name and press that same button,” I demonstrated with the item at the top of the list, 'REFERENCE MATERIALS', and was pleasantly surprised by the outcome.

“Here we go,” I mumbled to myself. I opened the new directory that I had found, which was identified as, 'MEDICAL TEXTS'. A long list of files spilled down the screen. Near the top of that list was even a file marked, 'Bay's Anatomy'. These were the files that the Seaddle doctors needed. My eyes widened. There were really that many books about medicine? How long did it take to explain, 'keep blood inside the body'? Doctors. Long-winded busybodies that took forever to tell you something simple.

“Well, I found what we're looking for,” I scratched my chin, looking from the computer screen to the rest of the room, “now how do I get it back to Seaddle?”

Admittedly, I'd never had to really take much information off of an Old World terminal before. They usually just unlocked doors, or had a meaningless message from two centuries ago that might be good for a chuckle. I'd never actually needed to get my hooves on anything inside of them. Which posed an interesting barrier at the moment.

“Can you use that?” Windfall piped up.

I glanced down, and saw that the filly was pointing at the pipbuck on my arm. My eyes narrowed at the device. There shouldn't be a reason that I couldn't use the pipbuck. Hypothetically. The computer was Old World tech, the machine on my fetlock was Old World tech. Match made in heaven, right? And yet, this really offered me no clear solution to my problem. I knew less about pipbucks than I did regular terminals. Let alone how to get them talking to one-another.

A shrug passed through my shoulders, “don't know how,” I started pecking at the few buttons on my pipbuck, “yet.”

Minutes passed as I explored the little computer on my arm, finding all sorts of new menus and options that I'd never seen before. This 'SATS' thing looked interesting. I'd have to try that sometime. So, at least my efforts weren't a complete waste of time, even if I wasn't any closer to finding out what I wanted to know how to do. I did, however, become more and more aware of the pegasus filly staring at me.

It wasn't like there was much else for her to do. She knew less about the pipbuck and its mysterious functions than I did. Didn't mean that she couldn't still do something more productive with the time we had though, “why don't you go ahead and practice exploring the directories. If it asks you for a password or something, just hit that key there to back out to where you were and try another one. Whatever you do, don't try to guess the passwords. It'll lock out the whole computer if you get it wrong too many times,” another lesson learned the hard way.

While I worked, Windfall climbed up into the seat in front of the desk and started to hesitantly tap at the keyboard with slow, deliberate, strokes. Her first minute was mostly spent accessing and backing out of various files and directories. Once she'd built up a little more confidence, she proceeded to explore the system more thoroughly, while I performed a similar operation on the pipbuck.

This thing had a radio of its own? That was nifty.

My concentration was interrupted by the filly stumbling onto an audio file that one of the terminal's previous operators had left. I frowned at the distraction, but said nothing. I was the one that had told her to root around in the system, after all.

A tired sounding mare's voice crackled out through the speakers, “Stable Physician's report, date...you know what? Who cares. It's not like anypony's ever going to read these damn things now. It's just a damn habit at this point. Plus, I need to say how I feel out loud before it drives me mad.

“I don't like this. It's wrong. All of it. We should be trying to help the Afflicted, not locking them away like this! For Celestia's sake, they've been here since the beginning. They're family!” a heavy sigh escaped her lips, “but it's not my call to make. The Overmare has spoken, and enough of the section supervisors support her that nothing I say or do will change a damn thing.

“I've uploaded the relevant information to the pipbucks of the staff I'm allowed to bring with me. The ones that are Afflicted...well, they'll never know what happened, I guess. Some of them will be smart enough to figure out what's going on eventually, I suppose. I can only hope that they understand why we did it, and that they can find it in their hearts to forgive us.

“I certainly can't forgive myself.

“Suture, signing off. Forever.”

I was staring at the computer intently now. What was that she had said? The mare in that recording had uploaded something to a bunch of pipbucks? The terminal could do that? I quite unceremoniously nudged Windfall out of the way, ignoring her surprised outburst. I quickly navigated my way back to the medical texts that I'd found earlier and look at the keyboard, contemplating my options.

There wasn't exactly a button that was labeled, 'upload these files to Jackboot's pipbuck', but some combination of words had to accomplish a similar task, right? I tried out a few seemingly plausible commands, and received an equal number of familiar errors that criticized my 'syntax', whatever that was. How were these computers supposed to know whether or not I'd paid my taxes?

“Aha!” I exclaimed, triumphantly as I finally stumbled upon a command that took me to a screen that looked like it was on my way to my intended goal. 'UL' looked to have been the correct combination of letters. Now I just needed to make sense of this long list of options. Rows upon rows of letters and numbers. Hundreds of them. Most were prefixed by the word, 'terminal', and were often followed by some sort of brief description of the option, like 'Maintenance Chief' or 'Overmare'. I didn't want to send this information to another termianl in the stable. Where was the option for pipbucks...there it was, further down.

There were a lot of options here too. Additional strings of letters and numbers, all followed by names. Every pipbuck started with the same four digits though: 'S108'. Meaning 'Stable 108', I presumed. Then, at the bottom, I spied a listing that was different from all the others. It began with a 'S137' prefix. I recalled that was the number on the jumpsuit of the pony I'd taken the device from. Ten Penny's stable.

Then I froze. After an additional string of letters and numbers that I guess were some way of further identifying the pipbuck, there was a name. There was a name after every pipbuck entry on this list. The owner of said pipbuck. Made sense. What didn't make sense was the name that followed the entry for the pipbuck that I was wearing. This pipbuck contained Ten Penny's personal logs. I had pried it from what I believed to be his own corpse. It stood to reason that the name that I would see at the end of the entry would be his own.

Instead, the name presented to me was, 'JACKBOOT'.

How did it know that? How could it know that? Knowing nothing about the way a device functioned presented a pony with some scary revelations sometimes.

I shook of the mild shock of discovering that the machine on my leg knew more about me than I thought I had ever told it, and selected my pipbuck as the desired destination of the upload. I saw a percentage indicator pop up on the terminal's screen. A second later, words and numbers sprang up before my own eyes, courtesy of the pipbuck.

>>RECEIVING FILES: …/REFERENCE MATERIALS/...

>>...50%

>>...TRANSFER COMPLETE.

Then the words disappeared and my pipbuck issued a short beep. I glanced down at it, and saw that the screen was showing me an identical page to that which I had seen on the terminal not too long ago. I had the medical texts. A smile touched my lips. We were done here. There was nothing to stop the two of us from heading out the way that we had come and making out way back to Seaddle.

Windfall said that the hospital there was eager to get there hooves on the exact sort of files that I had just found, and I was pretty sure that I could demand a pretty steep price for this information if it was as rare as I suspected. More than enough to have made this trip worthwhile.

I looked around, my eyes watching the direction indicator at the bottom of my field of vision where the blips tended to appear. The two of us were still very much alone here. The open rooms were stripped of valuables. Even the clinic's shelves were empty. I had to wonder though, was the same true of all the doors that had been locked?

The logs of both the security pony and the clinic's doctor suggested that ponies had been sealed away inside those rooms. Locked up because they'd gone crazy. Might have been some sort of sickness, or just ponies not reacting well to being sealed away in a tin can for the rest of their lives. In any case, their rooms would still be full of personal affects and potentially valuable artifacts. Each of the bodies would at least have a pipbuck that I couple scavenge and sell off in Seaddle...

I glanced at the radiation level that my pipbuck was detecting. It was still very low. Might not be a good idea to move in here, but a couple more hours poking around and looting shouldn't be too hard on us.

“We're good here,” I told Windfall, “let's keep going.”

The filly nodded and followed me back out into the corridor. My eyes once more returned to the map contained on my pipbuck. The maintenance level was still another level down. I'll admit, I wasn't entirely certain how I was going to be able to open all of the doors from there. Hopefully, a solution would present itself when the time came. Or, I could simply shoot up a bunch of important looking pieces of equipment until something happened.

The radiation levels got increasingly higher the closer we got to the next flight of stairs that lead down. They weren't necessarily dangerous yet, but I decided that I wasn't to spend very long tackling the issue of ending the lockdown. Five or ten minutes, and then we were leaving.

The two of us paused outside of an open doorway. Above it, a sign was mounted into the ceiling that read, 'REACTOR CONTROL'. The pipbuck was also ticking the fastest it had since it had started. Great, the power source of this stable was busted or something, and leaking radiation into the stable. Must have worn down while the caretakers were away. We definitely weren't lingering here.

“Come on,” I urged the filly to follow me, which she did, her eyes darting occasionally to my much noisier fetlock device. She was obviously nervous, but she followed me nonetheless. A good sign.

Within, I spied a tangle of thick wires and leads that I very much doubted had been part of this room's original design. They ran directly from the reactor's casing to a selection of breakers. I stepped up closer to them and saw that the label indicated that these panels controlled the flow of power to something called a 'magic sump', whatever that meant. It had to be part of the modifications that the logs mentioned though. They had insisted that larger than usual amounts of energy had been needed, and these breakers were certainly getting a lot more energy than they should have.

I spent a generous number of seconds examining the panels, and the switches built into them. It couldn't be as easy as...could it? I mean, I guess it wasn't like the ponies that they had locked up would be able to do anything from inside their rooms, right? Why make this whole complicated mess even more complicated with all sorts of security measures and locks?

Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

My hoof went out, and I very delicately flipped the first switch on the row of breakers.

…

Nothing exploded. That was a good sign. I hadn't been electrocuted either. That was a better sign.

I guess it really was going to be this easy. I proceeded to toggle every other breaker on the panel. When I was done with them, I went and flipped every other switch I could find that looked like it had been fed an improvised connection from the reactor. After nearly two dozen thrown switches, I heard the telltale hiss of an opening stable door coming from off to my left.

Success! I had ended the lockout and doors were opening. A satisfied grin plastered on my face, I looked over at the newly opened portal, ready to claim my hard earned salvage.

Then my blood ran cold. There were blips in front of my eyes. There were a lot of blips in front of my eyes. There were a lot of red blips in front of my eyes. I couldn't even hope to count them all. I was like there was a single solid red bar where, only moments before, only Windfall's single yellow tick had been.

“Horseapples...” I deadpanned.

“What's wrong?” the pegasus filly's voice cracked. She'd heard the tone of my voice, and instantly knew that something was very wrong. Her head went for her pistol, and she faced the way I was looking. She had a good head on her shoulders, had to give her credit for that. Her immediate reaction was a lot better than mine was, which was to stand their gawking at the symbols that only I could see like an idiot.

Oh, how I wished these pipbucks gave you more information about threats than just a simple blip. How far away were they? How many walls and doors separated me from them? What kind of threats were they? Were these all just a bunch of rad-roaches, or a swarm of those alicorns that I'd heard about from around Maripony?

It was only a couple more seconds before I received my first inclination about the threat that the pair of us now faced.

“You two have screwed yourselves pretty good, sorry to say.”

Windfall was now cowering beneath me, her pistol clattering in her teeth. My own weapon was drawn now as well, pointed at the door that had opened just moments ago. The words were those of another stallion, but there was a...tinge...to them. One that I had encountered on a couple of very specific occasions. Around Meatlocker mostly.

We were in the presence of a ghoul pony.

As if on cue, the speaker stepped into the doorway. My suspicions were immediately confirmed as my eyes landed on the withered and dried up face of the stallion that presented himself to us. His mane was little more than a few stray wisps of white hair. His eyes were milky blue. The pony was attired in a gray set of coveralls adorned with pockets. On the collar, the number '108' was embroidered in faded yellow.

He didn't charge or attack us. He wasn't one of the feral ones. That much I had known since the moment I'd heard him speak. The crazy ghouls out in the Wasteland didn't bother with anything a pointless as talking. They just screamed and charged at you with the heedless determination of a crazy pony intent of ripping you to pieces no matter the threat to itself. It was terrifying, don't get me wrong, but they at least never seemed to recognize when you were about to blow them away with some carefully lined up head-shots.

This stallion though, he wasn't charging. He merely stood in the open doorway, looking at the filly and I with a sorrowful expression.

“Don't be afraid,” her urged, raising a hoof in a calming fashion, “I won't hurt you,” the yellow blip that was overlaid where the ghoul pony stood was all the confirmation that I needed for his declaration. This thing had never been wrong before. Didn't mean that his disposition wouldn't change though, “but they might,” he pointed towards the exit.

My eyes darted that way for a brief moment, once more taking in the staggering number of red blips. Then my attention returned to the withered stallion, “what's going on?” I demanded around the grip of my pistol, “why am I suddenly seeing a whole mess of blips? They weren't there a minute ago!”

The ghoul nodded, “no, I imagine they weren't,” he pointed at the breaker panels, “magic sump. It makes it so that spells don't work in areas under lockdown. That includes a pipbuck's E.F.S.”

“E.F.What?”

“Eyes Forward...” the stallion began, and then frowned. He pointed at my foreleg, “you mean you've got a pipbuck and you don't know about the E.F.S?”

I shrugged, “I found it.”

“E.F.S.” the ghoul explained with a roll of his milky eyes, “Eyes Forward Sparkle. It's what lets you see all those blips and stuff. It detects threats, tracks location markers, and shows you other relevant information. But yeah, it don't work past rooms that are locked down. No magic does. Wouldn't be much use to lock a door if a unicorn can just teleport out, would it?”

I guessed that it wouldn't at that. But wait...if I was seeing blips now that the lockdown was over, and the stable ponies had initiated the lockdown to trap certain residents a hundred years ago, then that had to mean, “they're all feral ghouls...”

Fuck. Me.

That screen on the terminal for the upload...the list of pipbucks. That hadn't been a list of pipbucks in the computer's files; that had been a listing of all the pipbucks within range. Within the stable. That list had been hundreds of names long!

I had just let hundreds of feral ghouls out of their cages...

The stallion in the coveralls quirked an eyebrow, “what do you mean, 'feral ghouls'?” he asked. Then his eyes widened, “you mean, you've seen ponies like me?”

“Of course I have, you're all over the fucking Wasteland,” I said dismissively. I was barely even paying attention to the ghoul anymore. He was a sane one, not a threat like the others. My eyes went back to the breaker panels. If flipping those one way had ended the lockdown, then putting them back would start it back up again, right?

I sprinted for the panels and hastily put all of the switches back the way that I had found them. My eyes scanned the room once more. The blips were still there. The door that the ghoul pony was standing in was still open. The lockdown hadn't resumed. I flipped the switched back and forth one more time. Nothing. I tried reversing the order I had used to turn everything off. Still nothing.

“You're wasting your time,” the other stallion informed me, “It's not enough to reset the power. A lockdown can only be initiated from the Overmare's office...on the top level. And even then, you need her authorization code.”

Maybe I could leave Windfall here while I try to sneak up to the top level. With the pipbuck's warnings, I could probably avoid any encounters with the stable's inhabitants. Even if some of them had wandered out the now open doors, most of them would probably have stayed right where they were. They'd stayed put for a century; why not another ten minutes? Yeah, sneaking up there could work. Find the Overmare's office, restart the lockdown.

“Do you know the code?”

“'Course I don't know the code,” the ghoul scoffed, “do I look like a mare to you?”

Horseapples!

“Now what was that you said about ponies like me in this 'Wasteland'?” the stallion demanded, steeping further out of the door.

“You mean ghouls?” I said distractedly, as I tried to come up with other escape options that didn't involve fighting a couple hundred ghoul ponies. I didn't even have that many bullets! “they're all over the Wasteland. Ponies that survived the war, but the radiation did stuff to them. Most of them are crazy. Attack anypony they see on sight. Anypony that ain't a ghoul anyway...

My eyes darted to the stallion in front of us. The ghoul stallion. They wouldn't attack him on sight. Not that him getting to the Overmare's office would do any good. He'd already said that he didn't know the code to lock all the doors again. That plan was still out of the running, but it did get me thinking: why didn't ghouls attack other ghouls? It's not like they needed to consume living flesh or anything like that. What was it?

While I was wracking my brain over the issue, the ghoul stallion was starting to pace back and forth near the door he'd emerged from. All the while, he was mumbling to himself, “Afflicted...outside the stable. They were already outside the stable! But...so everything we did was for nothing...”

His rambling was getting progressively louder and more frantic. It was starting to disrupt my thinking. I flashed him a glower as hint for the stallion to shut it, but he wasn't looking at me. He was pacing even faster now, staring at the floor, “No no no nonono...it couldn't have been for nothing! We...we did it to protect the outside world from the Afflicted,” his voice took on a tone that set the hairs at the base of my neck rigid, “we trapped ourselves in here...for nothing...for...nothing.

“It can't be true,” the stallion's face shifted, suddenly, his expression becoming a rather unsettling flavor of placid. His distant pale blue eyes fell on Windfall and I, “it's not true. You're lying to me.”

Oh, this was going to go in a bad way. I set the grip of the pistol firm in my mouth and gently nudged Windfall further back behind me, “easy there, buddy,” I said is a low voice. I was pretty sure I knew what was going to go down here, and in any other place I might have just as soon skipped at and put this pony down with a couple to the brain pan. But this wasn't just anywhere. This was the bottom level of a stable filled with a whole heard of crazed feral ghouls that had spent the last century of their miserable lives locked in tiny little rooms.

A loud noise to get their attention was the last thing that I needed right now. Which meant that I had to give talking this stallion down a genuine try here.

Just for the record, you little pegasus bitch in my head, I'm not trying to do this non-violent-like to 'be kind'; I just don't want to be torn apart by ghoul ponies.

The coverall-clad ghoul took a couple of slow steps towards us, his face still placid and stoic, “it was all my idea, you see. Some of us were starting to lose our minds. Nopony is meant to live forever, and we'd already had to live through the death of the Princesses. The death of Equestria.”

I kept our distance from him, taking a step back for every one that he advanced, “just, take it easy...”

“Some wanted to leave the stable,” the ghoul continued, “but I knew we couldn't. We were dangerous. Crazed immortals wandering the world? What if any of us ran across survivors? Or other stables? We couldn't leave. We were too dangerous.”

I felt my flank bump up against the far wall. We were trapped now, and the ghoul continued his slow advance, “don't make me do it,” I warned him. Don't make me alert those feral monsters to our presence...

His eyes wandered to the reactor as words continued to flow from his mouth, “the casing was too thin, you see. The radiation...it trickled into the lower levels. Made a lot of us...like this. Even if all the Afflicted did leave, more would just eventually be created as the leak got worse. The healthy ponies had to be the ones that went,” his eyes locked on the pair of us once more, “so I devised the plan. Lock us away. Make this place into our tomb. Our assylum. Protect the outside world from our insanity.

“So, you see, you must be lying,” an edge began to creep into the ghoul's voice once more. I placed my tongue against the trigger of the weapon in my mouth, “because, if you're telling the truth,” his teeth began to grind together as he spoke. His expression was no longer impassive, an crease was starting to furrow his brow, “then I subjected myself, and two hundred and thirty-seven other ponies—my friends—to a century of inhumane torture...”

I could feel Windfall quivering beneath me. My back was literally against the wall. This ghoul might be talking, but he was as whacked as any feral; he just didn't realize it yet. He was going to kill us in an attempt to satisfy his delusion. I had to take action. I had to protect the two of us.

The moment I did that though, I would doom us.

The next words out of the ghoul pony's mouth came out as little more than a growl, “it was not in VAIN!”

He lunged.

Windfall screamed.

My weapon fired.

I flinched as a mist of blood and brains speckled my face. The stench was...potent, to say the least. I hated dealing with ghoul ponies. Even the sane and coherent ones still reeked of rot and decay. Even ghoulified, there was no way that flesh that had been around for two centuries wasn't going to stink.

I snorted and wiped away the gore. I was going to need a bath when we got back to Seaddle or I'd smell like a corpse for weeks.

…

Oh, sweet Celestia, that was it, wasn't it? My eyes darted from my blood-smeared hoof to the ghoul pony's corpse. Smell. That was how feral ghouls recognized their own!

An idea too shape in my head. Windfall probably wasn't going to like it—hell, I didn't like it—but I imagined that she'd like getting ripped apart and eaten even less. I holstered the pistol and drew my knife. This was going to be messy.

From behind me, I could hear Windfall's reviled shriek as she saw me start to cut into the body of the ancient stable pony, “what are you doing?! Stop it!” The filly even went so far as to lunge at me and try to pull me away from the rotted corpse.

I swiped her away deftly with a swing of my hoof and reeled on her, “I'm saving our lives!” I shot back at the filly around the gory hilt of the knife in my mouth, “we need to get out of here now, and there are a couple hundred ghouls between us and the exit. They'll tear us to pieces if they see us. Unless,” I amended with a fierce glare at the little pegasus, “they think that we're ghouls too.

“That means we need to smell like them,” I hoped, “which means...” wow, this plan was not sounded quite so appealing now that I was about to say the details out loud, “we need to cover ourselves with this guys...everything...”

I don't know what the name of the expression was when a pony's face moved past 'utterly horrified', but that was the look on Windfall's face at this precise moment. Adding to the horror, and as if to emphasize our plight, the echos of a piercing roar filtered down through the entrance to the reactor chamber. Both of our heads darted in that direction.

The gunshot. They'd heard it, and were probably even now wandering in the direction that they'd heard it come from. Even if the whole lot of them weren't completely feral by now, they'd certainly be pretty pissed off about having been betrayed by their friends and neighbors; left to rot in this tomb of a stable.

My gaze went back to the filly, who was now curled up against the nearby wall with the tiny pistol back in her mouth. Her eyes were locked onto the doorway leading to the upper levels of the stable, “hey,” I waved my hoof to get her attention, “hey!” the filly's eyes were upon me now, wide with terror. I couldn't afford to have her lock up now.

Maybe you could use her as a peace offering?

Shut up, Whiplash!

“Look,” I began, forcing myself to ease my own tensions as well. I had a plan. It might even work. So what if it wasn't the most palatable solution to our current predicament? All that mattered was that it was going to give the two of us a much better chance of getting out of here than trying to run and gun it. I needed to get Windfall on board with it too though, “I know you're scared, I am too. This ain't exactly how I planned for things to go. But we have a chance to get out of here in one piece.

“You just have to trust me, and do what I tell you. Like you promised you would, remember?” the filly swallowed, but made no other movements for a moment. Then she offered a short nod, “good. Holster the pistol. If we fire a weapon, we're fucked,” the pegasus complied, though it was obvious that she was loath to disarm herself.

I turned my attention back to the corpse. I'd disemboweled ponies before, but never to this extent or quite so deliberately. It was one thing to open up a pony's belly in combat. This felt more like dressing a fucking kill. I paused briefly in my dissection.

...this was what raiders back east did to ponies they got their hooves on.

Finally gone all the way off that deep end, brother dear? Full on Hoofington raider? Only one way to be sure: take a nibble.

I shut my eyes and shook the voice from my head. I wasn't doing this because I thought it was fun, damn it! This was just what I had to do to survive. It wasn't the same. I wasn't that fucking crazy.

Yet...

I resumed my work, carving out swaths of the ghoul pony's hide. I could hear Windfall trying to suppress her whimpers as I skinned him. When the deed was done, and the body of the stallion on the floor existed in several flayed pieces, I moved on to the next step of the plan.

New barding. I was going to by a whole new set of barding after this. If for no other reason than because I was certain the smell would simply never come out, no matter what I did to it. Soaking this stuff in turpentine for a month wouldn't do any good, I was sure of it.

I knelt down in the pool of viscera that I'd created, and took a deep breath to steel myself. Really, this was not all that different from what I'd done as a White Hoof, I told myself. The white paint that we wore on our legs and faces wasn't really paint, after all. It was a paste that was created using the ground up bones of ponies that the tribe had killed. So, in that respect, I'd covered myself in the remnants of dead ponies hundreds of times.

True, none of those experiences had created such a pungent odor, and I doubted any of the bodies had been quite this fresh—err, rotted, I guess—but the net effect was the same, right?

I'm not sure if I was actually making myself feel any better about this...

Another, louder, roar echoed through the stable. This one was answered by other, more distant, screeches. Right, impeding doom. I'd angst about all of this later.

Committed, I took a deep breath, managing not to gag on the stench, and rolled through the pile of entrails. Ewe...I think one of them squirted something on me. Please tell me that wasn't the bladder...though piss would probably have been the least objectionable fluid on me at the moment. I stood up, wincing as I felt bits of...stuff sliding slowly down my legs. If I didn't look at it, I probably wouldn't throw up.

Judging from the sounds coming from behind me, and the arrival of a familiar acrid odor in the air, I judged that Windfall's intestinal fortitude had not been quite so strong as my own.

The finishing touches were a couple swaths of the leathery flesh of the ghoul pony thrown across my back. The worst part about that was the need to pick up those pieces with my mouth. I just wanted to rip out my tongue and burn it. Nothing else was going to get rid of that taste...

I turned to face the pitiful looking pegasus panting over a puddle of her own vomit. This was going to get worse for her before it got any better, “you ready?” she winced, dry heaved a couple more times, and then nodded. I reached down into the pile of rotted organs with my hoof and drew up a scoop of them. I carefully smeared it across her shoulders and rubbed what I could down her back. The pegasus trembled and whimpered under my touch. Her eyes remained closed.

Again and again I applied pieces of the ghoul to her, covering her barding and letting it dribble down her legs. Windfall especially did not appreciate the need to rub globs of ghoul into her mane and tail, let alone covering her wings. A swath of skin across her own back, and the deed was done.

“Alright,” I sighed, not relishing the final phase of this plan, “stay close to me. Keep your eyes on the floor, and for the love of Celestia, don't say a single damn word. Not gasps, no screams, no crying. You make a sound and the two of us die, got it?”

The filly swallowed and nodded. She spit up just a little bit more and was about to wipe her mouth when she stopped herself just shy of touching her defiled hoof to her face. She took a deep breath and met my gaze once more.

I had never seen Windfall look so defeated since the day she'd gotten her cutie mark. At least she'd resigned herself to the plan finally.

Crushing the spirits of little fillies across the Wasteland, one depraved act at a time...

If I ever found a way to get rid of that mare...

I trudged towards the exit, Windfall close behind me. At the bottom of the stairs leading to the second level, I came to a halt. There, at the top, was our first test of this plan of mine. A ghoul pony mare wearing a tattered stable jumpsuit was standing at the upper landing, looking right at the pair of us. Celestia, I sincerely hoped that I'd guessed right and that they did rely on smell to distinguish between what they would and would not attack. It was a good sign that she wasn't charging us at this exact moment, at least.

With a brief glance back at Windfall to ensure that she was still following, I began to slowly ascend the stairs. The ghoul watched us approach in silence. No screeches, no roars, and most importantly: no trying to eat us. When I reached the upper landing on the second level of the stable, I was close enough to the mare that I could have reached out and booped her on the nose if I'd been so inclined. I did not, of course. The ghoul pony merely watched the two of us pass and then she herself trudged down the stairs.

I hoped that being feral meant that she wasn't intelligent enough to piece together what had gone down in the reactor chamber. My pace increased slightly just in case.

The halls of the stable were crawling with ghouls now. Each of them would look at us as we passed, but none made any move to so much as touch us. When I felt that none of them were staring at us too closely, I would spare a glance at the map on my pipbuck to confirm that we were still going the right direction. We ended up having to double-back once or twice, but we didn't end up getting too lost. Though there was the odd occasion where we needed to seek an alternate route in order to get around a particularly thick gaggle of ghouls. I was very loath to risk coming into physical contact with them.

Every once in a while, I checked to make certain that the filly was still following in my wake. Her head stayed down the entire time, her eyes locked on the floor just behind my hind hooves. Back the way that we had come, I could spot a thin trail of blood and tissue that was periodically dropping from our bodies. I hoped that wasn't a bad sign...

We somehow reached the upper level of the stable without being pounced upon and ripped to pieces by a pack of hungry feral ghoul ponies. I counted that as a point in favor of the plan so far. In fact, I was ready to proclaim the plan a complete success when I saw that we were once again walking along a very familiar corridor. At the end of this hallway would be the atrium, and the staircase leading to the exit. In five more minutes, we would be home free!

I abruptly felt myself slammed into from the side. Though the blow had not been particularly powerful, the unexpected nature of it was enough to knock me off of my hooves and onto the floor. I heard Windfall's sharp intake of breath as she saw me go down. I froze. Had we been discovered? Nopony was roaring at us, and I didn't hear the sound of thundering hooves galloping through the stable corridors in our direction.

My eyes flew to the direction that the impact had come from, my sheathed knife coming close to my mouth in case I would need to draw it to fend off an unexpected attacker. I found myself looking up into the face of a rather rotund ghoul stallion with pale green eyes. He was looking down at me with a blank expression.

An accident then. I hadn't been paying attention to the intersecting hallways, and so I had managed to simply collide with one of the ghouls. Our cover wasn't blown. I swallowed back the worry that had been building in my throat and rolled back up onto my feet.

The swaths of ghoul flesh that had been laying across my back remained on the floor. I stared down at them, contemplating if I should pick them back up and sling them over my barding once more. My eyes shifted between the flesh on the floor and the fat ghoul standing just a couple feet away from me. Would doing that draw attention? We were so close to the exit now, was it worth taking the risk?

I saw the ghoul's nostril's flare and heard him take a couple of deep sniffs. His eyes seemed to be peering more intently at me.

Horseapples...

We were so close. I forgot about the flayed flesh on the floor and resumed walking at a slightly increased rate of speed. The pegasus filly increased her own speed to keep up with me. The fat ghoul stallion trudged behind us, following.

Horseapples!

The atrium was in sight now. All we had to do was get up the stairs and leave. Our 'disguises' would last long enough to get us that far, right?

From behind us, came a deafening howl. The sort of sound I had heard only a sparse few months ago at that old mill.

Horseapples!

Well, new plan time! Looks like the two of us would need to, “run!”

I sidestepped a little to let the filly get in front of me. Not out of any sense of chivalry, mind you, it was simply necessary so that I had a clear field of fire at that broad ghoul stallion that was screaming behind us and alerting the rest of the stable to our presence. A few quick squeezes of the trigger, and the stable pony went down in a mercifully silent heap. I then bolted in the direction of the atrium, my weapon snapping off shots as other ghouls poked their heads into view to check on what the noise was about. Windfall was doing the same with her own smaller caliber weapon. The hits that she scored with her tinier bullets didn't do nearly to same amount of lethal damage to their torsos that my bullets did, but they did send a few ghouls crumpling to the ground when she caught them in the elbows and shoulders.

Part of me wondered how many of those crippling shots were intentional. Her aim had been gradually improving, after all.

The two of us made our desperate run for the atrium. Eventually, my pistol's magazine ran dry. I briefly considered pausing in order to reload, but then thought better of it. Besides, the quarters we were fighting in at the moment were even a little too tight for pistols. I holstered the spent weapon and drew out my combat knife. It was still covered in the blood of the ghoul pony that I'd dismembered . Little matter, it was about to get covered in a whole lot more.

At an intersection about forty feet from the atrium, I found myself having to draw up short as a ghoul whipped around in front of me. I wasted little time and quickly whipped my head back and forth, slashing at the feral monster with vicious cuts. The stable pony screamed and went down. I had little time to relish the victory though, as another ghoul that had come from the other direction slammed into me. The blow pinned me to the wall, and it was all that I could do to fend off the pony's napping jaws as its fetid maw snapped at my face.

The gnashing teeth roared at me, spraying me with flecks of bile. Then a trio of bullets smacked into the side of its face. The ghoul hesitated for a brief moment, stunned, as did I. Then two more bullets sheared off the front of the ghoul's skull and most of its left eye. The corpse collapsed into a heap in front of me. I looked to my right and saw Windfall standing further down the corridor, her smoking pistol gripped tight in her teeth.

I regained my composure and galloped towards her, “ease up on your grip,” I scolded the filly in a tone that was perhaps more than a little out of place, given our current circumstances, “you're going to crack a tooth!” the pegasus quirked an eyebrow and then broke into a run beside me, “and reload during lulls like this! That way you don't run out of bullets when you need them the most,” it may not have been an ideal time to lecture the filly on the finer points of engaging in running gun battles, but I was not entirely certain that I'd get the chance to teach her anything else ever again. There were still a lot of ghouls between us and the stable door if those milling blips were to be believed.

Windfall took my advice and ejected the magazine of her small pistol, fumbling for a replacement with her right wing. I heard the sound of hoofsteps clambering behind us, and I spun around to face our attacker. A ghoul was charging right at me. I bent me left leg, lowing myself a split second before he was upon me and then heaved my shoulder up into its chest. The ghoul was slammed against the stable wall, issuing a piercing wail of what I hoped was pain. I jabbed it in the chest a few times with my knife until the wailing ceased and the pony went limp. Just as a second ghoul ran up to attack me as well.

A third ran right on by, heading right for Windfall. The filly was still in the middle of reloading her weapon, and didn't notice the assailant running right for her. I through up my forelegs to fend off the ghoul engaged with me and spat the knife out of my mouth, “Windy! Behind y-!” a sharp blow to my head cut my warning short. I snarled up at the ghoul attacking me and reared up on my hind legs, letting a flurry of strikes lash out at him with my forehooves. Each blow forced the ghoul to stumble back. I aimed the fifth attack at the right shoulder, sending the pony to the ground. A powerful double strike with both hooves caved in the skull and ended the feral beast's life.

My head whipped around, looking for Windfall. Would I be too late to save her?

I was just in time to watch the filly go airborne. Well, not truly airborne like a proper pegasus. The filly had glanced back over her shoulder at my warning in time to see her peril and leaped up into the air at the last moment as the galloping ghoul dove for her. The pegasus' wings buzzed furiously, keeping her aloft for a few precious seconds as the ghoul skidded along the floor under her. I looked on as Windfall then landed on the ghoul's back. She proceeded to pound at the back of the prone ghoul's head with her tiny hooves while her wing worked frantically to fully seat the fresh magazine into her pistol.

Her strikes didn't have the power behind them to do any real damage to the grown mare that she was beating on, but they seemed to at least be disorienting the ghoul long enough to ready her weapon. The magazine finally locked into place with a faint click, and Windfall poured almost a half dozen bullets into the back of the ghoul's skull. It ceased moving after that.

Well. Never mind then. Kid saved herself. I resumed sprinting towards the atrium, the filly just ahead of me.

We might actually get out of here alive!

One of these days, I was just going to stop having those sorts of thoughts. They were proving to be very hazardous to my health.

A truly massive ghoul loomed into few just inside the entrance to the atrium. He took up almost the entire width of the doorway. What the hell had this ghoul been eating before the radiation got him? He looked like the poster-foal for Buck! Actually, forget that, Buck would probably have taken away from this pony's bulk, he was that massive. I let my pace slack off, buying myself more time to come up with a way to get past this monstrosity. My pistol was still dry, and I was loath to take the time to reload it. My knife was...fuck, I'd left it behind. Hoof-to-hoof with this thing was going to suck...

Did I have time to pop a tablet of Buck? Or, more practically, a whole bottle of it? Did I have any more Stampede?

It was then that I realized that Windfall was not dropped off in her stride with me. In fact, she was running ahead at an even faster pace! Was the filly insane? She had to be able to see the same ghoul that I was, didn't she?

Horseapples.

The muscle-bound ghoul pony roared at the pair of us with a volume that was loud enough to shake the very floor of the stable. Yet still Windfall sprinted directly at him. If nothing else, maybe she would at least distract him long enough while he was killing her for me to get a couple good hits in.

Seemingly heedless of the large stallion that dwarfed her to an absurd degree, the little pegasus filly maintained her headlong charge. The ghoul seemed to greatly appreciate that Windfall was going to deliver herself right to him, and opened his mouth wide in anticipation, coking his head back in preparation to snap her up when she got close enough. I winced, not relishing what I was about to see happen.

I saw the filly running right at him, not even firing her weapon. I saw the ghoul's wide open maw dart down with terrifying speed.

What I didn't see was the little pegasus end up as a morsel of ghoul chow.

At the last second, Windfall's tiny wings flipped out and buzzed with the speed of a bloatsprite's. The result was a burst of extra speed that the ghoul had not anticipated, leaving his jaws to clamp down around nothing but air. It turned out though that this maneuver was not just a quick little dart in order to allow just herself to escape past the ghoulish obstacle. This was part of a carefully planned attack that the filly had devised all on her own.

Once past the threatening biting part of the ghoul, the filly rolled onto her back, her wings still beating furiously, and opened finally fire. Her tongue squeezed the trigger as quickly as she couple manage, pumping round after round into the underside of the massive stallion. A trio of her final shots were aimed at his right foreleg. Two of the shots hit, shredding the joint into a glob of rotted meat and splintered bone. Then Windfall was out in the atrium and past the most visible threat.

Now, I guess, it was my turn.

Fortunately, the filly had left me with a very exploitable opening. The ghoul was roaring with what I imagined to be equal parts frustration, pain, and humiliation at having been so thoroughly outdone by a tiny little filly with a pistil that would have only annoyed a radscorpion. His eyes soon fell on me though, and I could see in them a desire to reap vengeance for the insult he had just suffered.

He was about to be disappointed a second time.

I leaped forward and used the momentum of my run to roll onto my back, bringing my hind quarters in close. As I came out of the roll, I threw everything I had into my rear hooves. Both of them lashed out at the ghoul's left shoulder, carrying the force of my full weight and high speed.

It wasn't a perfect hit, I'll admit that. I'd misjudged the distance I would travel in that roll and had waited too long to make it. Though I succeeded in the sense that I both heard and felt the ghoul's shoulder crumble into a fine powder beneath his dried out flesh and muscle, I also felt something give way in my own left knee. The howl of agony from the ghoul made the pain that I felt worth it though. With both of his front legs out of commission, he couldn't stop himself from collapsing forward onto his face. This left me all the room that I needed to right myself and clamber over his body.

I was able to tell right away though that I was not going to relish putting any weight on my hind leg for a good week or so. But, at least both myself and Windfall had made it into the atrium. No time for celebrations quite yet though. We still had to get out of the stable. Judging from the sounds of screeches and screams coming from other connecting corridors, that wasn't going to get easy any time soon. In fact, ghoul ponies were already pouring in from all directions.

“Stairs, let's go!” I urged the filly on towards the nearest spiral staircase that would lead us to the upper level, and the way out of here.

Windfall scampered up them with ease. I was held up briefly a couple times by the need to dislocate the jaws of ghoul ponies that insisted on invading my personal space. Most of the rest of the ghouls seemed to be on the lower levels of the stable at least. Only a dozen or so were in the atrium at the moment, but I imagined that that was subject to change every soon. I could see a rather thick cluster of red blips in the direction that we had just come from. I could also hear the faint chorus of roars as well.

This was bad. Which, I supposed seemed like a very obvious observation to make about the current situation. However, on deeper contemplation, it was even worse than that. There were still over two hundred feral ghouls in this stable. Two hundred ponies hungering for living flesh that could run for years without tiring. Two hundred ponies that we would never be able to kill off or outrun before they finally got to us. We simply didn't have the bullets, and I could feel myself tiring already. There wouldn't be enough Dash or Buck in the world to keep me in a fight like that.

I fended off encroaching ghouls with bucks and hoof-strikes as I backed my way up to the base of the staircase that Windfall had already ascended. I now had myself a funnel, which permitted only one of two ghouls to attack me at any given time. Even like this though, I couldn't hope to kill them all. Heck, I wasn't even killing them now! The same physical characteristics of the stairs that restricted their numbers also limited the sorts of attacks that I could make. I couldn't fight like this without any room to maneuver, not really. All I could really do was get them to stumble back for a moment while I took another step furhter up to the top.

But then what? Fight them at the top of the stairs? I'd have more room, sure, but what if two of them squeezed up at the same time? While I was killing one, I'd be getting attacked by the other, and then while I was killing that one, more would come up the stairs. Eventually I would be swarmed.

I could fight them at the stable door maybe? But that still presented basically the same problem. Maybe if I could close the stable door? The controls couldn't be that hard to figure ou—

The world fell out from under me.

In the course of my planning, I had managed to miss the sound of creaking metal as the ancient rusted staircase that I had been slowly climbing up finally decided to give in to the decay that it had endured for centuries and buckled. It had barely been willing to support my own weight on the way down; the weight of myself and several ghouls had been more than it was willing to tolerate.

“Jackboot!”

I lashed out with my hooves, grasping for something, anything, to stop me from falling down to the waiting hoard of feral ghoul ponies gathering in the atrium below. My left hoof managed to snag part of the staircase that has remained affixed to the upper level of the large chamber. The rest of my body dangled in the air. I wasn't alone either. One of the ghouls that had been on the stairs with me had possessed the reflexes and wherewithal to grab hold of something to stop his falling as well.

That something had been me.

My passenger did not seem content with something so mundane as just dragging me down to my inevitable fall either. No, he was content to carry on as though the both of us were not in this precarious position at all.

I screamed as the ghoul pony's teeth clamped down on my flank. Reflexively, I writhed and kicked at the offending ghoul. It was hard though. With every motion, I could feel my hoof slipping from its precious perch on the upper level. What choice did I have though? I couldn't just wait for that fucking thing to eat me alive!

My eyes narrowed at the ghoul, and I snarled at it through gritted teeth, “I have had...” I raised my other hind leg and aimed a kick at the ghoul's face, striking it square in the forehead. The monster reeled, by remained attached to my leg. I readied a second blow, “enough...” I felt the ghoul's grip slackening with the second kick, “of...ghouls!”

The third kick was enough to completely dislodge the feral pony and send it crashing to the floor below, where it landed atop a few its milling ghoul brethren. My hoof was now only barely maintaining any sort of grip, and I was pretty sure that I'd be following it down at any moment.

“Got you!” a pair of small white hooves latched onto mine, gripping with all the might that their young owner could muster. I looked up to see that Windfall was at the ledge, doing all that she could to pull me up. Her wings thrummed with effort as she used them for added leverage.

It was no use though. She was just a tiny little filly, and I was a grown stallion close to five times her own weight. There was no way in Equestria that she would be able to pull me up on her own. I swung myself up as best I could to get my other hoof some decent purchase in order to help pull myself up, but that proved to be a poor decision. Instead of getting a grip with my right hoof, I succeeded only in losing what remained of the grip with my left. I would have fallen right then and there if Windfall had not been holding onto my arm.

As it was, the filly was nearly pulled over with me. Her rear hooves slid along the steel floor, coming to a halt at the brink of the ledge. Only the furious beating of her wings had kept her from instantly tumbling over with me.

I looked down at the floor below. More ghouls were spilling in by the minute. Soon, they'd have the numbers to climb up on top of themselves and form a convenient little ghoul pyramid to use to get us. My eyes went back to the straining face of the pegasus fighting desperately to pull me up. I could see her hind legs inching further and further over the edge. She was going to end up being pulled over with me any moment.

Be kind...

...Yeah. That little pink-maned pegasus had the right idea. I guess there wasn't any reason that both of us had to die here, “Windy,” I swallowed, not quite believing what I was about to say, “let me go.”

“No!” she screamed through gritted teeth, “I won't!”

“Windy!” I snarled at her. Dammit you stupid little filly, you can't save me this time! Just let me die and get the fuck out of here! “Let. Me. Go. Now!”

“NOOOOO!”

Then her hind legs slipped over the edge, and the two of us were falling.

Damn her...

Or...wait. Correction. We should have been falling. Unless gravity operated under different rules during specific circumstances that I was unaware of, the two of us should have tumbled over that ledge and ended up tangled in the midst of a herd of ghoul ponies that would then proceed to rend us limb from limb in an orgy of blood, gore, and screams.

Instead, we simply hovered above them.

A quick glance up at Windfall was all the explanation that I needed as to how this was accomplished: she was flying. Honestly and truly flying. Not the little slowly descending hovers that I had seen her do a hundred times in the past; this was genuine sustained altitude. Not just sustained either, I soon noticed. We were rising!

It took the filly an obviously great deal of effort to perform this feat, and I was not inclined to disrupt her concentration with either words or even movements. I remained completely silent and as still as I could manage as the little pegasus dragged me up over the lip of the edge and carried my body above solid floor. I was then very unceremoniously dropped onto my hind end at the earliest possible moment. The filly was not far behind me in her own panting collapse, her wings hanging limply at her side.

The howls of the ghouls below reminded me that this was still not a good time for minor celebrations or respites. We needed to take advantage of the lead that we'd achieved ahead of the hoard and make our escape. I scooped the filly up onto my back and started limping as quickly as I could for the exit out of the stable. The sight of the large steel sprocket door was the most beautiful thing that I had seen all day.

I took a brief moment to pause at the control panel nearby and examine it. If there was any way for me to close this thing behind us, that would be ideal...huh. A large lever that had two positions: 'OPEN' and 'CLOSE'. It couldn't possibly be that simple, could it?

Only one way to find out. I pulled the lever to the 'CLOSE' position and waited. A moment of silence, and then the sound of whirring motors and clinking chains as the ancient machinery came to life and the door slowly started rolling across the opening. Well, I'll be fucked; it was that easy!

I limped through the narrowing opening and into the relative safety of the tunnels ahead. No blips of any color were within view ahead of us, so I continued to make my way through the dark tunnel, guided by the light of my pipbuck. Behind me, I heard the steel door clank shut, and the deep sigh of the machinery as it shut itself off once more. I highly doubted that those monsters would be able to figure out the need to operate the controls in order to open that door.

I also pitied any pony that found this stable after us. It would suck to be them...

At the entrance to the cave, I allowed myself to rest, and let Windfall off my back. Her wings were still slack at her side, but the filly wasn't gasping nearly so badly as she had been. I urged her to take a drink of water, while I did the same. I also quaffed a healing potion to help mend my leg. It did a lot to close the wound, but not quite so much to dull the pain. I was going to be limping for a while...again.

When the two of us had sated our thirst and seen to reloading fresh magazines into our weapons in anticipation of the next horror that would inevitably befall us at some point in the future, I took the opportunity to properly chastise the pegasus for her earlier insubordination.

“I told you to let me go,” I reprimanded Windfall, “what you did was stupid. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

The filly looked away, her shoulders drooping, “I know...”

“So then why the hell did you do it?” I asked her, genuinely curious about the answer, “you promised to do whatever I told you to do, and I told you to let me drop. Why didn't you?”

“Because I already lost one family!” the little pegasus snapped at me, tears welling up in her eyes. We stared at each other in silence for a second, then her gaze dropped once more, “I didn't want to lose another...”

Awe, way to go there, Daddy! Whiplash clapped her hooves together with a giddy expression, Ooh! I bet you could even get her to call you 'Daddy' too! If you know what I mean... she then proceeded to demonstrate with a couple of deep evocative moans.

I shut the voice away, fearing that a day might come when I wouldn't be able to.

Family, huh? Is that what she thought the two of us were, a family? That was the lie we told to everypony around, sure. A single father looking after the most precious pony in his life. A noble soul persona to put others at ease. Was Windfall starting to believe that lie too? Or did she just really want to?

On the one hoof, I guess this was a good sign. She considered me to be like her family; which meant something very different to the filly than it did to me. In my experience, 'families' were groups of ponies you shared a blood relation to that were waiting for the right moment to stab you in the back and take all the titles for themselves. For Windfall, family was a group of ponies that you cared deeply about.

That had been the goal, hadn't it? Get this filly to devote herself to me, so that I would never go through with her what I had with my sister, right? Well, here she was, ready to die in order to save me. Mission accomplished, Jackboot. You had your little loyal pegasus pawn ready to do anything and everything you asked her to, and more.

So why did that thought make me feel so...ashamed?

Because you're just one grope away from becoming your father...

Footnote: Level Up!
New Perk Added -- Super Bucker: All melee and hoof attacks have a chance of knocking your opponent down.
Unarmed skill at 50.
Science skill at 25.

CHAPTER 8: WHY DON'T YOU DO RIGHT?

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“All a matter of semantics but yes, kill them.”

“Mister Boot,” I suppressed a wince as I followed the black unicorn through the halls of the hospital. 'Mister Boot'? Really?, “I want to apologize for last time. The behavior of my staff was unprofessional, and I am sorry to admit that my own opinion of yourself was...unkind. I let what I initially saw of your daughter's state cloud my judgment.

“Even when I saw that she was indeed unharmed, I still thought little of you. That was unfair of me. I recognize that not everypony's life is as...comfortable as my own. You are doing what you can, and I acknowledge that. I am sorry.”

“No hard feelings,” I replied, forcing back a grimace and putting a pleasant smile in its place. I didn't need a lot of talking and apologizing. I just wanted to pass off this information, collect my money, and get out of this place before the Med-X wore off and they saw me limping. Limping meant pain, and pain meant an injury. Doctors treated injuries. Seeing as how I was just about to do them a huge favor by selling them a bunch of medical texts that they desperately needed, I just knew that if they suspected I was hurt, they were going to offer all sorts of complimentary treatments. It would be hard to explain why I was turning down free medical care for my wounds.

“I appreciate that,” the physician nodded, “you are a better pony than I am, to forgive so easily,” Whiplash was cackling hysterically in the back of my mind.

I squelched the mental noise, “let's just say I'm used to it.”

“Well, that will likely change very quickly,” the unicorn smiled warmly, “I'll be spreading the word around town about this, you can count on it! You've saved lives with these files that you're bringing us, Mister Boot; don't doubt that.”

“Please, just, 'Jackboot'.”

“Of course,” he nodded through an open door, “this way, please.”

I found myself in a room containing a number of computers, all of which looked to be in good working order. A couple of blackened and charred husks that used to be similar terminals were piled off in a far corner of the room. The likely victims of the defunct spark batteries that Windfall had mentioned back at the stable.

“Please, have a seat, and we can begin the transfer process,” I was directed to a chair in front of one of the computers. I set my pipbuck encased arm on the table near the keyboard and watched as the doctor hooked it to a small port in the side of the machine with a length of yellow cable. A few taps of a sequence of buttons and I saw words flashing in front of my eyes.

>>TRANSFERRING FILES: /CACHE/STABLE_108/MEDICAL/...

“This should only take a couple of minutes. While we wait, I was wonder-”

A hesitant knock at the door interrupted whatever question he had been about to ask. The doctor frowned briefly, and then, with an apologetic nod, “I'll only be a moment,” headed for the door. I saw a white earth pony with a brown mane, dressed the the blouse of a nurse waiting outside. My ear twitched in their direction, listening idly to their conversation. I wasn't expecting to hear much of vital importance, but Windfall had already demonstrated that sometimes what the ponies here said could mean a hefty bag of bits for me later.

Their voices were faint, as they spoke in quiet tones, but I picked up most of their conversation. The nurse was asking about where to store a body that had just been brought in. Apparently their morgue was full, and would be for the rest of the day until they were able to complete the examinations of some soldiers that had been killed in a recent clash with the Steel Rangers. The doctor didn't want to use up a room with a dead body, but he didn't want obvious corpses just littering the halls either. According to the nurse, the dead pony was a mare who'd committed suicide by overdosing on pills. With minimal effort, they could make it look like she was just sleeping. That seemed acceptable to the doctor. They'd keep the body on a gurney in the hall just outside until a spot in the morgue opened up.

The nurse excused herself to make the arrangements. The dark hued physician made his way back to the set of terminals with a sad look on his face. Upon seeing my own expression, he either guessed at what I had heard, or simply felt a need to vent a little to what he took to be a sympathetic ear.

“Suicides,” he sighed deeply, “I'll never understand the urge that some ponies have to end it all.”

I shrugged, “life in the Wasteland ain't easy, Doc. Sometimes, a pony'll get to where it don't seem like it's worth trying anymore. White Hooves'll take their family, raider's might destroy their livelihood; maybe they lost their foal to the Taint. A lot of bad out there. Trust me, Doc, there are a lot of days when munching on a bullet seems like a good idea.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“I've had a bad day or two,” I admitted.

“But I see you're still walking about. You must have found something worth sticking around for,” he noted, “you're daughter, I assume?”

There was a no-brainer answer that I might have missed, “yep. She keeps me going. It was rough after losing her mother though. New father, raising a newborn foal on my own,” really hoped I was putting the right kind of emotional expression into my voice. I had absolutely no idea how a real father was supposed to sound while talking about this sort of thing, “but, it did give me a purpose. And that can make a bullet seem rather unappetizing.”

I wasn't talking completely out of my ass that whole time though. There had indeed been a good while there when ending it all had seemed like the right thing to do. It had been shortly after Whiplash had run me out of Neighvada, in fact. I was alone, destitute, and I'd been betrayed or abandoned by everypony that I'd ever know. I lost a lot of hope, and a lot of will to live. The only thing that had kept me going back then was a desire for revenge. A dream that I would be able to raise a gang of my own and take back what my sister had stolen from me.

Then the years had gone by, and the reality of my situation had set in. I wasn't going to be able to drum up the forces that I'd need to take Whiplash on in a straight fight. Heck, even if I did, there was little chance that any of the more respected warriors of the tribe would follow me anyway. After all, I was the pony who let himself get bested by his little sister and then run off with his tail between his legs. The White Hooves would never be mine, and that was a fact.

So then I moved on from revenge, to spite. I was going to go on living for no other reason than to spite my sister. Even though she'd have no way of knowing that I was still alive, and I wasn't about to make my continued existence public knowledge to the likes of the White Hooves, it was enough that I knew I'd survived. I'd eluded her and her goon squad, and had been living it up in Flank for nearly a decade before I'd been forced to return to the Neighvada area. Maybe I'd had to pay for it, but I was never at a loss for a mare's company, much like it would have been for me as leader of the White Hooves. Alcohol flowed like a Hoofington downpour. I worked only when I wanted to, and did only the jobs that I chose. I was a master of my own life, beholden to nopony.

It was a gaunt shadow of the life I would have had as chief, but it was the closest facsimile I could achieve.

That was why I put up with the bullshit that the Wasteland threw into my lap every chance it got; because I wasn't going to give that little apparition of my sister that lived in the back of my mind the satisfaction of seeing me quit before I knew for certain that Whiplash herself had been taken out. Even if I wasn't going to get to be the one that ended her, I was going to outlive that piss-yellow bitch.

>>TRANSFER COMPLETED.

My pipbuck beeped audibly. The doctor standing beside me glanced down at the display and disconnected the device from the terminal, “thank you, Jackboot. My staff can disseminate the files to the remaining terminals. We will also be arranging some sort of 'off site' data storage as well. Once bitten, and all that.

“Let's go and collect your fee.”

“Right behind you, Doc,” I said, with an audible shift in my mood. There was never a downside to collecting bits. If there was enough of them, I might even be able to by the discretion of an accommodating mare tonight. White Hoof brand or no, somewhere in this town was a mare who would be willing to come down with a convenient bout of amnesia for the right price, and it had been a long drought thus far...

We hadn't made it three steps out the door when I froze. There was a wheeled hospital bed sitting outside in the hall. A pony lay upon the bed, a dingy off-white sheet pulled up to her neck. The pony's face was turned towards the wall, and anypony could have easily been forgiven for thinking that they were merely sleeping. Even I wouldn't have suspected anything, and I'd been around enough dead ponies to know the difference. Of course, I did know better, having overheard the conversation from earlier. This pony was definitely dead.

What was more, this pony was somepony that I knew. A unicorn mare, with a cyan coat and a blonde mane.

Golden Vision.

The doctor looked back at me when he noticed my sudden stop. A curious look spread across his face, “I would have thought that somepony like you was used to seeing death. It's alright, we'll be tending to her soon enough when the space is available.”

“I know her,” I mumbled, numbly, “knew her...” You don't forget the pony who saved your life.

“Oh,” the doctor's ears perked up, “my condolences then. Perhaps you could help us? We don't know that much about her beyond her name, I'm afraid. Is there a next-of-kin that we can contact?”

“No,” I supplied. I didn't exactly know everything about the mare, but I knew enough to know that there were probably only going to be two ponies aside from myself that even noticed she was gone. Windfall, and maybe that Collard pony who ran the bar she frequented. Beyond that, “she didn't have anypony,” otherwise she wouldn't have been desperately begging me for a place to stay.

“You said she committed suicide?”

“You overheard that, did you? Yes. She got into the medical cabinet of the stallion she was working for and swallowed half the pills in there. He was taking a few medications, as older stallions do, and they are quite potent. She was dead when they found her the next morning.”

“Working?” I quirked an eyebrow, “last I saw, she was being arrested,” then some of the details of that memory clicked, “indenture.”

The doctor nodded, “non-violent offenders are often put to work on community service projects or custodial duties,” he explained, “this one was assigned to Councilpony Filibuster’s residence,” his expression darkened slightly, “poor soul.”

“What?”

There was a moment of hesitation, then he cast his eyes around the corridor briefly to ensure nopony else was around. When he finally spoke, it was in slightly hushed tones, “Councilpony Filibuster is known for...exploiting certain ponies assigned to his personal staff. He finds it easier with indentured mares, since they are in a bit of a bind. Under the law, if a pony in indenture is found to be performing their duties in an unsatisfactory manner, they are moved to work camps with the more violent offenders.”

“He blackmails them for sex,” even though I had tried to do something very similar to Vision not a week ago, I somehow found the idea that somepony else had done this to her repulsive. Granted, I hadn't realized at the time that what I was doing was a lot further from the arrangements I often made with 'working mares' than I'd thought. There was a lot that I'd do to a pony, even a mare; but I couldn't force them that way. More than that, I didn't particularly care for ponies that did, “and that's legal?”

“Of course not,” the stallion with the black coat snorted in disgust, “but proving those sorts of allegations is nearly impossible without the victim coming forward. And they won't, of course, since they'd be sent to a work camp before any sort of trial could be arranged; and likely die in that camp before the actual indictment,” he then added in a low tone, “it's been tried before.”

My eyes hadn't left the body during our conversation. I'd seen a lot of dead ponies. A fair number of them mares. This was the first time that a body made me feel angry. Golden Vision had been an innocent. She hadn't even had anything worth stealing. Nothing that she had ever done in her life could have justified what happened to her.

Somepony's growing soft in their old age, the voice of my sibling whispered in my mind.

It wasn't my concern. This mare's death wasn't my fault. She wasn't my responsibility, and neither was seeking justice for her death. It wasn't like I was the sort of pony that had any right delivering justice anyway. If I was going to go around making others pay for crimes, then I might as well start by showing the guards the brand on my back. What the fuck did I care that she was dead, anyway?

A little yellow pegasus in my head knew exactly why I cared. It wasn't that Vision had died, that was just what happened in the Wasteland. It was knowing why she had died. How many times had that councilor touched her before she'd given up hope? I knew there would have been tears; had he enjoyed her crying?

Of course he did, Whiplash commented, all bucks like him enjoy it. They get off on it. Dad loved my crying...

Besides, Filibuster was a well-to-do pony in this city if his title was any indication. Just imagine what sorts of valuable trinkets he'd have in that home of his. A house well worth burglarizing. Invading somepony's home was dangerous business of course. Why, what if the owner were to discover that I was there, robbing him blind? He might try to raise an alarm! Couldn't have that, now, could we? If I were to break into his home while the councilor was still there, I might be forced to kill him in order to keep my involvement in the crime a secret...

...And what a shame that would be.

“Well,” I finally said aloud, “I guess we just need to hope that a pony like that gets what's coming to him.”

I'd debated telling Windfall about Vision's fate. The little pegasus filly had seemed to respond to the blind unicorn mare. Telling her that Vision was dead was just going to upset her. Which, the more I thought about it, was something I wanted.

Not that I wanted the filly upset for the sake of it, per say; but I did want her to have certain opinions about various factions in Neighvada. She already had a healthy hatred for the White Hooves brewing, which I was pleased with. I had little love for that group as well. So we agreed that the group belonged on our respective 'shit lists'. However, where I felt a long-standing animosity towards the Commonwealth-turned-Lunar Republic, Windfall regarded them with a level of innate respect borne of being raised to consider them the 'good guys'. Her parents had been Republic citizens, and Windfall was not treating the uniformed guards with the level of thinly veiled contempt that I did. If I was going to cement the filly's loyalty to me, it would help if we agreed on our disposition towards other groups.

So, when I got back from the hospital with our pay, I let Windfall know what I'd seen in the hallway; and what the doctor had confessed about the cause.

Telling Windfall about what those guards had been arresting Golden Vision for had been a good first step; but then being able to relate the ultimate fate of the good-natured unicorn, how she'd been raped by a Republic official until suicide was seen as her only escape, pushed the filly firmly into my court where agents of the Seaddle government were concerned. Her tears of loss shifted almost instantly into vicious hatred upon hearing the news. Arrested for sleeping outside? Getting raped as part of her punishment? In Windfall's mind, I was confident that the Republic would take a close second to White Hooves and gangers on her 'vile-meter'.

This would hopefully mean that if any of our future jobs required tangling violently with NLR soldiers, that the filly wouldn't be inclined to put up a fuss. They were servants of an organization that had done such horrible things to a mare that she had risked her life to help. A mare that the filly had killed to protect; and the NLR had been responsible for her death anyway! The same NLR that had been unwilling to protect the Golden Vision from Adz and his gang in the first place!

Her reaction was almost vehement enough to compel me to inform her of my planned excursion that night. Giving the filly a taste of revenge, letting her sate her rightful indignation with a little blood, might also help to bring her around even more. However, a little yellow pegasus mare with blue eyes pleaded with me not to include the filly in tonight's affairs. She was young, prone to taking rash actions, and not as disciplined as I was on something like this. Windfall would be a liability without more training. So I caved to my psychoses' pleas, and didn't mention anything about my intended visit to the councilor that night.

The likeness of the statuette also tried to dissuade me from killing the councilor at all. As if he were the sort of pony that was deserving of an act of kindness. He was a wealthy bastard with a lot of power and no respect for a mare in his care. The sort of pony that my father would have made quick friends with. So, with that in mind, why not arrange a little introduction for the two of them in Tartarus?

I left Windfall in our apartment to stew on her ire at the NLR's leadership. DJ PON3's tales of the Mare-Do-Well could keep her company until I got back. I also offered to bring the filly back something tasty in order to make her feel better. This seemed to score me a few more points with her, which was the intent of course.

The wealthy side of Seaddle. Also the seat of the New Lunar Republic's governing body. In the time before I lost my birthright, the rulership of the Commonwealth belonged to an oligarchy of ponies that were nominally elected into their offices by the populace. Of course, during the course of my early life in Neighvada, I'd never heard of that leadership changing hooves in any meaningful fashion. They might have passed the titles around every once in a while, but the names of the senators on the whole changed little unless somepony died or found themselves out of favor with their cohorts.

Now these ponies were ruled by the lunar goddess returned. I'd yet to see her with my own eyes, but stories of her triumphant return in the midst of a battle with the White Hooves was widely told by the residents. According to witnesses, the princess' black form fell from the cloud layer that hung over the wasteland and immediately began to blast away at the tribal pony attackers with deadly blasts from her horn. A coat that was blacker than the dead of night, a mane that shimmered with a pale light that it seemed to generate all its own, and pale blue eyes that glowed bright with power. Her likeness, and shocking display of destruction, had ended the battle decisively.

The ruling elected official at the time, one Ebony Song, wasted no time in bending knee to the princess. She assumed her place as head of the government, appointing Ebony Song as her Prime Minister. Since then...well, little had really changed. A few royal decrees here and there, and of course the Royal Broadcast every day; but as far as I could gather from the locals, nothing had really...changed.

Which, was actually a little disappointing to hear. It was Princess Luna! The goddess returned! Shouldn't this have meant that the nightmare that was the Equestrian Wasteland would be ending and the Equestria of old would be reborn? I mean, I guess that wouldn't do me any favors in terms of my preferred lifestyle, but...even I didn't want to have to spend every day of may life pawing through dangerous ruins or ambushing caravans to make a nice stack of caps or bits. Maybe I didn't know how I'd want to earn a living in a reborn Equestria; but even if it might not help me, wasn't it still what Luna should be doing to help everypony else?

I guess it might have been asking a lot to expect the Wasteland to be changed in a few years; even from a goddess.

At any rate, Luna was not my concern tonight, one of her councilors was. Filibuster. An undersecretary of agriculture or something like that. I had no idea what he was supposed to be doing to help run the Republic, or even what an 'undersecretary' was, but whatever he did got him some of the nicer living accommodations in Seaddle.

His house was an example of the architectural expertise that could be farmed from a stable population. Obviously built in the last few decades, as it lacked any of the degradation or ruin that plagued repurposed structures of the Wasteland, the councilor's mansion boasted sturdy walls of adobe, and a slate roof. From the outside, it seemed incredible that a single pony lived there alone. Most of the apartments in the complex that Windfall and I lived in could have fit inside this single pony's abode. Well, 'alone' might have been a bit inaccurate. He had a house staff. Though, the smaller and significantly less well-kept building off to the side of the mansion suggested that the ponies who tended to the councilor's home did not live quite so grandly.

Unless he was blackmailing them into his bed, of course.

I spent several hours observing the house from down the street, feigning a great deal of interest in an Old World magazine that extolled the virtues of keeping one's head low during explosions. Pairs of ponies, dressed in the dark blue and silver accented liverly of Luna's Republican Guard made periodic rounds of the area. After watching two passes, I judged their presence to be meant more for show than much else. They were always far more engrossed in their own conversations than what was actually going on around them. Their gaze barely even touched on the large homes and businesses around them. They certainly weren't checking to ensure that doors were still locked or that windows were closed securely.

As long as I entered and left the house out of sight of the patrols, they'd never know that somepony was intruding on the councilor. So long as no alarm was raised from within by the owner. I'd have to make certain that he stayed quiet.

Ponies without throats were often very quiet...

I waited patiently for the latest pair of guards to pass by and round the corner, then I discarded my magazine and made my way swiftly towards the councilpony's mansion. I went for the back entrance, which I guessed was typically used by the staff. I tentatively tried my hoof at the latch, and found it locked. I had anticipated as much. I looked around once more, just to ensure that the guards hadn't decided to spontaneously double-back on their route, then I turned on the door. With a carefully lined up buck, I splintered the wood of the door-jam and felt the portal give way with a sharp CRACK! My eyes once more scanned the area for several seconds, my ears joining the search for signs of movement nearby. Hopefully, when anypony who might have heard the loud outburst and then heard nothing else, they'd write it off as their imaginations.

With a gentle push of my forehoof, I nudged the door open and slipped inside. I closed the broken door as best I could and turned my attention to the home's interior. I was in the kitchen. Made sense; the councilor wouldn't want the grubby servant ponies to dirty up the rest of his house right off the bat. Beyond was the dining room. A large wooden table with ample seating for over a dozen ponies sat in the middle of the room. Faded examples of Old World art and statuary lined the walls. Little of this would be valuable to anypony who wasn't also a Seaddle high-roller. Not to mention that all of it would be impractical to stuff into my saddlebags.

More pocket-friendly valuables would likely be deeper into the house. Perhaps I would even find something worthwhile in the master bedroom. No way of knowing for certain unless I checked.

A grin crept onto my lips.

Inside my head, the voice of my father suggested I try to claim the mansion for myself after I disposed of the current owner. My sister snorted derisively at the ludicrousness of that idea and merely encouraged me to kill the councilor as brutally as she had ended our father. He was guilty of a similar crime, after all.

The yellow pegasus urged me to turn around now and forget about killing the stallion. His death wasn't going to bring back Golden Vision.

Maybe the newcomer mare was right; killing the councilpony would serve no great purpose in my life. Realistically, anything of extreme value in here that wasn't cold, hard, currency was probably going to be too recognizable to sell openly. I didn't have the underworld connections here that I'd developed in Hoofington...yet. Windfall and I didn't even really need the money anyway. As it stood, with the finder's fee that the hospital had paid, the two of us could live pretty for the next six months or more. All the big expenses we'd had early on, the weapons and armor, were taken care of. Food here was cheap, and the rent on our place was relatively low.

Killing Filibuster wouldn't gain us anything that was worth the risk that I was taking. Not materially anyway.

...but killing him was going to make me feel good. An abusive, raping, no good son-of-a-mule dying at my own two hooves? I'd missed out on the chance to kill my father for what that bastard had done. This might help me make up for that in some small way.

Whiplash approved. Steel Bit scowled. What's-her-name sulked in the back.

I really should come up with something to call her, since it seemed that she was a figment that was going to be hanging around for a while. Creeping through a mansion in a heavily patrolled district of Seaddle probably wasn't the best time to be brainstorming names though. For now, I'd call her: Yellow Bitch. Since she was yellow and, well, a bit of a bitch when it came to speaking out against things that I really wanted to do.

Not that she did a lot of speaking, come to think of it. She either just said those two quiet words, or looked at me with those big blue, tear-filled, eyes. Ugh...

It wasn't hard to find the master bedroom. I just had to follow the snoring. This guy had sinuses that would make a Diamond Dog cower in his hole. It was bad enough that his blackmailed mares under his care into sex; but to subject them to that all night too? That was cruel.

I nudged open the door, only now realizing that I might encounter a complication in the form of his most recent carnal companion. I might have to kill her too if I didn't think she'd be able to keep quiet. It'd be a shame, but if I had to, then that was the way it was going to be. I just hoped that she wouldn't beg me to spare her life if it came to that. Killing somepony while they were looking up at me with that pleading expression...ick. Those images stuck with me for, like, a week before I got a decent night's sleep again.

Fortunately, I lucked out. Councilpony Filibuster turned out to be alone this night. He turned out to be an awful lot of councilpony too. Sweet Celestia! No wonder he needed to extort sex from his indentured staff! Though, my mind was still boggling at the mechanics involved in how this stallion got down to business. As I quietly approached his bedside, I idly debated if my knife would be long enough to reach his jugular through all of that neck fat...

He hadn't so much as stirred by the time I reached his bedside. I was now able to get some idea of how he got around. It turned out that Filibuster was a unicorn. Probably had to rely on his telekinesis quite a bit for mobility, I imagined. His snoring didn't falter.

Make him suffer...

My ear twitched at the suggestion of my younger sister. I could. Wake him up, flash the knife in front of his face a few times, listen to him beg for his miserable life. Might feel good to hear somepony blubbering, knowing that I held all the power and that all of his begging wasn't going to do him any good.

No. He was a unicorn. He was a loud unicorn. For all I knew, he had a spell that summoned the guards right to his front door. Magic was a force that I barely understood, and I wasn't going to underestimate it.

Awe...

I'd just stick him, watch him sputter around for a bit while he bled out, and then search the room for some things that I could feasibly pawn off without many raised eyebrows.

Spoilsport.

Fuck you!

With a cleansing breath to squelch the voice, I drew my recently purchased replacement steel combat knife and sidled close to my target. A series of quick jabs into the side of his neck to ensure that I got something vital. He jolted awake at the first stab. A geyser of blood sprayed forth by the third. His blubbery form stopped convulsing by the sixth.

I finally stopped on the ninth.

Panting, half my face dripping with crimson fluid, I wiped the knife off on the bedsheets and slipped it back into its carrier. I wiped the warm fluid away from my eye with my fetlock and looked down at the dampened arm with a frown. This might be a bit of a problem. Even at this late hour, I was almost certain to be seen by somepony on my way back to the apartment. I had to get cleaned off.

This house would have a washroom around here somewhere...

I left the bedroom and began making my way back through the house, scanning open doorways for signs of a sink or shower.

A sharp intake of breath from off to my right brought me to a rigid halt. I turned my head quickly in the direction of the errant sound.

...Horseapples...

A small dappled colt stood in the doorway to the dining room. Where the fuck had he come from?! There was no way that Filibuster had been a parent! Was he a member of the staff? An opportunistic burglar like myself?

Did it matter? He'd seen me. He'd seen the blood. He could identify me to the guards...

The colt turned and ran for the kitchen.

Get him!

This was probably the only time I was going to listen to the voice of my dead father. How could I not? I had to get the foal. If he escaped...

The little legs of the smaller pony flailed madly as he made his best efforts to flee from the house, but my gate was far longer than his own. In only a few loping bounds, I'd tackled the colt to the ground with the full weight of my body. His breath escaped him with a heavy grunt. I took advantage of his stunned state to wrap my hooves around him in a choke hold, applying just enough pressure to keep him from calling out in anything more than a quiet gasp as I quickly debated my next course of action.

What are you waiting for, my father demanded severely, he's seen you. Kill him!

The colt gasp and flailed in my grip, struggling to escape from the pony that was so very nearly crushing his throat. The sheer panic in his squirming was obvious.

Yeah, do it, Whiplash joined in, though her own tone was less serious and more mocking, it's been a while since you killed a foal. You're overdue...

Fuck you! I didn't want to kill the kid, I had to. I couldn't let him tell the guards about the blood-covered stallion he'd seen in the house that belonged to the councilpony on the same night of the murder. If this colt hadn't gotten a clear look before, he'd surely have a good description to give out now!

Which is why you need to end him! Steel Bit seethed, perplexed at my hesitation.

I couldn't afford to run. I had nowhere left to go. How would I explain it to Windfall? Probably best that I leave her behind. Just disappear and let the filly make her own way in life.

The gasps of the foal in my arms were beginning to shift into choked sobs. I could feel his cheeks becoming damp.

Good thing he's not a filly, my sister snickered, you'd have turned yourself into the guard yourself by now!

Shut up.

Kill him! My father was screaming at the top of his lungs.

Shut. Up.

You know, I bet I struggled a lot too...

SHUT UP!

Be ki-

“Shut up! Shut up. Shut up. Shut. UP!”

I was screaming aloud now, and I didn't care. I just wanted the voices to stop. I needed them to stop. Just for one fucking second. I had to think, and I couldn't do that with a chorus of ponies chattering away inside my head. A moment of peace and quiet so that I could think and come up with a plan, that was all I needed. Just one moment...of...

The foal in my arms wasn't struggling anymore. Why wasn't he struggling? I let my grip go slack, and saw the dappled head loll to the side at an unnatural angle. I heard the feint sound of vertebra grinding against each other.

I'd broken his neck.

In shock, I released the body and watched it slump to the floor at my hooves. The colt was sprawled out before me, bathed in the faint light of a distant street lamp that was spilling in from the ajar kitchen door I'd broken earlier. His eyes were wide. Frightened. His coat was streaked with blood that had rubbed off of my own face and arms.

For a long few seconds, I just stared at the body.

This...this was a first for me.

Not my first kill, obviously. Not the first time that the kill had been a young colt, either. This was the first time that I'd ever killed anypony...and not meant to.

Maybe I was a monster, but I was a calculating monster, damn it! This stallion had to die because he was shooting at me. That mare had to die because she had something valuable that I wanted to sell so I could afford some passionless sex with Saffron. Those foals had to die because my father told me to kill them. There had always been a clear and decided reason in my mind why I was killing somepony. Always!

But, this time...it had been an...accident.

I...sure, I guess I was probably going to decide to kill him. I mean, I had to, right? He'd tell somepony what I'd done. I was going to decide to kill him, wasn't I?

Or were the ponies in my head going to decide for me? I knew where Steel Bit had stood on the matter. Whiplash had been her usual sarcastic self, which had been no help at all. Yellow Bitch was a no-brainer on the issue of foal-killing. So that vote had been...a tie. Mistrial. Jackboot gets the final word for once in his miserable life. And what had I chosen to do?

I hadn't chosen to do a damn thing. I'd freaked out at the ponies yammering in my noggin and killed the foal in a fit of blind rage that hadn't had anything to do with him.

I'd killed him because I was crazy.

Slowly, I backed away from the tiny corpse, circling around it towards a nearby sink. My body felt numb. My mind felt numb. At least the voices were gone, for the moment. Well, sort of. There wasn't any sign of my father or sister, but I could feel Yellow Bitch still hanging around up there. She was bawling her eyes out in the corner. At least she was doing her wailing in silence.

I started the water talisman and splashed the ice cold liquid onto my face, gasping at the shock of the sudden burst of frigid fluid. Get a hold of yourself, Jackboot. He's dead, and that was the decision that you were going to make in the end. Running wasn't an option. He couldn't be allowed to live. It was the choice that you were going to make...eventually.

You. Had. To. Kill. Him.

That meant that it wasn't an accident. You just sort of...jumped the gun a little. It happens. Like with those caravan ponies a couple months back. That grenade trap brought attention to your presence earlier than you wanted, but you were still going to kill those trader ponies, weren't you? Same thing!

This was just a premature execution of a course of action you were going to decide to take in the future.

Yeah, that was it...

Maybe by morning, I'd even believe it.

I didn't take anything from the house. My heart wasn't really in it anymore, and I didn't feel like hanging around any longer than I had to. If one pony had managed to walk in on me as it was, more were likely to follow. Especially if anypony went looking for that colt. Probably for the best. In a burglary, the guards would be looking at a huge range of suspects. Put out word to shop keepers to be on the lookout for the sorts of things that the councilpony might have owned that were stolen.

Dead councilpony, but with nothing taken from his house? Then it was a crime that was either personally or politically motivated. Attention would be on spurned lovers—ha!—or business partners. Political opponents. Disgruntled staff. Some random stallion living in a shitty apartment with his daughter who had no ties to any of the politicos in this city? I'd be nowhere near their list of suspects.

I even made sure to swing by a couple of bars on my way home and stay long enough for a couple drinks. Make it look like I'd been bar crawling the whole night in case anyone did mention seeing a rust-colored earth pony wandering the streets that night.

Just moving on to the next pub, mister guard pony, sir! Ask at Collard's, they saw me. Bay's too. And Cottonwood's Saloon; stopped in there for a swig. Don't remember too much after that one though! Any other questions? No? Happy hunting!

When I got back to the apartment, I discovered that I hadn't been the only one to have a rough evening. It looked like Windfall had suffered some grief too. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. Hell if I knew why though. The door had been locked, so nopony had roughed her up while I was out. Maybe something to do with memories of her parents? I knew that could still be a bit of a sore spot with her. My family was a sore spot with me, and it'd been over a decade since my loss.

The radio blurted a little static. Which was when I noticed that it was still on.

“Good evening, children,” I quirked an eyebrow at the somber tone of the usually enthused disc jockey. It almost sounded like he'd been crying too! For Celestia's sake, what was with ponies tonight?

“I've always promised to bring you the news...no matter how...bad...it was going to hurt. If you weren't tuned in for my earlier broadcast this evening, then brace yourselves. The news is...pretty bad tonight.

“I already mentioned preliminary reports that Red Eye was claiming to have killed the Mare-do-Well. Well, children, I'm afraid it's true. You're old pal, DJ PON3 has some pretty reliable sources, and these sources confirmed that, earlier today, our Wasteland Heroine was...killed.

“She was lured into a trap. A dozen ponies, slaves, were being carted towards Fillydelphia by Red Eyes thugs. The Mare-do-Well leaped into action, as she always does, and fought to help free those slaves. Only...they weren't slaves. Mare-do-Well opened the cages, turned to fend off the remaining guards...and was shot in the back.”

The radio pony's tone changed slightly, becoming tinged with anger, “damn it! Buckwheat—I mean, the Mare-do-Well didn't...she didn't deserve that,” the deep voice cracked briefly. I narrowed my eyes at the radio. Had his voice just risen a few octaves at the end there, or...? Probably just static. The radio announcer cleared his voice, “I'm sorry, children. It's just...upsetting to see a noble pony like that cut down the way she was. She died believing that she was helping ponies in trouble.

“And that's what you need to take away from this, children! Yes, she died, but she did so believing that she was making the Wasteland a better place. Red Eye is a rotten bastard that deserves to burn in the deepest, darkest, pits of Tartarus for what he did; and we need to make sure that we keep working to make that happen. Mare-do-Well may be dead, but her message is not! We can do this without her, children! We can end slavery in the Wasteland.

“Look at all that one pony like the Mare-do-Well did; and then think about what all of you, all my good listeners out there, can do if we put our minds to it.

“Don't let me down, children. I believe in you!

“You can do better. We all can. Good night.”

Another burst of static, and then a soft lilting melody befitting the late hour wafted from the speakers once more.

Well, if Windfall had been awake to hear the earlier broadcast that DJ PON3 had mentioned, I guess that would explain the tears. She'd been a rather big fan of that crazy mare's exploits. Probably wouldn't be a good idea to quip an 'I told you so' at the filly. Though, I sort of had. I'd predicted that the mare was just going to end up getting herself killed for all of the trouble that she was causing.

Going around causing a stir and pissing off powerful ponies, and for what? Some sort of misplaced sense of morality? You didn't see me going off on half-baked...missions...

Fuck. That was exactly what I'd done, wasn't it? Well, look at all the good it had done! Filibuster was dead, but so was some young colt who'd probably never hurt anypony is his short little life. All so I could satisfy some warped concept of 'justice'. I could have just left well enough alone and let Golden Vision's death lie. It hadn't been my fault, my concern, or my problem to solve. Hell, if anything, I'd only made it worse.

The difference here was that I was going to learn from my mistake. No more hair-brained 'crusades'. I would reserve my killing for threats to Windfall and myself and pristine opportunities for bits.

Ponies in this town would be better off for it.

When the morning came, you wouldn't have been able to tell from how Windfall and I greeted it. Neither of us stirred from our respective sleeping spots until nearly mid day, though both of us were very much awake. For the filly's part, I suspected that her drive had been devastated by the news of her personal hero's demise.

Myself? Well, I was finding it pretty hard to want to do anything too. As much as I tried to convince myself that the colt's death had not actually been an accident, and that he'd had to die for my own sake; it wasn't working very well. The hard truth was I hadn't wanted to kill that foal. That was the whole reason why there'd been any debate going on between the voices in my head at all. I'd hesitated, giving the three of them time to weigh in. If I had simply acted the way that I would have with any other witness who saw me committing a murder in a town, there wouldn't have been a problem.

But I had hesitated. I had entertained the notion of letting him go, or at most leaving him unconscious so that I'd have time to make an expeditious escape from Seaddle. And why had I been willing to do that? Because it wasn't the colt's fault that he'd seen me. It was my mistake. I'd violated my own little 'rules'.

I wasn't at that mansion to rob it. I wasn't killing the councilpony because he was a threat to me. That whole episode was one big misguided fuck-up. Filibuster had acted a lot like my father, and I'd never gotten a chance to kill Steel Bit myself. I'd let some young mare, little more than a filly at the time, do the deed.

Because I'd been too scared to go against my father. Terrified of what he might do to me for defying him. Too frightened to help the only pony in the whole world that had needed my help. Or so I'd thought.

After learning about what Filibuster had done to Vision, another pony that had needed my help but didn't get it, I'd seen some glimmer of a chance at making up for that mistake. The mistake it had been to not kill my father when I'd had the chance. Busting in there one night while he was still in the act of raping Whiplash, stabbing him in the back while he was least expecting it, and claiming his throne for my own. How wonderful my life could have been...

...How royally I had just fucked my life up now. Like I even needed to make up for what my father had done to Whiplash for all those years. I wasn't responsible for him. Just as I wasn't responsible for Vision. None of it was my business. I should have just stayed away.

But I hadn't stayed away. I'd taken the initiative and stuck my nose right into the thick of it. Now two more ponies were dead. Filibuster I didn't care so much about. He was a scoundrel that probably earned being put down as much as Steel Bit had, or myself for that matter. No great loss there. The foal though...

He'd died because I'd fucked up. Died because I'd been too busy screaming at the voices in my head to realize that I was crushing his little neck. I think that was what bothered me the most. The 'how' of the murder, more than the 'why'.

I'd known I was crazy for a long time. Sane ponies didn't hear the voices of their dead father and estranged sister nagging them from half a world away. They didn't hallucinate phantom pegasus mares that they'd never even met before. They didn't kill ponies because the voices in their head were arguing with each other too damn loudly for them to concentrate!

Which was the tipping point, I guessed. I could handle being crazy. I'd been crazy for a lot more of my life than I'd been sane, assuming I ever actually had been sane. Being crazy was just my own little problem. Killing other ponies because of my insanity? That was more than a 'problem', it became a 'situation'. One that would need resolving. It was dangerous enough being in a place with a professionally organized security force just being a former White Hoof, without adding 'crazed psychopathic serial-killer' to the mix.

So how was I supposed to deal with this? I couldn't talk to one of the doctors. Something told me they were obliged to report murderers to the authorities. None of them had yet struck me as the type willing to look the other way for the right number of bits either. I hated ponies that had their morality intact.

I could try self-medicating with various drugs. Mix Med-X with a little Dash, or see if I could track down a Moon Dust supplier out here. Put myself out of it enough to where I didn't feel like killing anypony. Lot of good that would do me on trips to scavenge in the Ruins though. Assuming I didn't accidentally perma-fry myself while I was searching for that magically balanced dose that would mellow me out without putting me into a coma.

Try to focus my psychopathy? Let myself vent every so often on an 'acceptable target'? Yeah, because that wasn't exactly what I had been trying to do with Filibuster, and look how well that had turned out!

I could always just bite a bullet.

…

Well, if that wasn't a pleasant though.

This was when Whiplash chimed in, does that mean that I win?

I rolled out of bed and threw my shirt and saddlebags over my back. It was time that I found some suitable distractions. I strapped the sheath for my knife to my foreleg, but opted to leave the pistol. Given the thoughts that had just started trickling into my head, it was probably best that I not have it near me until I got my thoughts sorted. How I was going to do that, I wasn't sure yet. Take a walk around town, listen for any interesting news, maybe even find another job. So long as it was something that drew my thoughts away from suicidal ideations.

My eyes caught Windfall looking idly in my direction, but she hadn't stirred. While I very much doubted that recent events in her life had pushed her as close to the edge as I'd been, this sulking wasn't going to do her any good either. She needed something to occupy her thoughts almost as much as I did. Fine, 'Father-Daughter Day' it was then.

“Get up. We're going out,” wasn't sure where yet. Grab a bite to eat first, then see what drew my attention. I just needed something to occupy my thoughts. So did Windfall.

The filly didn't stir for a long moment, “where are we going?”

“Fricassee’s,” I replied, naming a little cafe that served a wide variety of pretty tasty food for most of the day. It was close by, and the owner seemed to have taken a shine to Windfall. The filly didn't entirely reciprocate—something about the way the owner pinched her cheeks every time they met—but she was at least cordial when we ate there, “then maybe look for another job.”

The pegasus frowned at that last bit, but said nothing. Instead, she rolled off of her pillow and slung her own little saddlebags over her back. As ready as she was going to be to face the day, the filly fluttered up and over to the doorway, landing daintily beside me. Her eyes peered up at me expectantly, and I opened the door for her to pass through. With another little hop, she was off the ground and out of the apartment.

I frowned her out and locked the apartment behind us. Windfall was already lazily flapping in the air beside me. I smirked to myself. I'd spent how many months wondering if the little pegasus was ever going to learn to fly? Now I couldn't get her to put her hooves on the ground for more than a passing second, “Doesn't that ever get tiring?

The filly glanced at her wings as she hovered there, and then shrugged, “Actually, no. It's weird. It's kind of like standing still, but with my wings instead of my legs,” she frowned, “it's hard to explain.”

“I remember when just doing a little hop put you to heaving,” I pointed out, recalling how much effort it had once taken the flier to give herself a little extra height when she jumped. I started us walking towards the cafe, Windfall bobbing along beside me contemplating her wings.

The filly flushed a little, embarrassed at the memory, “yeah...I don't know. I think I was just trying too hard, as weird as that sounds. I guess that actually flapping isn't as important as I thought,” frowned at her wings now, “who'd have thought?”

That drew a quirked eyebrow from myself as well. I knew very little about how pegasi flew, aside from that they did. I would have figured that their wings would factor into things quite a bit as well, so Windfall's revelation was pretty interesting, “so what, does it turn out, is important? You obviously figured it out,” I noted.

“Um...wanting to fly, I think,” the filly responded, sounding unsure of her answer. When she noticed my grimace, she tried to explain things further, “I just sort of...think about flying, and then I move my wings, and it happens.”

“So, what, all those other times you weren't thinking about flying?”

“Not really, I guess. I was thinking more about trying to get my wings to flap faster and harder to make myself fly. Not about flying itself,” her expression darkened slightly, “not until I saw you falling anyway. Then all I could think about was getting to you as fast as I could.

“Then when you fell...”

“You sure picked one dozy of a time to figure it out,” I said, adding a bit of a smirk to my expression, “but I'm glad you did. It was my lucky day, having a pegasus along.”

We passed by a couple of guard ponies that were on patrol. I noticed that they each flashed Windfall a look and then continued walking. The filly seemed to notice as well. When the guards were out of earshot, she ventured a question, “Jackboot? Why are ponies looking at me funny?”

“Because you're a pegasus,” I pointed out.

“I was a pegasus last week too, and I don't remember ponies doing that before,” she had me there.

“It's a bit more obvious, now that you're spending so much time off the ground. Most ponies don't actually pay a lot of attention to what's around them,” I explained, “they just sort of glance about and make all sorts of assumptions unless they see something that isn't normal.

“A stallion and a filly walking down the street? Normal. The stallion's an earth pony, and the filly doesn't have a horn; so she's an earth pony too, because that's normal,” as I spoke, a passing mare ogled Windfall as well, “stallion and a flying filly? Not normal.

“For Seaddle anyway.”

“Does that mean that there are places where it is normal to see pegasi?” the filly inquired.

“In the Enclave,” I replied matter-of-factly.

“The where?”

“Above the clouds,” I nodded my head upward towards the cloud layer that covered the Wasteland, “a whole society of pegasi, and nothing but.”

Windfall's eyes went wide as she stared above her, “ponies can live in the clouds?”

“Pegasi can. They walk on clouds.”

“We do?!” the filly gaped at her hooves, and then looked back up into the sky, “I want to try it!”

Horseapples!

Fortunately, I managed to snag the filly by the tail before she managed to rocket up out of my reach. The sudden tug evoked a startled cry from the flier as she was snapped back down to the ground with a rather unceremonious thump, “hey! What gives?!” she snarled at me, swiping her tail back and smoothing out the hairs.

“Don't ever fly up to the clouds,” I growled at the filly, “the Enclave ain't friendly to outsiders, even pegasi. I've heard about what they do to Dashites that try to return.”

“Dashites?”

“Pegasi they kick out,” I explained, remembering once more how little this pony had been taught about the Wasteland by her parents, “the Enclave brands them and gives them the boot. If they try to go back...” I drew my hoof across my throat for emphasis.

“So don't go up there,” I cautioned, “you won't come back.”

Windfall looked up to the clouds once more, her expression a little more sullen. It was clear that she had been rather excited at the prospect of being able to reach up and touch a cloud. Can't say that I wasn't curious about the sensation either. Of course, such a feat was a lot further out of my reach than it was Windfall's. I'd have to keep an eye on her for a while though, in case she got it into her head that she might be able to get away with a quick zip up to them to give the fluffy gray mass a tap and then make it back down before anypony was the wiser.

The last thing that I needed was for my pegasus partner to get zapped by an Enclave soldier so soon after finally stumbling onto the key asset that made a pegasus worth keeping around.

“Come on, let's go eat,” I resumed walking towards the cafe. Windfall lifted up into the air once more and floated up beside me.

“So, the Enclave hates other ponies,” Windfall started mumbling aloud, “the White Hooves hate other ponies. The Steel Rangers hate other ponies. The Republic doesn't care about other ponies. Isn't there any group in the Wasteland that likes anypony?”

I thought for a long moment, and then shrugged, “nope. The Wasteland's just a bunch of assholes looking to screw over anypony else.”

The filly frowned and groused a little more under her breath as we made our way to Fricassee’s. It was pretty late in the morning for breakfast, but that was alright. What was on the menu wasn't important so much as just grabbing something to eat and taking our mind off of the events that had depressed the two of us. I was more or less already on the right path with Windfall, what with our conversations about flying and the Enclave. She at least wasn't looking quite so despondent, despite being denied the chance to go up and touch the clouds. Even I wasn't thinking too much about that foal.

...Until about now, that is.

“Well, look at you!” came the delighted whiny of an older gray unicorn mare busing a table outside a cozy little cafe. She trotted over, a pile of dishes hovering at her side and smiled broadly up at Windfall, “fluttering about like a bloat sprite but three times as cute!”

The pegasus barely managed to suppress a shudder as the cafe's owner reached up with her hooves and cupped the filly's cheeks in a rough shake, “Murnin Miz Fricksee,” she managed to reply through her scrunched lips. I hid an amused smirk as the mare released my companion and allowed the flier to work the kinks out of her jaw with several exaggerated gyrations of her mandible.

Then the unicorn's eyes found me, a little twinkle in them, “The usual, cutie?”

My smile was far more practiced and convincing than Windfall's had been, as I was accustomed to flattering mares when it suited me. Even when they were far more aged and homely than I cared for, “Two lunch specials and your gorgeous smile, as always, darlin'!”

The unicorn chuckled and nodded towards an open table, “grab yourselves a seat over there. It'll be right out.”

We sat down at the table, the filly still massaging her cheeks idly. Her eyes followed Fricassee until the mare was out of sight and then her cynical eyes turned back to me, “I hate it when she does that.”

The smile on my face didn't falter as I made myself more comfortable on my seat's thin cushion and feigned admiring the city around us, “I can't stand her either,” I said in a warm tone that did not suit the words coming out of my mouth, “but you don't offend the ponies that make your food.”

“We could always eat somewhere else,” the filly pointed out.

“We could,” I nodded, “but I like eating here.”

“Why? You just said you didn't even like Miss Fricassee!” the pegasus hissed under her breath, “and the food's not that good...”

“No, it ain't,” I agreed once again with a nod, “but it has good view of the ad board over there,” I inclined my head towards the large standing wall covered in tacked on papers.”

“So?”

“So,” I informed the filly, “I can see who posts new offers for jobs. It's not just about what the job is, it's also about who's doing the offering. Let's you know whether or not they're likely to try to swindle you,” my expression soured slightly now, “see if I ever take another job from that cheating clerk again...”

“Don't they tell you who's offering the job?” the pegasus asked.

“Most do,” I acknowledged, “but anypony can write down any name they want and name any place they want. Then you go to meet somepony respectable sounding in a back alley and a bunch of gangers jump you to take the goods and your stuff,” I shrugged, “that kind of thing can happen.”

“...and the guards probably wouldn't lift a hoof to help either,” she grumbled. My smile became slightly more genuine again.

The sound of something heavy and soft hitting the ground somewhere close behind me caused me to jump up a little bit in my seat. Windfall's ears were perked up as well and both of us looked towards the source. I frowned as we beheld the sight of an auburn earth pony stallion that had apparently fallen off of his nearby table and crumpled into a sniffling heap on the ground. A very familiar looking bottle with the silhoette of a pegasus pony clinked and rolled away from the sad form.

A pair of plates clinked as they were magically lowered to our table and I flashed Fricassee a playfully hurt expression, “what gives, beautiful? I have begged you time and again for a morning drink, and you always tell me you won't serve booze before noon.”

The unicorn server's expression became rather somber at that moment, which shocked me a little bit. I couldn't recall this particular mare ever looking sad, “I know, and I still don't. But I made an exception for him,” she flashed me a knowing look, “poor dear's little colt died last night. Murdered, the guards said.”

I suddenly very much wanted this conversation to stop dead. No more comments, no more questions, and especially no more details. Seaddle may have been a pretty big city; but I was pretty damn sure that two colts hadn't managed to get themselves killed last night. So, yeah, I didn't need to hear any of the details. I'd come here with the intended goal of thinking about anything but what happened last night.

Of course, Windfall hadn't known anything about it, so naturally she was quite keen on learning more. The filly's head whipped around so fast I thought that she might inadvertently throw herself out of her seat. Her eyes were wide, her ear plastered back against her head, “somepony murdered a foal?! Why!”

Fricassee shook her head sadly, “nopony knows, sweetie. The guards think he might have seen the pony who killed councilpony Filibuster,” her tone soured slightly, “no secret why anypony might want him dead...”

“Do they know who did it?”

Another shake of the cafe owner's head, “not a clue. I'll go get your drinks,” the unicorn mare said by way of changing the subject. She paused and looked at the prone stallion, “and maybe some coffee for him...”

When she was away, Windfall faced her food, clearly not intent on eating any of it. Her shoulders were slumped lower than I'd seen them that morning. Her ears hung limply to the sides of her head, “why would anypony kill a little colt?”

Because he'd seen a strange pony covered in the blood of the councilpony's killer; and that pony had killed him in a fit of insanity while arguing with the figments of his imagination inside his head. All of that I thought, and none of it I dared to say. No way that Windfall was quite that dedicated to me yet.

Outwardly, I shrugged, took a bite of the lunch special—never did ask what the special actually was—and said, “ponies kill ponies. Age hardly matters,” that was how things worked in the Wasteland.

Right?

The pegasus sitting across from me looked downright offended by what I'd said, “but he was just a foal! How could he be any sort of threat?”

I actually quirked an eyebrow at that and looked directly at the filly. For a moment, I was silent, and then I said, “how many ponies have you killed again? Let's see, there was a farmer, a half dozen slavers...”

Windfall glared at me, but seemed to concede the point that age was not a correlation to the physical threat that somepony could pose. It wasn't the size of the pony, it was the size of the gun they were pointing at you that mattered. Not that the colt had been armed, but I felt that was besides the point. He had still been a threat. Sort of.

“It just...it doesn't seem fair,” the filly said quietly.

I couldn't help but snort a little derisively at that. Seriously? “'Fair'? What exactly about your life so far had made you think that the Wasteland is 'fair'? It's the farthest thing from fair that could possibly exist. You can come into this world with everything going for you, and then one day wake up and it's all gone. Somepony could kill you just to get at the scrap metal in your saddlebags, and then not even bother to take it.

“foals die young all the time. How much longer do you think you'd have lasted if I hadn't come along?”

The filly said no more after that.

Fricassee returned a short while later and set down a couple Sparkle Colas in front of us. I passed her the bits that we owed for the meal and she turned to leave. Despite myself, there was still a question about the affair with the colt that nagged at me, and I was compelled to find an answer, “hey, I was wondering,” I began, “if that was his colt that died, what was he doing at the councilpony's house?” Why had that damn kid been there in the first place if he didn't even live there?

“Fosterage,” the mare replied simply. At my quirked eyebrow, she elaborated, “sometimes a family either can't do right by their foals, or they want to give them a chance at a better life,” the unicorn server explained, “so they put their foals into fosterage. A richer family will take them in, and in exchange for doing a little housework and such, the foals are fed, cared for, and even get sent to a good school. It was one of the Princess's ideas to help the poorer foals of Seaddle.

“It's a good program,” the mare insisted sincerely, “and it does really help a lot of foals,” her expression faltered slightly as she looked back at the auburn stallion still lying on the ground, “usually,” she trotted back to the kitchen.

Fosterage, huh? You got adopted by the wrong stallion there, kiddo. Not your fault. Probably just trying to be a good ward and investigate the loud noise you heard in the house.

I looked back at Windfall and—

She wasn't there. I looked around, checking to see if she might have gone over to console the stallion that lost his son. Nope, not there. The little filly's room, maybe? I looked in the direction of the restrooms, but saw no blips that could be coming from there. Okay, had to admit, I was getting just a little concerned right about now. I looked up to make sure the pegasus hadn't decided to sneak off to inspect the cloud layer. No blips in that direction either.

Horseapples, where was she?!

Guess she got out while the getting was good, Whiplash snickered.

I was going to put a bell or something on that filly's neck...

My thoughts were interrupted by a commotion coming from the nearby market. A yell made its way to my ears, “come back here you fucking pigeon! You'd better pay for that gun before I blast you out of the air!”

Those words were immediately followed by a burst of small caliber gunfire.

My stomach grew cold. Horseapples. I had a pretty good idea of exactly who was being yelled at. I my next breath, I had bolted from the cafe in the direction of the shooting, which wasn't easy, as a whole lot of ponies were doing them damnedest to get away from the pony firing the bullets. Of course I had to be the crazy pony running towards the danger.

If what I think had just happened had really just happened, I was going to throttle that damn pegasus!

I found a gruff earth pony trader snorting and snarling at the air, a carbine strapped to his side integrated into a battle-saddle. My eyes followed his gaze, and I could just make out the small figure of something pale and teal winging its way off into the Ruins. I quickly went through the short list of things I had seen in this town that might match that description and capability and inwardly began to loose an endless string of profanity.

I ran up to the fuming merchant and pointed in Windfall's direction, “was that a little white filly with a teal mane?”

“Yeah,” the other stallion snarled, “fucking bitch stole a submachine gun from me and flew off! I'll fucking kill her that next time I see her, little whore!” then his eyes landed on me and narrowed, “why, you know her?!”

Horseapples.

Think fast, big brother, Whiplash smirked.

“Uh...yeah!,” I pumped a little bit of ire into my own words to cover up my hesitation, “the little cunt just robbed me to! I'm going to go after her and give her what's coming,” I glared in the direction of the fading filly, having no trouble sounding genuine right now, “That little bitch isn't going to get away from me!”

Without another word, and not keen on giving the merchant an opportunity to think I was being anything other than truthful, I sprinted down the street towards the city's main gates. I had a general idea of the direction she was going in, so long as she held her course. What her ultimate destination was, that was still up in the air—

Good one.

Shut up.

Anyway, as I was saying: I had no idea where the filly thought she was going to go. However, I didn't like that she apparently thought she would need a hefty amount of firepower when she got there. Hopefully, she wasn't going to need that gun, since it was only now occurring to myself that I was without mine. I'd left it behind in the apartment. I was now galloping through the Seaddle Ruins, chasing after an errant filly, armed with nothing but a knife. I wasn't even wearing my barding, and neither was she.

Fuck her, Steel Bit's voice rasped, let that little bitch die out here. She's more trouble than she'd worth.

She was proving to be a bit of a liability right now, wasn't she? I should just turn around right now and head back to Seaddle. Write her off as dead. Even if she did somehow manage to make her way back alive from wherever she was going, I should probably still cut her loose. This little escapade had to count as a pretty gross violation of our little agreement.

My pace slacked off until it was little more than a trot. This wasn't worth it. I had a generous stash of bits back in Seaddle already. I could take it easy for a good long while. Rest up. Heal up. Maybe I could even go back to working alone again, like I always had. I didn't owe that filly anything.

Except your life, Whiplash chided, but it's not like that's worth shit anyway...

What the fuck did I care if she'd saved my life once or twice? I snorted and shook my head. I shouldn't care about shit like that. I should be exploiting it. She saved my life at the risk of her own. Good on her. It didn't mean that I owed her anything. Besides, I'd saved her life first when I took her away from that farm and gave her food, protection, and a place to stay. That filly owed me!

Hard to collect debts from a corpse.

It would be hard to collect any debts if I ended up a corpse! Which I probably would if I had to go around chasing that filly through the Ruins like this every time she was feeling pouty. She needed to stop letting herself get so worked up about every little thing and start accepting how life in the Wasteland really was.

Cracks of automatic gunfire echoed off the surrounding ruined buildings. Faint, but distinct. Several deeper shot answered back soon afterward. Rifles. All of it coming from the direction that I had been running. Whatever the filly had been looking for, it would seem that she had found it.

I was in no condition to charge into a firefight, least of all one where I knew nothing about the enemy's strength and disposition. The filly was on her own for this one.

Of course she is. Fillies are always on their own when they need your help.

My legs were moving at a gallop again, but not in the direction of the Seaddle gates. I was running towards the fighting, which sounded like it was only intensifying as the sharp notes of gunfire increased in frequency. That filly was lasting longer than I would have given her credit. She might even still be alive by the time I got there!

You crazy idiot, my father seethed, the bitch ain't worth this!

Probably not, I conceded, and it certainly was crazy of me to be doing this. So, you know, par for the course...

It wasn't long before blips appeared in my field of vision. One yellow, which was sliding back and forth at a fair rate of speed, and four red which remained more or less motionless. Shots continued to ring out, announcing a wide variety of calibers and weapon types. I put a little more urgency into my pace, though I still hadn't come up with much of a plan of action other than move quickly, get in close, and stab a lot of ponies as quickly as I could.

I rounded the corner and took in the scene before me. Four ponies were scattered around the street, taking shelter behind Old World carts and piles of rubble. They occasionally popped their heads up and fired off shots into the air with their guns. A fresh body lay in the middle of the street surrounded by a pool of her own blood. There was a blur of white and teal that flashed across the sky, followed by a half dozen pops of gunfire and the sound of bullets plinking off the sides of a metal cart as a pair of ponies once again sunk low behind their cover.

Familiar green painted stripes decorated the bodies and barding of the ponies on the street. Vipers. Great. On the bright side, with their attention focused on the sky, they had yet to notice the rust colored earth pony that had wandered into their fight. Now was as good a time as any to make my move before they spotted me and decided that I would be an easier target than the little filly zipping through the air above them.

I took the hilt of the knife into my mouth and charged a pink earth pony mare with a spiked mane who was preoccupied with loading rounds into her revolver. She looked up at the last moment, but only had time to widen her eyes in surprise as I whipped my head around and plunged the combat knife in my grip up through the underside of her jaw. The mare jerked and sputtered as the metal blade pierced her pallet and imbedded itself into her brain. I jerked the knife free and watched her slump to the ground.

One down.

Sheathing the knife, I went for the discarded revolver. The weapon was a lot heavier than my 9mm was, and it felt awkward in my mouth, but it was sure to be a more effective weapon than my knife in this fight. Keeping my profile low, I fished the necessary rounds needed to finish reloading the weapon from the saddlebags of the dead Viper. My eyes widened slightly as I took note of the shear size of the bullets that this weapon appeared to take. Was this thing a pistol or an artillery piece?! Beggars couldn't be choosers though, so I loaded the tank shells posing as pistol rounds into the empty chambers of the revolver and swung the cylinder closed. I cocked back the hammer and took a deep breath. Next target.

A unicorn stallion was peering over a pile of broken concrete chunks a dozen steps away. The large caliber sniper rifle gripped in the azure glow of his telekinesis tracked Windfall's path and occasionally rocked back as it fired. The bolt immediately ratcheted back and chambered another round and fired again. A hit from that weapon would probably rip the little filly right in half if he managed to score a hit. Even a glancing blow might turn deadly if it was enough to knock her out of the sky.

I poked my head around the cart and lined the revolver up with the side of the unicorn's head and began to apply pressure to the trigger. Just then, the wail or bullets screeching past my ears, coupled with several flashes of sparking metal as the cart was struck by lead projectiles sent me sprawling for the ground. My shot went wide, barely even noticed by my intended target. Had I already been spotted by the other Vipers?

The alabaster blur that zipped overhead a moment later suggested that it had not been one of the ponies on the ground that had just tried to take me out.

Oh, for fuck's sake! It was bad enough that I had to avoid being shot at by the Vipers in my unarmored state, without needed to worry about the pony I was trying to help pumping rounds into me too!

No good deed, Whiplash chuckled in her mirth.

No good deed, I retorted in a mocking mental tone. Fuck you!

I glared up after the filly for a moment longer and then looked back in the direction of the unicorn sniper in preparation for another shot. Which was fortunate, as it allowed me to finally notice that he was looking at me as well. The other stallion was still for a moment, obviously quite surprised to see my crouched there. He blinked at me. I blinked back. His eyes darted to my side, and I followed their gaze. We were both looking at the pink mare lying dead at my side. Then our eyes met once more, and I no longer saw surprise on the unicorn's face. It had been replaced with raw rage.

Horseapples.

The sniper rifle whipped around and leveled at me, the unicorn seeming to entirely forget about the airborne threat buzzing the street. I clambered to my hooves and ran in what was perhaps the least intuitive direction imaginable: directly towards him. I was pretty limited in my options really. To my right was a cart, which climbing up would have left me exposed atop the high ground in the middle of a firefight. Not really an ideal location under the circumstances. Going left would have taken me into the open street, leaving me with no cover from the sniper or my pegasus 'ally'. Running away was hardly an ideal choice either, as it wouldn't have made me a very difficult target for this stallion.

So, towards him it was.

I at least tried my best to lope side to side in my stride. The stallion seemed to have trouble tracking moving targets with the weapon if his fruitless efforts to down Windfall were any indication. The large rifle bucked in the air, a gout of smoke and flame spewing from the barrel with a thunderous roar. The asphalt beside me jump up and splattered my face and shoulder with a spray of razor sharp debris. I winced, but maintained my charge. My recent acquired revolver recoiled several times as I engaged the trigger and pumped rounds in the direction of the unicorn.

My first shot went wide, the kick from the weapon far more than I was used to, but the next four slammed home as I moved my point of aim much lower. One caught him in the upper left side of his chest, picking the stallion up off the ground slightly. The next caved in his sternum. The third bullet pitched his head back as it caught him jut above the right eye and removed most of the top of his skull. The final shot found the center of his throat and removed his head entirely as it severed his cervical spine on its way out. The unicorn's decapitated corpse collapsed to the ground in a shower of blood and gore.

I allowed the momentum of my run to carry me to the stallion's former cover and rolled up next to the pile of rubble, panting. I glanced back at the remains of the sniper. Well, that was certainly a bloody mess, wasn't it? I looked at the revolver still clutched in my mouth with an appreciative gaze. This gun didn't mess around, did it? Of course, it was empty now, and I still had two red blips to deal with on the other side of the street.

To say nothing about the filly that could still end up strafing me from above at any moment. I needed to talk to her about checking to make sure of what exactly it was you were shooting at before you just went around spraying bullets everywhere at anything that moved.

I chanced a peek over the rubble at the final two Vipers. The pair of them were nestled in behind a pair of carts turned up on their sides, each poking from around either side of them with their weapons trained on the air. The building behind them denied the filly any chance of circling around from behind. They were dug in pretty well. Even I wouldn't stand much of a chance in an assault on their position. There was no way for me to get around them any more than the pegasus could.

In a perfect world, this would be where Windfall and I would take the opportunity to fall back and get away from this fight. However, a dive and spray of bullets from the filly that simply ricocheted harmlessly off the carts suggested that running from this fight wasn't anything that the filly was willing to do.

Crouching back down again, my eyes went to the sniper rifle laying nearby. I contemplated the weapon for a moment, but then grimaced. I'd be lucky to hit somepony standing in a wide open field with that behemoth. There was no way I was going to be able to pick off somepony sticking little more than their nose out from behind cover. I was out of rounds for the revolver too. I pawed briefly through the stallion's bags, but found little more than a smattering of rifle rounds and a healing potion—which I pocketed. So, he didn't have anything useful. Neither had the pink mare.

My eyes peeked back over the pile of rubble once more, this time seeking out that first body that I'd seen when I first arrived. A puke-green unicorn mare with black hair lying in the middle of the road. Presumably the victim of Windfall's initial surprise pass over the group of gangers. Her weapon of choice looked to have been a single-shot grenade launcher. A bandolier of grenades of various types was slung around her shoulders. I supposed that I could have made a mad dash for the weapon and tried to use it to blast the cover of those last two Vipers into slag, but I discarded the idea quickly. I'd never even really seen one of those weapons up close before. Hell, it might not even be loaded, and I certainly didn't know how to put a grenade into it if it wasn't. That would have just left me unarmed and exposed. Not worth the risk.

I did notice one other weapon that the mare possessed though: dynamite. Three of the dirty red sticks were nestled in little holders on her saddlebags. Those did present me with a promising idea. Not necessarily the dynamite itself, since I had no way of lighting them off hoof. The unicorn had likely used magic to do the trick. But, while I did not have any of the explosive sticks of my own, I did have something similar that a pony could forgivably mistake for them in the heat of battle.

My hoof groped around in my bag until I found what I was looking for. I smiled down at the crimson colored flare. Upon close inspection, it would be obvious that this was not anything like an explosive. However, I was counting on those two ponies not taking the time to chance a close inspection. Nor did I really need them fooled for very long. I just needed them to react without thinking to what they perceived to be the most pressing threat at the moment, and forget about any others for a couple seconds.

Using the pipbuck's Eyes Forward Sparkle, I scanned the skies for Windfall. The filly was coming around for another pass, and was even being obliging enough to be making it on the pair of ponies behind the cart, as they were currently the only ones still shooting at her. I removed the cap from the flare and struck the bottom of it against the road. The orange flames sputtered reluctantly to life and began to burn bright. I held the red stick in my mouth and waited patiently for the right moment, keeping my eyes on the pegasus' approach.

When I judged the timing to be right, I heaved the flare up into the air, arching it over the pair of carts the Vipers were hiding behind. The flare vanished behind them, and for a second, there was no reaction from the ponies beyond. Then one of them yelled something and dove out into the open...

...directly into the filly's line of fire.

The automatic pistol in her mouth burped out a hail of little lead slugs. The exposed Viper screamed and fell over, motionless. That left just the one left, who had not seemed to be fooled by the feint at all. He stayed low as the filly flew overhead and then began to shot up at her as she winged away in preparation for another pass. This was my chance to end things.

I scrambled over the rubble and charged around the carts, circling behind the remaining pony that was trying to take out the little pegasus. He didn't even see me coming. I leaped into the air from behind him and brought both of my forehooves down on the base of his neck. The earth pony stallion cried out, the pistol in his mouth clattering to the ground. The blow staggered him, and I pressed my advantage. I reared up and brought strike after strike down against the side of the Viper's head until I felt the skull give way. The stallion was motionless.

My eyes scanned the street once more, searching for any signs of any additional red blips that might have escaped notion. Nothing. Only Windfall's yellow blip was visible as it slid across my field of view while she arced around. My eyes narrowed in the direction of the blip, I calmly stepped out from behind the carts and strode into the middle of the street. I sat down and glowered, waiting for her to make her approach.

Celestia help that little filly if she took another shot at me...

She did not, I was pleased to note. Indeed, the white pegasus filly drew up short during her next pass over the street and hovered in the air, looking down at me, the submachine gun still held awkwardly in her mouth. It was obviously a little big for her. The two of us stared at each other for a long, silent, moment. Then the filly lowered herself to the ground and spat the weapon onto the asphalt.

“...thanks,” she said quietly.

My eyes narrowed, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” I snapped at the filly, “have you lost your little feathered mind?!”

Windfall winced, but then she glared right back at me, “I just did what I had to do,” she retorted.

I balked for a brief moment, “what?!” I gestured to the dead Vipers around us, “since when did you 'have' to do this?”

“Things weren't fair!”

Another blank look from myself. Was my insanity contagious, or had I somehow missed a huge piece of a conversation that the two of us had had? “what are you talking about?”

“Miss Vision, the Mare-Do-Well, that colt,” the filly's eyes were tearing up now, “they were good ponies, and now they're dead! My parents, my brother, they might be dead too, and they were good ponies! Good ponies keep dying, and it's not fair!” she was yelling now, and the tears had started to stream down her cheek.

“Since when did the Wasteland have to be fair?” I snapped back at her.

“Well why can't it be unfair to ponies like these?!” the filly jabbed her hoof at the green unicorn mare nearby, “they go around and hurt good ponies every day! Somepony should be hurting them!

“And that pony might as well be me,” she added in a determined tone.

“Since when was any of that our problem?” I demanded.

“Since I decided it was my problem,” the pegasus shot back, “if I'm going to be good at killing ponies, I might as well kill ponies that deserve to die.”

I had to admire the filly's spirit, if not her altruism, “you want to hunt bad ponies, huh? The Mare-Do-Well wanted to hunt bad ponies too. Look how that turned out.”

“So what if I die?” the filly screamed at me, more tears streaming down her face, “what do I have to live for anyway? My family's gone, and I'm never going to see them again, am I? Am I!” my silence was all the confirmation that she needed. No, she wouldn't in likelihood. The pegasus was quiet for a moment, “so what's even the point of living...”

I could relate to that. I'd felt very similar for a while after leaving Neighvada. There had been a time when I did stop caring if I got taken out. It wasn't until I discovered that deep well of spite within myself, and my determination to outlive the piss-yellow bitch that ruined my life that I found a renewed sense of purpose and desire to live. The filly hadn't found that yet.

Or had she? We all needed purpose in our lives. A goal. Mine was to see Whiplash dead. Windfall though, she might need a different purpose. Something to get her out of bed in the morning, and keep her fighting to see the next dawn.

“So, what, you're giving up,” I asked casually, “going to eat that gun you stole?”

The filly glared at me, “no. I'm going to kill every bad pony I can find.”

“That's a dangerous life,” I pointed out. I didn't need a suicidal partner. I needed to bring this filly back from the edge of this abyss that she was circling before she pulled me down into it with her.

“More dangerous than factories with crazy robots,” Windfall retorted with a scowl, “more dangerous stables full of pony-eating zombies?”

Touche, “you promised you'd do whatever I told you,” I pointed out.

“And you promised to teach me to kill whoever I wanted!” Windfall snarled at me, “well I want to kill bad ponies!” her ire dimmed a little, but her gaze was still hard, “that's my condition.”

I snorted, mildly amused at the filly, “you're dictating terms to me now?” she had spunk, I'd give her that. The jury was still out as to whether this was going to prove an asset or a liability though.

“I'm offering you a contract,” the filly said coolly.

My eyebrows arched, “you come into a hoard of bits when I wasn't looking?”

“There're your bits,” the filly stated, jabbing her hoof at the nearby mare once more, “you can sell those weapons for a lot, can't you? I've seen what the traders are paying for guns, I'm not stupid. There's what, a thousand bits worth of guns out here?”

Twelve hundred, actually, I hastily appraised. I hadn't looked through all the saddlebags yet, so there might even be more. The grenade launcher, grenades, and the sniper rifle would be the bulk of the haul. I was probably going to end up keeping that cannon of a revolver though. That thing was...potent. The filly did have a point too, this hadn't really been all that much more dangerous than anything else we'd taken on.

It wasn't like gunning down gangers and bandits was going to get us in trouble with the the Republic either. It wouldn't earn us a whole lot of friends on the shadier side of the law, but I'd already reluctantly decided to go more or less legitimate. My hang-up about doing this sort of work initially had been that seeking out well-armed ponies to rob was high risk when it came to getting bits. Leastways, it had been high risk when it was just me against a group of bandits. I hadn't really considered how much easier it would be with two of us. Working with a partner was a new concept to me that I had yet to fully realize to its true potential.

Until today. With two threats, it was a lot easier to divide the attention of our targets and get behind them. Windfall's flight and speed in the air added a whole other dimension that would take me time to accurately factor into our side's advantage. She could get from one side of the fight to the other in seconds with few obstacles. If I got her a decent battle-saddle...

I looked down at the filly, “so, you want to hunt bad ponies?” The filly jerked her head up and down resolutely, “you want to kill gangers and bandits and raiders?”

“And White Hooves,” the filly added icily.

I held her gaze, silent. How did the peanut gallery feel about this?

You're just going to get yourself killed, you stupid boy, Steel Bit growled.

You're one to talk, you dead bastard.

I bet the filly kills more ponies than you do, Whiplash nickered.

Bet she's already killed more ponies than you, bitch.

I was pretty sure I could guess where Yellow Bitch stood on the subject of killing evil gangers and bandits, the noble little cunt that she...huh. Judging from the sad little shake of her head, the pegasus with the pink mane actually looked like she was apposed to the idea of killing bad ponies. Really?

Well, horseapples, that decided it then. Anything that pissed that little bitch off was aces in my book! Guess that killing raiders didn't count as 'being kind'. Who knew?

A smile crawled across my face as I looked at the little pegasus filly, “deal.”

The filly smiled back at me for the first time that day. In her eyes, I saw a look I had not yet seen in the eyes of the little flier since we'd met: the eyes of a pony that wanted to kill.

Daddy's little filly...

Damn right.

Footnote: Level Up!
New Perk Added: Silent Running -- Able to sneak and run at the same time.
Sneak Skill: 50

CHAPTER 9: HOME ON THE WASTES

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“I know who you are. You are walking death, a plague in equine form.”

It never rained in this damn place.

I'd forgotten about that. All those years living in Hoofington, it had slipped my mind that until I left Neighvada, I hadn't ever encountered rain before. A decade later, and I started to take the near-constant precipitation for granted. Now, back living in the valley of my birth these last eight years, I was finally missing it. The impromptu cleansing showers that the rain offered. The cool, soothing, feeling of water running down your back when you'd had a long, hard, day.

But here? No rain. Just constant, oppressive, dry heat that never abated beneath an eternally cloudy sky. It was enough to make me yearn for the days when I'd found myself lying down in a shallow pool of muck while I watched my next victims through my binoculars. As opposed to my current perch nestled behind a bit of scrub brush, shifting uncomfortably on the parched rocky ground.

I repositioned myself for the umpteenth time that evening and continued to watch my current prey. Six ponies gathered around a crackling fire hollering and carrying on together in celebration of a job well done. Nearby was a cart containing several crates of Wild Pegasus whiskey. A good number of those bottles were currently being enjoyed by the gathered ponies. Their sloppy and wasteful methods of imbibing that precious liquid, getting more of it on their chins than in their mouths it seemed like, caused me to grimace. While I knew that there was no physical way for them to drink all that liquor and not end up killing themselves, the more of it that they drank, the less there would be for me to sell once I was back in Shady Saddles.

This would be a tricky little raid, but very doable. By my count, there were two unicorns and four earth ponies in the group, all stallions. A smile curled my lip. That boded very well indeed. Their weapons were the normal collection of bolt-action rifles and improvised swords that I had come to expect from most of the inhabitants of the Wasteland this far out from Seaddle.

With the war between the Lunar Republic and the Steel Rangers showing no signs of ending any time soon, both sides were paying top bit and cap for weaponry. This meant that most of the best guns were sold to either of those groups, leaving relatively little in the way of heavier firepower for everypony else. Rifles in poor repair, pistols, and imaginative melee weapons were what most of the Wasteland denizens sported as they sold the better stuff in order to buy chems and booze. Which was fine by me. I had little use for the heavier firepower out there, and I was appreciative that few of my possible adversaries would have any of it either.

I put the binoculars away and crawled out from my cover. My eyes remained on the gang of stallions ahead of me. The daylight had faded away, shrouding the land in darkness that was near absolute this far from any settlements. The only light for miles was the large fire that this group was sharing while they drank. So long as I didn't get close enough to get caught in its orange glow, I'd be the next best thing to invisible. By the time they did see me, it would be too late.

After a couple minutes of slow and methodical steps, I was close enough to hear what the group was saying. Or rather, what they were singing....badly. I doubted that the alcohol was entirely to blame for their frequent sour notes either. Credit where it was due though, the lyrics were clever, if often slurred.

Suddenly, their song drew up short, and every head in the camp snapped towards the south. Several groped for their weapons with hoof or magic. One pony didn't reach for a weapon though. One orange earth pony merely narrowed his eyes and took another swig of liquor while the other five took up unbalanced stances with their firearms. A leader, perhaps? I held my ground, as I was to the north of the camp, and well outside their current focus. I could see what drew their attention so abruptly though. A seventh individual had arrived on the scene. A pony draped with a long hooded cloak.

“Hol'ip right'dere!” one of the unicorns hiccupped, a rifle hovering in front of him wrapped in a red glow.

The new arrival stopped in their tracks and held up a hoof in surrender, “don't shoot!” came the voice of a young mare.

The sour demeanor of the stallions changed very perceptibly, and suddenly. Every eye was still locked on the seventh pony, but the barrels of their guns drooped towards the ground. The orange earth pony that hadn't bothered to get up from his comfortably reclined position when the stranger first arrived was rolling to his feet now. He approached the newcomer, a smile growing upon his face that appeared warm at first glance, but his eyes betrayed its darker nature. A group of six marauding stallions out in the middle of the Wastes with a lone mare that wandered into their camp? Any foal with two brain cells to rub together knew what they were thinking.

“Gentlecolts,” the orange stallion said in a deep baritone, “that's no way to treat a guest in our camp. Somepony fetch this pretty filly a...drink,” he nodded towards one of the unicorns briefly and then returned his silver eyes to the mare, “welcome to our Wasteland haven. Are you lost, lil' miss?”

The mare pulled back her hood, revealing an ivory face and close-cropped mane. She smiled warmly at the stallion talking with her and flushed with embarrassment, “I'm afraid I got a little turned around,” she admitted shyly, “all these rocks look the same. I'm trying to get the Shady Saddles, you see...can you help me?”

“Of course we can,” the stallion assured her with a grin, “why, it'd be right uncivilized to forsake a pretty mare like yourself in your hour of need. Come, warm yourself by the fire...”

As he spoke, the second unicorn and another earth pony began to slowly circle around the young mare, subtly surrounding her while her attention was held by the group's leader. I could see that the unicorn that had been sent to fetch her a refreshment was instead levitating a coil of rope out from one of their bags. They were going to pounce on her the moment they had her completely surrounded. No horn in the middle of her forehead suggested that she was an earth pony. No telltale angular shapes marring the cloak draped across her back meant that she was either unarmed, or had only a small pistol tucked away somewhere. Certainly nothing big enough to threaten so many large stallions like themselves.

They had her dead to rights the moment she set hoof near that fire.

The mare let out a relieved sigh and smiled gratefully at the orange earth pony, “you're so kind. I was afraid that you might be bandits. But I can tell you're good ponies.”

One of the ponies nearest to my side of the camp only barely stifled a snicker. The leader's eyes darted his way for only the briefest of seconds, but his smile held, “you are an excellent judge of character. Is there anything you need?”

It was not the mare, but one of the more obviously drunken earth ponies that answered the question. Far more loudly that even he had intended, I suspect, “yeah, a good fucking from me! Let's get her already!”

The orange stallion's eyes widened and he turned to snarl at the pony that had spoiled their plan prematurely.

For her part, the mare didn't seem the least bit perturbed at all though by the revelation. In fact, her expression seemed to be one of coy amusement, “Oh? Well, if I'm to be fucked,” the orange stallion was looking back at the white earth pony now with a rather bewildered expression on his face. Clearly he had expected her to be significantly more put off by the idea of her capture and ensuing gang rape. “I guess I should take off this cloak, hm?”

“Uh...” it looked like none of the stallions had expected anything remotely like this sort of response. Everypony merely stood still as the mare put her hoof to the simple clasp fastened across her chest and flicked it aside.

“Let's get this thing started,” the mare's smile then shifted from amused, to murderous.

The cloak exploded off of the mare's back with surprising speed. The cause of this became instantly obvious, as the white earth pony mare that had wandered into the camp was not an earth pony at all. She was a pegasus. A pegasus who was wearing a set of armored silver barding that covered nearly her entire body. A pegasus with a pair of 10mm submachine guns that had been very snuggly tucked under her folded wings, hiding their more angular profile.

Windfall's head whipped down to her shoulder and the mare grabbed a small tab attached to a cord and gave that tab a sharp yank with her teeth. The cord went taut as the mare's hungry eyes turned back to the orange earth pony. Her lips spread into a grin around the cord in her mouth, “surprise!”

With a second tug, the line depressed the triggers of her submachine guns and the weapons at her side came to life. A dozen slugs tore into the body of the orange stallion, shredding him to a bloody mess. The pegasus mare swung her body around and swept the stream of fire into the unicorn that had been circling to her left. He was slain in like fashion, with barely any time to register that his life was even in danger. With several powerful strokes of her wings that whipped up a minor storm of dirt and dust through the camp, the pegasus was airborne and vanished into the darkness.

The four surviving stallions had their weapons up now and were scanning the skies for the mare that had just brought down two of their number. These ponies had likely never faced a pegasus in any sort of combat, given how rare they were.

With all eyes and guns focused on the sky, there was nopony left to pay the rust-colored earth pony running up behind them any mind. I made a bee-line for a gold hued earth pony crouched behind their cart. His eyes and pistol were directed skyward as he fired off shots in the direction that he had seen their winged attacker fly off in. Though I couldn't see her either with my naked eyes, the yellow blip on my EFS informed me that Windfall was nowhere near that area of the sky any longer.

My hooves collided with the back of his neck, stunning the stallion briefly and causing the pistol to fly out of his mouth. Seizing upon my opening, I wrapped my legs around the other pony's head and gave it a sharp twist. I was rewarded with the satisfying sound of vertebra slipping out of place as they were forced to rotate further than they had ever been intended to. The stallion in my hooves jerked and then went limp.

A short distance away, one of my victim's companions noticed my insertion into the fight and took immediate exception to my choice of allegiance. His head whipped in my direction, a sturdy double-barreled shotgun held fast in his teeth. I pulled my own firearm from its holster. In a fair fight, the other pony would have had me dead to rights. At this range, and against that weapon, I didn't stand a stable-pony's chance in the Wasteland.

It was a good thing that I rarely engaged in fair fights.

With a thought, the world around me froze.

Oh, the wondrous miracle that was a pipbuck. I may not have understood a lick of what it was doing, or how it was doing it; but I relished the utility of SATS every time I used it. It was like a double dose of Dash, except it didn't leave me with my heart pounding in my ears and a bad case of dry-mouth. I smirked in the direction of the unmoving pony in front of me.

The magical field of the machine on my wrist lined my revolver up for a shot at the other pony's shotgun with a thought. There was sufficient energy in this spell, I had learned, to allow me only two rounds affected by its influence. So, the other bullet I placed in his head. Once both shots were accounted for, I mentally commanded the pipbuck to execute my loaded commands.

Time resumed, though not at full speed. I watched events transpire at a languid pace as the pistol bucked in my mouth once. The shot struck true, sparking off the offending shotgun's breech. The weapon popped upward as it fired, sending its spray of deadly pellets soaring up and over my head. The stallion winced as the bullet continued onward and tore through his cheek. His pain was short-lived as the follow-up round perforated his forehead and made a rather unsanitary mess behind his left ear on its way out. Only then did the world around me resume its normal flow.

It had taken me an embarrassingly long time to finally learn what SATS was and how to use it effectively. And now, I wondered how I had ever managed without it. Hell, if this was the sort of resource that all stable-ponies had at their command, how was it that so many of them got done in by the hazards of the Wasteland?

From up above, I heard the chatter of gunfire, followed quickly by the screaming of the other earth pony that had tried to flank Windfall earlier. A glance confirmed that the pony had been effectively cut down by the strafing fire. Dim firelight gleamed momentarily off of Windfall's silvered barding, and then she was once more consumed by the night.

That left only the single remaining unicorn stallion, who was looking far less certain about how the night would turn out for his libido. The rope had long since been dropped from his magical grasp. A pistol hovered beside him, panning across the skies as he backed himself up against the cart. I lined up my own weapon and fired. The revolver bucked in my mouth as it belched out another of the high-caliber rounds. The stallion screamed and collapsed to the ground. His right shoulder was a horrific mass of flesh and splintered bone. The pistol he had been wielding clattered to the ground beside his writhing body, his concentration broken.

I kept the revolver trained on him just in case the unicorn stallion found the resolve to pick up his weapon once more, or drew out a second one from somewhere I didn't know about. Though I did note that his red blip was flickering to yellow at the moment. He'd completely lost the will to fight us. How the pipbuck could sense intent, I didn't know, but it could. However, it couldn't necessarily predict how fickle a pony could be in every instance. A yellow blip could go red very quickly.

I approached the stallion slowly. I wasn't going to spare him or anything. Truthfully, the shot had been meant to kill the unicorn. Nopony had perfect aim though. Ammunition for this cannon of a revolver wasn't common or cheap though, and if he was really out of this fight, I could just as easily end him with my knife or a couple bucks to the head.

Then a small whirlwind of dust rose up from the ground, and I found my path blocked by an ivory pegasus mare with a short teal mane and a braided tail. She was smiling down at the whimpering unicorn.

The crippled stallion looked up at her with terrified eyes, “I surrender! Please, I'm sorry. Just let me go!”

“But I haven't fucked you yet,” Windfall reminded him softly. She jerked on the tab in her mouth. The automatic weapons at her side burped out a short stream of fire and the unicorn's whimpering ceased forever.

Windfall's expression became far darker as she snorted derisively at the corpse, “there, now you're fucked.”

The pegasus mare turned and looked back at me, a satisfied smirk on her face. Her eyes briefly scanned the camp, pausing on each of the six dead ponies. Then she feigned polishing her hoof, “not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

I favored the mare with a wry smile, “did you just try to deliver a snappy one-liner after you killed that stallion?”

“Try?” the pegasus said, seeming to take great offense at my comment, “I succeeded, thank you very much,” her expression shifted back to a smile, a very foalish one if I was any judge, “it was totally just like what the Lone Ranger would have said, wasn't it?” she very nearly squeed at the thought of her new idol.

The 'Lone Ranger' was DJ PON3's new favorite Wasteland celebrity. According to the broadcasts we'd been hearing, he was some sort of rogue Steel Ranger that hadn't taken too kindly to how the ancient technophilic order was treating the natives of the Wasteland. By all accounts, he'd forsaken the Rangers and was now crusading across the cpmtimemt, taking out raiders, bandits, monsters, and pretty much everything else that tended to pose a threat to the common pony. A real hero, if the Manehattan broadcaster was any judge.

As far as I was concerned, he was just the next idiot looking to get himself killed for no good reason.

Don't get me wrong, Windfall and I were blowing away a fair number of roguish ponies too, but the difference was that we weren't advertising it. We never took an official contract, nor put out word that the two of us were interested in any sort of hit work. In fact, depending on which town you went to, we had all sorts of different bland professions.

To the ponies of Seaddle, we were weapons dealers. That our stock was pried from the cold dead hooves of Vipers and Jackals was our little secret, seeing as how we never left anypony alive to report back to the rest of their gang about who was taking out their members. Way down south in New Reino, we were body guards. That our charges were recently freed slaves whom we paid a small sum to keep quiet about their ordeal and rescue was known to very few ponies; and vehemently denied by ourselves.

To Shady Saddles, we were booze runners or merchants, depending on what materials we recovered from any bandits that had sacked a recent caravan. Tomorrow, it looked like we'd be strolling into town with a couple crates of Wild Pegasus Special Reserve, in addition to two crates of the standard recipe. Quite a find, if the Reserve turned out to be real. As for the weapons that the raiders had on them, we'd keep them tucked away in our Saddlebags until our next trip northward to Seaddle.

I started pawing through the cart, taking stock of what was left intact, “if you mean needlessly stupid, then yes; it sounded exactly like something that showoff would say.”

The pegasus leaned up against my side, her face close to mine, “is that a note of jealousy I detect?”

“Nope,” I stated flatly.

“I think it was,” Windfall insisted, “but don't worry, I wouldn't leave you for him,” she assured me as she flitted away to begin looting the bodies of the slain raiders, “I hear he's a unicorn. They just don't do it for me. Too delicate.”

You hear that? Whiplash remarked with a knowing tone, she likes it rough. Take note...

I took a deep cleansing breath and pushed both the thought and the voice behind it from my mind.

She was still too young, I told myself. What, fourteen? She may look like a mare, but her periodic squees and gushing over ponies like the Lone Ranger were a reminder that she was still little more than a filly. Too young.

It's better to start them young. Let's you get them trained just right...

Ah, fatherly advice. Yeah, that was right out. Steel Bit could shove it.

“Magic makes them lazy,” I agreed, hoping to distract my thoughts from the subject matter they were pursuing, “they don't know how hard it can be to do something as simple as load a gun when it takes more than a thought.

“Throw some power armor in there, and you have the makings of a grade 'A' pussy.”

Windfall grimaced slightly, not seeming to be particularly keen on my appraisal of her current inspirational idol. She'd even gone so far as the emulate his armor in her admiration of the stallion. Her barding wasn't actually metal, it was lightweight leather and ceramic plates, similar to my own. She had simply covered it in metallic paint that we'd found a couple months ago. Now she was quipping one-liners at our victims too. If she started charging into fights yelling some inane battle cry, I was going to give her a good thumping to set her right.

Ooh, what about a spanking?

I mentally thumped Whiplash.

This band hadn't had much on them in terms of valuable possessions. Their weapons were relatively light caliber, and in poor repair. We wouldn't make much of a profit off them. The alcohol on the other hoof, that was valuable. Special Reserve was hard to come by, and impossible to reproduce. Standard Wild Pegasus whiskey could be reasonably copied and manufactured on the surface. Don't get me wrong, you could still tell the difference between Pre-War and Post-War brews, but it was close enough to not make much of a difference. Special Reserve though, you couldn't copy that down here.

The reason for it was that Wild Pegasus Special Reserve, according to the rather colorful label, was flavored with a 'Splash of Rainbow!' What that meant exactly, I didn't know, and neither did anypony else it seemed. Many ponies over the years had tried to create knock-off batches and pass them off as Special Reserve, but the forgeries were immediately obvious even before the liquid touched your tongue. Whatever the Old World manufacturers had used to give Special Reserve brews that extra little kick, was a secret that they'd taken with them to their grave.

If I thought the trader who'd originally been hauling this cargo was still alive today, I'd have made an effort to track him down and get the source of his stash out of him. Sadly, that too was likely a secret that would be forever lost to the Wasteland.

Windfall was once more at my side, apparently done with her scavenging. Her eyes were glued to the cases in the wagon, “Ooh! Is that what I think it is?” her wing swept up one of the glass bottles before I could respond, “It is! Do you think it's real?”

“Hold it up to the fire,” I told her.

The tried and true test of whether a bottle of Special Reserve was genuine or not: peering at a source of light through the amber fluid. Authentic Special Reserve would instantly separate into a spectrum of colors. Imitations wouldn't. Windfall held up the bottle against the bonfire, and even I could see the results as a faint array of colors spanning from red to blue illuminated her pale face.

Instantly, the pegasus' face brightened with a broad grin and she twisted off the stopper. A few generous gulps and she let out a satisfied sigh, “oh yeah, that's the good stuff alright!”

“And that one's coming out of your share,” I informed her as I closed up the crate and set about inspecting the cart's tack. Some dried blood that looked to be only a day or two old, but otherwise in good condition.

“Worth it,” the mare conceded and took another, shorter, swallow. She then capped it back off and slipped the bottle into her saddlebag. Her eyes danced over the corpses again, “these idiots didn't even see it coming” her tone shifted to a slightly more demure one as she threw herself up against my side. Her words were soft and trembling, “oh no! Alone in the Wasteland! A dainty little mare like me, however will I survive without a big, strong, stallion to protect me?”

Her words broke off into an amused chortle that ended with a sigh, “it gets them every time.”

“One of your better performances,” I acknowledged, “that bit at the end was a good touch too. Not the one-liner,” I amended with a sour smile, “but that whole part about suggesting you'd be up for a rutting. Put them all off for a good couple seconds.”

“I had to stall them somehow,” the pegasus sighed, favoring me with a sorrowful expression, “somepony was almost late to the party. You're slowing down there in your old age.”

I sidestepped without warning. My intent had been to relieve Windfall of her support and cause her to fall to the ground as a passive reprimand for that remark. However, the mare's wings shot out almost instantly and began flapping leisurely. The pegasus retained her pose, as though she were still leaning up against me. She clicked her tongue several times with a slow, sad shake of her head, “forgetful too. I haven't fallen over in years.”

“I liked you better when you couldn't fly,” I said to the flier in a dour tone as I started walking in the direction of Shady Saddles.

Windfall hopped into the air and floated beside me, “so, what are you going to do with your share? Me? I going to claim half of one of those Special Reserve bottles for myself,” she cradled her current bottle lovingly against her breast, “then I'm going to have a chat with Flechette about those drum mags he mentioned last time. Just think of how awesome it would be to be able to fire off two hundred rounds without needing to reload!

“Oh, that reminds me,” the pegasus dropped to the ground and looked back at her concealed submachine guns as her wings swapped out the empty magazines for full ones from her saddlebags, “I'd meant to put a lot more bullets into that last guy, but the girls ran dry on me,” the magazines clicked into place and Windfall used her pinions to chamber an initial round in each weapon before once more taking flight at my side.

She glanced at her hoof, “then I'm thinking of having my hooves done. Do you think I should get them painted, or just a polish?”

“It's your money,” I shrugged.

“Just a polish then. If I get them painted, I'd have to decide on the right color and there are just so many that go well with white,” Windfall fluttered slightly ahead and turned around to regard me expectantly as she continued to move effortlessly backwards with delicate flaps of her wings, “but seriously, what are you going to do?”

I shrugged again, “sell the booze, buy a drink, buy some ammo, sleep,” I listed off simply.

“That's it? Come on, Jackboot! Your cut from this is going to be a few hundred bits, at least! Aren't you going to do anything fun with it?” the mare sounded almost insulted that my plans for the day were so mundane.

“Drinking is fun.”

“We should do something together,” the pegasus suggested, “why not come with me to French Tip's?”

I frowned, “I'm not a hoof polish kind of stallion.”

“She does other things,” Windfall rolled her eyes and then jabbed a hoof at my head, “she could touch up your mane!”

“My mane?”

“Well, you know, it's getting a little...whitier,” the mare offered a sheepish smile, “kind of makes you look old.”

“Gee...thanks,” I glowered at the flying mare. I was only just pushing forty. I wasn't old. Sure my back was sore most days, and my left knee felt stiff every morning, but that wasn't because of age. I lead a rough life. It was bound to take its toll.

I was finding myself waking up more often during the night to take a leak though...

Shady Saddles: the southernmost town of the New Lunar Republic. A nice little place really, if a bit frontierish. It was something of a gateway town between the NLR and the as of yet unincorporated towns in the valley, like New Reino. As such, you tended to see a lot of ponies from various walks of life here, and only minimal Republic presence. Shady Saddles citizens were all technically Republic citizens of course, but most of them hardly even noticed it. Until tax time.

Windfall flew off once we reached the entrance to the town, reminding me several times that when I went to sell the booze, six of those Special Reserve bottles belonged to her. Then she was gone, calling after the resident arms merchant.

The pegasus had grown up fast, it seemed like. I'd taught her what I knew, and she'd improvised most of the rest. Not everything that an earth pony stallion like me knew was necessarily relevant to a pegasus mare. The flying and aerial acrobatics she had needed to hone on her own through trial and error. A lot of error at first. That filly seemed to strain or sprain her wing every other week in the beginning as she pushed herself to perform ever more daring feats. I didn't have much to compare her progress to, but the mare had gotten pretty good in my opinion.

Capable with a gun too. She wasn't a deadeye by any means, and she still pulled up and to the left every now and ten, but she could be counted on to reliably put a bullet somewhere in a target. Her weapons of choice were the pair of 10mm submachine guns that she continually referred to as, 'the girls'. If she'd given them individual names, she'd never said them aloud that I'd ever heard. Most days, they were rigged up to a proper battle saddle. However, when an avenue of approach required stealth, as with last night, the weapons were strapped into a special thong under her wings with a pull cord controlling their triggers. It was less accurate than a standard harness, but with her wings folded in you couldn't hardly tell that she was armed.

Now if only I could find some way to get her to take this more seriously. Like with this Lone Ranger kick that she was on. This was arguably worse than her old obsession with the Mare-Do-Well, since this time she was actively using the Ranger's bad habits. Reflective armor that caught the light, charging headlong into fights, and even pausing to deliver superfluous quips before finishing off her opponents.

That sort of behavior was all well and good for somepony wearing power armor and sporting heavy weaponry. To say nothing of the advantages that his magic offered, but Windfall was not outfitted nearly so well. Her barding may have looked metallic, but it was mostly just boiled brahmin hide with a few strategically placed ceramic plates that really only offered protection from small bits of shrapnel and grazing low-caliber shots. While taking a rifle round straight to the chest would probably just annoy the Lone Ranger, it would absolutely outright end the pegasus.

Of course, my cautionary warnings were almost continually overshadowed by DJ PON3's next broadcast about the renegade Steel Ranger's latest heroic act, often accompanied by audio recordings of the Ranger delivering his latest warning to the bandits of the Wasteland.

I pulled the cart up in front the town's premier drinking establishment, Bourbon Street. I'd done business with the owner on several prior occasions, a brown unicorn mare by the name of Sandalwood. She gave me a fair enough deal on what I brought, and if I was going to have to negotiate with a bar owner, it may as well be a cute one.

This early in the morning, the place was basically empty, save for those few like myself who had braved traveling at night in order to avoid the hazards of the day. A few of young stallions dressed in the dusters of small time peddlers were seated at a table chatting amongst themselves, and barely took notice of my entrance. Sandalwood noticed though.

“Why, Jackboot!” the unicorn greeted me warmly. Her eyes darted past me towards the entrance for a brief moment, “where's your little friend?”

“Shopping,” I answered with a smile of my own. It wasn't quite as genuinely warm as the unicorn's was, but it was pleasant enough. Hard to be genuinely happy to see a pretty mare like that when you knew that you couldn't fuck them without getting yourself exposed, “I don't suppose you're in a buying mood today?”

“Right to business, as usual,” the brown bar owner noted with a nod of her head. She gestured towards the few patrons that were currently present, “as you can see, I have customers at all hours. Which means I'm in constant need of fresh stock. What have you got for me?” then her expression soured slightly, “and it better not be any more of that Jennyson crap. Turns out there ain't nopony who's interested in that stuff. It took me months to find a buyer!”

“Must have been why I got such a good deal on it,” I lied, knowing full well that the alcohol in question had been obtained in a similar manner to my current stock, “don't worry, I have some Wild Pegasus this time,” Sandalwood's expression brightened once more, “and something better too: genuine Special Reserve.”

The sour expression returned, “now, Jackboot, I like to think we have a good thing going with our business relationship,” the unicorn mare began in a chiding tone, “don't go ruining it by trying to feed me some line about 'Special Reserve'. I don't deal in those imitations like some less savory bartenders.”

As she spoke, I pulled out one of the aforementioned bottles and set it on the counter, a smug smile on my face. Flashing me a skeptical look, the unicorn levitated the bottle up into the air and examined the label, “hmm. I'll admit it's excellent work. The paper looks genuinely aged and...” her words trailed off. I could see the faint prism of colors painted across her face as the fluid caught the light. The unicorn's eyes went wide and fixed on me, “...it's real,” she whispered, setting the bottle down on the counter, “how'd you get your hooves on a real bottle of Special Reserve?!”

“Eighteen bottles, to be precise,” I informed the mare with a grin, “interested?”

“You know Celestia damn well I'm interested!” the mare hissed at me, “when word gets out that I have a supply of Special Reserve I'll have customers coming here all the way from Seaddle just for a shot of this stuff. Jackboot, I'm not normally that kind of mare, but I would let you do all manner torrid and unspeakable things to me for your source.”

I was pretty sure that she was exaggerating. Maybe. I any case, the mark on my back made me reluctant to entertain the notion of seeing how serious an offer she was making, so I merely chuckled, “trade secret.”

“Of course,” the mare seemed to deflate slightly, “so, what're you asking?”

“The usual rate for the two cases of Wild Pegasus standard I've got, and fifteen hundred for the Special Reserve.”

This got Sandalwood's attention. She narrowed her eyes at me, “that's too fair a price,” she correctly noted, “what's the catch?”

“I want the fifteen hundred in caps...at the current Republic exchange rate.”

“I see,” the unicorn rubbed her chin with her hoof, casting an aside glance at me, “two thousand caps, huh? Plus the three hundred bits for the standard. The bits I can do you right now, but the caps...it'll take me some time to get that many together.”

“How long?”

She thought for a good long moment, “assuming no major setbacks? I should have them by tomorrow morning.”

“That's fine,” I nodded. I extended my hoof over the counter, “we have a deal then?”

The mare tapped her smaller hoof to mine and nodded, “oh, indeed we do!” she glanced down momentarily and her horn flared. I heard the dull click of a lock opening followed soon by the sound of the ancient hinges of a safe door swinging open. Three small canvas pouches rose up into sight, enveloped in the unicorn's magic and were set down on the desk. I deftly scooped them into my saddlebags, idly noting the pipbuck confirm the amount that I had received.

Sandalwood closed the safe and regarded me appreciatively, “heading to New Reino, are we?”

It was a fair guess. New Reino wasn't an NLR controlled town, and so they didn't use the Republic's currency internally. Not officially anyway. Some merchants might be willing to accept bits as payment if they knew they'd be heading north, but your safest bet was to barter with caps. There existed places in the city where you could exchange your money one way or the other, but they were all controlled by the three ponies that literally owned New Reino. You only got a one-for-one exchange rate turning bits into caps, and you got even worse going the other way.

So there was only one real reason why somepony would be asking for payment in caps in the New Lunar Republic: they were heading south. New Reino was the largest town out that way, and probably the only one that was worth going to.

“Lot of stills down there,” I said by way of explanation, “good place to pick up stock for a booze runner like myself.”

“True, true,” the bar owner nodded her agreement.

In point of fact, of course, I was headed there for no such reason. My inventory was pried from the hooves of dead bandits, not purchased for resale from local distributors. No, the money was for myself, and the reason for New Reino as my destination was simple: nopony asked questions. It was the kind of place where you could walk into a bank with a sack of caps, deposit it, and walk out without anypony hassling you for tax forms. Not that New Reino had any actual “banks”. However, there were clubs and casinos that would permit you to store your valuables in their vaults for a nominal fee. Which was what I did, and had been doing for the last eight years.

A glass floated out from behind the bar and Sandalwood poured a measure of the Special Reserve into it before sliding one towards me, “have a drink, on the house.”

With a wry smile, I reached for the glass...

“I get one too, right?”

I about leaped right out of my hide. At least Sandalwood had managed to catch the drink before it spilled.

Damn that mare and her wings! I swear to Celestia I was either going to clip them or put a fucking bell around her neck. How was a pony supposed to hear somepony walking up behind them when they didn't actually have to walk? I glared at the pegasus hovering just behind me, noting the mischievous little smile tugging at her lips. Yup, she'd done that on purpose. I bit back the scolding that I'd have loved nothing more than to deliver, opting not to cause a scene in front of Sandalwood. My act of “kindness” for the week to satisfy the little yellow pegasus mare that lived in my head. I had found, over the years, that she could be compelled to remain out of my thoughts so long as she was appeased by the occasional act of altruism. A small price to pay for literal peace of mind.

If only Steel Bit and Whiplash could be so easily mollified...

My eyes went to the unicorn bartender. She smirked and produced a second glass, filling it with a measure as well. Windfall swooped in and collected her treat, throwing it back with barely a “thank you”. She then whipped out her own half-empty bottle and refilled her glass. I rolled my eyes and carried my own drink to an empty table. My albatross of a pegasus companion deigned to join me, even going so far as to cease her fluttering and sit down.

“That was quick,” I noted dryly.

The alabaster mare shrugged, “eh, Flechette sold the drums to somepony else the other day and French Tip isn't open yet. So I figured I'd find out how the sale went.”

I slipped a hoof into my saddlebag and tossed the three small pouches onto the table, “there's your cut: three hundred bits.”

“That's it?” the pegasus frowned, even as she swept them into her own bag with the tip of her wing.

“Plus your six bottles of Special Reserve,” I pointed out as I took a careful sip of my drink. Surprisingly spicy, I noted.

“Oh, right,” that response seemed to satisfy the flier and she took another swig from her bottle, “so, where are we off to next?”

I feigned thinking for a few brief moments, “we could head to New Reino again,” I suggested, “that region's always got a criminal element roaming around. Plenty of deserving ponies for you to violently rehabilitate.”

For the scarcest of moments, a darkness passed across Windfall's face. I'd seen that expression on her before many times. Often it was bathed in the flickering flares of muzzle flashes as she gunned down some raider or other. I used to wear a similar expression in the arena, while bathed in blood and gore. Similar, but...different. I couldn't quite put my hoof on it, but I couldn't shake the feeling that those dark thoughts that the pegasus mare was entertaining weren't about her future victims.

The sound of hushed whispers and a scraping chair from across the room drew my attention to the bar's other patrons. Their conversation had shifted in its tone perceptibly, and I could see now that one of them was darting their eyes in our direction every so often. Wait, no. Not our direction, just Windfall's. Oh, for the...not this shit again...

Sure enough, the whispering culminated in one of the stallions pushing himself away from the others and strutting towards us. If he noticed my stern expression, a subtle hint for him to abort this folly, the younger earth pony gave no indication. Given how fervently his gaze was wandering up and down Windfall's spine, I doubted that he had even noticed my existence.

The white pegasus sitting across from me quirked an eyebrow at the sudden shift in my mood, and turned to follow the direction of my stare. The stallion walking up behind her put a broad grin up on his face and made his introduction, “hey there, little filly, why don't you ditch grandpa there and let a real stallion like myself show you a good time in this town?”

'Grandpa'? Really? I shot up to my feet, slamming a hoof on the table to get the youth's attention. His startled eyes locked on me, as did Windfall's, “this is a private conversation we're having. Go back to your drinking and maybe this 'grandpa' won't have to make himself a new set of dentures from the teeth he'll knock out of your mouth.”

“Woah,” the younger earth pony waved his hoof at me dismissively, “no need for the hostility, buddy. I'm just extending an offer to the lovely filly here. Not my fault if she says 'yes'...” his eyes went back to Windfall, searching for her answer to his invitation.

I stepped around the table, placing myself between them, glaring at the interloper. Stallions made eyes and passes at Windfall. That was just a thing that happened in most places. She was a good looking mare in her own right, and pegasi were rather exotic in the Wasteland. However, just because it happened, that didn't mean that I had to like it, and I didn't. It's not that I believed that they'd somehow manage to lure her from my side and disrupt our enterprising little partnership. I just...I didn't like the idea of somepony like this touching her.

Windfall could do better than this fool.

Like, you, brother dear?

No. She could do better than me, too.

“Back. Off.”

“Ooh...jealous boyfriend?” the stallion ventured. I could smell the whiskey on his breath now. He was drunk and stupid; though I doubted that one condition was responsible for the other, “afraid she might like what I got better than some flaccid old-”

Whatever he was about to say, he never got to finish saying it. I didn't give him that chance. Somehow, I got the impression that either the younger stallion hadn't thought things would get physical, or if they did, that he would have seen it coming soon enough to react. Maybe if he'd been sober, he would have. It wouldn't have helped him, of course; but he probably wouldn't have been so thoroughly caught off his guard like he was.

I was on him in an instant. He didn't even cry out or react. He just stopped speaking as my forehoof cuffed him upside the head. The blow was followed immediately by a tackle that took him to the floor. A couple more quick jabs into his nose to get it bleeding, and then a hoof pressed down against his windpipe. I wasn't interested in killing him...well, okay, so I was interested, but I didn't think that Sandalwood would have appreciated that very much.

The pony beneath me was looking into my face with wide, terrified, eyes, trying to choke something out with great difficulty. I heard more scraping of chairs on the wood-planked floor. His friends were scrambling to come to their comrade's aid. How many had their been at that table? Four? I could fight four ponies if they were drunk enough. There might be some collateral damage to the bar though, and Sandalwood might not be happy with that. I also couldn't guarantee that I would leave them all alive by the end. It was hard to go easy on somepony when you were fighting a group of them.

My temper may have just gotten us into trouble.

I was plotting exit strategies in my head when I suddenly heard the metallic snap of a gun's safety being flicked into the 'fire' position. Fuck, had there been a fifth patron that I had forgotten?

The other three stallions in front of me halted in their tracks. A mare's voice spoke from just behind me, “easy there, fellas. I'm sure they're just going to have a friendly little discussion. Aren't you, Jackboot?”

My eyes darted left, and I saw that Windfall was standing beside me. One of her wings was flipped up, exposing the submachine gun nestled beneath. In her mouth was the tab wired to the trigger, the barrel of her weapon keeping the three stallions honest. The pegasus mare's eyes were on me though.

I took a breath. I guess I'd be entertaining two acts of kindness this week. Yellow Bitch better not expect much from me next week. My eyes went back to the pony beneath my hoof. He was terrified, and still struggling for a full breath. My point had been made, and Windfall's choice looked to be clear. There was nothing more to gain from inflicting further pain on him. I could also see the brown unicorn watching me from behind to the bar with a critical eye.

With a final snort at the prone stallion, I stepped off him and headed for the door, “let's go find a room somewhere. It was a long trip,” Windfall followed me out with a parting smile and wave of her wing towards the staring stallions.

Once outside, the pegasus mare's pleasant smile fell away in concern as she trotted up to my side, “what the hell was that all about?”

“They were being rude.”

“Yeah, drunks usually are,” Windfall pointed out, “you should have just let me turn him down or something. You did know I was going to tell him to get lost, right?”

Of course I did. Windfall wasn't so sloppy a judge of character as to just follow some random stallion home because he made eyes at her. I'd certainly never seen her flirt with any stallion with any measure of seriousness. Save for lulling bandits into false senses of security and bargaining for better prices on weapons or alcohol, she rarely conversed with them at all actually. So then why had that interaction set me off like that?

He was encroaching on your claim, Whiplash offered with a sly smirk.

Windfall was not my 'claim'.

Some stallion's going to mount that filly someday, the figment of my sister pointed out, how does it make you feel when you think about it being somepony who's not you?

I shook the voice from my head with a frustrated snort, which drew an odd look from the winged pony beside me. To Windfall, I replied, “I didn't like him calling me 'old',” which was true enough, but not what had set me off like that.

“Well, then let's go to French Tip's and look into some mane dyes,” the mare suggested, sounding like she was only half joking, “maybe even touch up your coat a little bit...”

“No,” I insisted, perhaps a little more forcefully than I should have. Windfall frowned at the response, but let the issue drop. However, a little smile lingered on her lips the rest of the way to the Shady Saddles Motel.

She thinks you don't like other stallions hitting on her, Whiplash mused, she thinks you want her for yourself. And she's right. You do want her...

I just wanted to get some sleep. It was a long way to New Reino from here. Whiplash could think what she wanted, and so could Windfall.

True to her word, Sandalwood came up with the two thousand caps by morning. It was probably damn near every cap present in the town to be honest. I made the transaction while Windfall was out buying last minute provisions for the trip, under the guise of offering an apology for my behavior the previous day. The pegasus had seemed pleased by my admission of remorse. Of course, in reality I felt no such thing. I simply didn't need Windfall to see me collecting such a large sum of money after having already doled out her 'share' of our take from the bandits.

What she didn't know about, she couldn't miss.

We were on the road before noon.

Somehow, in what must have been a miracle borne of Celestia, Windfall had not drunk all of her Special Reserve during that first night. Five bottles yet remained tucked away in her saddlebags and she had made the vehement promise to herself to save the last for a 'special occasion'. What that occasion would be, she admitted that she didn't know yet; but she'd be ready for it when it came! Though it looked to take a good deal of restraint on her own part, Windfall sated her thirst with a bottle of Wild Pegasus vanilla. Every so often, I'd catch her taking a swig, and then sighing with a frown of disappointment at the lack of a 'Splash of Rainbow!' that she had only recently become so acquainted with.

At one time, I had actually been a little concerned with how enthusiastically the pegasus had taken to alcohol. Granted, I guess it wasn't unusual for ponies in the Wasteland to do a lot of drinking, and younger ponies were certainly prone to excess in the beginning as they explored the boundaries of their tolerance. However, Windfall had not seemed to really...enjoy her drinking. She would imbibe more than her share on many an occasion, but never with any of the sense of joy that most youths did. The pegasus seemed to drink for the reasons that an old pony full of regrets might: to forget.

Eventually, she had begun to mellow out and find some comfort in alcohol. At least she seemed happier when she had a decent buzz going. Especially after a hit.

“You know,” Windfall began by way of conversation as she placed the half-empty bottle of whiskey into her saddlebag, “I don't really see you spending your money on much.”

My eyes wandered back to the filly, searching her face. And odd way to begin a chat. Did she suspect something? “I spend it on plenty.”

“A drink every now and then,” the pegasus conceded, “but I never see you do anything...I don't know...fun with it.”

“Fun?”

“I don't know. I mean, I get my hooves polished every once in a while,” the alabaster mare pointed out, “I'll get my mane styled or relax in a nice bath is there's one available. Just, you know, ways to relax and unwind.

“But I never really see you do anything but eat, drink, and sleep. Don't you ever feel like doing something for yourself?”

“Not particularly,” I said to the pegasus, “leastways not more than I already do.”

“But how do you deal with all the stress?”

“What stress?” I glanced back towards Windfall, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, with all the...” the mare's voice trailed off, her eyes darkening slightly. Then she looked back up at me, “it doesn't bother you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind,” the pegauss insisted, fluttering up into the air, “I'm just...drunk I guess. I dunno,” she took a breath and put on a more cheerful expression, “I've started putting money aside for a savings,” she announced.

“Oh? Finally looking ahead?”

“Can't go around killing raiders forever, right?” Windfall pointed out with a strained smile, “need to look at other career options someday.”

That was news to me, actually. I didn't recall her ever mentioning a desire to stop going about the way we were. I guess it wasn't wholly surprising. I certainly had no grand desires to keep going around a picking fights with violent ponies for the rest of my life. Hence the reason for my endowment of caps from Sandalwood. This trip to New Reino would be yet another in a long line of treks to the city with a large pile of the Wasteland currency in my possession for the purposes of squirreling it away for the future. In time, I'd have enough gathered together that I could live off of it for the rest of my life. I could just move myself into a casino suite in New Reino and lounge around in comfort. Or, perhaps even better, I could take myself back to Manehattan and try buying my way into Ten Pony Tower. Back east I could even take on a live-in lover or two and really do some of that 'relaxing' Windfall had mentioned.

However, I had not known the pegasus to have any similar plans for a retirement. I was intrigued, “and what are your grand plans for the future?”

The mare rubbed the back of her neck, looking a little bashful, “I'm going to rebuild the ranch. Try and get it going again.”

I was confused for a brief moment. What ranch? Oh, “you mean your old home?”

“Yeah. I'm going to get some bits together, fix it up, and buy some new brahmin to get it all working again.”

Interesting, “Why that of all things? The whole of the Wasteland to live in, and you want to go back there?”

The mare shrugged, “it was my home.”

Part of me could understand that I guess. How long had I entertained the notion of going back to the White Hooves? Even looking back on my flight from Hoofington, I'd had other options. Cross the sea towards Trottingham, or maybe even somewhere else beyond. But I'd chosen Neighvada. Familiar territory. It was 'home', no matter how unwelcome I might be.

Sentiment, Steel Bit snorted in my head.

Calculated risk, I countered. I knew the area, and there was no way that Whiplash was still looking for me. I'd be at a greater disadvantage in someplace I knew absolutely nothing about.

“Windfall, the scourge of Neighvada's bandits and ruffians, milking brahmin,” I offered a wry smile to the mare, “that'd be a sight to see.”

“Eheh,” the mare laughed sheepishly, “yeah, well...maybe you could. You know, see it. You and I cou...”

Whatever else the pegaus might have wanted to say was interrupted by the sound of a distant scream. Both of our heads whipped in the direction of the cry. I could make out the forms of several running ponies to the southwest. My binoculars were out almost instantly to get a better look. They were beyond the range of the pipbuck's EFS, so I couldn't tell yet if they were hostile or not. Beside me, Windfall shot upwards to obtain a better vantage point.

Five ponies. Four of them chasing the fifth. The fleeing pony was the one that had uttered the scream. A violet unicorn mare. Odd. The ponies galloping after her were clearly rogues of some type; not much reason to be chasing a lone mare otherwise, however, she wasn't running towards Shady Saddles. It wasn't exactly close, I guess. A good ten miles from where we were at the moment, but the mare's current path would take her deeper into the Wasteland. She wasn't going to outrun them. Her best chance would have been to run as close to the town as she could get and hope that the Republic Guard ponies there would help her.

Maybe she'd become disoriented in her flight. Where had she even come from? There were no saddlebags across her back. Stable pony? No stable jumpsuit. What was going on?

Well, she didn't make it very far. One of the stallions barreling after her lunged and succeeded in tackling the mare to the ground. She screamed again, crying out. For help, one might presume. Yellow Bitch's pleading eyes not withstanding, I had a pretty fair idea of whether or not Windfall was going to 'contract' me to intervene in this little exchange.

I glanced upward to coordinate a plan of action with the pegaus, only to see her already winging her way towards the ponies.

Oh, for Celestia's...

I groaned with frustration, put the binoculars away, and started into a run. I hated having to improvise these things. It was always so much easier when I was able to draw out a plan with Windfall before we went in. Like with those bandits the other night. That had gone off damn near perfectly. When we charge in like this, things had a much higher likelihood of going awry. We didn't know who these ponies were, what weapons they had on them, how many of them were unicorns and what spells they knew...

This was going to be rough.

If there was a single saving grace, it was that I had two of them: those four ponies had no idea that they were about have their little chase interrupted by two other armed ponies, with one of them being a pegasus. The other thing was that while I may not have known exactly what my plan of attack was going to be, Windfall's was thankfully extremely predictable: fly in and spray bullets everywhere. It was a tried and true opening move in most of our fights out in the open. Especially when we had the initiative.

Only two of the ponies were struggling with the unicorn mare that the group had been chasing. The other two were hanging back, watching the scene with savage little smiles on their faces. Those were the ponies that Windfall dove upon first. Her twin 10mm death dealers belched streams of lead slugs at the pair, kicking up a whirlwind of dust, rock, and blood as they found their marks. One of them was utterly shredded by the attack, the second took a few grazing blows but escaped the worst of the carnage. He was no slouch either, and a unicorn to boot. Before Windfall had finished her first pass, he produced a small magical energy pistol from his saddlebags and started firing lances of crimson death into the air after her.

Seeing that they were not as alone in these open Wastes as the group had once believed, one of the others accosting the unicorn mare took his rifle into his mouth and started firing as well. The third remaining pony maintained his hold on their quarry while a pistol floated nearby, trained on the sky but not firing. The violet unicorn lay slack beneath him, unconscious.

I was already at a full run, charging headlong into the fight. What other choice did I have? Windfall's best advantage in battle was surprise, after that she needed to rely on her speed. It wasn't as though there was any cover in the air for her to duck behind. Her armor was light, thinner than mine was in most places, and would offer her only token resistance against glancing shots from low-caliber weapons. A solid hit would, at best, knock her out of the air and send her hurtling to the ground below.

Targets, I needed to prioritize targets! Three ponies left, all armed, and two of them were unicorns. Energy pistol, small caliber pistol, and a lever-action rifle. All trained on the heavens at the moment, but that would invariably change the moment I revealed my presence. Which one would be the hardest to deal with? One of the unicorns. Their magic represented a variable that was nearly impossible to mitigate, and thus were a heightened threat in my book; and the one with the magic energy weapon was arguably the most dangerous of the two. Gunshot wounds could be treated with a healing potion, and were rarely instantly lethal save for a few notable exceptions. Getting vaporized however, that was harder to treat effectively.

So it was that the unicorn painting the sky with red light earned the full attention of SATS the moment I was within range. Time froze, shots from my revolver were assigned, and then time was permitted to flow once more.

He was completely unaware, his eyes angrily narrowed at the pegasus flitting about in the distance. Two shots were fired from my weapon, just to be safe. The first took his face off at the jawline. The second sailed through the cloud of red mist that had once been the front half of his head. The corpse fell over to the side.

My entrance into the fight had been made, and the two remaining ponies had noticed it.

SATS was no longer an option, as it lacked the magical capacity to handle more than those two shots before needing time to refresh its charge, and I had not had time to prepare a dose of Dash; so I was left to finish this fight sober. I turned to face the rifle-wielding earth pony, and was just in time to have Full Stop slammed out of my mouth by the swinging buttstock of the long gun which the earth pony was whipping about in his teeth by the barrel like a cudgel. A couple inches closer, and I might have lost more than the revolver!

As the heavy wooden stock of the rifle arced back around, I reared back on my hind legs and parried it away, turning with the swing so that I could grab hold of the weapon and wrench it from his grasp. The rifle went skipping along the ground out of his reach. My head dipped to the sheath on my foreleg and drew the knife. At least one of us was going to be armed in this fight.

This pony had kept his wits about him too though, it seemed. I had only just turned back to square off against the other stallion to find him lunging at me. Either he'd seen me go for the knife, or he'd already committed to taking this fight to the ground the moment he'd lost the rifle. I wasn't prepared for that, I will admit. Most ponies aren't quite so bold as that, especially if they were accustomed to fighting with firearms at range. This stallion was a brawler, and wasn't going to be shy about rolling around with me in the dirt.

Try as I might, I wasn't able to keep the knife in my mouth when we hit the ground. He'd hit me with everything he could muster. I was far too busy worrying about trying to land right to be concerned with something as trivial as the knife. Oddly enough, we were likely to be too close to make that weapon truly effective anyway. He wasn't going for punches and kicks, this pony was trying to pin me and get his arms around my neck. I Couldn't let that happen.

I wasn't used to this though. The White Hoof style of hoof-to-hoof wasn't focused on grappling. It was about landing powerful blows on your opponent's head and joints from a standing or rearing position. I was already on my back at this point, and doing all that I could to avoid having my limbs pinned by the pony crawling all over me. This was obviously the style that suited his preferred combat style though. Every time I thought I'd found an opening to exploit to wriggle free, he was right there with another hold to keep me from getting away. Each time, I felt myself becoming more an more restricted. Then his leg kicked out suddenly and I found myself flipped over onto my stomach and then almost immediately snapped up and pulled back against his chest. His forelegs were prying at my throat, and I was desperately trying to pull them away.

It wasn't going to be long before he had his hooves on my neck though. When that happened, this fight wound be over.

You're just going to let this pony hug you to death? Whiplash chided, that's sad...

At least she'd finally shut up, I thought bitterly as I felt my opponent finally manage to snake one of his forelegs across my throat.

Nearby, a pistol cracked several times.

“Hey! Hooves off!”

Both of us looked to the right in surprise, and we were just in time to see a pair of white hooves streaking for us. Well, more specifically, the pony who had me grabbed up in his arms. I felt his hold loosen as the shock of the sight overtook him and pressed my advantage. I rocked forwards and rolled away, slipping easily through the slack grasp a split second before Windfall's double-buck connected with the other earth pony.

She didn't have a lot of weight to her, but there had been a great deal of speed behind that hit. More than enough to make up for the difference in their respective masses. The earth pony gasped as the smaller hooves took him full in the ribs, a few of which I could hear crack under the blow. Windfall wasn't done yet, either. She used the strike as a pushing off point as well, propelling herself straight upwards. Her wings flipped out at the peak of her jump, and snapped back with an audible snap as she used them to give her a burst of downward speed. Her whole body twisted as she descended, swinging her hips and leg downward. I winced reflexively as the pegasus used both the momentum of her rotation and the speed of her short descent to drive her hind hooves into the side of the stunned pony's temple. His body crumpled to the ground, a noticeable divot in his skull.

Though, judging from the expression of pain on the feathered mare's face, she had suffered as well for that delivery. Or, perhaps it something to do with that crimson stain on her left shoulder...

Horseapples! She'd been shot!

The pistol fire. The fourth pony! We weren't out of this yet. Where was-

My thoughts became suddenly diverted by the sensation of something sharp putting pressure to my throat. I went instantly rigid, my eyes darting downward. I could see the very familiar hilt of my combat knife. I could also see that it was wrapped in a viridian glow. Unicorn magic. Impossible! He was missing his Celestia-damned face!

“Don't. Move.”

The voice had come from my right. I looked as far as I could in that direction without turning my head, seeing as how it had something pointy pressed against it. No, not that unicorn whose face I had dissolved with Full Stop. Nor, did I see, was it the pistol-wielding unicorn stallion that I had just been worried about a moment ago. It was the mare that we had come to save. The one who had been unconscious a minute ago.

Perhaps not so unconscious after all. Next to her was the body of that last bandit. His eyes were wide, and his throat was open.

That mare had her sights set on me now, and I wasn't particularly liking the way that her sharp emerald eyes were glaring right into mine. Her soft violet coat was smeared with dirt and grim, likely from her recent flight across the Wasteland, but I recognized that her hooves had once mean very neatly polished and looked after. I'd seen enough of Windfall's own hooficures to recognize when somepony had had one on a regular basis. That and the wilting little flower emblazoned on her flank suggested that she was a mare accustomed to a comfortable lifestyle, but those eyes of hers told a very different story. That and the corpse laying nearby.

I opened my mouth to speak, but instantly felt the knife hovering at my neck press harder against my flesh. I tilted my head back as far as I could to keep the edge from cutting into me, which precluded me from saying anything.

“Ah ah ah! No words,” the lavender mare insisted. She looked over at Windfall, who was wearing a very shocked expression, “thanks for the help Enclaver. Don't know why you did it, and I don't care. But, if it's alright with you,” the unicorn's piercing emerald eyes were back on me, “I'd like to kill this last one myself...”

Ah, horseapples...

You know what they say, Jackboot, Whiplash sounded please to chime in for one last time, no good deed...

Yeah, yeah.

Fucking figures.

So this was how it was all going to end for me, huh? Throat sliced open by the very mare that I had just finished rescuing? You have got to be shitting me. This was ridiculous! Celestia, you fucking bitch! I did damn near everything I could to not end up like my father, and you're really going to let me die almost the exact same way he did? Well, fuck you! Fuck Yellow Bitch too. Her and her damned 'kindness'.

I glared at the unicorn, silently daring her to end me. If she thought that my last moments would be spent pleading or looking terrified, then she was going to be sorely disappointed.

“Woah! Wait!” Windfall cried out, stumbling in front of me, “he's with me!”

The unicorn balked, stunned by the intervention. However, the knife she held in her telekinetic grasp didn't falter, so I chose not to attempt anything quite yet. Let's just see how well the pegasus could plead my case.

“With you?” the unicorn snorted with some incredulity, “why would an Enclaver be hanging out with an earth pony?” then her eyes narrowed slightly, as though she were only now getting a clear look at the white pegasus, “wait...you're...not with the Enclave, are you?”

“No,” Windfall admitted, “I'm not. My name's, Windfall; and that's my...partner, Jackboot.

“We're not here to hurt you,” the pegasus put on an encouraging smile, “we're here to help.”

There was a tense silent moment as the lavender unicorn considered the information presented to her. The conclusion that she reached seemed to bode well for myself, at least, as I eventually felt the blade pull away from my throat. I didn't get it back though. The mare kept it nearby, hovering between herself and the pair of us. She seemed...tentative. Suspicious. A pair of armed ponies just 'happened' to stumble upon her in her time of greatest need? I could see her weighing the more likely explanation: either she was the luckiest mare in the Wasteland, or something was up.

“So...” Windfall pressed, still trying to diffuse the tension hanging around us, “what's your name?”

A brief pause, then, “Foxglove.”

“It's good to meet you, Foxglove,” the pegasus' smile broadened slightly as she sensed that progress was being made. I relaxed a little bit too, now that it looked as though I wasn't going to be imminently murdered by the mare I'd just risked my life to save. Well, I suppose that when you really got down to it, I hadn't done any of that for the unicorn. It had been Windfall's death I was worried about. Eight years invested into that pegasus, and it was paying off wonderfully so far in a fiscal sense.

Though she did have a tendency to rush into certain situations without really weighing the risks. Case in point...

“What was up with them?” the winged mare continued, gesturing to the scattered corpses, “why were they after you?”

The unicorn frowned, “on a count of I escaped. They didn't cotton to that much. Must have figured it was downright rude of me.”

“Escaped? You were a prisoner?”

“She was a slave,” I supplied, finally finding my way into their conversation.

The unicorn glared at me, appearing to take great exception to my observation, “I was most certainly not a slave!” her eyes fell to the ground then, clouded with uncertainty, “leastways...not until this mornin' I wasn't.”

“What happened?” Windfall asked.

“I don't actually know for sure,” the unicorn admitted with a frown, “when I went to sleep last night—I think it was last night, anyway—I was still in New Reino. I woke up in a cage in some sort of shack,” she pointed at the dark colored unicorn with the slit throat laying near her, “heard this one talking about 'winning' me in a game of poker.

“If that means what I think it does, then there is one very dead pony walking around New Reino,” her cyan eyes flared with cold hatred, “he just don't know it yet.”

Foxglove's gaze then fell to us once more, and scanned the other three bodies nearby, “y'all are obviously capable types. You for hire?”

After hearing about this mare being sold off to cover a debt, Windfall didn't need much enticing at all, “absolutely,” she confirmed quickly, a cold glint in her own eye. Not surprising. The pegasus seemed possessed of a deep-rooted need to exact retribution on anypony who abused others. Slavers and the like especially.

I, however, was a little more discerning with regards to the 'jobs' we took on, “and you expect to pay...how exactly?” I indicated her bare flanks with my hoof. No saddlebags meant no money for payment. If this mare, or Windfall for that matter, thought that I was about to pick a fight with somepony in New Reino without compensation, they were sorely mistaken. I returned the pegasus' harsh stare unflinchingly, “death is cheap. Killing ain't.”

A smirk pulled at the edges of the unicorn's mouth. She pointed at the garroted pony, “I can show you their hideout. Weapons, ammo, a few other valuable treasures. And,” her smile broadened slightly, “I can show you a room there that even they didn't know about.”

Could she now? Given how keen she seemed to be in getting her vengeance, I bet she'd promise all sorts of things. Piles of caps and bits as tall as a Diamond Dog. Enough high-end weaponry to outfit an army. Secret rooms filled with treasures that nopony knew about. I know that I would promise a lot to get what I wanted, even if I had no way of delivering.

Windfall was going to have to pardon my rudeness, “payment up front.”

Both mares looked at me. The pegasus with an expression of consternation. The unicorn with one of amusement.

“Jackboot-!”

“Deal.”

Windfall couldn't keep her surprise hidden, “wait...really?”

“Yep,” the unicorn mare nodded. Then she held up a hoof, “but, I do want assurances.”

“You mean collateral,” I amended. Another amused smile from Foxglove, and a confirming nod. She understood the desire to be paid up front; not an uncommon one for most ponies doing business in the middle of nowhere. No guards or sheriffs to run to out here if somepony did you wrong. Of course, paying somepony before the job was done made it necessary to acquire some means of motivation. Why do the job when you'd already been paid, “what'd you have in mind?”

“Well, I'm feeling more than a little vulnerable at the moment,” the unicorn said, “and I'm about to enter the company of two armed ponies I only just met. I was thinking barding and a weapon.”

“You can keep the knife,” I nodded. I sure wasn't going to trust her with a gun any time soon, “but we're a little short on spare barding.”

“S'alright,” the lavender mare nodded in Windfall's direction, “I bet hers'll fit well enough.”

“Fine with me.”

“Hey!” the pegasus did not sound particularly thrilled with me giving up her armor quite so quickly.

“You wanted to help her, didn't you?” I reminded the flier, “well then, you get to foot the bill. Besides,” I steeped over closer to Windfall, getting a better look at the wound on her shoulder, “we need to get it off anyway to have a look at that.”

“It's just a flesh wound,” the young mare insisted.

“Uh huh,” I started undoing the straps holding the barding in place, “can you raise you arm?”

“I like it just fine where it is.”

“Drink this,” I passed the pegasus a healing potion once the barding was finally off. The unicorn mare quickly levitated the discarded armor over to herself and started putting it on, drawing a baleful look from the previous owner, “drink,” I reiterated. The white mare downed the purple liquid, and I watched as the flowed of blood ceased. The wound didn't close much, but at least the danger had passed. We could see about doing more for her once we reached New Reino.

I looked to the unicorn, who was currently adjusting a few of the straps to help the armor sit on her withers a little more comfortably, “are you satisfied?”

“It's a little loose around the flanks-”

“Loose?!”

“-but it'll do,” she flashed the two of us a broad smile, “now, I bet the two of you want your pay?”

I nodded, “and a more detailed explanation of what the job is exactly. Depending on what it is you want us to do, I might just go ahead and send you on your way with the knife and barding and forget we ever met.”

“You wouldn't dare!” Windfall protested, slamming her left hoof on the ground for emphasis and immediately whimpering at the pain the action caused her.

“I would,” I assured the pegasus, “if only to teach you a lesson about volunteering us for a job without even finding out what it is,” my attention went back to the unicorn, “so, let's walk and talk.”

Foxglove smiled and began walking back the way that she had been running from, “like I said: I woke up in their hideout, and heard them talking about how I'd been used to cover a bet. Pissed me off to no end, since the last time I checked, I hadn't been anypony's property. I was an employee.”

“And your employer was...?” I prompted.

“Tommyknocker,” the unicorn answered simply.

I did a prompt about-face and started heading back to the bodies of the ponies that we'd just killed. They might at least have a few valuables that would make this whole episode worthwhile if I did a thorough search, “enjoy the barding,” I called back, tugging gently on Windfall's right leg.

“Woah!” the flier protested, fluttering up into the air and out of my grasp, “hey, fuck that!” she glared at me, “what about my barding?”

“Like I said: it'll make a good lesson,” I reiterated, “because we're sure not doing this job.”

“Why not?” Windfall demanded, “who's Tommy-whatsits?”

“Tommyknocker,” I stressed the name through gritted teeth, appalled at the young mare's ignorance, “is one of the ponies that basically owns New Reino. We fuck this up, and the word'll be out to every corner of Neighvada that we're worth a small fortune to whoever knocks us off,” I thought for a moment, “assuming we even survive the attempt,” I added with an eye roll. A pony like that had a rather formidable protection detail, as power came with enemies. It was simply a job that was too big for the pair of us, or even a trio if Foxglove felt like contributing, to handle.

“Oh, but I have a plan,” the unicorn interjected. We both looked at her, and I found myself a little irked to see that she still possessed a coy smile on her lips. Her eyes were on Windfall though, “and she'll work into it perfectly.”

“What.”

It was the only response I could manage at that moment. This mare had a plan to kill one of the most powerful ponies in Neighvada—short of Princess Luna herself, likely? Why did that concern me? And how was Windfall supposed to factor into the equation?

“Well, out with it then!” the pegasus demanded.

“Tommyknocker likes his mares, and he likes his booze,” the unicorn began, resuming her direction of travel back towards the bandit hide-out. Windfall was hovering in her wake, listening intently to the lavender mare. Damn if I wasn't following too. This I had to hear, “in fact, the only time he's minus his security is when he's partaking in both.”

I knew where this was going now, “you want to set Windfall up with Tommyknocker as bait.”

“Pretty much,” the mare confirmed, “he knows me, so I sure can't do it.”

“Wait,” the pegasus interject, a thought seeming to occur to her, “is Tommy-whoever that one really fat blue earth pony with the bald spot?”

“That's him,” Foxglove confirmed.

“Eww,” Windfall stuck out her tongue in disgust, “on second though, you can keep the barding. I'm not letting that slob touch me. He slapped my flank that one time in the casino and said some things that made me want to vomit,” she glanced at me, “remember? I wanted to shoot him, but you wouldn't let me.”

“I remember,” I nodded, “and I'm glad to see that you do too. So, now that we're in agreement that this is a bad idea, can we wash our hooves of it?”

“Hold on,” the unicorn interrupted, “I said I had a plan,” her green eyes went to the pegasus, “and you won't have to touch him. He always takes a drink or two before he 'gets down to business'. You'll bring him something that he likes, and spike it. He'll be out before he can make a move.

“Once he's down, you'll bring him to the window, I'll levitate him down into a waiting cart that you and I'll pick up,” she favored me with a glance now, “and the three of us will cart him out of town. I'll take my revenge, and that's that. Easy, right?”

Okay, admittedly, I was starting to have fewer reservations. That wasn't to say that I was particularly happy with the plan, but I could see how it might work out with minimal risk to us. The part that had me the most hung up was putting Windfall in a room alone with Tommyknocker, “what if he doesn't want a drink?” that was the factor that Foxglove's entire plan hinged on. If he broke routine, the plan was fucked.

“Then I just put a gun to his head and ask him politely to walk to the window,” Windfall chimed in with a dark grin, “maybe he'll even refuse...”

“You're not going to be armed,” Foxglove corrected the pegasus sternly, “you'll be checked before the guards let you in his room. He's not a moron,” to me she said, “he'll have a drink. He always has a drink.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Like I said: I worked for him. For almost three years now,” the unicorn grimaced, “he always has a drink before he fucks.”

'Employee', huh? I was starting to get a sense of exactly what sort of 'work' Foxglove may have performed for Tommyknocker. Especially if she was so certain of how exactly the New Reino big-wig spent his personal time. Even Windfall looked to be catching on, if the concerned expression making its way onto her face was any indication. Odd. Foxglove didn't carry herself like a whore, not really. I should know; I'd spent a good bit of time with my fair share. Something about this unicorn was off. It wasn't enough to put me off the job though, not the way she had things worked out.

She knew Tommyknocker's tastes, his habits, and his weaknesses. This could work. I knew Windfall was all for it, given what we'd just seen this mare go through less than an hour ago. For myself, I was...not quite as opposed to the plan as I had been initially. I wasn't going to get the same satisfaction that the pegasus was from ridding the Wasteland of a pony like Tommyknocker, but there was still a respectable chance of finding something valuable at the hideout that Foxglove knew about. Hitting it on our way to New Reino would allow me to add its value to the caps that I was already toting around in my saddlebags.

The biggest risks fell to Windfall, really. I guess, even if things went sour and Tommyknocker did deviate, the pegasus could just opt to evacuate through the window and meet us outside of town. We'd still have been paid, Windfall would be safe, and Foxglove would need to find somepony else to help her sate her thirst for revenge. We'd have tried, her plan would have failed, and our business would be at an end. Then it'd be off to Seaddle to sell what weapons we had on us for even more profit.

“Alright then,” I said, finally, “we'll try it your way.”

I had a bad feeling about this.

“I thought you said there were two more of them that had stayed behind?” I looked questioningly at the lavender unicorn in silvery barding standing next to me.

Ahead of us, nestled into the base of a ridge, was what looked to be an old general store. A very small one too. The windows were all boarded up with plywood, denying us the ability to see inside. However, we were close enough that my pipbuck's EFS should have been able to detect whether anypony was inside. No blips hovered at the base of my field of vision though. Not a single pony or critter lay within. Less than two hours had passed since Foxglove made her escape, not enough time for the two remaining ponies inside to have decided to go out looking for their companions.

We certainly hadn't encountered anypony during our return trip. So, they had to be around here somewhere.

“There were,” the mare insisted, “maybe they went back to New Reino for some reason?”

Possible. The mare they had received as payment to cover their winnings 'miraculously' knows how to pick a lock and make her escape the moment she awakens? I'll admit that the thought might have crossed my mind too that it wasn't a coincidence if I'd been them. It was entirely possible that they'd gone to visit Tommyknocker in order to have a conversation with him to that effect.

In any case, nopony was inside the store at the moment. Which meant that our payday collection had just become a much simpler affair.

I glanced over at the white pegasus hovering nearby, “do a round or two of the area,” I instructed her, “don't go too far, but make sure nopony's skulking around,” Windfall nodded and fluttered off. I looked back at Foxglove, “let's go inside.”

The two of us walked semi-cautiously towards the door, which I noted had been left ajar. That was curious. If this was really where those ponies kept their valuables, and none of them were about, surely they'd have closed and locked this door? I mean, I guess it was far enough off the beaten path that hardly anypony was likely to just stumble upon it, but that hardly seemed a reason not to at least close the door to keep wandering critters from moving in while they were out, right?

My pace slowed slightly as we got closer. My eyes traced over swaths of pocked and chipped brickwork around the doorway. The telltale signs of a gun-battle. The question was: how long ago had that fight taken place? I nodded at the damage and pointed it out to the unicorn beside me, “was that there when you left?”

Foxglove shrugged, “I dunno,” the violet mare admitted with a shrug, “I was a might more concerned with outrunning the ponies chasing me than admiring the masonry.”

Fair point, and a moot one as it turned out. I received all of the answers that I needed when I pushed the door open and glanced inside. The unicorn mare's gasp confirmed that the room we beheld now was not as it had looked when she'd awoken there earlier that morning.

Hard to know what would have drawn them. Maybe it was all of the commotion raised by Foxglove's escape. Maybe a patrol had noticed these ponies skulking about and they'd merely only now gotten around to doing something about them. Maybe it'd just been bad luck. Whatever the events that lead to the fates of the two ponies who'd remained behind here, the specifics of them were laid clear in the form of blood-splattered walls and a bone-white mural.

She was an ambitious bitch all right, to be poaching this close to Shady Saddles. Raids deep into NLR territory were ballsy enough, but Whiplash was risking bringing the wrath of New Reino down on her too. While the bustling party-city didn't have any standing armies per-say; they did have money, and money bought you gun-toting mercenaries who were perfectly willing to go out and shoot anypony you wanted.

“White Hooves,” Foxglove whispered, a note of fear coloring her words. I could see the realization plain on her face: if she hadn't made her escape when she did, she'd have far bigger concerns than being some gangster's slave.

My eyes went back to my EFS once more, and I did a little turn in place. Nothing in range but two little yellow blips, one of them darting about across my vision. No red at all.

Do you really think your own kind would show up to you as red on that thing? Whiplash's voice inquired sweetly.

…

After allowing a few seconds for foxglove and myself to take in the white mark slathered on the far wall, I cleared my throat and brought us back to task. We weren't going to find weapons or ammunition left in this part of the store, not if the White Hooves had come through. If there was anything of value to be found here, it would be in that 'secret room' that foxglove claimed to know about, “you mentioned a hidden door?”

The unicorn shook herself out of her dazed state and nodded, exhibiting only the slightest of trembles, “yeah...right. It's over here,” she gestured towards the left wall and made her way in that direction. I noticed that it was the part of the room which contained the cage that the unicorn had likely awoken in. She walked past it a short ways and came to a stop near a shelf that sat neglected in the back corner of the shop. I saw that it wasn't pressed quite all the way back against the wall like its brethren nearby. Foxglove's horn glowed green and the shelf took on a similar aura, canting further out of the way.

The unicorn smiled and presented to me the reason for the shelf's dislocated state with a little flourish of her hoof. Only when I got much closer did I notice that there was something protruding from the wall. A tiny little metal box with a pair of little round buttons, no different than a hundred others I'd seen in Old World places like this.

I frowned, “isn't that just a light switch?”

“A light switch that runs into the floor?” the lavender mare asked with a quirk of her brow. Her hoof traced the thin piece of conduit that ran from the box down into the floor. She reached out and depressed the lower button. After a beat, I heard the sound of ancient motors whirring to life behind me. I spun around in time to see a swath of floor near the back of the store tremble and shudder as it began to move! Decades of dirt and refuse bounced about as the floor split open and feel inward with jerky but controlled motions. The unicorn stepped up beside me, her eyes dancing with a sort of amused satisfaction as she watched the opening appear in the manner that she'd predicted.

Her ear twitched briefly, “if these ponies knew about this, then they sure didn't know how to take care of it. It don't sound like those bearings have ever been greased, and at least one of those stator coils is on its last leg,” she favored me with a smile, “just the sort of thing you'd expect from a motor that ain't been used in a couple hundred years.”

I narrowed my eyes at the mare, “you can tell all of that from the way it sounds?”

The mare chuckled, “oh, I can tell heaps more than that from the way it sounds, but that ain't no matter to you. Why don't we see what you're about to be paid for delivering Tommyknocker?”

With that, the unicorn trotted down the ancient stairway that she'd revealed with the press of that little button. I followed after her warily. What did a whore know about Old World tech?

Ancient lights flickered to life as the two of us descended into the store's basement. I was beginning to wonder what sort of shop this had been exactly, as the architecture we observed now was far removed from the brick and plaster of the building on the surface. I was reminded of the interior of Stables as we made our way along the metal-walled corridor. At the entrance, was a symbol etched into the wall that had, at one time, seemed to have been painted with vibrant colors. A trio of silver gears contained within a red apple, bisected by a sword. Along the bottom were written the words: 'Ministry of Wartime Technology'.

The title was unfamiliar, but I had seen that symbol before on the armor of Steel Rangers. Were we in one of their old bunkers? The dust and the old musty air suggested that they hadn't used this place in quite a while, but if this was truly one of their old homes, then maybe they'd left something worthwhile behind.

“An MWT facility,” the unicorn noted as she too regarded the symbol, “ain't that a thing? Wonder what they were looking into out here...”

We soon came to a closed metal door. Upon it was a different picture from the one in the corridor. This one was of what looked to be the silhouette of a white earth pony, only the rear half of it was striped with black. It was framed by the words, 'Mystery Mare Project'. A terminal beside the door prompted us for a passcode. I grimaced. Horseapples. This sure had been a long way to come for nothing. There was no way that I was going to be able to guess at the code needed to open these doors.

Maybe there was something above that the White Hooves would have missed...

My attention was drawn by a sharp hiss and the sound of metal grinding as ancient motors burst to life. I looked just in time to see the door rising up into the ceiling. Beside the open portal, the lavender unicorn stood at the terminal, smirking.

“Crabapples. Should have known. Damn near every MWT password has something to do with apples,” Foxglove snorted with amusement, “no points for originality, but I do admire sticking to a theme,” her attention turned to me now, “after you?”

“How did...?”

Who was this mare? What did she do for Tommyknocker exactly that she knew how to hack into an Old World terminal with hardly any effort? This might have been a bit much. Maybe the lockpicking I could put aside. Some ponies had some kinks, and maybe she'd been left in some predicaments often enough to be motivated to learn how to escape from them on her own, fine. Recognizing innocuous little switches and determining what their function was at a glance...maybe she was just really perceptive? But having a way with computers too? She wasn't just some mare off the streets of New Reino who happened to work for one of the big players in that city.

“Who are you?”

The unicorn's green eyes danced a little at my question, her smile broadening slightly, “why, whatever do you mean, Mister Jackboot?”

I jabbed my hoof at the terminal, “where'd you learn to do that?”

She shrugged, “I pick up things here and there. You know how it is.”

Navigating through those old systems was something that anypony could learn, given enough time and an open terminal. But bypassing the security wasn't a talent that a laypony could just 'pick up'. You had to know things about how those computers worked that couldn't be garnered from staring at them or prompting the system for help with basic commands. The only ponies that I'd ever met that could do things like that had either grown up in a stable, or been taught by somepony who had. And if she knew terminals well enough to have gotten around it that quickly...why was she living in New Reino, and not working somewhere important in Seaddle?

It was obvious that she was being evasive though. What she had to hide, I was quite curious to learn. Of course, it'd be supremely hypocritical of me to expect the unicorn to reveal everything about her history to somepony who was little more than a stranger, when I still kept secrets from Windfall even after all this time. I didn't need to know Foxgloves life story to do the job she was paying us to. As long as something worthwhile lay inside, I could be satisfied. Besides, she'd be out of our manes the moment we were done anyway. She could keep her secrets.

“Whatever,” I strode through the door into the rooms beyond.

I didn't go very far before I came to a stop, awed by what I was looking at. Lights, weary from decades of inactivity, were slow to come to life. Illumination gradually flickered outwards from the doorway that I was standing in, revealing row after row of workbenches and desks in what essentially looked to be an oversized Stable atrium, minus the flora that those rooms commonly held.

Behind me, the lavender unicorn let out a long, impressed, whistle, “what were they building down here?”

“What makes you think they were building anything?” I inquired, “maybe they just stored stuff here.”

She shook her head and started walking along the rows of benches, “building's what the MWT did during the war. Weapons, barding, vehicles, they built anything and everything that was used in the war,” she nodded at my revolver, “they're the ones that built that little cannon you wear on your hip,” she frowned for a moment as she levitated up a few tools from the nearby work station, “but they weren't building none of that here...”

“Why do you say that?”

“Wrong kind of tools,” she informed me, floating a couple of the tools in my direction. I could see now that they were a tiny little screwdriver and something that looked like a thin metal pick with a battery pack built into it, “no lathes for making barrels, no presses for forming metal plates. Just a lot of soldering irons and the like. They were building electronics.”

“Somepony had to make all those terminals,” I pointed out,” maybe this was it.”

The unicorn shook her head, “if that was all, then why hide this place? Ain't nothing special about terminals.”

“I'm not here to solve a fucking mystery,” I stated flatly, making my own way to one of the desks and looking through the contents. Mostly more tools like that ones Foxglove had shown me, “you seem to know what this stuff is,” somehow, “any of it valuable out there?”

“Only to very specific ponies,” the mare admitted, “and I don't know who any of them would be,” she looked around the large room, “if we can find a few of whatever they were building, that might fetch a decent price. Maybe they put finished projects in the back?”

We navigated our way towards the far end of the underground facility. Periodically, Foxglove would pause and examine the contents of a workstation. Each time, they proved to be nearly identical to what we'd seen previously. Whatever it was that they'd been building here, they'd been doing so in large quantities. At the far end of the expansive room were a few offices and a break room. One of the office doors bore the title of 'Project Lead', which was the one that Foxglove entered first.

“This should answer a few questions for us,” the unicorn announced. I followed her inside.

It was a cozy little office. Aside from the requisite desk and chair, there were a number of locked metal cabinets and even what looked to be a slightly smaller work station that resembled those littered throughout the rest of the facility. Upon the desk were a vast array of pictures and other personal objects. The one that caught my eye as being the most out of place was what looked to be a framed cape on the wall behind the desk. It was a tiny little red cape, sized for a smaller pony, emblazoned with a patched containing a rearing white filly on a blue background. I glanced at the pictures on the desk, noting the smiling faces of what I took to be the friends and family of whomever had once sat in this office.

Then I noticed something else that caught my eye. Something that seemed quite familiar. Set at the corner of the desk, was a small figurine. Unlike everything else in the room which had faded with the passage of time, the tiny little statue shimmered in the light of the office like it was brand new. I had in my possession a statuette which exhibited a very similar property. However, the example sitting on the desk was not of a demure yellow pegasus mare with a flowing pink mane and tail. This one depicted a rearing orange earth pony mare with a blond mane tied back beneath a brown cowpony hat. Curious, I picked up the statuette and examined the base.

'Be Strong.”

“Huh. I guess this pony was a fan of her Ministry Mare,” the sudden statement from the lavender unicorn coming from just behind me caused me to nearly drop the figurine I was looking at. I glared back at the mare, then what she said penetrated through my annoyance.

“You know who this is?” I pointed at the rearing orange mare. It was news to me. I'd figured that it was just some generic pony figure.

“It's Applejack,” Foxglove stated matter-of-factually, “the Ministry Mare of the MWT. She would have been the mare ultimately in charge of this facility. Didn't think she's be the sort to make a statue of herself though. The head of the Ministry of Image, on the other hoof,” she added with a slight roll of her eyes, “she sounded like the kind who'd want her face on everypony's desk.”

My hoof went into my saddlebag and I quickly fished out the yellow pegasus mare I'd discovered years ago in the orphanage, “do you recognize this one?”

The unicorn blinked for a moment, obviously surprised at what I had just produced, “yeah, actually,” she peered more closely at the statue, seeming more surprised at the existence of the object at all, rather than at whom it was depicting, “that's Fluttershy. She was in charge of the Ministry of Peace. Where'd you find this?”

“An old orphanage in Seaddle,” I regarded the pair that I now held in my hooves.

I now had a real name for Yellow Bitch. Though, how likely I would ever be to use it remained to be seen. I never had found a buyer for her. Well, in all honesty, I hadn't looked. Strange how the fact that I had this statue never seemed to occur to me whenever I found myself negotiating with a merchant that might be interested in buying it. Probably had something to do with the way that the pony in my head looked at me whenever I thought about getting rid of it. Like she was afraid of what would become of me if I was out of her sight. What my psyche was trying to tell me with that, I had no clue.

Would my mind generate a little orange mute to go with this statue as well? I was actually kind of curious to find out. Get myself a little gauge of how much crazier I'd grown over the years. Yellow Bitch...er, Fluttershy seemed to like the idea of taking the Applejack statuette along with me. Whatever. I slipped them both into my bags, and waited. Wasn't sure what I was waiting for. Maybe for a little orange mare to step up inside my head and take a seat next to the three current residents. It didn't happen though.

Thankfully.

“I wonder if that means that there's a whole set of them?” the unicorn ventured, pensively.

“Don't care,” I said, turning to scan the rest of the office. It was then I noticed that the cabinets which had been closed when I entered were all now wide open. I blinked, and then looked at the unicorn. She smiled, and levitated up a glowing green bobby pin. I already knew that she was good with locks, so I guess that it shouldn't have really surprised me all that much. Though, she had been awfully quick and quite about it. I peered around her at the interiors, “anything valuable?”

“I think so,” Foxglove answered. The bobby pin floating beside her was replaced with...something. I had no idea what it was. A large diamond was set into a octagonal device with leather straps. It looked like it was meant to be worn somehow, but I had no idea what purpose it could serve. It certainly wasn't barding of any sort, not when it covered such a small surface area. Decorative clothing? The jewel was dazzling enough, but the rest of the contraption looked very utilitarian.

“What is it?”

“I'll admit I ain't a hundred percent on that,” Foxglove admitted, “but whatever it is, it needs a lot of power, and can hook up to a pipbuck,” her eyes darted to the device on my leg.

“I'm not putting that thing on.”

“Probably shouldn't,” the unicorn confirmed with an approving nod, “not until we know what it does at any rate. Besides, it doesn't have any power anyway, and I didn't seen any crystal packs laying around,” she pointed at a terminal on the desk, “I'm hoping there's something on there that tells us what this is.”

I stepped out of her way and let Foxglove get to work at the computer, seeing as how she obviously knew a lot more about them than I did. The lavender mare sat down in front of the computer and began to diligently tap at the console. My attention returned to the strange looking device that I was holding, but I didn't get long to ponder its purpose before I was interrupted by a white blur bursting through the door.

“Are you done here yet?!” the pegasus demanded in earnest, “come on, they're getting away!”

Foxglove and I stared in surprise at Windfall's interruption. The pegasus was panting, apparently having pushed herself to great speeds in her haste to find us. In her eyes burned a cold hatred that I'd rarely seen, even when she dealt with raiders and slavers.

“Who's getting away?”

“Who do you think?! The White Hooves!” Windfall exclaimed, exasperated, “I found them about half a mile from here, heading west. If we leave now we can track them until they make camp and then get them while they sleep. There're only about five of them. It'll be easy.

“But we need to leave as soon as possible!”

She'd found them? I inwardly groaned. Of course she would have found them. I knew that they couldn't have hit this place too long ago, and the pegasus could fly a lot faster that anypony could walk. I just hadn't known that any White Hooves were in the area when I'd sent her out to scout the area. They probably hadn't even noticed her. Who wandered around the Wasteland with their eyes skyward?

The pegasus was right too, we could every easily track them to wherever they made camp, and they'd be none the wiser. Take out the one pulling watch quiet enough, and we could slaughter the lot of them in their sleep. They'd have all of the weapons and valuables that should have been in the store above. The bulk of the payment that we'd been promised by Foxglove. It's not like this place was going to disappear the moment we left. Nothing would stop us from coming back afterward to go over it more thoroughly.

There was every reason in the world to do exactly what Windfall was proposing.

So how are you going to talk her out of it?

“We're not going after them,” I stated evenly.

“What?!” Windfall screamed in disbelief, “but they're right there! They have no idea anypony knows where they are, we can sneak right up and slaughter them!”

“I'm sorry, did you forget we already took on a job?” I glared at the pegasus, nodding my head in Foxglove's direction, “but you want to track White Hooves all day, ambush them in the night, and then spend another day coming back here? Throw just a little bit of sleep in there and you're looking at a three day delay. And that assuming everything goes perfectly. Which, considering one of us is still injured, it probably wouldn't.

“And what if things do go south?” I asked, pointedly, “we could leave Foxglove here on her own, promising that we'll be back; because everypony knows that you can trust perfect strangers that wander off in the middle of a job right after you pay them,” I noticed the unicorn smirk out of the corner of my eye. Even Windfall seemed to cringe a little, “do we want to bring her along though? Right into a fight with some of the most dangerous tribals this side of the Wasteland? Thing go bad, she could end up just getting captured by them. Great was to help our client, isn't it?”

I could see that the pegasus was looking a little less sure of her initial plan, so I continued to press into her, “you took this job on for us,” I pointed out once more, “which means that before we do anything else, we're going to see it through. If you wanted to spend our trip fucking over White Hooves and raiders, then maybe you shouldn't have roped us into a contract, hmm?

“I mean, we could renege and go after them anyway. I'm sure Foxglove wouldn't mind her new barding,” I glanced back at the unicorn.

“It's not so bad, actually,” she admitted.

“You'll owe me a new knife though,” I advised Windfall.

“Still want to go after them?”

For a long moment, the pegasus was silent. She looked between the two of us, and there was a time there where I thought she would call my bluff and chose her vengeance over her barding. Then Windfall let out an exasperated groan and fluttered back to the office door, “fine,” she seethed through clenched teeth. Just before she left earshot, I could hear her grumbling, “we never go after White Hooves...”

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Every reason in the world to go after them, Whiplash whispered in my head, but what was your reason not to?

We didn't need the attention of the real Whiplash and the White Hooves.

Dead ponies tell no tales. Who would have known?

We have a client and contract.

You could care less about that unicorn, and you have your payment in hoof.

Foxglove has our collateral.

Windfall can get more barding later.

I don't need to justify myself to you, you bitch.

Is it really me you're justifying yourself to?

“Did you find anything yet?” I asked of the unicorn still seated at the desk.

“I found a few things,” Foxglove informed me, still tapping away at the keys, “meeting schedules, personal correspondence—this mare had some impressive connections, by the way, and, most importantly, some notes on that device you're holding.”

“So, what does it do?”

“It's a portable personal holographic matrix,” the mare stated with a grin, as though the announcement should have impressed me in and of itself. I merely blinked at her. Her smile fell and she added with a note of slight annoyance, “it can make you look like somepony else. Or even somezebra else, which I think was the original intent.”

“What?”

“According to the project notes on here, they were making a technological alternative to disguise spells, so that they wouldn't have to rely on only unicorn agents for their infiltration missions,” Foxglove explained, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her, “what you're holding is a prototype. When powered up and provided with images of the subject, it can make you look like anypony you want.

“However, apparently they ran into some problems.”

“What problems?”

“It don't last very long. Apparently it requires an immense amount of power that crystal packs just cant sustain for more than a few hours.”

“A few hours sounds like a long time to me.”

“Not when you're supposed to be an agent buried deep in zebra lands for weeks or months,” the unicorn pointed out. She tapped a few more buttons, “it looked like they couldn't find a reliable work-around for a portable power source so they scrapped the project...” her words trailed off, then her eyes widened, “and it was immediately picked up the day after the final report was submitted. They went into full-scale production...”

“What?” I stepped around to have a look at the screen and read the notes for myself, “why would they do that right after scrapping it?”

“I'm not...sure,” the unicorn admitted as she furiously tabbed through additional notes and personal entries. I noticed that each one was initialed 'BS'. Presumably the initials of whomever had written them. Then Foxglove arrived at a page and started reading furiously, “here we are. The project was dropped by the MWT...but was quickly picked up by the MoA who put in a massive order for a slightly altered version. Huh.”

“MoA?”

“The Ministry of Awesome,” the lavender mare supplied, “they were responsible for...well, a few things I guess. It's really hard to pin down what their role was exactly. They were pretty all over the place. It was like the whole ministry had an attention span problem,” she added as an aside before continuing with her elaboration of what the records indicated, “but, yeah, they ordered hundreds of those things; modified to not need crystal packs.”

“How were they going to power them?” I asked with a furrowed brow.

The unicorn shrugged, “it don't say, and it don't look like Babs asked. Guess they were just glad to have one of the ministries interested in their project.

“But, what I can tell you is that they did in fact complete the order and shipped it out. Then they took a couple weeks of vacation before starting on their next idea,” she sighed and pushed back from the desk, “and that entry was dated two days before the bombs fell,” the unicorn stared sadly at the screen, “at least they probably died with their families.”

“So, is this thing valuable then?”

Another shrug from the unicorn, “it could be. One of a kind device that allows a pony to look like somepony else for a few hours at a time? Provided they had a pipbuck and some images,” she amended with a nod of her head, “there has to be a pony out there willing to shell out a generous sack of caps for something like that, I'd say.”

“I suppose you're right,” in any case, the mare had indeed lived up to her side of the arrangement. It wasn't her fault that the White Hooves had beat us here, and I was the one who'd chosen not to go after them, “anything else down here you'd like to look at?”

“I have everything I need,” Foxglove said with a slight smile, “and now that you have the agreed-upon payment, shall we off to New Reino?”

My gaze returned to the contraption in my hooves, a frown on my lips. I had expected guns and ammo. Those I could reliably sell to just about any merchant in Neighvada. This thing would require searching for an interested buyer. But, the unicorn had made a fair point: it's uniqueness should help me negotiate a decent price for it when I found one.

Once upon a time, you would have shot her dead right now and gone about your business.

Steel Bit was right, and I'd be lying if there still wasn't that nagging temptation in the back of my mind. Kill the mare. Keep the payment. Do whatever I wanted once I reached New Reino.

You could even have a bit of fun with her before putting her down, Whiplash chimed in, flashing a hungry grin.

Yellow Bitch was looking concerned. She didn't need to be. Even though taking that course of action would have simplified my life immensely, it would have been very difficult to explain to Windfall. Talking my way out of that would not be nearly as simple as convincing the pegasus to forget about pursuing the White Hooves had been.

My attention returned to the lavender mare, “yeah.”

New Reino. The Republic considered it a 'lawless' city. Of course, that was just because it wasn't their law that ruled here. Order was kept by the casino barons and their personal guards. As I understood the politic of the town, the owners of the three major casinos: The Prancing Pony, The Lucky Bit, and Silver Shill's, set down a short list of mutually agreed upon laws which mostly amounted to no murdering or robbing. Other than that, as long as you didn't cross them or their business partners, it didn't much matter what somepony did in this town. The guards, little more than casino security, didn't get paid to butt into the business of others, so they weren't inclined to get very involved.

This made the city a little bit more dangerous than some place like Seaddle or Shady Saddles might be, but it also allowed somepony like me a bit more freedom when it came to conducting business. No taxes, no oversight, no contraband, I could buy and sell just about anything I needed here. Not to mention conducting other business.

“We'll need to pick out some things in order to pull this off,” Foxglove mused, casting her eyes around at the surrounding shops as we made our way down New Reino's main thoroughfare.

“Like what?” Windfall asked, “I thought I was just going to walk up to him, ask him for a tumble, and then drug him when we got to his room?”

Both I and the unicorn frowned, though not for exactly the same reasons. I was displeased with how lightly the pegasus was taking the whole thing. Tommyknocker wasn't just some Wasteland thug who pushed ponies around. He ran a full third of this city, not just a piddly little gang of ponies. You didn't get to where he was by being a moron. Foxglove seemed to be irked at how crudely the younger mare grasped the plan.

“You can't walk up and ask him,” the unicorn said through a sigh, “he has to come to you.”

“Why's that?”

“Because he's not an idiot.”

“You've seen him,” I chimed in, “do you think a bald fat tub of a stallion like him is batting the mares off with a stick?” I saw Windfall's grimace as she recalled what Tommyknocker looked like, “exactly. A cute little thing like you struts up and throws herself into his arms, he'll know something's up. Maybe not that you plan on drugging him or anything like that, but he'll suspect that you're still after something and he'll have his thugs throw you out. He needs to be the one to make the approach.”

“So, what? I just stand around where he can see me all night until he notices me?”

“Something like that,” Foxglove nodded, “but there's more to it. Like every stallion out there, Tommyknocker has certain tastes when it comes to his mares. The way they dress, how they act, what they drink, all those little subtle details that are sure to make him notice you. I know what each and every one of them is, and I'm going to teach them to you.

“But we'll need to pick up some things too: an evening dress, perfume, accessories, and the drugs of course.”

I cringed now. None of that sounded like it was going to be free, “how much will all of that cost?”

Foxglove smiled, “not much actually. Most of it I can borrow from the back rooms of the Lucky Bit. It's just the drugs I'll need to buy.”

“I assume you know where to go for those?”

“There are a few names I know to ask for.”

“Perfect,” I dug into my saddlebags and dug out a pouch of caps, holding them out to the mare, “this should be enough,” if not, then Windfall would be able to cover the difference. After all, this was her idea, “you two take care f the preparations. I have other business to attend to. We can meet up later behind the Lucky Bit.”

“Where are you going?” Windfall asked.

“Like I said: other business,” I turned and began walking away, leaving the pair of mares to their preparations.

New Reino reminded me a lot of Flank. Similar atmosphere. Under other circumstances, I'd have essentially moved into this city. Perhaps someday I still would. For now though, it was just another way-station that Windfall and I used in our Neighvada circuit of the Wasteland as we cut down red blips and amassed wealth. Well, I amassed it, the pegasus drank most of hers or pissed it away on pampering and cosmetic alterations to her armor. I doubted that her ambition to put away bits in an effort to one day open a ranch of her own would survive our next encounter with a well-stocked bar.

It hadn't been a week, and the young mare was already down to four bottles of her Special Reserve. The rarest liquor in the Wasteland, and she'd downed more of it herself in three days than most ponies would ever see in their lives. I'd often wondered how she avoided have exceptionally heinous hangovers with as much as she drank until I decided that in order to get a hang over, one was required to stop drinking long enough to actually sober up first.

As long as she could still shoot straight, her sobriety didn't really matter much to me though. It kept her mind foggy enough to be easily persuaded at least. No complaints from my end on that point.

I stepped through the doors of The Jewel Pit, one of the city's lesser casinos that was nominally independent of the three ponies that owned most of the rest of the city. I say 'nominally', because the owner was incensed to pay kickbacks in order to avoid being harassed by the private security of the others. There were a few little gambling establishments like that in New Reino. Most paid their patronage to one of the big three, throwing all of their support behind one pony. The Jewel Pit was a rare exception that had wrangled deals with all three, paying each a percentage of the casino's take each month.

It was one of the reasons that I chose it as the place to stash my wealth. Every once in a while, one of the big three would piss off the others, and the standard form of retaliation was to disrupt the businesses overseen by the offender. However, with the Jewel Pit, fucking them over to spite somepony would also mess with their own bottom line. It made it a relatively safe place to keep valuables, a fact the owner capitalized on.

“Mister Jackboot,” the olive mare sitting behind the reception desk greeted me as I strode in. A pair of burly stallions to either side of the door put their hooves out and I stopped in my tracks, “pleasure to see you again. Business or pleasure?”

“Depends,” I began as one of the guards set his horn aglow, a shimmering haze of blue light passing across my body from one end to the other. As it proceeded from my tail towards my head, my pistols and knives took on the blue glow. As they did, the other guard picked them off and placed them into a nearby cabinet, “are you one of the pleasures?”

The mare's smile remained, but soured slightly, “'fraid not.”

I knew she wasn't, and even if she was I wouldn't partake with that mark on my back. It was just fun to flirt sometimes, “then I guess it'll just have to be business. Shame, that,” the mare just grunted. The guards finished relieving me of my weapons and passed me a claim ticket to use to collect them when I left. I nodded and stepped deeper into the interior of the casino.

The Jewel Pit was less grand than any of the major gambling establishments of course. How could in not be at just over a quarter the size? Still, it had much the same atmosphere: dark, loud with the intermingling sounds of slot machines, singing, and cheering patrons. I bypassed all of it, heading for the vault. On my way, I was flagged over by a unicorn wearing a pin-striped suit from a bygone era.

“Jackboot!” called out Double Down, the pony that owned the Jewel Pit.

I put on a smile and turned to face the gray stallion, silently dreading whatever he was about to say. I just wanted to get my business done with and get back to the others. It wasn't that the casino owner was particularly aggravating to be around, far from it. He was actually the source of most of my work in and around the area, with a hoof pressed firmly to the pulse of New Reino. Having dealings with all three of the ponies in charge tended to the open those sorts of doors. However, as I was currently in the midst of a 'job' at the moment, I wasn't looking for other work. In fact, I was as ready to head back to Seaddle and sell of my stash of weapons as I was ever going to be.

Still, it wouldn't do to be rude to a pony that was a valuable source of information, “Double Trouble,” I responded with a chuckle as the unicorn trotted up, “should I start trembling now, or wait until you've finished tempting me with another one of your tasty bits of insider knowledge.”

“Oh, now that ain't fair, Jackie,” the unicorn said with an air of mock offense, “we both made out well on that drug job.”

“You made out well,” I rebutted, tapping my hoof on his chest accusingly, “I made out with a bullet in my rump.”

“-and a hefty sack of caps for your trouble.”

There had been that. The banter out of the way, I decided that it was best to find out what had prompted this meeting so that I could turn the offer down and get on with my business, “if this is about another job, I'm going to need to to take a rain check. Got myself a client already I'm afraid.”

“Actually no,” the unicorn said, which drew a surprised look from myself. Double Down rarely drummed up a conversation if there wasn't an angle involved, “I, uh...I was hoping to ask you about some rumors I'd been hearing recently. You get around more than most of the ponies I know, so I figure if anypony's seen anything, it'd be you.”

“Rumors?” The downside of being away from someplace for weeks or months at a time was that you tended to fall behind on current events.

“Ponies are talking about caravans going missing. Vanishing without a trace,” Double Down spoke in low tones, as though he were afraid somepony might overhear him and be spooked by the revelation. For my part, I frowned.

“Caravans go missing all the time,” I replied with a roll of my eyes, “ain't nothing new there. Horseapples, I came across a raider group on my way here that'd just knocked one over.

“Are you having me on, Double Dee?”

The unicorn shook his head, “I ain't talking about raiders,” he insisted, “it ain't the whole caravan that goes missing, just the ponies. The wagons and saddlebags and such, they all get left behind, but the ponies that owned them ain't ever seen or heard from again.”

Okay, admittedly, that did sound odd, “the stuff's still there?”

“Not touched,” Double Down confirmed, “cargo, weapons, personal effects, all present and accounted for. But the ponies...” he shrugged.

Leaving behind the cargo? Couldn't possibly be raiders or tribals, “critters?” they'd hardly have an interest in most traded goods."

“Doubtful. No blood. In most cases, there isn't even any sign of a fight. It's like they all just walked off into the Wasteland.”

“How many times has this happened?” I was still a bit skeptical. Double Down had started off by saying it was just a rumor after all. But still, even if it was all made up, a story like this would have had a purpose behind it, right? Where was the angle then? Who benefited from spreading around a story about mysteriously vanishing ponies?

“Hard to say,” the unicorn shrugged, “I think I've heard about three different incidents, but they might have all been the same depending on how many details the teller was getting wrong. It's all hearsay as far as I know. I've certainly never seen any of it,” Double Down never left New Reino, so he wouldn't have seen anything first-hoof.

“I just wanted to know if you've seen anything like that.”

I shook my head, “can't say that I have.”

The gray stallion nodded, “just wondering. Thanks though,” he patted me on the shoulder, “and feel free to come see me after you're down with your current client; I have a line on some choice jobs,” he grinned broadly, “very lucrative.”

“I'll think about it,” and I would. Once Windfall and I were down with Foxglove, we'd continue with our circuit and be back here in a few weeks. We said our goodbyes and parted ways. He went back to hobnobbing with his casino's patrons, and I finally made it to the vaults to make my deposit.

Foxglove was leaning idly against the back wall of The Lucky Bit when I arrived. Windfall was nowhere to be seen. I approached the lavender mare, “where's Windy?”

“Upstairs,” the mare nodded her head. My anxiety must have been fairly obvious, because the unicorn quickly followed her answer up with, “relax. I kept an eye on her from the back. Tommyknocker fell for it hook, line, and sinker. That filly of yours can put on a good coy act when she's a mind to. She was a little resistant about using one of her Special Reserve bottles for the drugs, but how could we not use one of them? If anything was going to seal the deal, it was going to be a bottle of that stuff.

“Where'd y'all find that stuff anyway?”

“Took it off some raiders,” I answered simply, my eyes scanning the windows above. I had no way of knowing which of them belonged to Tommyknocker, if any of them even did. Windfall was already up there? Horseapples. I had no way of seeing or listening to anything that was going on. No way of knowing if that pegasus was in trouble or not. What if things went wrong? What if Tommyknocker sensed that he was being drugged and called for his security ponies? What if Windfall couldn't get away?

I jerked as I felt a hoof touch my leg. I looked back down to see the unicorn mare regarding me with a reassuring smile, “relax,” she repeated, “she'll be fine.”

“How can you know that?” I demanded, my gaze returning to the row of windows, waiting for a sign of trouble that I wouldn't be able to do anything about.

“Because Windfall is a capable mare, and has everything going for her,” Foxglove replied. Then, after a moment of thought, she added, “and I might be listening to everything that's going on with her and Tommyknocker.”

That got my attention, “what? How?!” Then I mentally kicked myself. She was a unicorn. Of course she'd have some sort of spell that would let her-

“I bugged the room,” Foxglove said with a smile. She inclined her head, showing me a tiny little device nestled in her right ear.

“When did you...? Wasn't it risky for you to be walking around in there when you're supposed to be with those other ponies? What if Tommyknocked had seen you?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I planted listening devices in his room years ago! I just needed to grab an ear bud from the dressing room. He never goes back there, and most of the other mares are out working. I think one of them did notice me, but so what? I 'still work there', after all.”

“Why do you have his room bugged?”

“Because I'd been planning on getting together a whole bunch of that bastard's dirty little secrets and then using them to either blackmail Tommyknocker himself, or just sell them to one of the others so that they could use the information to ruin him.

“But now, seeing as how that fuck done tried to sell me into slavery, I'm just going to kill him,” a dark glint flashed in the unicorn's eyes, “what a waste. Do you know how hard it is to put together a recording device using a hairpin and paper clips as tools? I'd have killed a pony for the sort of setup they had in that MWT bunker we found the other day. Would have been able to do the work in hours instead of weeks...”

I blinked, “wait...you built this stuff?” I leaned in to get a better look at the device in the unicorn's ear. Upon closer inspection, I found that most of it looked to have been fashioned from a bobby pin and part of a thimble. Huh. I wondered what she'd used to make the part that actually did the listening.

“Of course,” Foxglove replied matter-of-factually, “it's what I used to do for a living.”

“And how does one go from building stuff like this to being somepony's debt payment?” I inquired with a frown. There was a lot about this mare's past that I was keen to learn. She was very out of place in the Wasteland. She just knew too damn much that she had no business knowing.

The lavender mare grimaced, “it's a long story.”

“We seem to have time,” I pointed out, “and Windfall is risking a lot to help you out.”

The mare suddenly put her hoof to the ear with the little metal device in it. She said nothing for a few seconds, but before I could become concerned about what she was listening to, a satisfied smile spread across her lips. She looked back at me, “not hardly. We might want to step aside,” she guided me a few steps back, her eyes focused on one of the windows.

“Lookout,” a familiar voice called down from above, “here comes Tom!”

A moment later, I saw a blue bulge role up over a windowsill and plummet to the ground below, not far from where the unicorn and I had been standing only a few seconds ago. The heavy, sickening, THWUMP! Of Tommyknocker's unconscious body hitting the ground made me recoil. That had not sounded like it had been very pleasant at all. I idly wondered just how many of the fat stallion's bones had been shattered by the fall. Windfall fluttered down beside me.

“That is one heavy son-of-a-bitch,” the pegasus huffed.

I turned to berate the white mare for her reckless act, but found myself without words as I caught sight of her. Windfall was draped in crimson lace with golden trim around her neck and shoulders. The shear fabric flowed around her wings and over her hips. Her teal tail was braided with scarlet ribbons. Her blue eyes blinked at me, noticing my stare. Was she wearing eye shadow.

Both of us were suddenly drawn to look at where the bloated blue stallion had fallen by the wet sounds of my combat knife being repeatedly plunged into his unconscious form by a green telekinetic field. We stared in silent surprise as Foxglove set about her gory work, stabbing her former employer several dozen times. Each new stroke sent a stream of fresh blood splashing across both the mare's face and the nearby wall of the casino. What was somehow even more unsettling about the scene was that the only sounds were those of the knife entering and leaving Tommyknocker's body.

I hadn't expected that. I mean, I'd sort of known that Foxglove was going to kill the stallion, sure, but I had figured that she'd want to at least get him outside of the city first, not just do him in right on the spot. But, here we were.

Eventually, the unicorn decided that she was satisfied with her work, and stopped. She wasn't panting exactly from the effort, but I could hear the faint sounds of air escaping from clenched teeth. Barely contained rage being directed at the blue corpse.

Foxglove turned to face us, her lavender features awash with dripping blood. She levitated over a kerchief from Tommyknocker's vest pocket and used it to wipe away a fair bit of the blood, but a few streaks remained. She ttok a deep breath, and then a smile spread across her face, “well, that feels better.

“So, where are we off to next?”

I blinked. I closed the jaw that I had not realize I'd let go lax, and then stammered out a response, “'we'? Why do you think there's a 'we'? Contract's done. You're on your own.”

“Don't be silly,” the mare levitated up the knife and proceeded to wipe away the blood from it as well with the saturated swath of what had once been white fabric, “y'all could benefit from my talents.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes,” Foxglove assure us, “that little pull-tab getup you have worked out?” she nodded at Windfall, “that's all well and good, but I can do you one better: how'd you like to be able to control your guns with verbal commands? You could choose whether to fire one or both, how many rounds, even what types of rounds.

“And you,” her eyes went to me, “how'd you like to be able to shrug off magical energy fire with that armor of yours, and have it be even lighter than it is now?”

I blinked. We both did, and then we exchanged looks. Was this mare being serious? I was the one to speak though, “and you can build that sort of thing?”

“Oh, that and so much more, honey,” the mare stated with a broad grin.

“How?” I couldn't help but ask, “how does a whore know this sort of stuff? All of this stuff? Who are you?”

Her eyes flashed, “I ain't a 'whore' no more, thank you muchly,” she snarled, then her expression lightened once more, “and one-upon-a-time, I was, Foxglove, Senior Tech in charge of Stable 114's Custom Fabrications Department.

“You give me a enough scrap, and I'll knit you a robopony.”

A stable pony. That explained a lot a it. Not how she'd ended up here or what she'd been to Tommyknocker, but it certainly explained how she knew so much about Old World tech and the ministries. She'd had a Stable education. What would have driven her to the surface, I had not the slightest, but I was starting to warm to the idea of taking her with us...for a while. At least until she delivered on what she'd just promised. I looked back at Windfall, and could see immediately that the pegasus had already decided that she was eager to get her hooves on those weapon alterations that had been mentioned. Fine. It wouldn't hurt anything to have one more with us for a little while.

Seeming to sense the decision that had been reach, Foxglove asked once more, “so, like I said: where to next?”

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Explorer - Better chance of finding special places and ponies during random encounters.
Speech Skill: 50

CHAPTER 10: ROSIE THE RIVETER

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“I make the shit everybody wants and can't get enough of.”

I didn't like change.

Back when I'd taken Windfall under my care, it took me months to really warm up to the idea of having somepony else around me all the time. It'd been a gamble back then, and it still presented the occasional risk even today. But, at the end of the day, when I weighed everything, I figured it was worth it. The pair of us were able to accomplish a lot more than I ever could have on my own. I'd warmed up to the change.

Now things looked like they were going to change again.

It was different with this new mare than it had been with Windfall though. Foxglove wasn't some lost little filly who didn't know hardly anything about what was what in the Wasteland. She'd lived right in the heart of it, exposed regularly to it's darker side, for years. Brutality, slavery, lies, plotting, and even murder were things that she had experienced first-hoof. She knew what a 'bad pony' truly was.

Would she recognize those qualities in me? Would I say or do something around her that would give away what I was really like, deep down? If so, then keeping her around might not be worth the risk. I was sure that I could come up with some reason convincing enough for Windfall to accept as to why the unicorn mare shouldn't come with us. It would certainly be a lot easier to do that than find myself having to dispose of Foxglove out in the Wastes and make up a story on the spot about why she'd 'wandered off' in the middle of the night without so much as a “see y'all”.

I paused at the door leading to the small room that I rented for us that night.

It was risky letting her come with us. But that didn't mean that it might not be worthwhile. Foxglove was both smart and skilled. Stable educated, technologically savvy, and familiar with the history of the Old World. She was a huge asset if applied properly.

She certainly hadn't seemed to suspect my true nature yet. Windfall was a huge part of that, I imagined. Unlike myself, the pegasus was very much the noble sort. She wore her opinion of bandits and slavers openly. Simultaneously, she obviously respected me a lot. Foxglove had seemed to interpret that to mean that at least some of the younger mare's values were imparted to her from me, and that I shared Windfall's views on murder and banditry.

To a certain extent, that was true, after all. It's not like a lot of professional courtesy existed between bandits. If you weren't a member of their specific gang, then you were a permitted target. They represented a threat to me and what I was trying to do. The more of them we killed, the better off we were.

So I guess I was going to be taking on a second partner. Provisionally.

I opened the door and stepped through it.

“Here you go.”

I dropped the set of worn barding and tattered saddlebags I just bought at the market on the floor beside the bed. Foxglove glanced down at them and her face creased with a frown. Neither was in the greatest of conditions, and the barding smelled of death. A few small round holes surrounded by dark stains testified to the fate of the previous owner. Used barding was cheap, and I wasn't willing to spend a lot more money on this mare than I already had. Between the supplies she'd needed for dealing with Tommyknocker, food for her meals, and this barding, she'd already cost me a good three hundred caps. And, since I hadn't found a buyer for that holographic whatever-it-was we'd found in the bunker while wandering the shops today, it wasn't looking very likely I'd recoup those losses anytime soon.

“That couldn't have been the best they had,” the unicorn complained, lifting up the used armor with a green telekinetic field.

“It was the best I was going to buy you,” I returned, passing her by on my way to the bathroom. It didn't work, of course. Few Old World bathrooms did. That was fine, I didn't need the use of a toilet, just a couple minutes out of sight of our new companion while I shucked my own barding and donned the leather jacket I owned. Stable-pony or not, Foxglove knew what a White Hoof was, and I knew that she'd recognize my brand for what it was.

The pegasus hadn't put two and two together yet: my brand was something she'd seen most of her life. She probably hardly noticed it any more or paid it much attention when she did. This new mare though, she was very observant, and smart besides.

“You want something better,” I said on my way out, “I suggest you make it yourself then.”

Foxglove sighed, but she nodded, “I understand. I didn't exactly deliver on the payment I promised. I'm sorry about that.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Windfall chimed in from where she was still admiring herself in the room's dusty mirror, “you couldn't have known that the White Hooves would be there. If we'd gone after them, then we'd have gotten all those weapons anyway,” I noticed her sideways glance at me as she said that last part. I returned her gaze, but I didn't hold it for long. My eyes began to wander along the shear fabric draped off her flank and I quickly looked back at the unicorn.

“You can make up for it by delivering on those other promises you made,” I didn't try hiding the skepticism in my voice. They'd been pretty grandiose claims made, after all. Words were just air though.

“And I will,” Foxglove assured me vehemently, “as soon as I get my hooves on the tools and materials I need, I'll make you everything I said I would, and more.”

“Well, you have the tools,” I reminded her, “so what sort of materials do you need?” If they were reasonable enough in price, I might be able to go back out and buy them here.

The unicorn mare furrowed her brows, “you mean these?” she levitated out the thin little screwdrivers and soldering irons she'd collected from the MWT bunker, “I can make a few of the alterations with these, but not anything like I promised. I'll need some serious equipment for that: lathes, presses, welders, and that's just for the guns.”

“Where are we supposed to find all that?” I asked, a little irked that this was already sounding like it was going to be a lot a trouble to go through for some simple modifications. It wasn't too late to cut my losses and just kick her to the curb...

“That's a good question. Let me see your pipbuck,” the lavender mare waved me over, “maybe y'all wandered by someplace that'll have what I need.”

My eyes went down to the pipbuck. She was going to check its map. There were a lot of marked locations on it, courtesy of its prior owner and his efforts to find a replacement talisman for his stable. Maybe Foxglove would find someplace suitable at that. I extended my leg to the mare and let her do her work. The unicorn tabbed over to the map and began scrolling around it.

“Somepony had an urge to wander,” Foxglove commented, noting the number of marked locations, “you find all of these yourself or did you get the markers from somepony else?”

“Somepony else,” I replied, while considering how much I was willing to tell her about the origin of this device. For that matter, I was starting to wonder where hers was. She was a stable-pony, wasn't she? That meant that she should have been wearing one of these things. Looking at her fetlocks now, as her hooves manipulated the controls of the device on my leg, I couldn't see any sign that she'd ever worn one. Had her Stable not used them, perhaps? Weren't pipbucks sort of the hallmark of stable-ponies?

Wasn't going to learn anything by remaining silent on the issue though, “where's your pipbuck?”

“Sold it,” the unicorn supplied, her expression growing slightly more dour at the thought as she continued to pan around the map, “long time ago.”

“You sold it? Why?” this device had proven invaluable to somepony as technologically ignorant as myself. An experienced user who had an obvious technical know-how? This mare could have probably made it sing and dance. What could have possessed her to part with it?

“Can't eat a pipbuck,” Foxglove quipped, still not looking up from the screen. After a few more seconds of searching, a smile once more spread across the mare's face and she tapped her hoof on the display, “there. Haywood Industrial Equipment Manufacturing and Repair. It ain't too far away, and its bound to have what I need.”

I glanced down at the screen. That location had been one of the many sites on the pipbuck that Ten Penny had scoured during his expedition's search for the talisman his stable had so desperately needed. However, he hadn't taken the time to mention it in any of the recorded logs he'd made that I could recall. I'd give them another listen later just to be certain. Odd, I thought, that Foxglove would want to go looking for weapon parts at a place that didn't sound like it had anything to do with them.

“Why do you think there're guns there?”

“Ain't looking for weapons, per se,” the unicorn explained, “y'all have the guns. What I'm after is tools. A place like that? It'll have all sorts of fun stuff I can use to make modifications, given enough time.

“Do y'all remember if there was anything left there?”

That I did not know. I had never actually been there, “couldn't say,” I admitted. Foxglove had been right though, it wasn't all that far from New Reino. We could be there in a few days, and then start making our way to Seaddle. I still had a few weapons that I wanted to sell up there. I might even find somepony in the NLR capital that would be interested in that contraption from the MWT bunker.

It wouldn't hurt anything to swing by there on our way to Seaddle and see if what she needed was there and still usable after all this time, “I guess we'll have to go there and find out.”

The mare smiled gratefully at me, “much appreciated. Y'all won't regret this.”

“I'll say!” Windfall chimed in. She'd slipped out of her recently acquired lingerie and was wafting over to us. One of her bottles of Special Reserve clutched in her hooves. How many of those did she have left by now? “you can really make it so my girls shoot by me telling them to?”

Foxglove's brow furrowed for a moment, “...girls? Oh, your guns! I sure can, darlin'” the unicorn beamed, “just need a few talismans and servos and you'll have yourself the fanciest pair of big-irons this side of the valley!”

“Awesome!” Windfall took a swig from her bottle, “where'd you learn how to do that stuff anyway? Make things, I mean?”

“It used to be my job back in the stable,” the lavender mare replied. I noticed her expression becoming slightly more somber as she spoke about her past home. I recognized that look well. It was similar to how I felt whenever I talked about the White Hooves. A past life that is forever out of your reach, “I oversaw the fabrication shop. It was my job to build whatever it was the Stable needed that Stable-Tec hadn't thought to provide us with.”

“That sounds like a pretty important job,” Windfall pointed out, “why'd you leave?”

The unicorn averted her eyes, her expression growing sad, “I, uh...was asked to leave.”

“Why?”

Forward little scamp, wasn't she? I needed to arrange a little talk with Windfall someday about tact when bringing up somepony's past. For whatever reason, instead of telling the young flier to buck-off, Foxglove actually answered, “I betrayed somepony I cared about to get something I wanted. She didn't take it well.”

“They kick you out of a Stable for something like that?”

“They do when the pony you betrayed is the Overmare,” the lavender mare put on a wan smile, “I probably could've stayed if'n I'd really pushed the issue, but...my Stable didn't feel like home anymore. A lot of the ponies that had been my friends wouldn't hardly look me in the eye anymore.”

“I'm sorry,” Windfall said, floating down to her hooves, “I know what it's like to lose your home,” she placed a consoling hoof on the unicorn's leg, offering up a weak smile, “who knows, maybe you can even go back someday?”

“Maybe,” it didn't sound like Foxglove believed that was going to be something that would happen.

I cleared my throat audibly, drawing the attention of the two mares, “that's a tragic story, no doubt,” I said, “but I'd like to hear the rest of it. What brings a mare with talents like yours to New Reino, just to wind up as Tommyknocker's whore?”

“Jackboot!” Windfall exclaimed in surprise.

Really? She was going to act indignant when I asked a blunt question? Foxglove regarded me with narrowed eyes and a sour frown as well, obviously offended at my phrasing. Tough. I wasn't here to suck up to her. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was the unicorn that needed to get onto my good side, and a nice start would be answering my questions.

Either Foxglove was reading my mind, or she had come to that conclusion on her own. At least she answered my question, “it's alright,” she assured Windfall, “I don't mind talking about it.

“Talents I may have, but they didn't much extend to surviving in the Wasteland. I'd never had to find my own food or water in the wilderness before. The ponies in my stable weren't cruel about my leaving, so I had a few things on me in the way of food and water and weapons, but not enough as it turned out.”

“Encountered raiders?”

“Not as such,” the mare corrected, “but close enough.

“I ran out of provisions on my third day out, but I at least found an old road. Followed it for another two days, hoping to find something, anything, to eat or drink. I eventually collapsed. When I woke up, somepony was giving me sips of water. I'd been found by a band of ponies traveling the road. They nursed me back to health, giving me some of their food and water.”

“How is that 'close to raiders'?” Windfall demanded, “they sound like good ponies.”

“I thought so too, at first. I didn't notice that they were all eating different food than I was, and giving me water from a specific canteen.”

“They were getting you hooked on something,” I concluded, recognizing what must have been going on. It hadn't been very common back when the Commonwealth had still engaged in the slave trade, but ever since Luna had outlawed the practice in NLR territories, slavers had gotten...creative. Instead of outright nabbing ponies off the streets and shackling them in chain, they would instead single out ponies down on their luck—especially young mares—and give them gifts of food and drink, acting all friendly. Only, what they were offering was actually laced with some addictive narcotic. Low doses at first, then higher ones. Finally, the slavers switched the pony onto uncontaminated food, which was when the victim finally noticed something was wrong and the trick was revealed. But, by then the unsuspecting pony was in the throes of extremely painful withdrawal symptoms, and was willing to make nearly any sort of deal to get a dose of what they needed to make the agony stop.

“Yeah,” Foxglove confirmed, nodding her head, “I didn't know it then, but when we got to New Reino, I was shaking so bad, and my head felt like it was going to split apart. They told me I must have come down with a case of 'Wasteland Withers', and that the medicine to treat it was very expensive.”

“I've never heard of 'Wasteland Withers',” Windfall furrowed her brows.

“Because there ain't no such thing, but I didn't know that at the time. I genuinely thought I was sick,” Foxglove went on, “I traded my guns for some 'medicine', which helped for a couple days. Then my head started to hurt again, even worse than before. I traded away my pipbuck that time. After that, I didn't have anything else left to trade.

“One of the ponies with me said he'd be willing to buy it for me. I just had to sleep with him. I said no.”

“So then he made you?” Windfall ventured, warily.

“He didn't have to,” the unicorn mare said more quietly, “after two more days, I just couldn't stand the pain anymore. My head hurt so bad. I really thought I was going to die.

“I let him fuck me. He gave me the 'medicine' like he promised, but it was only enough to keep the pain away for a day. I didn't know he was just making it worse by giving me more drugs. I just knew that I didn't want to go more than a day without some of it. So I kept fucking him in exchange for the drug. I'd fuck his buddies too when he asked. Even complete strangers that paid him to have their way with me.

“I was a pathetic little sex toy, and I thought I'd die if I stopped.” Foxglove's voice sounded cold and hollow. Her gaze vacant as she relived those memories of what was undoubtedly the lowest point in her life.

“Tommyknocker was such an asshole,” Windfall snarled, “I'm glad we killed him.”

Foxglove looked up in confusion, blinking at the pegasus, “what? Tommyknocker didn't do any of that.”

“Huh?” even I was a little thrown by that revelation.

“Tommyknocker noticed me outside one of his clubs, where I was being pimped out. He took a liking to me. I don't know if he bought me or what, but I never saw that other pony again. Tommy actually had me cleaned up, and took me to a doctor to get me off the drugs. It wasn't easy, but eventually I was alright.”

“...and for that you killed him?” I blinked. Was there a part of this story I'd missed?

“Don't get me wrong, Tommy may not have used drugs, but he wasn't any better than the others. He was a lot more direct at least: sleep with him or have my legs broken and get raped. I knew where I stood with him, and I hated him for it.

“I guess he grew tired of me and pawned me off. The rest, you know.”

“You're being awfully forthcoming about all of this,” I noted.

“Why shouldn't I be? I've got nothing to hide, and I need y'all to trust me if we're going to work together,” Foxglove pointed out, “in the long run, it never pays to lie to the ponies around you.”

I got the oddest sensation that some part of me agreed with her, but I couldn't put a hoof on it.

“Well, I trust you,” Windfall smiled reassuringly at the unicorn, “and I know Jackboot does too,” the pegasus hopped up onto the bed next to Foxglove and looked at her expectantly, “now, tell me more about those awesome gun you're gonna make me!”

The lavender mare chuckled and obliged the younger flier with details on the modifications that she intended to make, fielding the occasional suggestion from Windfall. I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to the exchange myself. What Foxglove had said about being honest shouldn't have struck me the way that it had. I mentally glared at the tiny incarnation of Fluttershy that resided in my head, but her mute expression pleaded innocence. Well, it certainly hadn't been Whiplash or Steel Bit that had evoked that feeling.

An occasional good deed was all that Yellow Bitch was getting out of me. I'd fight her on anything more. This was my head, dammit!

Haywood Industrial Equipment Manufacturing and Repair was far more impressive in size and scope that I would have envisioned. In my mind, it had been little more than some sort of slightly enlarged garage, like so many or the small cart repair shops that littered the Wasteland. However, far more than a simple building, the facility that we stood before now was a massive complex of warehouses surrounded by the rusted hulks of cranes and tractors.

“So, what exactly is it that we're looking for in this place?” my eyes combed the surrounding wasteland. I could see the occasional red blip flickering across my vision, but nothing that remained for very long, and the speed that they moved at suggested that they were lingering in the distance. As big as this complex was, that could still suggest that something was lurking within those large buildings. I didn't notice much in the way of overt signs of pony habitation. No discarded Sparkle Cola or Wild Pegasus bottles, or empty boxes that once held Sugar Apple Bombs. Raiders were unlikely, but that didn't mean it wasn't still dangerous.

“I made a list,” Foxglove's horn shimmered with an emerald glow and a scrap of yellowed paper floated out of her saddlebag. She floated it over to me and my eyes scanned over the writing scrawled on the page.

I frowned after reading the first few items, “I have no idea what any of this stuff is.”

The unicorn withdrew her list and smiled, “s'alright, I do. I'll point it out to you when I see it. Everything I need is pretty portable; and it's all hopefully somewhere in there.”

“Well, alright then,” I sighed, glancing up at Windfall hovering nearby, “keep an eye out. There's...something crawling around in there.”

“Got it,” the pegasus nodded firmly, “I'll scout ahead,” she zipped off, ducking through the open door of one of the large warehouses.

My eyes went to the unicorn mare, “stay close,” Foxglove nodded and fell into step behind me as I lead the way into the nearest building.

Inside were several large pieces of industrial equipment in various stages of disassembly. Or was it assembly? Hard to tell really, since none of them looked to be in good condition anymore anyway. The walls were lined with cabinets and benches. Tools could be seen strewn about table tops as well as the floor in a rather disorderly fashion. Most of the Old World looked as though ponies had run off in the middle of whatever they were doing with no thought to returning later. Idly, I wondered just how much warning the ponies of old had had before their world ended. Not much, I would guess.

My ear twitched. Something was skittering about nearby. A glance in the direction of the sound confirmed a lone red blip. However, I could see nothing but the gutted shell of a dozer. I drew my 9mm and motioned for Foxglove to remain where she was. My eyes were intently focused on the red dot hovering in front of me, waiting for any signs of movement in the room.

The blip periodically shifted from side to side, making that same skittering sound, but I never got a clear look at it. Radscorpion, perhaps? If so, it was best to take care of it now before it became a real problem. Hopefully, it was on the smaller side and something that I could dispatch with a couple well-placed shots. My gaze darting back and forth between the blip provided by the pipbuck and the wreckage before me, I quietly circled around, noting how the little red tick moved. I finally narrowed down its probable location to the dozer's interior.

I took a preparatory breath, and with a firm hold on the grip of my pistol, lunged up onto the engine of the ancient machine, pointing my weapon in through the missing rear window. I was barely able to track the rust-colored blur as the terrified radroach leaped out of the dozer with raucous chattering. I watched as the abnormally large insect ran out of sight, and then breathed a sigh of relief. Just a radroach. Probably what most of the blips were. They could be dangerous, true, but I'd rarely seen them act hostile towards groups of ponies. If there was a few of them and a pony was wandering alone, that was a different matter, but between the three of us there shouldn't be a problem. I climbed down off the rusted hulk and returned to Foxglove.

“Trouble?”

I shook my head, holstering the weapon once more, “just a radroach. Let's keep looking.”

The unicorn mare nodded and proceeded to pick over the scattered tools while I kept watch on the surrounding red blips. I tracked the single yellow one too as it moved across my field of vision at great speed. Windfall making her rounds of the surrounding buildings.

Eventually my eyes wandered back to Foxglove. We'd spoken very little on the way here. Most of the conversations that she'd had had been with Windfall as the pegasus plied her with questions about her past life in her old Stable and the nature of her job there. I'd listened in silence. Foxglove hadn't been much more forthcoming with the details of her exile, as it was clearly a sore topic; but she had been willing to share a lot about her old job in that Stable, as well as how ponies had lived in general. The pegasus found it all quite fascinating. I was less intrigued. It wasn't like I was ever going to live in a place like that, after all.

That wasn't to say that I still didn't have questions of my own though. Questions that I wanted to hear the answers to without Windfall being present. After all, if I didn't like the answers, I wanted the opportunity to...deal with Foxglove. This was a dangerous place, after all. Things could happen over which I had no control. It would be a tragedy to be sure, but a stallion like me could only do so much to protect somepony from the monsters of the Wasteland.

I certainly wasn't about to place my welfare, or Windfall's, in jeopardy; and something about this mare bothered me.

“Why are you with us?”

Foxglove paused in her browsing and peered back at me, “excuse me?”

“You. Traveling with us. Why?” I regarded her coolly, slowly circling around, “I heard your story: lied to, drugged, and made a sex slave by the first ponies you met out here. Most mares would develop a healthy paranoia of strangers. Yet you've been willing to travel with us almost from day one.

“Why?” I glared at her, and the unicorn took a nervous step back “for all you know, we're just as bad as Tommyknocker. A pair of murderers and thieves roaming the Wastes. What do you know about us, really?”

“About you?” the mare swallowed, “nothing. I know your name, and that's about it. You don't talk much, after all,” she attempted a nervous chuckle, but it died quickly under my stare. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, “but I know a good bit about Windfall. She's a good pony. Truest I ever met since leaving the Stable.

“She rushed to my defense with no thought of payment or reward. She has a healthy hate of White Hooves. She put herself at great risk to help me out with Tommyknocker.

“If I can't trust a pony like her...well then, there ain't no point in trusting anypony; and I sure can't survive on my own,” she offered a wan smile.

“And what about me?”

“You?” there was a long pause, “I...I think that there's a reason that your daughter is the way she is,” I kept my expression impassive at her misreading of mine and Windfall's relationship, “and I think that the reason you're acting really scary right now is that you just want to make sure I ain't no kind of threat to her. And I assure you I ain't. I promise.”

She thinks you're just 'acting scary', Whiplash whispered in my head, that means she doesn't believe that you'd actually hurt her. She thinks you're harmless, she chuckled, I think she's right: you wouldn't hurt her. Not ever. You're weak like that.

Steel Bit chimed in as well, if she doesn't fear you, she'll never respect you.

“You'd better not be,” I said, pushing away the pair of taunting voices in my head.

My attention was immediately drawn behind as a chorus of chitinous skittering and the crashing of some tools resounded from across the building. I spied the multi-limbed culprit as it darted across the floor and out of sight. Damn bugs, they were everywhere in this place. Which, I found odd for some reason. I mean, I guess radroaches were about as common as corpses in the wasteland, and you couldn't hardly spit without hitting one of those. It was just...this many radroaches gathered in one place, that only happened in very specific locations. Old markets. The kitchens of hotels. Places where there was plenty of decayed food to scavenge. This place? I mean, maybe there was some sort of cafeteria, but I sure hadn't found it yet; and that didn't explain what they were doing here.

Did they eat rust?

“There you two are,” Windfall's voiced chimed from above. I glanced up to see the armored flier gliding in for a soft landing nearby, “coast is clea-EEEAR!”

I watched as the young pegasus mare performed a mid-air stop that nearly sent her into a back-flip with its suddeness. Her wide blue eyes were glued to one of the nearby benches as she backpedaled away. A frown creased my features as I followed the direction of her gaze. Another radraoch was nestled under the bench, its antennae twitching lazily. It almost looked like it was sleeping...if they even did sleep, I guess. Windfall darted off and alit atop of an old nearby crane, with her attention remaining fixed on the large insect.

I exchange a glance with Foxglove, who was also now clarifying that it was indeed merely a radroach that had caused the pegasus to abort her landing. The unicorn quirked an eyebrow questioningly at me, “she's actually afraid of radroaches?”

“Bugs in general,” I explained, “bad experience with a bloatsprite in her bedroll when she was a filly,” I had found the ordeal rather hysterical at the time. Windfall had never quite come around to see it that way, even all these years later.

“I'm not afraid of them!” the flier insisted irately, “I just...feel more comfortable when I'm up here and they're...not. That's all.”

“Go ahead and keep watch from up there,” I ordered the pegasus, “we'll be done soon, right?” I added with a glance at Foxglove. The unicorn looked around at the benches and nodded.

“Most of what I need seems to be in this here room, yeah,” she moved over to a cabinet and began picking through its contents. Every once in a while she slipped something into her saddlebags.

“Good,” I stayed close to her, my eyes still shifting the stationary radroach under the bench every so often. Was it...wearing a belt? It was hard to tell with it hiding in the shadows like that, and the color of the leather was very similar to it's natural coloration to boot; but I could have sworn that an old belt was wrapped around its midsection.

This place was starting to weird me out.

Blips were everywhere on my EFS. Hardly any of them seemed to really be moving, and those that did only seemed to occasionally jerk and twitch. This place was simply crawling with the oversized insects. Then I noticed one blip that was actually moving quite a bit. I tracked the errant dot, curious about what was setting it apart from the others. I watched it vanish once or twice as it left the range within which the pipbuck on my leg could magically track it. It would reappear soon enough though, and continue to move.

At one point, I was certain that the blip was moving towards us, but I neither saw nor heard anything even as it whizzed by and was suddenly behind me. Something flying around outside maybe? A bloatsprite?

A loud crunching sound from far above drew my gaze upward. Windfall was watching my wandering gaze with passive interest. I'm sure that to her it looked like I was trying to help the unicorn with us find her desired tools. The pegasus mare was noisily munching on a mouthful of whatever it was that she had pulled from a box nestled under her wing. I couldn't make out the wording on the label from down here, but the bright colors and vivid design suggested that they were Sugar Apple Bombs.

I quirked an eyebrow at the flier, “where's you get those?”

“Found them,” Windfall mumbled around a mouthful of the sweets. Then she swallowed and pointed a wing off to the side, “there was a whole locker full of them in the next building over. Like, hundreds of them,” she stuffed another cluster into her mouth and started chewing. Sugar-infused red balls that missed her mouth dribble down to the ground.

As I pondered what might possess a pony to hoard hundreds of boxes of an ancient foal's cereal in the locker of an old industrial equipment complex, I felt something brush under me. I nearly jumped right out of my skin as the radraoch I'd be looking at moments ago, and which I could now clearly see was wearing a belt, skittered towards the crane that Windfall was perched on. It wasn't the only one either. Another half dozen of the enlarged bugs had emerged from their hiding places and were gathered around the base of the thing.

Windfall noticed the activity and sat up, alert, “what are they doing?”

I cautiously stepped closer, “they're eating the crumbs you've been dropping,” I was only half paying attention to the pegaus now. Was there something written on that belt that radroach was wearing?

“Gah!”

The high-pitched scream was followed a second later by a loud crunching sound and the pounding of hooves on metal. Foxglove and I both looked up towards Windfall, who was flailing at the crane. Her box of Sugar Apple Bombs tumbled to the floor, scattering it contents about. Rather than startle the gathered radroaches, it actually seemed to draw more of them. I watched as the younger mare ceased her fit and then look at one of her hooves in disgust.

“Ewe...” she pathetically pawed at the crane in an effort to wipe it off. Then she stopped, her eyes narrowing at something that only she could see, “Misses Boots?”

“What?” I quirked an eyebrow.

“It's written on the pink strap-belt-thing that this radroach is wearing,” the pegasus explained. She took off and started listing downward. All the while flicking her hoof, “who names something like that 'Misses Boots'? How can you even tell if they're a boy of a girl?”

Wait. She'd just killed a radraoch wearing a belt? One that had writing on it? I looked back at the milling insects, which now numbered upwards of a dozen. They all wore belts around their midsections. I leaned in an squinted at the nearest ones. Mister Fuzzy...Daisy...Sox...Edward Archibald Fitzgerald IV.

There was something else too. Looking around, I noticed that all of the red blips on my EFS were now gathered in one location in front of me. All, except for the one that continued to move. Only now it was moving more quickly. Somehow, I didn't still think that it was something that was moving above us.

“We're leaving,” I stated, an edge creeping into my voice. I started for the exit, adding over my shoulder, “now.”

“But I still haven't found-” Foxglove began.

I was ready to cut off the mare, but I never got the chance. Before I could say anything, the ground between us erupted in a shower of dirt and rock. The unicorn and I backpedaled, flinching away from the torrent of debris. Windfall immediately flitted up into the air, ducking into the rafters. Full Stop was in my mouth and pointed in the direction of the eruption. It was the hardest hitting weapon that we had between the three of us, and should be able to tackle most anything. But when I saw what we faced, I was no longer quite so certain about that.

I'd never actually faced a hell hound before. I'd heard of them, of course, and knew enough to recognize what they looked like. However, I had now decided that the stories didn't quite do them the justice that they deserved.

The three of us could have stood upon each others' backs and still not been tall enough to even bop the nose of the hulking behemoth. Arms, longer than a pony from nose to tail, ended in a paw tipped with razor-sharp claws. Piercing yellow eyes glowed down from just above a mouth of gleaming fangs. It's fur was soot-black, and speckled with motes of dirt and clay gathered from its subterranean travels. A red spiked collar and tattered leather vest were the only articles of clothing that I could see.

I froze.

I'd never done that before. I'd been in situations where I'd been afraid, and even one's where I'd panicked and acted without thinking everything through. But I'd always acted, taking the initiative and making a move. For better or worse, I knew that doing something was always better than doing nothing. No matter the odds, I'd always done something.

But not now. At this moment, I did nothing. Every story I'd ever heard about what a hell hound was capable of came flooding into my head all at once. Whole caravans wiped out to the last pony by a single hell hound. Even whole squads of Steel Rangers gave these monstrous canines a wide berth. Stories told by a hundred ponies about meeting them in the wasteland, and surviving only because they took the chance to run while it was busy gutting some other pony that had been with them.

Was that how I was going to get out of this? By leaving one of the other two ponies with me to die?

I vote for the unicorn, Whiplash posed thoughtfully, I don't think she'd look as good wearing that little satin number that Windfall had on the other day...

Not helping.

Neither was my hesitation. All of our hesitating. I didn't know if everypony was waiting for a cue from me, our group's defacto leader, or if they were simply rendered paralyzed by the same fear that gripped me, but neither Foxglove, nor Windfall had so much as blinked since the enormous canine burst into view.

Maybe that was for the best, in hindsight. Had we attacked it, or run, it might have simply murdered us all right there on the spot. Instead, it just sniffed at our still forms, and then turned to look down at the gathered radroaches. All of which, for whatever reason, had chosen not to scatter at the sound of the commotion. Those things would run screaming from a buzzing egg timer, but they were completely oblivious to a fucking hell hound?

Then the thing spoke, which, I honestly didn't know they could do, “how are Mommy's little angels doing today?”

What.

My jaw went slack. I had indeed begun to suspect that the radroaches were being kept as pets, but I would never have guess that their owner would turn out to be a hell hound. I'd actually suspected some crazy wasteland pony that was going to pop out soon and try to kill us all. Naturally, a mere pony that had been touched in the head wouldn't do for Celestia. No, only a fucking hell hound would do for my divine punishment.

And 'punished' was just what we were about to be, once 'Mommy' discovered that one of her pets had been squished by the ponies intruding on her home. Windfall might well survive her ire, being gifted with the power to hover above this towering terror, but I somehow suspected that even though Foxglove and I weren't directly responsible, it wouldn't save us from become the 'next best thing' for the hell hound to vent its frustrations on.

“Ooh, did my babies get hungry and raid the pantry again?” the hell hound continued to coo, “naughty, naughty!”

Great, it was crazy too. Because a sane hell hound wouldn't have been dangerous enough, would it, Celestia?

We needed to leave. Now.

I reached over and nudged Foxglove, who jerked suddenly but managed to clamp her mouth shut before screaming aloud. I nodded vigorously towards the exit until she began to catch on and the two of us started to slowly back away. Windfall would hopefully catch on to the plan without needing to be told directly. It was a very simple plan, after all: run, the fuck. Away.

Indeed, Windfall did notice our slow withdrawal from the warehouse, and she even deigned to come with us. She took off from her perch and started to quietly flutter in the direction of the door.

Which was when the corpse of the radroach she'd stomped on earlier became dislodged from the top of the crane and tumbled to the ground. Right at the feet of the hell hound.

We all froze. Again.

The canine stared at the carcass, and bent down to get a closer look. I saw the hairs on its back bristle as it took in a deep breath. As large as it had been before, the hell hound somehow seemed to grow even larger now as it spun around.

Oh, horseapples.

She fixed the three of us with a deathly glare and demanded in a low grumbling snarl that grew with each word until it was a tooth-rattling howl, “who. Killed. Misses BOOTS?!”

She didn't wait for an answer, which was fine, since none of us intended on providing one, “scatter!”

Everypony responded to my command, which was a good sign, as it meant that the three of us lived a full three seconds longer that we had any right to. Winfall soared up, naturally. I dove to the left. Foxglove took the right. Mommy's opening leap took her right down the middle. The pegasus and I, being of like mind and tactics, turned as we moved and brought our weapons to bear. Full Stop bucked in my mouth, and Windfall's twin submachine guns burped a storm of bullets at the massive dark blur of death that had lunged past us.

It was hard to distinguish any screams of pain from among the roars of rage coming from the hell hound, and when it hit the ground, the canine kept right on going...into the ground. All that was left was a gaping hole in the ground, and an ominous growling that seemed to reverberate through the whole building. We certainly hadn't killed the thing. I hoped that our weapons would make it think twice about a second attack, but I doubted we could possibly be that lucky.

Lucky ponies did not unexpectedly find themselves in hell hound lairs.

Besides, I was still tracking its blip with my pipbuck. The crimson tick mark hovering in my field of view darted to the left and circled around behind us. Now was our chance to make a run for the exit.

“This way, come on!” I charged ahead. Windfall flew above me, and Foxglove came galloping back over. I glanced back over my shoulder to continue tracking the hell hound. Its blip was still directly behind us. Of course, this was the moment that I remembered the pipbuck's EFS tracked direction. Elevation and distance were a mystery left up to the user to discover.

That mean that the hellhound could be anywhere from a hundred yards off to...

The blip suddenly whipped to the side and vanished from view. Which could only mean that the hell hound had just moved past me and was now in front of us. If her initial appearance was any indication, I knew what would come next.

“Look out!” I leaped to the side, tackling the unicorn mare running beside me tot he ground. The pair of us hit hard, neither really expecting the contact. We rolled away in an unceremonious tangle of hooves. At the same moment, the ground where we would have been a second later exploded upward in a shower of dirt and stone. The emergent hell hound snarled and swiped at empty air, which only served to bolster her rage.

Automatic gunfire spackled the canine's backside as Windfall swooped in low for a strafe. The hell hound yowled in annoyance and turned to face her attacker, pawing at the air with her massive claws. The pegasus bobbed deftly out of the way and offered another burst right in the monster's face. This too, she shrugged off effortlessly.

We were in a bad way. Windfall was alright, safe above the threat that loomed over the pair of us. However, it was obvious that we needed weapons with a lot more killing power that the flier's pistol caliber slugs. I readied the revolver in my mouth and lined up a shot with the back of Mommy's head. Two quick pulls of the trigger sent the firearm reeling in my teeth. The impacts sent the beast doubling over.

For a brief moment, I mentally celebrated. Two rounds to the skull from the miniature cannon in my mouth was enough to turn the head of any foe we'd ever faced in the Wasteland into so much pink mist. Surely they could even put down something like...this...

Mommy turned around slowly and deliberately, and glared at me with a look that emphasized her lack of amusement at being shot in the back, even if it had been to no significant effect.

Full Stop, a revolver that fired lead slugs that were larger than any standard rifle I'd ever come across, was hooves-down the most powerful weapon that our little band possessed in the form of pure stopping and killing power. I'd seen it pierce the thick chitin hides of radscorpions bigger than I was, pierce the thick metal skins of roboponies, and rip through even the most heavily armored raiders in the Wasteland. Yet, against this hell hound, I may have been shooting spit wads.

We. Were. Fucked.

Myself especially if I didn't move. Now!

I broke into a run. This time I wasn't heading for the door though. There wasn't any point. The hell hound had already proven that she was capable of moving a lot more quickly under the ground that the three of us were on top of it. We couldn't outrun her, which meant that we had to outfight her...somehow. I hadn't figured that much out quite yet. Nothing we had was going to be enough, and unless the ponies that had once worked here had kept a few rocket launchers handy...

There was an awful lot of large machinery around here though. Maybe if we could use some of it to, I don't know, crush her or something? Not that I though any of it was operational at this precise moment, of course. However, we did have a demonstratively tech-savvy unicorn in our midst, so...it was a plan, at least.

Mommy dove in my direction, but I could see instantly that she was going to fall well short of me. He intent was to burrow through the floor and come up under me later. I guess that was her preferred method of attack or something. Effective, since it made her significantly more difficult to track, even with the aid of the EFS. The only time we could even get any shots off at her was when she surfaced for her attack...which would be imminent.

That didn't leave much time for coordinating with the others. I darted from side to side as I made my way towards the old dozer hulk, “our guns are useless, Windy, save your ammo,” if we survived this, we might need those rounds for more conventional threats later, “Foxglove, can you get this dozer working? Or maybe the crane?”

I glanced towards the unicorn, and saw her utterly flabbergasted expression as she stared at the pieces of equipment that I'd pointed out, “sure, just give me a few weeks to rebuild the engines and put them back together,” she jabbed her hoof at the crane, “that thing doesn't even have ts engine in it at the moment,” the lavender mare shouted incredulously, “what, do you think I can just magic stuff like that back together?!”

I blinked, “can't you?”

“No!”

Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that? Didn't unicorns have a spell for nearly everything? A red blip darted from one side of me gaze to the other nearly instantly. Time to move! I jumped into the cab of the dozer just as a massive set of claws burst up through the floor where I'd been standing and took a swipe at empty air. The rest of the hell hound was quick to follow her paw out of the ground. She must have seen me climb up the side of the derelict machinery, because another sweep of her claws ripped the top right off the thing.

Maybe these things wouldn't be all that effective a weapon against Mommy after all, if she was capable of ripping through them like tissue paper. So, I needed another new plan...and a new hiding place too. I dove out the other side and started running for the crane. Get up high and wait for her to got to sleep or something. Not a spectacular plan, but I was getting pretty desperate right about now.

Behind me, I heard a howl that was interrupted by the sound of shattering concrete. Mommy was underground again.

“Can you at least build a really big gun or something?!” I demanded of the unicorn as I kept running, “isn't that why we're here?”

“What is wrong with you?!” Foxglove demanded, “I can't just through something like that together in a couple minutes. And even if I could, how would I make the ammo, genius? Do you see any jars of gunpowder lying around?”

“Isn't there anything you can do?” that was Windfall, that time.

“Why am I the go-to pony here?!”

I jumped up onto the crane and started climbing as furiously as I could. Hopefully, Mommy would have trouble climbing this thing. She was a digger after all, not a climber. Right?

The pegasus swooped about, keeping her eyes on the ground as she supply an answer to Foxglove's question, “because nothing the two of us have works on this thing, and you said you used to make thing in you stable whenever the ponies there didn't have what they needed. Well, we need a big gun, or a bomb, or something. Soon!”

“I can't make explosives from rusted out husks of-!” the unicorn drew up short, blinked, and then started darting about the edges of the warehouse, scouring the cabinets.

I was halfway up the crane when I realized that it had been a while since the hell hound had shown herself. Shouldn't she have burst out the ground directly beneath me or something by now? I glanced at my EFS, searching for her red blip. The radroaches had long since vanished, not keen on all the gunfire and roaring apparently. So there was only the single blip...and it was in Foxglove's direction.

“Foxglove, look out!” I yelled out, not even sure what I was expecting her to do. She didn't have a pipbuck, so she couldn't see any blips hovering in front of her eyes. That unicorn was no slouch though, she instantly stopped rooting through a drawer that she'd pulled open and sprinted along the wall as fast as her legs would carry her. In her mouth was a small tube and what looked like a massive hoof-file. In her wake, an eruption of chunks of cement and benches as the hell hound came up right where she'd been standing.

This could be my chance, I thought for a moment. I'd heard tales of hell hounds from ponies who'd survived by leaving somepony else behind to die. Foxglove could be that somepony for me. It's not like I hadn't tried to save us all. It's not my fault that canine is tougher than Full Stop. Windfall would even understand, in time. All I had to do was run for the exit.

And so I did. I jumped down off the crane and started running for the open doorway. I kept an eye over my shoulder, watching to see if Mommy changed her mind and decided that it was still me that she wanted to kill first. However, it was looking like lavender unicorns were at the top of menu now. The hell hound dropped back into the hole that she'd just created, and I saw the red blip begin moving after Foxglove once more. I was home free! I'd hopefully be far enough away by the time that thing finished off Foxglove that she wouldn't even bother coming after me. Windfall was safe, of course, being in the air and all.

Then I heard a clatter of gunfire. I looked around once again, and saw that Windfall was shooting a short burst at the floor between Foxglove and the red tick that was the hell hound. Not having any EFS, she couldn't know where the hell hound was precisely, and I could tell that the pegasus had missed her mark by more than a fair margin. Not that 10mm pistol rounds were going to penetrate deep into the cement floor anyway.

What was that crazy pegasus doing? A moment later, I had my answer as Mommy tore up through the floor where those bullets had struck, swiping at empty air. She looked around, confused when she notice how far off her mark she had been. Then another spray of 10mm rounds splattered her in the face. Her furious eyes locked onto Windfall as the flier kept the hell hound's attention with burst of gunfire separated by lewd generalizations about hell hound paternity.

Windfall was buying Foxglove time to escape, not that the unicorn seemed intent on following me out the exit anyway. She was currently charging around from one cabinet to another while the hovering file enveloped in her emerald telekinetic field hurriedly rubbed against the rusted frame of an old dozer door. What was that about?

Whatever. It didn't matter. The unicorn could do whatever she liked in her last moments. I just had to escape while I could and wait for Windfall to meet with me later after she'd failed to save Foxglove. That in mind...

“Leave her alone, you big meanie!”

The hell hound cowered away from the burst of submachine gun rounds that followed those words. At first, I thought that maybe the pegasus had finally struck a blow to the behemoth. Had she found some small vulnerability after all? No, wait...the canine wasn't hurt. She was just reaching for a nearby chunk of concrete that she had shattered when she'd burst up through the floor. What was she going to do with tha-?

“Windfall, look out!”

My warning came too late. I watched in horror as the hell hound whipped the hunk of concrete through the air, directly at the hovering pegasus. Windfall was so surprised, secure in the safety that she enjoyed out of reach of the large beast, that she didn't make any effort to evade the rocky missile. The debris shattered upon impact, exploding into a shower of gravel and dust. Windfall was thrown back by the blow, her stunned body careening into the far wall. A thunderous CRACK issued throughout the building as the feathered mare slammed against a steel support and then feel limply to the ground.

I stood, in stunned silence, staring at the unmoving white mare. Any moment now, she was certain the pull herself back up onto her hooves and take to the air once more. She had to. Right?

Crimson blood began to spread over the left side of her face from a gash in her head. The red stain was growing with alarming speed. That was a good sign though, right? That meant that her heart was still beating, pumping blood through her body. It meant that she wasn't dead. Right?

Pfft. You know she's gone, Whiplash commented idly from the back of my mind, and so what if she is? This is what you were waiting for, wasn't it: somepony to die so that you could make your escape. So, make with the escape already.

It wasn't supposed to be her.

Windfall, Foxglove, what's the difference? A dead mare's a dead mare. Now hoof it, that was Steel Bit, sounding dismissive as always.

And so I hoofed it. I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me.

I ran right at that fucking hell hound bitch.

Full Stop was in my mouth, firing away. Only three rounds remained in the cylinder, and I sent all of them into that beast's head. At this distance and speed, my aim wasn't what it could have been, and only one of the rounds actually struck my target. Like the others before, it failed to penetrate, but the strike certain drew her attention. When the hammer feel with a hollow 'click' on a spent chamber, I holstered the weapon and drew my semi-automatic instead. These slug were half the weight of the rounds that the revolver fired, but I didn't want to waste the time reloading.

The slide bobbed back and forth as I squeezed the trigger as fast as the pistol would allow, sending a steady flow of 9mm bullets at Mommy's head. If she had a soft spot, it would have to be there. I refused to believe that her eyeballs and ear holes were as resistant to bullets as the rest of her was proving to be. The canine snarled at my approach, but she kept her claw-tipped paws in close to her, using them to protect her head from my incessant shots. This reaction only spurred me to press my attack further.

I was only a few yards away when I felt the slide lock back on the spent pistol. I was committed now though, and there wasn't time to swap in a fresh magazine. If I hesitated for even a second, the hell hound would just have to reach out and casually shred me into pieces with one swipe of her razor-sharp claws. I couldn't stop, I couldn't turn away.

And I wasn't going to. This fucking bitch had killed Windfall. She was going to die for that. Even if I was going to have to do it by ripping her apart with my bear hooves.

The gun fell from my mouth, forced out by a cry that I had not uttered in a great many years. A guttural yell that had been honed over countless generations to evoke fear and despair in all who heard it across the Neighvada valley. The war cry of the White Hooves. I don't even think I meant to do it. It just flowed from my subconscious, borne from a raw desire that I'd not had in a long time: I wanted this thing dead.

I'd killed a lot of ponies in my life, but it had never really been anything personal. They had something I wanted, and killing them was the simplest way to get it. Or they were trying to kill me, and their deaths meant that I'd be safe. Neither of those circumstances applied hear. I wanted this hell hound dead, because feeling her bones crushed beneath my hooves was the only thing that would have a chance of easing the pain that was threatening to rip my insides apart.

Windfall was dead. So Mommy had to die too.

I lashed out with hoof and fetlock, striking at the canine's raised arms in an effort to sweep them aside and get at the vulnerabilities of her face. For what seemed like the longest moment, the hell hound simply stood there, cowering away from my strikes without reprisal. It was as though she was so surprised that a pony had charged to engage her in close combat that she was not completely certain how to respond. It didn't last of course. She was far larger than I was, and certainly stronger. It wouldn't take much for the hell hound to overpower me, and she knew it.

My body twisted in mid-air as I landed the last kick in my opening salvo and began my inevitable descent to the ground. I could hear the monster behind me grunting with rage, and the moment I hit the ground I fell to my belly and rolled to the right as forcefully as I could. It wasn't a very graceful roll, and I felt my left ankle slam hard against the concrete as a result, but I had correctly anticipated the hell hound's response. I heard the sound of her massive claws raking the floor where I had landed.

Once more I was on my feet, sprinting around to come at her side. Mommy was still sitting in the burrow that she had created the last time she had burst from the floor, which kept her torso lower to the ground than in might otherwise have been had she been walking around on the surface. Again I flung myself into the air, unleashing a series of jabs at her shoulder and neck. The hell hound recoiled slightly at the hits, but I didn't feel as though I had inflicted any truly serious injuries. It was more akin to the reaction of somepony becoming annoyed by a small insect bumping into their face. I certainly felt that I was accomplishing that little in the way of injury. She was just so much larger than I was, and her hide felt like asphalt against my strikes.

Her arm flew backwards in an effort to bat me aside, but I was ready for that response and deftly pushed myself off of her and away from the blow. The moment I landed, I was in motion again, galloping even further around the larger canine. I launched attacks, felt my hooves connect with her flesh, and then darted out of reach time and again. My fury grew with every blow as I continued to sense that all of my efforts were simply futile little pecks that would never in a thousand years ever take down this behemoth. Yet I continued to press my assault regardless.

Windfall was dead.

I would kick, and punch, and bite this thing for as long as it took. I would use every maneuver that I knew, use every trick and tactic I'd ever learned, and I would find some way to hurt this thing. She. Would. Die.

Something large and firm connected with the side of my body. Every ounce of breath evacuated my lungs as I was swatted aside by a massive sweep of the hell hound's arm that I hadn't seen coming. I bounced several times along the floor, rolling along in a tangle of legs until an errant workbench finally provided a backstop by which to halt my impromptu voyage across the warehouse. The force of the impact sent the contents of my saddlebags sprawling across the floor. No big deal. It wasn't like anything in there was going to help me in this fight anyway.

Somehow, in a fit of coughs, I managed to get back up onto unsteady legs and face the hell hound. The pipbuck's screen confirmed what every nerve in my body was telling me: I was in a bad way. I felt something wet on my chin and wiped at it with the back of my hoof. Looking down, I saw a smear of fresh blood matting my fur. My mouth was one of the few parts of me that didn't hurt though. Given how painful each breath was, and the soreness in the right side of my chest, the likely source was a punctured lung.

Mommy was glaring in my direction, her claws flexing in anticipation of tearing into pony flesh. I returned her stare, my eyes filled with a desire for blood and death that mirrored her own. My entire body was one giant ball of pain, and it was obvious that nothing I could possibly do to the hell hound was going to affect her in any way, but I didn't care.

Windfall was dead.

“Jackboot, are you alright?”

The proximity of the voice caught me off guard. I didn't need to glance back to know that it was Foxglove though; and I certainly wasn't about to take my eyes off of Mommy.

“Get out of here,” I wheezed, still not having fully recovered my breath yet. Talking also hurt about as much as breathing did with the state that my ribs were in.

“But-”

“Leave!” I snarled, which quickly devolved into a fit of agonizing coughs that filled my mouth with the taste of blood. My eyes glanced momentarily at the ground, and I could see a faint spray of red flecks. Whatever. Something told me that it wasn't internal bleeding that was going to kill me in the next few seconds.

Without another word to the lavender mare, I charged the hell hound. My legs protested every moment, and my lungs screamed with every breath I took. The canine looked completely unconcerned with my approach, and why should she be? What was I going to do, bleed on her? Probably.

I saw her paw rising up into the air as I neared, ready to come down and finish off the pathetic little earth pony stallion that was so stupidly charging her head-on. The move left her completely exposed to any attack I could have wanted to inflict on her. Nothing I could do would kill her, but the prospect of leaving the hell hound with a black eye or bloody nose to remember me by tickled my fancy a little. I leaped into the air and willed the world around me to pause.

SATS engaged and the downward swipe of Mommy's claws halted.

I set up a string of as many strikes at the hell hound's head as I could, and then I hesitated. I didn't know if SATS ever eventually disengaged on its own and resumed time at its normal pace without a command from the pipbuck's user, but I knew from experience that I did have at least some time to contemplate my surroundings. So I took the time to simply stare at the hell hound. Her eyes were locked on me, little yellow beads drilling into my soul. I could see now, with time to really take it in, that all of the gunfire up to this point hadn't been completely useless. There were actually a couple of visible grazes that had left thin lines of blood in their wake.

That made me feel a little better, I guess. I certainly wasn't feeling great at the moment. I was going to be dead a couple seconds after leaving SATS after all. My eyes wandered over to where Windfall's body lay in a crumpled heap. You stupid little filly. Why couldn't you have just flown away? That was all you had to do. Just...fly away. We could have escaped, gone back to the way things were with just the two of us. Had that been so bad?

Deep down, I knew why she had done what she did. Windfall wasn't one to leave somepony else in trouble. Nothing would have compelled her to leave while Foxglove was in peril. I glanced back towards the unicorn, expecting to see the mare galloping towards the door. Only she wasn't. That pony was standing a short distant behind me, her eyes focused intently on the hell hound.

You have got to be fucking shitting me. Really? It wasn't enough that Windfall and I died fighting this thing, she felt obligated to die as well? Well, shit. So, none of us were leaving here. Great. What was she even going to fight with? I didn't see a gun in her mouth, or even any sort of weapon hovering nearby.

Her horn was glowing though. So...that meant that she was manipulating something with her magic. Only, I couldn't see anything...oh. My eyes locked onto a small metal cylinder that was floating behind me a short distance away. It was an odd locking contraption. A piece of pipe that had one of my flares duct-tapped to it. The flare had been ignited and its orange flame was mid-sputter over the front end of the tube, which I now noticed had a small hole drilled into it.

Had...had she actually managed to build a bomb? Well...fuck. That, actually changed a few things. I looked back at the hell hound and rescinded the attacks that I had planned. With my own body interposed between the canine and the bomb, there was no way that Mommy knew what was coming her way just behind me. She would be caught off guard entirely. I couldn't know that the explosive would be immediately lethal, but I doubted that Foxglove would have bothered throwing it if she wasn't at least a little confident that it would inflict some injury. All it really had to do was make the hell hound back off long enough for us to get away.

So, instead, I looked to the set of claws descending towards me and focused my attacks on them instead. That paw was massive enough that it could unintentionally swat the bomb aside when it hit me. I paused before confirming my attack with SATS to glance at the hell hound's face. She'd killed Windfall. If Celestia was watching over anything in the Wasteland, I sincerely hoped that it was this moment, and that she would allow justice to be served.

Let this monster die, Celestia. Not for me, you know I don't deserve to ask on my own behalf. Let it be for Windfall.

I mentally confirmed my attack and felt time resume its normal pace. The arm once more started descending towards me. I brought my forehooves together over my head and swung them around, striking the hell hound's wrist with every once of strength that I had left. It didn't do as much as I'd hoped, but I did at least succeed in diverting the path of the canine's blow away from my own body. The momentum of the hit pushed me to the side, and on my way back down to the ground, I offered up a smirk to the snarling beast. I was rewarded with a brief look of confusion as she watched me fall away towards the ground. Then her face was bathed in a bright white light.

The sudden illumination drew my attention as well as the hell hound's. I saw that the tube that Foxglove had thrown was spitting and sputtering, spraying out a shower of brilliant white sparks. What kind of bomb had she thrown exactly that behaved like that? It hadn't misfired, had it? That horrifying thought started to fill my mind, causing panic to creep at my thoughts. This was it, our one chance at surviving this. I certainly didn't have the energy to throw myself into another attack after this.

The hell hound cringed away from the sputtering tube, more due to the brightness of it than any real fear of the damage that it might inflict I imagined. Then I saw the entire cylinder evaporate, becoming a brilliant ball of white that fell upon the canine like a gentle shower. Only, it wasn't actually so gentle, as it turned out. Wherever the sputtering material fell, it began to burn and smolder. The hell hound screamed with an ear-splitting wail as the remnants of Foxglove's bomb splashed against the beast's face and chest. The creature flailed and pawed at the sizzling material, only to pull her paws away with renewed cries of agony. I saw that her paws had managed to become covered with some of the sputtering white material, and it was turning them black as it burned through her fingers and claws.

Mommy writhed and screamed for several long seconds in an effort to shake the substance from her body, but by now it was too late, wherever it had contacted her flesh, it had burned deep into her tissue, meeting organ and bone and continuing on its way even deeper into her body. Finally, the hell hound withdrew into the hole that she was standing it, howls echoing throughout the warehouse from the open end of the tunnel, growing fainter with every passing second.

I stood for a long while, staring in stunned silence at the empty hole. Was...was that it? Had we just won? If that was the case, I'd never encountered a victory that made me feel so hollow inside. What the fuck was I supposed to do now?

From behind me, I heard the sound of hooves clattering on concrete. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Foxglove running in the direction that Windfall had fallen. The sight of the unicorn going to the pegasi's side suddenly filled me with rage. It was that damn unicorn's fault that she was dead. Like fuck I was going to let her anywhere near Windfall. I sprang after her, pushing the pain I was feeling to the back of my mind. I'd deal with all of that later.

I lowered my head and slammed into the side of the unicorn, hurling her roughly to the ground just short of the pegasus. Foxglove screamed in pain and surprise, not expecting my attack. She rolled away, staggering to her feet, looking at me with wide, confused, eyes.

“What was that for?!”

“Stay the fuck away from her,” I growled, moving in between the unicorn and Windfall's body, “it's your fault she's dead,” I spat at the lavender mare, “don't you fucking dare touch her.”

Foxglove opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her eyes darted between me and the pegasus. The unicorn's green eyes teared up and she looked away, no longer able to meet my gaze. She swallowed before finally finding the words that had failed her only moments before, “...she's dead?”

“Of course she's fucking dead! Didn't you see that hit?!” I shrieked at the mare, who cowered away even further. Once again I descended into a fit of frothing coughs. I felt my legs start to give out as well, but I refused to go down quite yet. Silence echoed through the warehouse as neither of us said anything immediately afterward. The unicorn kept her head bowed under my piercing glare. Her horn started to glow though, and a potion levitated over to me from the scatter mess around my saddlebags that lay nearby. My ire started to ebb away slowly as the silence and waning adrenaline gave my mind the time it needed to truly process what was going on.

Still glaring at the unicorn, I took the potion and drank it down. Breathing became a little easier, but my chest continued to ache.

I wanted so much to blame this unicorn for what happened to Windfall. She was the one who brought us here. She was the one who ran off on her own away from the group. She was the one that Windfall had died defending. I needed this to be her fault.

But it wasn't. The hell hound killed Windfall. Foxglove couldn't have known about Mommy any more than I could have. That reality didn't do much to make me feel any better. But it did defuse most of my rage, if not my grief. The hell hound had been dealt with. No red dots remained on my EFS, just the two yellow ticks that repressented the pair of mares with me.

...wait.

I stared at Windfall's body, unable to move as my mind processed what I was seeing. The pipbuck displayed a yellow blip that lined up perfectly with the pegasus. That...that could only mean...

“She's alive?!”

Nothing could have masked the surprise in my voice. I'd seen with my own eyes Windfall get hit with a shard of stone as big as she was and get thrown halfway across the warehouse. She had not moved since. I'd not even thought to consult the pipbuck's EFS to determine whether or not she'd survived the blow. Yet, the magical device on my foreleg insisted that the young mare had indeed lived through the ordeal.

Even Foxglove perked up almost instantly, “she's alive?” she took a hesitant step towards us, but then thought better of it, given my previous reaction, which I considered a wise move on her part. I may not have been as pissed as I was a couple minutes ago, but that unicorn was certainly not my favorite pony right now.

I dug into Windfall's own saddlebags and withdrew a pair of healing potions. I held them to the young flier's lips and slowly poured them into her mouth, encouraged to see that she seemed to swallow them. As close as I was now, I could see her breathing as well. It was shallow and slow, but it was breath.

“Windy? Can you hear me?” my voice trembled as I spoke. I could see no change in her condition, despite the potions I'd given her. She had to be better though, right? Those potions had to have done something for her. She didn't stir though. Her eyes didn't open, her ears didn't twitch at the sound of my voice. Nothing.

“Windy?” I dug around for a third potion and was about to give it to the pegaus when it was suddenly snatched from my hooves by a green glow. I whirled on the unicorn standing nearby and snarled at her, “what the fuck? Give that back!”

I lunged for the potion, but my limbs still ached horribly, and I hissed in pain as the leap that I had intended was reduced to a feeble hop that gained me hardly any distance at all. It seemed that the potion I'd drunk hadn't done all that much for my health either. Foxglove calmly took a couple steps back, keeping the potion close to her. She met my gaze now.

“You're just wasting them.”

“She's hurt!”

“And these won't make her any better,” the mare insisted sternly, “she needs a real doctor.”

I glared at the mare, but I didn't offer up another demand. She was right. Except for minor cuts and shallow wounds, healing potions were little more than stop-gaps when it came to treatment. Sure, they'd stop bleeding well enough, but serious conditions required either skilled medical ponies or special, hard to find, drugs. A shot of Hydra might do something for Windfall, but we didn't have any.

Speaking of more potent drugs, a shot of Med-X would not go amiss right about now...

Not that we even had any of that, I didn't think. Next time we were in Seaddle, I was going to make sure to invest in a hardy supply of meds. Seaddle was actually a good idea for a next destination. The medical facilities there were second-to-none in Neighvada. If anypony could do something for Windfall, they'd be there. I glanced down at the pipbuck on my arm and consulted the map. Four days, maybe five with my injuries and having to carry Windfall.

I wasn't looking forward to the journey. We were pretty far west at this point. That brought us dangerously close to White Hoof territory, and we were in no condition for a fight. We could try taking a safer route, swinging east and then north...but that would nearly double our travel time. My eyes wandered to the young flier nearby. She was alive, but was she stable? Would she survive over a week wandering the Wasteland? The potions proved that she was capable of drinking small amounts of fluids, but eating...there was no way. She'd get weaker every day from hunger, and that wouldn't do much to improve her condition.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips. We had to risk it.

“We're heading for Seaddle,” I informed the unicorn, “help me get Windfall on my back.”

I bent down and nudged one of Windfall's forelegs up onto my neck. The movement elicited a wince and a groan. My limbs ached horribly, and my ribs insisted that there existed far too many fractures to safely support the weight of another pony on my back. Foxglove immediately noticed my obvious limitations and spoke up.

“Wait! I'm not sure that carrying her on your back is such a good idea.”

“I'm fine,” I lied, hissing once more. I had to get Windfall to Seaddle.

“But Windfall isn't,” the lavender mare snipped at me, stepping in front of me and fixing me with a look of concern, “she's hurt, badly. All that jostling might make her injuries worse!”

I glared at the unicorn, “then what do you suggest?”

“Give me a little time,” she pleaded, “I can make something for her to ride on that should keep her comfortable.”

My eyes shifted between Windfall and the other mare. Did we have time to wait? Mommy might not have been the only hell hound around. She may not even be dead. If she came back and we were still here...

Oh, who the fuck was I kidding? It wasn't like I could carry the pegasus anyway. I could barely walk on my own as it was, “fine,” I sighed, allowing myself to collapse to the ground beside Windfall. The relief that I felt was mired by the pain in my ribs as they came into contact with the ground. Overall though, the discomfort was lessened by laying down, “do whatever you want.”

The mare stood over us for a few long seconds, and then trotted off to begin rummaging through the warehouse for whatever it was that she figured she needed for her little project. I paid little attention to the mare's activities. Instead, I just lay my head down and let it rest up against one of Windfall's hooves.

You're so pathetic.

Shut up, Whiplash.

What the hell was that back there? One little filly gets hurt and suddenly you're ready to go out in a blaze of glory?

Shut. Up.

She's got you whipped and you ain't even fucked her yet. Pathetic.

My teeth starting grinding together as the frustration mounted. The voice wouldn't stop, and there didn't seem like there was anything that I could do to make it go away this time. The piss yellow mare from my past wore an ugly smirk as she mocked my actions.

I can't believe that you thought you could rule the White Hooves. I did you a favor by running you off.

I buried my head under my hooves and seethed with rage at the voice. Why wouldn't she stop? Why couldn't I make her stop?

You'd have taken your first brood slave and become her little bitch. That slave would have been ruling the White Hooves then, I bet. Pa. Theh. Tic.

How do I make you shut up?!

Be honest.

A pair of jade eyes flashed through my mind for the briefest of seconds, and then vanished. I blinked. What?

Whiplash's commentary of the sorry state of my character continued, You don't honestly think you deserved the White Hooves, do you? What kind of leader would try to feed himself to a hell hound just because some stupid cunt got herself hurt?

If she's too stupid to see a hopeless situation when one's staring her right in the face, she deserves to die. And so do you.

Pathetic.

My rage at my sibling's incessant berating subsided rather suddenly. She was right. I was pathetic. I'd been ready to let myself die just because I thought Windfall was gone. What could have been more pathetic than that? I lose one traveling companion, and I'm ready to cash in. I'd lost far more than that before and carried on. Windfall wasn't that important.

Be honest.

An orange haze pulled at the corner of my vision for a brief moment, and then was gone. I shook my head. How badly was I hurt? Must have taken a blow to the head or something.

And I was being honest. Whiplash was right. Windfall shouldn't matter to me like I'd let her. I hadn't fucked her, and I probably never would. She was reckless and had almost no foresight. She risked her life for strangers with no regard to either hers or mine own safety. She was a liability, despite all my efforts to raise her otherwise. There was nothing special about her. There was nothing worthwhile about her. The advantage that her flight offered me wasn't worth everything else that I was putting up with.

There was nothing I needed from this mare.

Be honest!

I felt the sudden sensation of being mentally double-bucked upside the head by a blow that almost sent me reeling in the physical world.

My eyes shot open in surprise. Whiplash was gone. I could no longer hear her spewing venomous words eating away at me. Beside me, I could feel Windfall's breath gently brushing up against my cheek. My lips parted as I looked at the young mare resting next to me. Feelings started to well up inside me as I looked at her, ones that threatened to soften my new-found resolve. I pushed them aside and buried them deep.

Windfall was a liability. I didn't need her.

Be. Honest.

No. I can't afford to be.

Footnote: ...

CHAPTER 11: HE'S A DEMON...

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“What about you? What kind of pony are you going to be?”

Credit where it was due, Foxglove was very good at building things. In a little over an hour, she had managed to assemble a small cart from an assortment of scrap and parts laying around the warehouse. Not just any cart either, one that possessed wheels that articulated over rocks and uneven surfaces, causing the bed to hardly bounce at all in response to bumps or divots in the terrain. The result was a way to transport the still unconscious Windfall without risking any further injury to her by hitting a particularly bad bump.

The unicorn was the one pulling the cart. I hadn't had to order her to do it either, she'd insisted; pointing out that I was still not in any condition to do much physically demanding labor. No arguments from me. Just walking was hard enough as it was. Funny. I was the one still on my hooves, yet somehow my road to a full recovery was going to be longer than Windfall's when all was said and done. I didn't really have the option of submitting myself as a patient to the doctors of Seaddle. I'd have to just gather up a stockpile of Med-X and bide my time before I found a pony who knew medicine and didn't care much about the affiliation of their patients.

Look at me, making more plans for the next time I wandered out into this hellscape. No particular reason that I had to. I'd squirreled away money enough to take it easy for a good while. A few months if I lived it up, years if I was frugal. No real reason that I had to go throwing myself back into the meat grinder that was the Wasteland.

Other than it being the only life I knew. For decades, it's what I'd done: gone out, killed something or somepony, and then recovered in town. Rinse, repeat. It was...how I passed the time. Living from one day to the next, seeking only to make it to that next day with no great purpose in my mind other than knowing that making it to that next day was a day I threw a big old 'fuck you' at my estranged younger sister for what she'd done to me. Spite was the at the core of how I lived my life.

How I had lived my life. Traveling with Windfall had...added to that. Somepony to teach, to look after; somepony to look after me when a trip had been unusually brutal. I guess that era was going to come to an end. Once I dropped these two mares off in Seaddle it'd be back to just myself.

That mute yellow mare with the soft blue eyes silently pleaded with me to rethink my decision, but I wasn't inclined to listen. Things had been going wrong for a while, I just hadn't seen it until the fight with Mommy. Windfall wasn't supposed to matter to me like that. I'd taken her on with the expectation of using her to my advantage. She was a tool, to be employed for my benefit whenever I deemed it necessary. She was going to be a pretty face that I could use to open doors. A gun to watch my back. A warm body to keep me warm at night. Nothing more. Nothing that I was supposed to feel attached to.

That plan had gone to shit, obviously. I didn't know where or when it had happened, but I was going to fix things as soon as possible. Get Windfall back to Seadlle, pass her off to a doctor at the hospital there, and then vanish from her life like I'd never even been there in the first place. Get myself back to the way that I'd been in Hoofington, when life had been simple. No investments, no attachments. Just bullets, booze, and sex.

All I had to do in the near future was get to Seaddle in one piece. After the beating I'd taken today, that was feeling like quite the epic undertaking. I could breath easily enough, but my chest still burned in places, and every joint in my legs throbbed. Healing potions didn't help anymore. My body needed a break; from a lot of things, but the walking in particular. Fortunately, it didn't look like we'd have to go very far before finding a likely spot to bed down for the night.

We spotted a small town that wasn't too far off of the path that we were taking to get to Seaddle. It wasn't marked on the map I had on my pipbuck, and a quick scan with my binoculars confirmed that it was likely uninhabited. Hardly a rare sight in the Wasteland, I guess, finding a small hamlet with nopony living in it. Whatever had made such locations desirable places to live before the megaspells ravaged the land no longer existed in many cases; so ponies either abandoned them, or simply passed them by.

It would at least offer us shelter and someplace to keep out of sight from prying eyes. Getting spotted by a White Hoof patrol was one of my bigger concerns while we were out here. If they found us...I was in no condition to fight, Windfall had yet to regain consciousness at all, and I'd never seen Foxglove display any aptitude for combat. We'd be picked off like foals the way we were now.

As we neared the outer edge of the town, a message popped up in my field of vision: 'Location Discovered: Salt Lick City'

I glanced at the pipbuck's map and saw the new marker that had blinked into existence a short distance from our current position. Hm. I scanned the surroundings with my EFS, and noted that there were no blips of any kind within its range. I informed Foxglove that the coast was clear, and we pressed deeper into the small town.

The houses and shops on the outer edges were little more than foundations supporting a random wall or two and a pile of rubble. Hardly suitable as any form of shelter. The larger buildings further in looked to be in better condition, so we headed in that direction.

A small feeling of familiarity tugged at my mind, but I couldn't place it. Probably nothing. I'd wandered through countless ruined hovels over the years. They all started blurring together after a while I'm sure.

We arrived at the center of the town, and that was where we found our first clues about what might have happened to the ponies that once lived here. A collection of pony skeletons lay in the town square, half buried in the dirt. Maybe a dozen. I glanced around at the buildings facing the square, noting that their doors had all been brutally broken down. Otherwise, the structures looked rather intact. I didn't stretch my imagination very much coming up with a theory about what had happened here. Given where we were, there was really only one strong possibility.

“White Hooves,” Foxglove breathed, a note of trepidation in her voice.

I nodded my agreement, “probably.”

“Should we leave?”

“No,” I shook my head, “we should be alright. They don't really have any reason to come back here. They've already sacked this place.”

I appraised the surrounding building and pointed at the tallest one, “Let's sleep in that one,” whomever was on guard could use the upper floors to get a good view of the surrounding terrain. There was a set of stairs at the entrance which the cart couldn't get over, but Foxglove was able to levitate the entire vehicle and its slumbering occupant into the building's foyer. It took a considerable amount of effort on the unicorn's part, if her strained expression was any indication. Internally, I wondered how much a unicorn's magic allowed them to lift. Was it comparable to what they could support with their own bodies? Did that mean a unicorn that exercised could lift most than one who was lethargic and weak?

An amusing image of an over-muscled unicorn lifting a hell hound the size that Mommy had been flashed through my mind.

Whatever. I shook the image from my head and followed the unicorn deeper into the building as she pushed the cart into one of the nearest rooms. There was an old couch within, just beyond the splintered remains of a coffee table. Dried blood painted the furniture, and the faint stench of rot hung in the air. Somepony had died in this room long ago. Probably a few ponies, judging by the amount of blood.

I nodded at the couch, “put Windfall there,” the cart, though an admirable transport vehicle, lacked for padding and comfort. Not a lot of bedding material had been present in the Haywood facility. The pegasus would benefit from some comfort, I was sure. Foxglove's horn glowed to life, and a soft veridian light enveloped Windfall and slowly carried her out of the cart and deposited her still body on the stained couch. The white filly didn't stir even a little at the movement.

Foxglove reached out and put a hoof gently to the young flier's neck, “I...think her pulse is getting stronger. I'm not sure,” the unicorn said, nibbling at her lower lip. A canteen wrapped in a green glow rose up out of one of her saddlebags and pressed itself to Windfall's lips. Slowly, she let water run into the feathered mare's mouth in small sips. I could see her instinctively swallowing the liquid, though a fair bit still spilled out of her mouth.

It was just an involuntary reaction though. The pegasus wasn't becoming any more aware of her surroundings.

Would she ever wake up?

I fought back those poisonous emotions that threatened to seep into my mind once more and fixed a steely gaze on the violet unicorn, “go take a look around. Keep an eye out for signs of recent activity.”

“I thought you said the White Hooves wouldn't come back here?” Foxglove swallowed, trepidation in her trembling words.

“There are worse things in the Wasteland than White Hooves,” I growled, indicating my own recently acquired wounds.

“Won't you see them coming with your pipbuck?”

“If I'm awake and looking in that specific direction when they show up, sure,” I responded with a sneer, which caused the unicorn to wince slightly at my reproachful words, “but I'm not planning on being awake and spinning in circles all night. Just make yourself useful for five fucking minutes and scout out the area without simpering like a fucking foal, will ya?!”

Foxglove drew back in surprise, her ears plastering back into her mane. Her green eyes were wide and hurt. She pursed her lips, as if contemplating a retort, but then her mouth shut firmly. Her expression hardened and the mare turned and left without a word. Good. If I wanted her opinion, I'd tell her what it was.

Playing hard to get, are we? I think she's going for it, Whiplash giggled in my head, why, I bet she's spreading her flank within the hour with more sweet talk like that!

That opinion thing went for my hallucinated sibling as well. I wasn't concerned with keeping the feelings of that mare intact. Windfall was the altruistic one. I just wanted to make it out of the Wasteland alive.

How far are you going to make it if she up and leaves? The piss-yellow mare from my past chided, you and I both know you're too much of a pathetic weakling to get back on your own like this.

I survived you.

Not on your own.

Fuck you.

I shook the voice from my mind and searched for a distraction. Of course, there wasn't anything much in here, save for the pegasus mare breathing softly on the nearby sofa. Silly little filly, I thought at her. Of all of us, you were the one in the best position to escape unharmed. You could have flown away at any time.

“But you wouldn't have,” I whispered aloud, “would you? You never did, not ever,” I sighed and shook my head, “even when you were a filly you never knew when to back down.”

A faint smile threatened to tug at my lips as I recalled the memory of a little filly swooping in to rain death on a group of gangers. All because she was upset that good ponies died while gangers got to go on living happy lives. The Wasteland was an unfair place, but she was determined to balance those scales, even if she had to do it all on her own.

“I thought I could break you of that,” I went on, “keep you focused on the job at hoof. That was my mistake. I didn't realize how stubborn you could be, not back then. I know now though.

“That's why this has to come to an end,” my tone changed subtly, acquiring a veiled edge as I continued speaking to the unconscious mare as though she could hear me. Rehearsing a conversation I never intended to have with her directly, “you aren't ever going to become the pony that I want you to be,” A pause, then, “and I'm not really the pony you want me to be.”

I sighed and eased myself to the floor in front of the couch, wincing at the pain in my rib cage as it came into contact with the floor. My eyes went to the pipbuck on my leg and I toggled it over to the radio function. I couldn't just go on talking to myself all night, and the silence was going to get to me.

A stallion with a deep voice was going on about his love life's various woes, and yet the tempo of the music was somewhat quicker than one might have expected for the subject he was recounting. It was catchy enough though, and resonated a little with me, given current circumstances. I was anticipating a few losses from my own personal life in the near future after all.

When the last note faded away and finally died, another stallion came over the speaker. This one sounding much more lively, and unmistakably familiar.

“Good evening, children! This is you master of music, your maestro of measures, your mayor of...uh, something else music related that begins with an 'M', the marvelous DJ PON3!

“A few interesting developments in the Wasteland going on today. First: reports are in of a platoon of Steel Rangers making their way south across Manehattan. They don't seem to be interested in causing trouble, but, as always, ponies are advised to keep their distance if you see them coming. Especially if you have anything shiny with you; you know how those techno-horders can be.

“Second: A reminder that Red Eye is not to be trusted. I know, I know, I've heard the same broadcasts too, but be reasonable ponies, it's too good to be true. A shining future? Free education on par with a Stable? Don't believe it, children, not for a moment. He's a slaver, and a murderer. Nopony with a history like that can ever offer decent ponies like all of you anything worthwhile!”

I winced a little at the radio jockey's words. The truth hurts though, right? A faint sense of disagreement rose, and then ebbed away almost unnoticed as the broadcast continued.

“Lastly: our Lone Ranger is still out fighting that good fight! Today he cleared out a manticore nest near Fetlock, making it safe for the ponies there to once again scavenge the nearby ruins. Our thanks to you, Ranger! That's what I'm talking about, children, when I ask you to fight that good fight: help out where you can, for no other reason than because it can help make somepony's life a little easier. If we all do that for one another, I know that we can beat the Wasteland once and for all!

“And to help kindle those fighting spirits, here's Hay Riser singing Frame Closer's ,'Praise Celestia and Pass the Ammunition'!”

There was a brief burst of static, and then a third stallion's voice began to chant the title phrase to a melody, adding the occasional flourish and variation.

I tuned the song out, but let it keep playing. Windfall liked listening to music when she was sleeping.

Nopony with a history like that can ever offer decent ponies like all of you anything worthwhile...

“He's right,” I mumbled to Windfall, “you're not like me. You're like the Lone Ranger. That Mare-Do-Well fool. You want to help ponies that can't help themselves, and I just want to help myself. I'm not lamenting that fact,” I added quickly by way of qualification, “I'm just pointing out that you and I want different things. Neither of us is going to get what we want if we keep traveling together. Splitting up is good for both of us. You'll be free to go and save whoever you want whenever you want without me getting in the way. And I can go about my life without being dragged into somepony else's drama every week,” I smirked, glancing out the door that Foxglove had left out of.

“Speaking of which...” I flicked off the radio.

Where was that mare? It had been...twenty minutes according to the clock on my pipbuck. It didn't take that long to do a quick lap around the block looking for nests and monster shit. Either that unicorn had wandered a lot further than she had needed to, or she'd gotten herself into trouble somehow. If I didn't need her to pull the damn cart, I'd let her reap whatever mischief she'd managed to sow just now, but as it was...

“Fucking brilliant,” I groaned as I got back up to my hooves and walked stiffly to the door.

Outside once more, I started making my way through the town, keeping my head on a swivel as I watched for a yellow blip on my EFS. How far would she have gone when it'd taken as much prodding as it had to get her out the door in the first place?!

So help me if she had wandered off after all...

The thought died in my mind as I spied the single yellow blip on my pipbuck's EFS...flanked by a pair of red blips.

Horseapples.

I didn't hear her yelling or crying out, which put me at even greater unease. There was no way she didn't know the threats were there, they were practically merged with her own blip. So whatever it was was something that was keeping her quiet. Some sort of creature that could have paralyzed her, or, more likely, ponies using threats to keep her quiet. I wasn't in any condition to fight a pair of armed ponies, or even typical Wasteland critters.

Was leaving her to her fate an option?

Those pleading blue eyes from Yellow Bitch weren't necessary. It was too risky to abandon Foxglove. If she'd been caught by critters, then they'd surely stumble upon Windfall and myself eventually. The same went for ponies. If I confronted them out here, the unicorn might be able to help in a fight. Windfall wouldn't if I met them in the house. I sighed through gritted teeth.

One moment of peace, Celestia. Why was that so much to ask?!

I tread silently up to the corner of a crumbling wall and peaked around the edge to get a clear look at what I was going up against. My heart sank even further when I spied the threats in the flesh. Two ponies, a stallion and a mare. It was hard to tell the exact color of their coats in the dim twilight, but I was able to clearly make out the pale highlights on their legs and faces that were characteristic of only a single group in Neighvada.

White Hooves.

I pulled my head back around behind the wall and silently groaned with exasperation. Why were they here?! There was nothing worth taking in this town! There was no reason for that pair to be here, none! And just the two of them, really? What kind of raiding party was that? I scanned the surroundings once more, certain I'd spot other red blips, but I didn't. Could it really be just the two of them?

Could I take on that many? I'd have the element of surprise. I'd kill one of them for sure with a bullet to the head from cover. Maybe the second would be caught off guard enough that they'd hesitate and I could get them before they found me. I did have SATS after all. It was possible...

But very risky. They had Foxglove close, and while I wasn't overly concerned with killing her by accident, every bullet that her body caught would be one less that got the White Hooves. Killing the unicorn would also remove a potential ally in the fight.

Did I have any other options?

...Was talking a possibility? Just the two of them. I chanced a second quick glance at the pair. Young. They wouldn't be too experienced, and there was no way they'd been around when I was expelled from the tribe...

A lot of this would depend on how well those two had been raised. If their parents had done things right, this should go well. Hanging my and Foxglove's life on quality White Hoof parenting. Not ideal. But, if things did go sideways, I still had SATS.

Well, here went nothing, or rather, here went everything. If this went wrong enough, neither of us would walk away from this.

I steeled myself against the pain in my limbs and strode around the corner, a look of fury etched into my features, “What the fuck is keeping you, bitch?!” I snarled, my gaze focused on Foxglove, who was currently cowering up against the wall of a collapsed home. All three heads immediately darted in my direction, wearing mirrored looks of surprise and confusion. You're a smart pony, Foxglove, don't fuck this up, “How long can it possibly take you to find a can of Cram, you stupid cunt?!”

The two White Hoof warriors finally gathered their wits enough to take up defensive stances against me, a pair of spears hovering between myself and them. Unicorns, fucking perfect. They still looked a little perplexed as to what was going on, but were keen on establishing that they were the ponies in control of what was happening here tonight. How wrong they were.

“Don't take another step,” the mare demanded, narrowing her crimson eyes at me, a spear wrapping in a matching telekinetic field jabbed menacingly at me.

I ignored the weapon and glowered at the mare, “what the fuck are you doing? Put away that twig before I shove it up your rancid little dick-hole, you brainless little fuck-toy,” I snarled baring my teeth at the mare. She actually took a step back, the spear drooping towards the ground. The uncertainty lasted for only a moment, and then the spear was back up and leveled at my throat. The mare's expression hardened visibly, but in her eyes I detected just the merest glint of amusement. She recognized what this was, and a part of her was eager for it. So far, it looked like I was playing the part well.

These two were not quite as young as I had initially suspected, as it turned out. Age-wise, they had perhaps half my years, but the white hashes smeared across their flanks spoke to those years being quite active while out in the Wasteland. A dozen marks on the mare, half as many on the stallion. She was a proven killer of ponies. My eyes darted momentarily from the tip of the spear in front of me to the mare's withers. I spied the faintest of auras peeking out from beneath her hide barding. A secondary weapon. I kept that information in mind in case things made it that far. Hopefully, I wasn't nearly that rusty.

The stallion wasn't looking any too pleased at my comments either. His weapon had drifted back over in Foxglove's direction though, dissuading the violet unicorn from getting any ideas about trying to get away while they were distracted with me. He also started edging around so that he flanked the pair of us in between them. I held my ground. If this turned into a fight, I'd fucked up anyway. Still, I couldn't let his movements go unremarked upon.

I turned on the stallion now, “didn't your father teach you respect, whelp?” I snapped, stamping my hoof firmly on the ground to get his attention, suppressing the pain the effort inflicted, “you really think that I can't handle myself against your cum-soaked whore? Oh, wait, I see,” I amended, taking on a facade of understanding, “you'd rather test your mettle against a foe more your equal: a slave so inept she couldn't find the ground with her hooves. Is that it?” The White Hoof stallion's expression soured at my taunt, but he stood his ground at Foxglove's side. The violet unicorn whimpered, her eyes pleading with me to stop antagonizing the armed tribals that looked like they were about to take a large amount of pleasure from killing us...slowly.

“He talks some good game, doesn't he, Bo?” the mare's lips curled into a cruel looking smile as she took a couple slow steps towards me. Her spear drifted closer as well, the tip coming to rest against the side of my neck. The pressure was enough to make me aware of its presence, but it was clear that she was not intent on causing injury.

Yet.

“Pfft,” I snorted derisively at the mare, “talk's just air. You want to see 'some good game', let's have ourselves a roll right here, right now. Loser sucks my dick,” an audible gasp from Foxglove, which she quickly subdued. I refrained from looking in her direction. Just keep quiet. I know what I'm doing.

The mare actually chuckled at my challenge, her eyes started dancing with mischief, “you mean you're a stallion?” she said, aghast with feigned surprise, “I thought that thing was a second belly button you'd mutated!” she started pacing around me, her eyes tracing along my body. The spear stayed at my throat, “besides, an old fart like you would throw a hip before you threw a punch. Can you even get it up anymore?”

“Age jokes from a filly, how original,” I rolled my eyes at the mare, turning my head to track her movements, noting that the point of her weapon gave way to my movements instead of piercing my flesh. She was buying it, “If you can't think of anything intelligent to say, why not make your mouth useful and choke on my cock.

“Or,” I added with a growl, “you two can finally fuck off and let me get back to work!”

“And what work would that be?” the stallion finally jumped in. The mare's smile had broadened, but she stayed silent as she let her companion take over the conversation. She simply continued to circle around me.

“Gathering intel on the Republic, moron. What, you think that Whiplash just magically knows the location of caravans and NLR patrols?” I snapped at the stallion, “why else would I be out here dressed like a fucking poser?”

“Because you are a poser?” the White Hoof stallion theorized. He stepped closer to Foxglove and leaned in close to her, sniffing at her mane. The violet mare swallowed and closed her eyes, but stayed still and silent. Good girl, “I like your friend here. Mind if I take her for a spin?”

“I'll let you fuck mine if I can fuck yours,” I offered, ignoring Foxglove's whine. My eyes went to the mare pacing around me, gauging her reaction to my statement. While her expression remained unchanged, the stallion's soured significantly. He did not like that notion at all. I might be able to use that, given the mare's apparent disposition.

I turned my attention to her now, speaking as though the stallion didn't exist, “on second thought, I might need the purple one too. I'd need somepony to teach a foal like you how to fuck properly,” I uttered the words as I drew my lips into a smirk, letting my eyes wander along her withers and flank. The mare noticed my gaze, but rather than take offense, she actually started to arch her tail and accentuate her stride a little.

“What makes you think I'd let that rusty old prick you call a penis anywhere near me?” the mare challenged coyly, “No wonder you screw a unicorn slave. You need her to use magic to make it a dick worth fucking.”

“What if I let you call me, 'daady', so it'll bring back all those fond foalhood memories when I'm plowing you?”

It wasn't until just this moment when I realized how much I'd missed this. Throwing around insults and thinly veiled flirts with other White Hooves that you came across. It wasn't something you did in most other parts of the Wasteland unless you were looking to get into a fight. Something I'd found out rather quickly my first couple months in the Hoofington area. It had struck me as very odd, since this was exactly how you talked to one another in White Hoof society in order to avoid a fight.

If you presented yourself as tough and fearless, ponies didn't mess with you. You were sure of yourself and your skills, confident. The way a White Hoof should be. On the other hoof, if they thought you were a push over, then they would try to do just that: push you over. You'd either learn to be strong, or get made somepony's toy and never go out on raids where our targets would see you for the pathetic little shit you were.

The stallion had apparently had enough of our exchange, and was now at my side instead of Foxglove's. His own weapon jammed itself into the underside of my chin. I kept my head where it was, fighting against the pressure the point was putting against my hide, and felt a stab of pain as his weapon surely did draw blood. The mare's fell away though, a reproachful look in her eyes as they stared at her partner. She still wanted to play the game, and he was having none of it. Of the two, he was definitely the more inexperienced here. He'd taken it personally.

That might prove dangerous.

I glared at the stallion, fury spilling over my words as I spoke, “you'd better kill me with your first stroke, whelp, or by Celestia, I will break every bone in your legs, drag you by your dick before Whiplash, and geld you in front of everypony with a rusty tin can lid. Then I will take your balls and shove them down your mother's throat before I skull fuck her to death for ever birthing a colt so worthless as to turn a weapon on one of his own, you...dead...fuck!”

With the last word, I swept the spear aside with my hoof and launched myself at the stallion. I paid the mare no mind. She was convinced of who I was, there was little doubt. The focus of attention let me press my attack in a manner that the stallion had not expected. A lone older earth pony buck surrounded by White Hooves going on the offensive? Only if he was crazy!

Fortunately for me, most of the voices in my head suggested that I was.

I ran right up in front of the White Hoof stallion, whose brown eyes had widened with newfound surprise at my actions, and then I slammed my forehead down right above his left eye. I felt bone give way beneath my strike and heard the loud scream of pain as the other pony drew back from me. However, I wasn't about to let up. I crouched down and swept the ground with my hind hooves, gathering up all four of his legs and sending the stallion toppling to the ground. I was back up on my own feet before even knew he'd fallen and slammed a hoof down on his throat. His pained cries were stifled into a collection of frustrated gasps as I applied enough pressure with my hoof to make him hurt, but not quite enough to crush his throat.

Killing this White Hoof was not my intent. If I did that, the mare would be forced to strike me down too, and a fight wasn't what I wanted here. Not really. Not against them. I glared down at the stallion beneath my hoof. With my other, I wiped at the spot on my neck where his spear had been and looked at it. Sure enough, he'd drawn blood. I growled down at the stallion and shoved my blood-smeared hoof in his face, roughly rubbing it over his snout, “drawing blood from your own outside of a sanction roll. You ignorant little fuck,” I spat at the stallion, “you could be thrown into the pit for that, you know?”

I felt the metal tip of a spear tap me just behind my right ear. At the corner of my vision, I noticed a crimson haze cast light on my face, “easy there, gramps,” the mare said in a conversational tone, “afraid I can't let you kill him just because he's a moron,” the stallion beneath my hoof narrowed his eyes at the mare for a brief moment before returning a defiant look in my direction.

Taking the other White Hoof's meaning, I gave the nose of the stallion I'd pinned a final firm smack with my hoof and then back away from him. The mare's spear stayed in contact with the side of my face as I returned to a respectable distance, “I'd be doing the tribe a favor,” I snarled.

“Maybe,” the mare shrugged, then her playful gaze became a little more serious, “if we're really in the same tribe. Like I said, you talk a good game. But talk's-”

“-just air,” I finished, nodding.

“So, if you wouldn't mind?” the mare pointed a hoof at my shoulders as she offered up a wan smile, “we've got places to be too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the time for banter had finally come to an end it seemed, and now it was down to business. The mare spoke like she was pretty much certain of what she would see when I shed my barding, but she was not fool enough to judge a pony based on their ability to hurl insults.

I guess, deep down I knew that this was something that I was going to have to do when I stepped into this. I'd hoped that talking would be enough, but...

I glanced back for a brief moment at Foxglove, who was looking between me and the spear hovering at my throat. She was very frightened, certain that I'd been found out. I saw her body tensing up. She was looking for my signal to attack. To start fighting and hope for the best now that they'd called my bluff. Poor mare. She was going to be in for a shock.

You called me a good pony once. Told me I was one of the most genuinely decent stallion's you'd ever met since leaving the stable.

Will you choke on those words now?

I turned my head to the side and undid one of the buckles on my armored barding. A flip of my head sent the reinforced segment covering the nape of my neck aside, revealing the brand for all to see. The mare scrutinized it for only a few seconds before lowering her spear and allowing her smile to bloom once more.

“Why haven't I seen you around the camp before?” She asked, stepping closer, her eyes dancing, “A buck like you, I'd remember.”

“I've been away on assignment for...a long time,” I let out a slow, tired sigh. I had been away for a long time. Away from ponies that I understood, a culture I was raised in. This encounter had been a little taste of, well, home I guess. A cruel tease in the end. Once these two left, I'd be right back where I was. My eyes went back to the mare. She was so young, and a unicorn to boot. If the two of us were back in the main settlement...oh, I'd show her what an old pony like me could do with a mare like her...

She could have been one of your concubines, Steel Bit's voice reminded me.

She could have been my wife.

Could have.

I glanced away again, the knowledge paining me a bit, “deep cover...it's like that. You have to stay away. No telling who's watching.”

“It must get lonely out here,” the mare stepped right up next to me, holding her head in such a way that only a slight movement would bring me into contact, “on your own,” an invitation. She'd been impressed alright, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted.

Oh, if it was just me...

But it wasn't, was it? Foxglove was still standing a short distance away, barely containing her shock and horror at what I'd recently revealed. All that held back a terrified sprint was the knowledge that it might get both of us killed, or at least herself. And if they hung around and found Windfall, how did I explain her?

“Why do you think I have that with me,” I drew back enough to make clear my tacit rejection of her offer and nodded at the violet unicorn trembling nearby.

The White Hoof mare curled her nose at Foxglove, “that pathetic thing? You're joking,” an edge crept into her tone. It occurred to me this mare might not be used to getting told, 'no', when she propositioned stallions. I had to defuse this before she became as violent as her friend had.

“The joke is thinking that I have the time to train a filly to fuck like a mare,” I turned on the White Hoof, causing her to draw back in surprise at my suddenly harsh tone, “look at you, I probably have foals out there older than you. What could you possibly know about pleasing a stallion?”

“I haven't heard any complaints,” the mare seethed, obviously genuinely affronted now.

“What, from colts like him?” I nodded in the direction of the stallion that was only now picking himself up off the ground, a hoof pressed to his injured eye, “he's just happy to get his flaccid little cock into a hole. He'd praise the carnal skills of a can of Cram if that's all he had at hoof.”

The expression of hate on the stallion's face doubled at the remark, but he stayed silent and kept his weapon at his side. Talk is just air. We were back to playing the game again, and he'd remember that this time now that he knew for certain I was a White Hoof too. The mare barely suppressed an amused smile that threatened to take hold as she contemplated the image that my appraisal conjured and then held up her head haughtily, snorting at me with contempt, “I think you just fuck her because you know she wouldn't laugh at your performance.

“I changed my mind,” she added to her companion as she turned and started walking away, “we can leave. Come on, Bo.”

The stallion looked after the mare as she passed, and then fixed me with a baleful look for a few seconds before falling into step behind her.

“And for being such a useless little shit, you can fuck yourself tonight, Bo,” the mare added, loud enough for me to hear, “probably tomorrow too,” the stallion's ears flattened, and I caught a second glare as the two of them vanished over a hill to the west.

I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding and allowed my posture to sag slightly, finally wincing at the throbbing pain that coursed through my entire body. Med-X, seriously, I needed to invest in a healthy supply of Med-X.

I looked out in the direction they'd gone for a few moments, and then turned back to Foxglove. The mare was staring at me, her eyes wide and fearful. Don't fall apart now, you idiot. I cuffed her upside the head with my hoof, saying loudly, “what are you waiting for, you dumb cunt? Did you forget the way back already?” I shoved her in the direction of the house that we had put Windfall in and whispered in a much lower tone, “play the part until we're inside. We're not safe yet,” more loudly I stated, “All those nights fucking your brains out, I'm going to see if I can't fuck a little in tonight!”

Foxglove kept things together just long enough to make it through the front door of the house we had claimed for the night. Then she refused to budge another inch. I at least made it to the doorway of Windfall's room before stopping. The pegasus hadn't moved since I'd left her, unaware of everything that had just transpired outside. With any luck, she would remain ignorant of tonight for the rest of her life. Of course, there was now one pony in my presence who knew more about my past than anypony else in Neighvada. I looked back over my shoulder at the unicorn, who was still standing in the doorway, her wary eyes staring at me in wide fright. It was like she had just walked in on me horrifically murdering somepony. She was looking at me like I was a monster.

“That was all just an act, you know? I'm not really going to fuck you.”

I didn't really expect that to put Foxglove at ease, not really. I just needed to say something to break the silence. I didn't like her looking at me like that; like I was the enemy.

Silence. Then, “and the rest?” Foxglove managed to squeak out, “are you really a spy?”

Look at her, the image of Whiplash grinned, trembling in her hooves. Remember what she said to you? How much she was grateful for what you'd done for her? Look at her now. Look at somepony who knows the truth about you.

Imagine how Windfall will react...

That did stick in my craw a bit. Everything I'd done for this mare, and now she was looking at me with the same terror she'd felt for those other two White Hooves. Hell, I'd just saved her life again, and I had yet to hear any sort of thanks from this bitch's lips!

What had I ever done to her to earn that look? Mark or no?

“What if I am a spy?” I asked her evenly, turning to face the violet unicorn, “what if I'm a White Hoof, reporting on NLR movements? What are you going to do about it?” Foxglove averted her eyes, shifting uneasily on her hooves, “are you going to kill me in my sleep tonight? Rat me out to the guards the moment we pass through the front gate?”

No response. Just fear. Unbelievable, “are you fucking kidding me?” I growled, “what did I do to earn this from you? Was it the time I saved your life ten minutes ago? The time I saved your life six hours ago? When I saved you from slavers? Gave you food? A warm bed to sleep in?”

Every question earned me another pained wince from the mare, “I have never raised a hoof against you. I never abused you. Never mistreated you in any way. But look at you now. Well, fuck you. If that right there is how you show gratitude to somepony who's helped you even a tenth as much as I have, no wonder you kept getting screwed over by the ponies you met you ungrateful...fucking...bitch,” with the last spat word out of my mouth, I turned away and headed for the doorway once more.

“I didn't have to do a Celestia damned thing back there you know? I could have just let them take you.

“Maybe I should have.”

“I'm sorry,” Foxglove mumbled, causing me to stop, “I'm sorry,” she repeated, a little more loudly. I looked and saw her shamed expression regarding me with pleading eyes, “y'all are right. You and Windy, y'all ain't never done wrong by me. Not once. I just...nevermind. There ain't no excuse for how I acted just now. What does it matter if you're a White Hoof if you're also the only stallion that ain't ever tried to force me into his bed?

“I'm sorry. And thank you. And, no,” she went on, noticeably more relaxed, if not seeming to be entirely thrilled by the notion, “I won't act against you when we get to Seaddle. Whatever you have going on with the NLR and the White Hooves, it ain't none of my business. You've kept me safe, and I promised you a lot for doing that. I'm a mare of my word. I'll stick around long enough to see my end of things through.”

I held the gaze of the unicorn mare for a long while. She sounded sincere, but was she? She was a very large risk now. Just a word to the Republic soldiers and I'd be dead. Just a word to Windfall...

Killing her was the safest thing to do.

Two pairs of eyes, one sapphire and one emerald, were firmly against that notion. Oh, right. My decisions had to go through a committee now. So how did the other delegates care to vote? Steel Bit was a no-brainer. His only point of contention was whether I should rape her before or after I killed her. Was Whiplash going to deadlock things?

Did you seriously just put yourself through all of that just to waste the effort by killing her yourself? The piss-yellow mare from my past chided, moron. Besides, she could still be useful...

So...that's a 'no' then, I guess? She had a point though. Somepony would need to stay behind in Seaddle to watch over Windfall when she finally did wake up. Foxglove was a perfect fit. As perfect as I was likely to find anyway.

I would probably need to clear up a few things first though, “we need to talk,” I motioned for her to follow me into the room where Windfall slumbered. I took up a seat near the door and waited for the unicorn to make her way in, though I noticed her gate was still rather hesitant. She'd promised not to kill me, but I suspect she noticed that I had not reciprocated any such assurances. She also noticed that my position would block any attempt she made to beat a hasty retreat if I chose to act on any ill intent. In the end, she took up a seat near Windfall.

The unicorn's gaze fell on the pegasus for just a brief moment, and I noticed that even then there was a lack of the fondness I had seen previously. Right, if I was a White Hoof spy, and Windfall was my steadfast companion, then she was obviously in league with the tribe as well, even if she did lack the mark. I couldn't have that, not for what I was intending.

“I'm not a spy,” I began, talking flatly. Foxglove's concerns needed to be laid to rest, and all I had to do was tell her the truth of the matter regarding my relationship with the White Hooves. Something that a pair of emerald eyes in my head found to be a rather novel act for me. Well, fuck her. Lying wasn't a compulsion I had, it was just frequently the only means I had to not be killed by the ponies I met in my travels. Hardly my fault, was it?

The unicorn frowned slightly at the revelation, dubious of the claim, “I'm not even a White Hoof,” that she flat out snorted at. My expression soured now, “not anymore.”

“I didn't think that leaving a group like them was an option,” the violet mare said, her gaze searching for the signs of deception that she was certain she'd find.

“I didn't leave,” I corrected, “I was forced out,” this got Foxglove's attention at least, though she didn't look very convinced. I opted to explain further. I needed her to believe me, and the best way to do that was given her the whole story.

“My father was Steel Bit,” I didn't suspect that there should be any reason for Foxglove to know that name. She'd been in the Wasteland for only a few years, and he'd been dead for decades; but I guess I'd been used to ponies reacting to that name when he'd been alive, “he was the former chief of the White Hooves,” the unicorn's eyes widened at that revelation at least, “and, yeah, that means I would have taken over when he died. I would have been leading the White Hooves right now.

“Would have,” I stressed, genuine irritation coloring my tone as the memories flooded back, “had my sister, Whiplash, not murdered him and bribed his guards. She tried to have me killed too, but I managed to escape. Now Whiplash is their leader, and I'm on their 'kill on sight' list.”

“So why didn't those two try to kill you,” Foxglove inquired. She didn't sound quite as skeptical now, just curious.

“Probably because all of this happened more than twenty years ago, and I doubt those two were even born by then,” I suggested dryly, “the point is, that I don't work with them. I'm not even welcome among them if they knew who I was. And, more importantly—most importantly,” I held the unicorn's gaze to instill the utter seriousness of my next words in her mind, “Windfall knows none of this.”

That got Foxglove's attention, “she doesn't?” the disbelief in her voice was obvious, “she hasn't seen your brand?”

“She's seen it,” I admitted, “she just doesn't know what it means. She thinks I was a White Hoof slave.

“And you never told her the truth, why?”

“Because there's never been a good time to, or a reason to,” I explained, “when I first met her, it was just after her home had been raided by a group of White Hooves. She was the only survivor. I'd never have been able to convince her to stay with me if I'd told her the truth.”

This seemed acceptable to the unicorn mare, though she did have one other pertinent question, “so why tell me?”

Foxglove had started to relax noticeably during the accounting of my history. After all, if I was going to kill her or something, there would have been little point in me telling her all of that. It was a good start. I still needed to get her on board with what I intended though, “because I want you to do something for me. Call it a renegotiation of our deal.”

“What do you want me to do?” that note of uncertainty had returned.

“I want you to look after Windfall for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When we get to Seaddle, I'll be leaving. On my own.”

“What?” was Foxglove's shocked response, “why?”

“Because I have decided that it's time for me to go back to being a solo act,” I informed the mare. I wasn't speaking honestly anymore, and a part of me didn't like that. Well, whatever that new part of me it was that was uncomfortable about deceiving other ponies could suck it. I'd had my genuine moment for the week, and if that wasn't enough, then they could get together with Yellow Bitch and have themselves a good cry about how I wasn't listening to their whining often enough. This was my Celestia-damned life, and I'd live it however I pleased, lies and all!

“Windfall's old enough to be on her own,” I continued, “there's no reason for me to stay in the picture. What I need you to do is keep an eye on her until she'd fully recovered. After that, what you do is your business, I don't give a shit. Stay in Seaddle, travel with Windfall, strike out for Manehattan for all I care.”

“Does Windfall know you're going to be doing this?” her tone suggested that she was doubtful, and she was right to be.”

“No, she doesn't. You'll explain it to her.”

“Explain what?” Foxglove's voice rose dramatically in volume, and my gaze darted to the pegasus briefly. However, her ear hadn't so much as twitched, “what am I supposed to tell her?” her tone abruptly shifted to what I took to be a halfhearted satyr of her hypothetical future conversation with the winged mare, “well, sorry, Windfall, but it looks like your father ran off and left you behind. Why? Fuck if I know!”

I grit my teeth, finding myself preferring it when Foxglove was frightened and wary of me, “You can tell her whatever you want; and I'm not her father!”

“You might as well be!” the unicorn snapped, “hell, you could have fooled me the way she acts around you. She adores you! You have to know she's going to come looking for you?”

“Convince her not to. Make up whatever story you have to. Tell her I died in the fight with the hell hound.”

“Oh, you mean so she can go on a vengeful killing spree as she picks a fight with every hell hound in Neighvada? I've heard the way she talks about White Hooves. The only thing that keeps her from flying right into the heart of their territory and going out in a blaze of glory is you!” Foxglove jabbed her hoof at my chest, an edge creeping into her voice as her passion regarding the subject grew, “why, in Celestia's name, would she listen to me? She's known me for a week, Jackboot! She doesn't respect me the way she does you.

“She'd get herself killed in a day, tops.”

The mare was probably right. Windfall could be...aggressive. She was certainly a lot more willing to pick a fight with somepony than I was. She'd probably have made a good White Hoof. Telling her I was dead would just get her riled up, and she would go out to pick a fight with whomever she could. Still, if she knew I was alive, she would come looking for me, and probably eventually find me. Then what? How would I talk my way out of that?

Could I have Foxglove tell Windfall the truth? That I was a White Hoof? The pegasus surely wouldn't want to travel with me after learning that. But would Windfall even believe the unicorn without proof? Probably not. And the only proof that would satisfy would be...well, actually, she'd seen my mark. Somepony else reputable would have to tell her, like a guard or something.

But she'd probably still want to confront me about it...

“You need to tell her yourself,” Foxglove informed me evenly.

I shook my head, “I can't tell her I'm a White Hoof, it'd break her.”

“Then don't,” the unicorn said, “make something up, but whatever you tell her, it needs to be you doing the telling.

“That don't mean that I don't think what you should be telling her is the truth though,” Foxglove amended, “ain't no good ever come from lying to somepony you care about. Trust me on that.”

The truth wasn't an option, but I was starting to feel like the unicorn mare might not be wrong about who needed to explain the situation to Windfall. Granted, I certainly wasn't looking forward to that particular talk. She'd have a lot of questions regarding why, and she'd be making a lot of compromises in order to change my mind. Standing my ground without looking like a complete ass would be tough.

…

Or, it might be just what I needed to do. Windfall adored me, right? According to Foxglove anyway. She certainly obeyed me. I didn't force her to continue tagging along with me; she followed willingly because she respected me. What if she didn't? What if Windfall no longer felt any desire to stay by me? She'd gladly let me leave her behind then, wouldn't she?

So there we had it. New plan. Stick around Seaddle until Windfall recovered, and then proceed to emotionally abuse her until she wanted nothing more to do with me. She'd be out of my life, and I'd be free of the emotional attachment that had formed between us. Meanwhile, the pegasus mare was free to live out her life as she saw fit with whomever she chose to associate.

I wonder if all those years with you has predisposed Windfall to a certain type of stallion, Whiplash mused from the back of my mind, I bet they won't think twice about enticing her into their beds. Teach her all about those tender urges you've been repressing...

Will she moan your name?

She was a grown mare. Who she did what with was not my concern. Not any more.

“I'll think about it,” I wouldn't. Judging by the expression on Foxglove's face, she knew I wouldn't either, “go upstairs. Keep an eye out. I'll be up in a few hours,” the mare nodded and made her way back to the door, heading for the staircase.

As she passed by, she left me with one last comment, “You know, one time, I chose myself over the ponies I cared about,” she paused, and her eyes glassed over with a sad, distant, look, “it cost me everything,” now she looked up at me, “will you be ready to pay that price too?”

I met her gaze resolutely, “I've already lost everything once.”

“Maybe,” Foxglove nodded. Then her eyes wandered briefly back to the still form of Windfall, “we'll see,” her eyes met mine one final time, “good night, Jackboot.”

Her words echoed in my head as she ascended to the second floor. A couple of the ponies in my head seemed to indicate they knew what she was talking about; the others and myself had no clue. Ominous nonsense probably. Unicorns were weird like that...maybe. I don't know, maybe I was just tired and reading into things too much. I'd had a long day, and a little rest was sounding really good right now. I trotted over and curled up in a chair near the couch that Windfall was sleeping on.

My mind wandered back to the interaction earlier with the two White Hooves. Neither of them had recognized me. They hadn't even asked for my name. I guess it had been a long time since I'd been essentially usurped. A little white paint, and maybe...

No. While most of the current generation wouldn't have a clue, there were bound to be plenty who'd figure it out. Chief among them Whiplash. Going back wasn't an option. It was never going to be, no matter how much I wished it were different. My home just didn't exist anymore.

Whine, whine, whine, Whiplash said in a condescending tone, does the little foal want his blanky to make himself feel better?

I ground my teeth together. Yeah, pining wasn't going to do anything. I just needed to focus my mind on the next steps I had to take. My gaze went to the unconscious pegasus.

She's not going to like you very much.

That's the point though, isn't it?

I sighed, “you're not going to understand why I'm doing it,” I said softly, knowing that she wouldn't hear anything, “you're going to think you did something wrong, that it's your fault. You're going to hate me.

“And even though you'll never know: I'm sorry.”

It's just how it has to be. For both our sakes.

Be honest...

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 12:...HE'S A DEVIL...

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“Ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?”

Seaddle. Odd that this was starting to feel like home now. I hadn't even thought of Flank as my home while I'd been out east. I wasn't sure what made this place so different, but for whatever reason, I actually felt the stress leaving my body whenever I walked these streets. Which was grand, since I'd been feeling plenty anxious about a few things during the last few days of our trip.

Now though, it was finally time to do away with worries and stress. Windfall had been admitted into the medical center, Foxglove was at the apartment tinkering with whatever it was she wanted to tinker with, and I was left to my own devices. That device being whiskey, and a lot of it. I might even try to score an ampule or two of Jet if it turned out that alcohol wasn't enough to completely take the edge off. Celestia knew that the two syringes of Med-X I was currently riding on was only scratching the surface.

I had considered injecting a third dose, but it turned out that the hospital would only sell me so many of the things. There was a gray market for pharmaceuticals, but their supplies were both limited and expensive. Better to just supplement it with other medicinal substances. And Collard's was my first choice for securing such substances.

“Jackboot,” the green pony standing behind the bar nodded when he saw me walk in, “been a while,” he looked me over briefly, “rough trip?”

“Rougher than most,” I admitted as I walked up to the bar, proud that I managed to do so with only a slight limp. The crowd was what I'd come to expect form Collard's: less than a half dozen ponies and all of them drinking quietly and minding their own business. I'd come to learn the names of a few of the regulars in passing, and a fact or two about their histories. None of them had pasts quite as clouded as mine, but I gathered that they still appreciated the discretion that a place like this offered them, as I did.

“But I survived,” I added with a smirk. Taking a seat at the bar, I fished out a small stack of bits and placed them on the counter at about the same time Collard deposited two glasses, each filled half way with Wild Pegasus whiskey, “I'll be here for about a week this time I guess,” I picked up one of the glasses and took a long sip of the murky brown fluid, relishing the burn as it flowed down my throat. I needed to start bringing a bottle or two of this on trips just in case I found myself off the beaten path for an extended period of time again. I may not drink to the excess that Windfall enjoyed, but a few pulls in the evening to settle myself might keep me a little more level in the future.

The green pony glanced up at me for a brief moment, and then his eyes scanned the other patrons before he leaned in a little closer and cleared his throat, “you might want to see about cutting that short.”

That got my full attention. I set the glass back on the counter and narrowed my eyes at the pony. A hundred different thoughts and concerns swam through my head, all prompted by a single question, “why?” had Foxglove said something after all? Had Collard heard about a warrant out for my arrest already? Fuck that Yellow Bitch and Whiplash both. I knew I should have snuffed her while we still out in the Wastes...

“A mare was in here earlier, asking around about you,” the bartender began.

“Purple unicorn, green eyes?” I prompted.

Collard frowned, “no. Gray earth pony, blue eyes,” a smirk appeared on his lips, “how many ladies did you manage to piss off exactly?” At my glare, he wisely chose to continue with what he'd initially been trying to tell me, “anyway, she came in about two days ago. Asked for you by name. Wanted to know when you'd be back in town.”

“What'd you tell her?” This was concerning. I was frantically sifting through my memory, trying to put a face to any earth pony mares that I knew that fit that description. None came to mind. Granted, I probably didn't remember every mare I'd ever met. Could she be somepony from New Reino? Flank maybe? That bounty the Finders had posted was years old, and I would never have thought it'd still be around, or large enough to prompt somepony to venture all the way out here in pursuit of it.

“Told her the truth,” the green stallion replied simply, “that I didn't know. She offered caps if I let her know when you got here.”

Wait...caps? Didn't most ponies around here deal in bits? Could somepony really have trailed me all the way here from Hoofington after all? How could they have found out I was even here?

Most importantly, had Collard accepted the offer...

The hair on the back of my neck prickled briefly before I allowed myself to relax. He wouldn't be telling me about any of this if he planned on selling me out...unless he was expecting me to make him a better offer. That thought put me right back on my guard again, “how many caps?” I asked in a low growl, mentally calculating how much money I had in this city. I hadn't even gotten around to selling the weapons we'd amassed yet, but I had ballparked their worth at a few thousand.

Sensing the source of my anxiety, the bar owner offered a wry smile and a chuckle, “not enough,” was his response, “I play the long game, Jackboot, you know that. A small pile of caps now at the cost of one of my regulars? Pfft, I'll make double what she was offering in a month off your drink orders.”

His expression grew slightly more serious again, “but I wasn't the only pony she talked to, I bet.”

Probably not. She'd have had to speak to a couple of ponies at the least just to know I frequented this place; and I didn't frequent every bar and club in this city. More than a few ponies wouldn't say no to an offer of caps to help that mare out.

I needed to find out who she was and why she was after me as soon as possible, “what else did she say?”

“Not much,” Collard admitted, “just that knowing when you were in town would be worth some caps.”

“But she also told you how to let her know, right? A name, an address?”

“No name, but she did say where I could find her,” he stopped there, looking at me. Only when I prompted him further did her continue, though it sounded like he was somewhat reluctant, “the Seaddle Arms. She has a suite there. Room two-oh-six.

“Jackboot,” the bartender continued by way of addendum, “I like you. You're a quiet customer, and you always pay your tab by the end of the night. That mare? She's trouble, believe me. I've known enough ponies to be able to sense that sort of thing. Whatever it is the two of you got going on, leave it.”

A wry smile threatened to break out as I considered how accurate Collard's little 'trouble sense' was when it came to his customers. He hadn't sensed it from me in years, and I knew I could be all sorts of trouble for the ponies that stood in my way. This mare was a threat. It didn't matter whether she was from Neighvada or Hoofington, or even Manehattan. She had to be dealt with.

Yeah, I guess I was planning on skipping town in a week or so anyway and never coming back in order to deal with the whole Windfall situation, but if this mare had tracked me here, she'd track me anywhere. She had to be dealt with before she knew I was even in town. If she didn't already that is. I had no way of knowing who else she'd spoken to that had seen me return today. Maybe one of the nurses at the hospital? The pony I was renting the apartment from?

Did she know where I lived?

If I was going to get a good night's sleep, I had to deal with this matter quickly.

“Thanks for the head's up,” I said as I turned from the counter and headed for the door, “see you tomorrow.”

“Ja—ah, nevermind,” I heard the older stallion sigh as I left.

The Seaddle Arms. I'd heard of it, of course. Most ponies from the area had. It was one of the more luxurious places to stay in Neighvada. It had the reputation of the being the preferred location for the Republic's politicos to meet their mistresses and misters and whatever else they had on the side that they didn't want anypony to officially know about. The staff was renowned for its discretion, and the accommodations were supposed to be second to none. A night there cost what I spent in a month on the one-room apartment I lived in now. Whoever was looking for me seemed to have money to spare if that's where they were planning to wait me out.

That being said, showing up dressed like I was would not go unnoticed by the ponies who worked there. I sure didn't look like I was one of their customers. I'd have to fix that. Of course, it was already late at night and anyplace selling fine clothing was long since closed for the evening. I'd have to improvise.

I made my way to the ritzier part of town that offered a night life that was more appealing to the wealthier residents of the city. Mugging was certainly a thing that happened in the city, as the guards couldn't be everywhere. However, I wasn't after a pony's bits or valuables. Leaving them alive would risk them reporting me to the authorities, and killing them had a very good chance of damaging their attire, which flew in the face of my goal. Which meant I had to be a lot less direct about the whole thing.

Ideally, I had to get something that looked respectable, without anypony knowing I'd taking anything. At least not until it was way too late to do anything about it. The first step would be selecting a good location. There were some higher end clubs, but security at those places could be pretty tight. Not just the club's security, but the personal bodyguards of the attendants. Something a little more low key then. A place where you didn't expect drunks to make a scene, or for angry spouses to confront you about indiscretions.

My eyes fell on a large lit sign for La Bonne Pomme. It was a classy restaurant that prided itself on offering genuine produce grown on the local farms. More expensive than you could imagine. Just the place to get my hooves on what I'd need. I just had to get in there first, and it sure wasn't going to be through the front door. This was the sort of place you reserved a table at, and I hardly looked like the type of pony who could with the worn leather jacket that I was wearing. To get in there, I'd already need to look like the sort of pony I was trying to pass as.

I heard a burst of noise from nearby, as a side door of the restaurant opened, and a tired looking buck stepped out hauling a bag of garbage. A plan formed hastily in my mind and I turned down the ally quickly. Staff could get in without anypony giving them a second look...

“Hey, buddy,” I greeting, offering a broad smile as I approached, adding a slight sway to my step and slurring my speech a little, “spare a bit? Damn barpony says I can't get no more drinks on credit. What's with that shit?”

The younger stallion's expression instantly soured and he rolled his eyes, “get out of here you drunk, or I'll call security.”

“Oi, hey,” I widened my smile even further and faked a slight stumble, “hey, now, no need for that. I'm just asking for one bit is all. I'm good for it, swear on my mother's life!”

“Look, I said-”

The stallion's rebuke was interrupted by my head slamming into his snout, which I instantly followed up with a pair of forehoof jabs to his temple. A single hind kick to his chest finished off my assault, and sent the poor fellow into the brick wall of the restaurant. The waiter let out a pained groan that turned into a weak spasm of coughs. He tried to get back up, but I placed one hoof on the back of his neck and used the other to deliver a final sharp blow to his head. I could feel him still breathing, so I hadn't killed him. He wasn't going to be feeling very good when he woke up though.

“I'm going to borrow these,” I mumbled as I started to pull off the white shirt and black tie that he was wearing, “I hope you don't mind,” it turned out the tie was a clip-on. Hmm. Somehow I expected more from a place like this. Oh well. I stowed my leather jacket under the nearby dumpster and headed in through the side door.

I found myself in the restaurant's kitchen. The aroma's that assaulted me set my mouth watering. No time for a snack though...

“Order up!” A mare called out, setting a plate on a nearby counter, “table seventeen,” her yellow eyes shifted to me briefly, “and straighten up that tie.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I nodded, grabbing up the plate in my mouth and heading out into the main dining area. I guess there was time enough after all!

Mesquite spiced carrots and applesauce. The carrots were just a tad undercooked, and the sauce had a lump or two, but I was hardly going to complain. I set the empty plate down on a table that had recently been vacated and continued making my way to the front of the restaurant. When I got there, I tapped the shoulder of the unicorn mare standing by the door.

“Time for your break.”

She blinked, “really? It feels like I just had one...”

“Hey, if you don't want it, I'd be happy to take it for...you,” she was already gone. I placed a smile on my face and turned to meet the next ponies that stepped through the door. A proper looking brown unicorn stallion with a belly that threatened to burst through the buttons of his jacket and his slender yellow earth pony mare companion who seemed to be absolutely enamored with every word he spoke.

“...so I fired him anyway!” the stallion ended his story with a deep throaty laugh that was punctuated with frequent reverberating snorts, “get it?” the mare was positively all a twitter up until the moment her date looked at me. At which point I saw her exhausted look of disgust.

Whatever he's paying you, it's not enough, “may I take your coat, sir?”

The stallion eyed me briefly, and then I saw the buttons of his coat begin to undo themselves with the aide of his telekinetic field, “if I find a smudge, I'll have you fired too,” he looked back at the mare, whose face was instantly aglow again “get it?” another burst of laughter from the both of them.

“Good one, sir,” I smiled, “enjoy you're meal!” I flipped the coat over my shoulder and walked into the coat room. Once inside, I hastily shucked the waiter's garb and stuffed it in a corner, replacing it with the coat, which actually fit me rather well.

I stepped back into the restaurant's foyer, and was greeted by the sight of another pair looking at me with questioning expressions. I put on an appropriately disgusted frown, “it appears to be 'self service' tonight,” I sneered with resentment, “this place has become positively common recently,” I stepped past them and headed outside. I walked away from the restaurant and its patrons with my head held high, casting the proper air of disdain befitting a pony of my supposed breeding.

At least until I was comfortably out of sight, at which point I allowed myself to slouch and limp once more. I really did need to take it easy. Whatever, I had what I needed, and the Seaddle Arms wasn't all that far from where I was now.

The question of how to approach this phase of the plan was what occupied my mind as I came within sight of the hotel. Simply killing her might only solve my problems in the short term. I needed to find out why she was here and what she was after.

Jilted lover? Whiplash mused, prospective lover, maybe?

I highly doubted the latter, but the former might be a possibility...I guess? They'd have to be somepony from Hoofington though. There was no way some mare I'd rutted would be that desperate to track me down after all this time. No, she was looking for me to either settle a score or make a lot of caps. Emotions and money were the only things that I could imagine that would motivate a pony to go through all this.

As I got closer, I began to wonder if this could really be about the old bounty on me. The money this mare was spending just to stay here...She'd be lucky to break even by the time she got back to the Finders to collect. It had to be personal. Which would make her extremely dangerous, and possibly unpredictable. I just wished that I could think of what I'd done to piss somepony off this much.

You do have quite the body-count attached to your name...

Fair point. She could be a relative of somepony I'd killed. Revenge would certainly explain her actions. Was she acting alone though, was the question now. If this was about somepony I killed, was she the only relation, or just the first of many? I needed to know. Which meant I had to interrogate her before I killed her.

Rendering somepony helpless without killing them could be hard enough in and of itself. Doing so while your opponent felt no such need for restraint only compounded the problem. If I was lucky, she hadn't heard that I'd arrived yet, and wouldn't be expecting me to show up. If I wasn't lucky, then I was going to be in for a rough night.

I walked into the hotel's lobby, and made a beeline for the stairway near the back. I offered only the barest of nods to the bored looking stallion behind the reception desk. He returned the gesture and made no move to stop me or ask any questions. I suppose I looked respectable enough to be a guest after all. Good. My eyes scanned the doors, looking for the room that Collard had made mention of. Two-oh-six. It wasn't far.

Knock and let her answer? It was late, who would be coming by? Oh, right, she'd been telling ponies to come by here when they knew where I was. She would actually be expecting ponies to come to this room at odd hours. Let her open the door, and then I'd pounce before she could react. I tapped my hoof on the door and waited. And waited.

I tapped again, louder, in case she was sleeping. Still nopony answered. I frowned. Deep sleeper? Or still out looking for me? Probably the latter, if she was really serious about tracking me down. She might even already be out investigating a tip somepony else fed her about me. If that was the case, it presented me with a unique opportunity.

Sneak in and lie in wait. She'd come back, get comfortable, go to bed, and then I could take her down with hardly any fight at all.

Though I already suspected what I'd find, I tried the handle. Yeah, locked. I mean, I knew it would be, but it didn't hurt to check. I peered closely at the lock. Simple, three tumblers. I didn't have my pick set with me, but I probably wouldn't need them if I was willing to improvise. I looked around and spied a door that identified itself as the janitor's closet. Janitor slash handypony as it turned out. A screwdriver and a coat hanger was all I needed to successfully pick the lock and open the door.

As I did so, I heard the faintest snapping of wood from below and looked down. My eyes fell on the splintered remains of a toothpick. Horseapples. This mare was clever, I had to give her that. I couldn't even tell where she'd had it set, even if I managed to find a replacement to reset her improvised burglar detector. Did she know I was in town already? Or was she just taking precautions in case any of the ponies she talked to liked me more than the amount of caps she was offering? Either way, an ambush was now out of the question. She'd know somepony had been here the moment she opened the door. Great.

Oh well, if an ambush wasn't going to be happening, then I was at least going to learn what I could about this mare. I went inside and closed the door behind me. My eyes scanned the room. It was just about what you'd expect to find in a room being rented by a well-to-do pony of lavish means. Bottles of wine on the night stand. Perfume and jewelery sitting ready on the vanity near the back. The closet door was open, and I noticed a fair few gowns and dresses in decent condition.

That didn't make any sense. Whoever this mare was, she had money, a lot of it. Even if this was about a personal grudge and not any bounty, she could have hired a professional to track me down. Fuck, judging by the kind of assets she had, she could have hired a small team of professionals. Why come here herself and look for me? It didn't make any sense.

Who was this mare?

I pawed through the contents of the night stand and vanity. More of the same high society trinkets and luxuries. Tins of makeup and vials of ancient perfume that I personally felt smelled just awful, and jewelery that was so gaudy that I hardly believed anypony would actually want to be seen in public wearing the stuff. No weapons, no rough-travel gear. Nothing to suggest that the pony here had ever left Seaddle for even a second. Could it actually be a Seaddle native that was after me? Who could I have...

Oh, horseapples. As it so happened, there was a pony I had killed in this city that might have wealthy relatives. It had been so long ago I'd almost forgotten. Then I recalled the night I'd broken into the home of a rather depraved rapist working as a politician. He hadn't been the only pony I'd killed that night, but he was the one who'd have family this well off.

Had somepony managed to link me to his murder? I suppose it was possible. It certainly answered most of the questions I was harboring right now. I made my way over the to closet, glancing over the clothing. Just dresses and lacy clothes that wouldn't last an hour out in the Wasteland. Nothing that could be used for rough travel. She lived here.

A daughter, maybe? He'd probably had a few children. Somepony would have inherited his estate I guess.

But then why ask around for me like they were? If they knew I'd done it, they could just ask for me to be arrested. The appropriate evidence could always be 'found' later. Not like anypony would really question anything or go out of their way to speak up in my defense. Why try and handle this all quiet?

I opened up the door to the bathroom to give that a look over before leaving, and my train of thought derailed.

The smell got me first. A smelly bathroom wasn't really all that startling of course, even in a place like this. Nopony's shit smelled like apples, after all. Except this wasn't a fecal odor. It was the smell of death. The source of which, was obvious. Laying in the tub was an older unicorn mare, the rather striking reversed orientation of her head leaving no doubt as to the cause of her death.

Her mane was done up in an intricate tangle of braids held together with strips of ribbon. Her hooves were polished to a mirror shine. Her coat, though faded with age, was meticulously groomed and seemed to twinkle in the light thanks to the fine flecks of glitter that she had brushed into it.

Now that, that right there, was the sort of pony I could have seen owning the things in this room.

Horseapples.

I hadn't actually learned a Celestia-damned thing about the pony who was coming after me. Except that she had no problem with murdering a bystander in order to secure a base to operate out of. Great. Who was this mare, and what did she want with me?

Two questions that burned in my mind, but that I would get no answers tonight. I needed to get out of here before she got back. An overt confrontation wouldn't end well. Even if I came out on top in the fight between the two of us, the hotel staff would be alerted and the authorities would become involved. Being linked to the scene of this murder wasn't going to do me any favors even if I won the fight.

I left the room, closing the door behind me. When that mystery mare returned, she'd find it unlocked, and her tell-tale in pieces, but there wasn't anything that I could do about that now. I knew she was in town, and that she was looking for me. Hopefully that would be enough to keep me from being caught off guard. I even had a vague idea of what she looked like, and the sort of clothing she had available to her. As long as I could stay off her radar for a few more days, I should be good.

At least until she tracked me down later.

I was going to need to deal with her eventually. Sooner was better than later, but while I was still in Seaddle my hooves were pretty much tied regarding what I could do to her openly. This mare wasn't a moron, she probably wouldn't let herself be caught alone in this place. If I killed her and was still nabbed by the authorities, it hardly mattered, did it? I just wish I knew how much she knew about me at the moment.

A quick detour back to the alley to recover my jacket and dispose of the coat—apparently that waiter had regained consciousness at some point—and then it was off to the apartment. Though this time I did so with a lot more looking over my shoulder and roundabout routes than I remember using in a long time. Uh, I did not need this stress in my life right now. I had enough of it as it was.

Case in point: a violet unicorn kneeling on the floor, surrounded by a sea of disassembled firearms. Tools, she had found in our short time traveling together. Materials, those had been in short supply. However, after a great deal of convincing and rationalizing, I had agreed to allow her to cannibalize some of the less valuable weapons we'd scavenged during our trip. The small pistols and the pieces that looked like they were more rust than rifle already anyway. Foxglove was rather insistent that she have Windfall's new submachine guns finished as quickly as possible so that they could be presented to the pegasus the moment she was discharged.

I grimaced at the sight. This apartment had been 'cozy' enough with just myself and Windfall. Now some of what little space there had been had suddenly been turned into a workshop. Not that it really mattered I guess. This wasn't going to be my home for much longer, was it? Figures that I'd finally get comfortable somewhere only to have to abandon it. All because I let myself forget about what kind of pony I really was. Now I was leaving everything I'd built behind, I was being chased by some unknown mare for reasons I couldn't fathom, there was a minefield of small mechanical parts surrounding the bed, and my fucking joints were killing me!

“Horseapples!” I snarled, slamming the door a lot harder than I'd meant to. Foxglove uttered a startled yelp, looking up at me with wide, surprised, eyes. I stared her down until she looked back at the dissected automatic weapon hovering in front of her and resumed her alterations. Meanwhile I stepped over the bed to get around her and headed for the wardrobe. I stowed my jacket and retrieved a syringe of Med-X from the small cache I'd put together that day. I held the cylinder firmly in my jaws and jammed the needle into my shoulder.

The pain started to ebb away once more, and I let out a sigh that sounded only half relieved. The physical pain was leaving, but the stress brought on by what I'd learned in the last couple of hours still remained. In fact, “did anypony come by today?”

“What?” the violet mare asked, looking up once more.

Perhaps with more venom than the unicorn deserved, I reiterated my question with a slight snarl, “I asked if anypony came by today? Did you notice anypony hanging around outside? A mare with blue eyes?”

“I-no. Wait, why?” an anxious note was creeping into her own voice. The weapon she was working on floated to the ground, momentarily forgotten, “is somepony after you?”

My eyes went wide. I swooped down on the mare, pinning her to the ground with my right arm. She let out a scream of surprise that was choked out quickly by the pressure I was applying to her throat. I felt her struggling beneath me, and I leaned into her throat with more force. Her cries became desperate gasps, her eyes terrified and frantic. I saw her horn begin to glow with a soft green light. Before she could manifest her magic—Celestia knew there were plenty of tools nearby she could use to do real damage—I slammed my left hoof into her temple once, and then a second time.

“No magic, or you die!” I screamed at the frightened mare, holding my hoof up, ready to resume delivering blows if I glimpses so much as a twinkle from her horn, “what do you know? When was she here?!”

The unicorn gurgled and gagged, but I didn't reduce the weight I was putting on her. If she could get enough air through her throat to make noises, she could gasp out a coherent word or two. I slammed my hoof down next to her head hard enough to make some of the smaller pieces of nearby scrap jump up off the floor, “answer me!”

“Plea-” she managed to get out between her desperate spasms for breath, “top...Ackboo...” her eyes were tearing up to the point where I wasn't certain she could even see anymore. If she wanted me to stop, all she had to do was tell me what I wanted to know. If she thought I was going to let up for even a moment, then the unicorn was very much mistaken. I'd killed hundreds; why wouldn't I kill her too?

Be K-

This wasn't the time for kindness! I gave Yellow Bitch a mental snarl. My life could be on the line here. I needed to know what Foxglove had told that mare. She might even know why they were after me in the first place.

Because turning you over to somepony she doesn't know is exactly what Foxglove would do, Whiplash sighed in a bored tone, I mean, she'd love explaining to Windfall how she got you killed right? You know how much she hates that fool pegasus...

I hesitated.

Which was apparently what Foxglove had been waiting for. Her horn burst to life, and before I could react, a torrent of weapon parts was flying at my face. I brought both of my hooves up to block the tsunami of metal, releasing the unicorn. She coughed and gasped as she scrambled to get away, heading for the apartment's door. Her assault was certainly a lot more diversionary than hurtful, and it didn't take me long to recover. I leaped and tackled her to the ground once more. My forelegs found their way around her neck and I rolled her over, her legs flailing in the air.

My hind legs swept up and tucked themselves inside her thighs. I then proceeded to arch my back, forcing her throat into my arms and crushing her larynx once more. Only this time she had no leverage whatsoever to try and escape with. I leaned up next to her ear, “I will have answers,” I hissed as I arched even further, putting far more tension on her neck than I had earlier. The unicorn mare gave one final gurgle before all flow of air was firmly cut off. Her horn glowed, and I felt a few more bits of debris fling themselves into the side of my head, but they lacked to force to do any real damage. In seconds, the green glow faded, and then I felt the mare's body go limp on top of mine.

I remained like I was for a few moments longer, feeling the throbbing pulse in her neck slow. When I was satisfied that she was genuinely unconscious, I released my grip and let her slide to the floor with an undignified thud. She knew that somepony was after me. She could only know that if she'd spoken with the mare that Collard had. Foxglove knew something, and she was going to tell me what it was.

Or else.

I made my way back to the gear stowed in the apartment's wardrobe and retrieved a generous length of rope. I used it to bind Foxglove's fore and hind legs. I didn't need her making another break for the exit; not until I'd decided to let her live. Granted, I wasn't seeing that as being a very likely outcome for the mare right now. Next, I pulled out Full Stop. A deft flick swung the cylinder out and I dumped the rounds held within out onto the night stand. Then I waited. Foxglove was going to need to be conscious for the rest.

It took her about ten minutes to start to come around. She started off rather listless, as though awakening from a deep sleep. I saw her strain at the bindings on her legs lethargically, and then she shot awake rather abruptly. It took her frantic eyes only a moment to find me, sitting nearby with the revolver in my hooves, a single cylinder of brass being rolled around in my lips.

“Not a word,” I mumbled around the bullet as I continued to mull it around in a quasi-random pattern. I watched as her eyes followed the path of the bullet I played with. She remained silent, “we're going to play a game. It's called 'up to six questions'. If you win the game, you get to live and I let you go.”

Foxglove swallowed, “and if I lose?”

I slipped the brass tube into Full Stop and snapped the weapon closed, “then I field a noise complaint from the neighbors,” I held the release and gave the revolver's chambers a firm flick of my hoof and listened to the clicking sound as they spun. I let go of the release, and the clicking stopped suddenly, “round one,” I put the weapon in my mouth and pointed it at her head. The color drained from her face, “did anypony come around asking about me today?”

She shook her head adamantly, “no! Nopony's been here all day!”

My face creased with a scowl, “you knew somepony was after me, you lying bitch,” my tongue depressed the trigger. The hammer pulled back and the cylinder ticked over before there was the loud metallic 'CLACK!' of the firing pin being struck. The unicorn flinched away reflexively, letting out a terrified yelp, “looks like you get another go,” I scoffed, “who was here?”

Foxglove was trembling now, “no-nopony! Jackboot, I swear nopony was here! Please, you have to belie-” CLACK! “Oh, Celestia! Please no!” sobbing now.

“Who. Was. Here?”

“I don't know what you want me to say!” the violet mare cried, her voice dripping with desperation.

“I want the truth!” I snapped around the large pistol in my mouth, “what did you tell her?”

“Her who?!” CLACK! “Aah!”

Tears were streaming down her face now as she wept openly. In between sobs, she pleaded for me to let her go, promising not to breath a word of any of this to anypony. She swore she'd never tell Windfall, or the guards, or anypony. All I had to do was untie her and let her leave. The unicorn repeated her promises over and over while simultaneously swearing that she had no idea what I was talking about and that she hadn't seen anypony all day before I arrived.

I waited for the worst of it to abate, while not taking my weapon away from the side of her head. When it looked like she would be able to answer my questions coherently again, I posed my questions once more, “who is she? What does she want?”

Foxglove's overt sobbing renewed, “I don't know what you're talking about!” she wailed, “I'm telling you the truth, I swe-” CLACK! The unicorn descended into incoherent weeping once more.

“That's four,” I remarked idly, “that means that this next time will just be a fifty-fifty chance for you. Something to think about,” her sobbing grew in volume as she reasserted her innocence through her barely decipherable speech. I pressed the revolver more firmly to the side of her head, “if I can't understand what you're saying, it'll count as a wrong answer,” I said evenly, “just so you know.

“What did you tell her?”

This time the unicorn mare did not answer right away. She swallowed a few times and got herself under control. I allowed her the time to compose herself. If she was going to tell me the truth this time, I needed to hear the details. The mare took a trembling breath and closed her eyes, “nopony has been here,” she affirmed with her quavering voice, “I haven't talked to anypony since you left,” another barely suppressed sob wracked through her body as her body tensed.

“I guess you're feeling really lucky today.”

“No, please!” the mare shrieked, trying in vain to pull away. I depressed the trigger and felt the hammer draw back. The cylinder set itself and the hammer fell. Another echoing CLACK! Another unintelligible wail formed from a string of jumbled pleas for mercy.

“Well, we both know what will happen next time,” I stated calmly as I waited for this latest wave of terror to finish working it's way through Foxglove's body, “it's a miracle you made it this far,” I tapped the barrel against her head, “miracle's over though. Nopony's coming to help you, and we're on chamber number six.

“Maybe you'd like to tell the truth this time. Or is another lie going to be the last thing you say?”

The sobbing died down and soon the unicorn mare was merely sniffling now. She's ceased to struggle against her bonds, and just lay there, “why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I need to know,” was my answer, “last chance: what did you tell her?”

There was a long pause this time. When her answer came, it sounded distant and numb, “I didn't betray you, Jackboot,” she said softly. Then she closed her eyes and cringed, waiting for the shot to ring out.

Instead, I pulled the barrel away from her head and set it on the nightstand, “I believe you,” and I did. Whoever that gray mare was, she could not have offered Foxglove anything that would be worth her life. The unicorn had had every reason to believe that I would follow through with my threat to kill her. She knew I was a White Hoof after all; I'd killed a lot of ponies in my life. What was one more?

I stepped away from the mare and headed for the bed. It had been a very long day, and I got the impression that tomorrow wasn't going to be any shorter. That mare was going to know I was after her, and somepony if town was bound to tell her what she wanted to know sooner or later. I pulled back the sheet.

CLACK!

I peered back over my shoulder at Foxglove. She was still lying on the floor with her limbs tied. Her cheeks were soaked with tears, and her eyes were wide. Full Stop hovered in front of her, the barrel leveled at me. The unicorn looked at the revolver and then back at me. I turned away and resumed climbing into bed. I heard the weapon's cylinder being swung open.

“...there wasn't an actual bullet,” the unicorn mare whispered, comprehension dawning on her, “just a piece of spent brass.”

“What could I learn from a corpse?” I offered, still not looking in her direction, “I just had to be sure.”

“You are such an ass!” she yelled at me, apparently well on her way to getting over her terror.

“I want you to think about something though,” I rolled over so that I could now lock eyes with the violet mare as she worked her magic to undo her bindings, “I knew that the gun wasn't loaded when I was pulling the trigger; but you were positive it was,” I was rewarded with a rather stricken expression from the unicorn. Probably more out of fear that I would retaliate than the knowledge that of the two of us, she'd intended to kill somepony during this exchange.

“Anyway,” I went on, by way of changing the subject, “we may have a problem. There's a mare in Seaddle offering ponies money for information on where I am.”

“Did you put a gun to her head too?” Foxglove murmured acidly as she finished untying the last of her limbs.

“No idea who she is. Don't know what she wants. She's bad news though. Already killed one pony in this city,” I stressed the importance of my next words, “I doubt she'll hesitate to kill you or Windfall if she learns you're with me.”

That got the unicorn's attention, “so what are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing yet,” I admitted, “she knows I've heard about her, probably.”

“How?”

“I found out where she's staying, went to see if I could take care of her,” I sighed at the memory of how I'd been so recently thwarted. She was a clever one, that was for sure, “she'll know I was there when she gets back.”

“Wonderful.”

I shifted the covers over me and made myself more comfortable in the bed, “just load the gun and keep it near you. If you hear somepony at the door, shoot 'em,” I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to claim me. I didn't imagine it'd take long; I was exhausted.

“...you trust me with it? Even after-”

“After you defended yourself against a pony who you thought was trying to kill you?” I finished for her, bringing the unicorn's question to an abrupt halt, “you've also been on your own for most of the day. No Republic soldiers were waiting here when I got back. Consider yourself vetted.

“Bullets are on the table right over there,” I jabbed a hoof in the direction of the nightstand and then drew it back under the covers, “goodnight.”

Things were...tense for the next couple days in the small apartment. Foxglove was understandably more wary of my presence. Fair enough. I guess when somepony ties you up and forces you into a sadistic game of Griffon Roulette, you developed a healthy animosity towards them. It's not like I was eager for a string of tedious conversations with the unicorn while we waited for word from the hospital regarding Windfall.

Besides, I had other concerns to think about.

I'd decided to refrain from venturing out more than was absolutely essential in order to limit my visibility in the city. If that gray mare with blue eyes already knew my address, then there was nothing I could do about; if she didn't, then it was best to limit her opportunities to follow me home and learn it.

I really did need to go on the offensive with her, but that would require learning things about her that I didn't know and was at a loss on how to discover. It was unlikely that she was a native of Seaddle, and that meant nopony was going to know much about her, so asking around probably wasn't going to give me much more than a description and the knowledge that she was asking after me. Both of which I already knew.

Windfall might be able to come into play in order to help me with this. I could use the pegasus to tail the mare and find out what her movements were. Get a list of the ponies she spoke to and learn how much they'd told her about me. From what I had gathered so far, this pony was just concerned about myself, and hadn't mentioned either Windfall or Foxglove. I was reluctant to use the unicorn though, since I had no reason to believe that she'd ever followed anypony discretely. There was the likelihood that this gray mare would notice an inexperience tail.

“Load hollow-point,” I heard the violet unicorn say in an authoritative tone. This command was closely followed by the sound of whirrs and clicks for a couple of seconds. Then, “load armor piercing,” another collection of mechanical sounds, “load explosive,” more clicks, “load pulse.”

There was a final chorus of clicks, and then I heard the mare tapping her hooves together in giddy elation, “they work!”

My curiosity finally got the better of me, and I craned my head to look at what the unicorn was so happy about. I saw Windfall's pair of submachine guns, her 'girls', hovering in front of Foxglove, aglow with green auras. Though the pair of them were hardly recognizable as having been her weapons. Once just two typical 10mm submachine guns, they now looked to have large bulging growths coming out of their side. The weapons had not exactly looked particularly sleek before, but now they looked positively fat. I cocked an eyebrow at the weapons.

“Will they actually work? Or do they just make noises now?” I didn't conceal my dubious tone.

Foxglove cast a dark glance back in my direction, “I didn't mess with the firing mechanism,” she insisted, “just how it chambers,” she floated one of the weapons over to me so that I could get a better look at what she had done. I could see now that the bulges on the side were additional magazine wells that had been engineered into the frame, each one a different color, “the bolt now contains a voice-activated servo that rotates the head, stripping a round from the appropriate magazine. Blue is pulse, green is explosive, yellow is armor piercing, and black is hollow-point. The bottom one is for regular rounds, just like before.”

I looked up at the mare, “I've never heard of 'pulse' and 'explosive' rounds being made in pistol calibers.”

“They aren't,” the weapon shifted in front of me and I watched as a pair of retaining pins popped out of place and a small compartment slid open. Inside were a pair of glowing talismans and a rather dazzling collection of tiny crystals, “I stripped the cores from some of the grenades you had,” I narrowed my eyes at the mare, but she went on before I could rebuke her, “just four of them, you still have plenty.

“I've set it up so that they imprint the appropriate spell onto any rounds it fires,” the compartment snapped shut and the retaining pins slammed back into place with a pair of crisp clicks.

“If they copy the spells onto the bullets, then why bother with separate magazines?”

“Because metal is a terrible conduit for magic,” the unicorn replied simply, “maybe that would work if I was using zebra fetishes or something, but pony magic needs gemstones,” she floated over a pair of bullets now. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that one was tipped with an emerald, and the other with a sapphire. I didn't need to be a unicorn to know which round was intended for which spell, “I only have a few of these made so far, but I can keep making more with the right gems.”

“How powerful are they?”

Foxglove frowned slightly, “they're not as individually strong as a regular grenade, if that's what you're asking. Not technically. However, a grenade needs to create a big blast, because it's an omnidirectional charge. It doesn't know where the enemy is that you're trying to hit, so the explosion goes everywhere.

“These are bullets, so I tweaked the talismans to imbue them with a 'shaped-charge' version of the spells. They only take a small portion of the total magic in the talismans but yield an overall more efficient result,” she explained, “I calculated that one magazine of thirty rounds can deliver the net explosive force of six grenades, and each talisman can alter three magazines worth of rounds.”

“So you'll need to keep replacing the talismans?” I wasn't sure how happy I was about that. Those sorts of explosives were hard to come by in most places.

“Yes, but like I just told you: one talisman from a grenade can be refined into almost twenty times the killing power with this setup,” she was quick to point out, “and, nopony will be able to just throw them back at you.”

That was a fair point. A grenade that didn't come with a 'return to sender' opportunity was certainly a mark in this arrangement's favor. Besides, what did it matter to me? These were Windfall's weapons, and finding replacement talismans was going to be her problem. I wasn't going to be in the picture at all.

The pipbuck on my foreleg started buzzing. I recoiled slightly, glaring at the device. It hadn't done that before! Was something wrong with it? Foxglove was looking at me with a quirked eyebrow, occasionally glancing down at the pipbuck. I brought up my leg to give it a closer look and see if I could find out what was going on with it, but my knowledge of these devices was still rather limited when it came to things I'd never seen it do before.

“You going to answer that?” the unicorn prompted.

“Answer what? What's wrong with it?”

“Seriously?” the violet mare sighed in annoyance. There was a brief emerald glow around one of the buttons on my pipbuck, and the buzzing sound ceased.

A moment later, I heard the familiar sound of Doctor Lancet's voice, the black unicorn that ran the hospital in Seaddle. He was speaking through the speaker of the pipbuck, “Mr. Jackboot?” then there was silence.

Foxglove stare at me. When I didn't react, she waved her hoof in a motion that suggested I should respond to the voice. Uncertain, I said, “yes?” could these things be used to communicate with? I mean, I knew that information could be broadcast to them; they picked up radio signals after all. I just didn't know that ponies could use them to talk to one another across distances.

Sure enough, it looked like the physician had heard me, “Windfall is waking up. She's asking for you.”

I felt my insides tense at the revelation. It looked like the time was soon approaching when I would have to push her away. Even though it was something that needed to happen, I wasn't exactly looking forward to it. I'd grown to like having Windfall around; and that was the problem, wasn't it?

No help for it though, “fine,” I spoke into the pipbuck, “I'll drop by eventually,” I looked at the device for a moment and then tapped the button that I'd seen glow earlier. Nothing seemed to happen, so I looked at Foxglove for confirmation that I'd ended the transmission correctly. She nodded with a displeased frown.

“Eventually?” she prodded, “why exactly can't we go now?”

“You can go whenever you want,” I informed the unicorn tersely, “I'll drop by whenever I feel like it. Besides, I want to make sure I have enough bits to pay the bill.”

“Right.”

Foxglove hadn't sounded very convinced of my reason for delaying. As well she shouldn't have been. She knew I'd already sold the weapons and surplus gear Windfall and I had acquired during or travels. Somewhere in the realm of four thousand bits was now cluttering up my saddlebags; more than enough to pay for Windfall's treatment. However, she decided to take advantage of my offer to let her visit on her own and started packing away the pair of submachine guns that she had finished modifying.

Without another word, she left for the hospital, leaving me alone in the small apartment. Well, alone except for the ponies in my head, who were all too willing to harass me with their opinions.

Yellow Bitch was rather opposed to my plan of being unnecessarily harsh and abrasive towards Windfall. I supposed she also didn't like the fact that I was planning on blaming her for any minor inconvenience that I could, even though nearly all of them were unrelated to her actions. When did she become such a stickler for the truth anyway? Eight years of pressing me for acts of kindness and now suddenly she was riding my ass about lies too. What a bitch!

Ooh, ooh! Whiplash chimed in, you should totally say something about how you can see why her parents died, with her not being able to stay in a fight anyway, or something like that, the piss-yellow mare snickered as she cracked a ruthless smile, really pluck at her emotional heartstrings.

Of course Steel Bit had to weigh in too with his own preferred brand of abuse, extort sex from her, he suggested, make fucking you a condition of the debt she owes for saving her life. Make sure it's painful for her. Then let her know how worthless she is in the sack.

I'm so glad the two of you are going to enjoy this so much. It'll give us a chance to really bond, you know, as a family. Just like old times.

I ultimately dismissed my father's suggestion, though I had to admit that I briefly considered a few alternate scenarios that did involve an intimate moment with the pegasus. Physical rejection would certainly color her opinion of me and help drive her to want to leave. If nothing else I did worked, then maybe that would suffice as a backup plan.

Something more along the lines of what Whiplash had proposed was what I intended to try initially however. I needed her to believe that I viewed her as worthless and was dismissive of her abilities. Then, when I blatantly and perhaps even publicly disowned her for her failures, she'd accept that I was walking out of her life and not attempt to find and dissuade me. I would also have Foxglove there to back me up and suggest to Windfall that the pegasus would perhaps be better off with somepony who appreciated her abilities. Not some old bitter pony like me.

I rehearsed several scenarios and conversations in my head until I had a good picture of the sort of presentation I needed to make when I met her. Only then did I leave the room and head for the hospital.

My eyes scanned the ponies in the city as I walked, keeping watch for a gray mare with blue eyes that might be following me. I saw a lot of gray ponies, and a lot of ponies with blue eyes. Noticed a couple stallions with both, and a unicorn mare as well. There were a lot of ponies I couldn't get a good look at either. She could honestly be anywhere in the city right now. Maybe she was even waiting at the hospital. A few ponies in this city knew that Windfall traveled with me, and I doubted the staff never talked to anypony outside of work about their patients.

I was going to be a nervous wreck until I finally left this city.

When I got to the hospital, I discovered that 'waking up' was a bit of an understatement when it came to describing the current stage of Windfall's recovery. She was already sitting in the lobby, chatting away happily with Foxglove. I almost found it difficult to believe that this was the same mare who had been unconscious for the better part of a week. She certainly didn't look to have completely recovered though; her wings drooped slightly and I noticed that her neck seemed a little stiff. Still, to be out there talking and laughing again, after the hit that I'd seen her take...

“She's one tough mare.”

I could have leaped out of my skin, flipped in the air, and bolted right back out the door without touching the ground, I was so startled by the words spoken right beside me. As it happened, fortunately, I merely let out a startled yelp and stumbled to the side. I glared balefully at the black unicorn standing beside me. He arched a brow, noting my reaction.

“Wound up a little tight today, aren't we?”

I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. Couldn't leave this city soon enough, “still a little anxious from the trip,” I explained, “that was a pretty big hell hound.”

“So your daughter tells us,” Lancet nodded, “fifty feet tall and could eat a whole pony in one bite.”

A snort I didn't even try to suppress was followed by a mirthless chuckle, “not quite that big, but I'll admit that it was a fight we weren't really ready for,” something I would correct before I left the city. Explosives and armor piercing rounds were near the top of my provisions list. I changed the subject to something a little more relevant, “how is she?” I nodded in Windfall's direction.

The physician's own disposition became a little more sullen as he looked towards the pegasus, “she's lucky to be alive,” he stated bluntly, “I assume you gave her a healing potion or two after she was injured?” I nodded, “it saved her life. She was suffering from a epidural hematoma near her posterior cerebellum,” my eyes must have glazed over, because Doctor Lancet immediately changed tactic with a frown, “she was bleeding into her skull near the part of her brain that regulated her heart and lung functions. The healing potions you gave her stopped it from getting worse, but the pressure was still there. Which was what was keeping her unconscious. Another few minutes of bleeding and she would have died.

“We drained the blood and relieved the pressure,” he explained, “she'll make a full recovery, but she needs to rest. A week at the least. The hematoma was the worst of it, but her spine was severely bruised as well,” he raised his voice significantly, “so absolutely no flying!”

The pegasus' ears perked up and she looked over in our direction. Initially her expression was one of innocence as she endeavored to portray a 'who, me?' air of wounded pride. It was cut abruptly short as she found that the doctor was not alone.

Her sapphire eyes gleamed bright and nearly doubled in size, “Jackboot!” She scampered to her feet and bounded towards me, headless of the disapproving glare from Doctor Lancet and the nurse behind the receptionist's desk.

Moment of truth.

Windfall's gait became more hesitant as she neared, before the pegasus finally drew up short. Her eyes were still wide, but no longer filled with elation and joy. Instead she appeared confused. She was searching my face for any sign of the relief and elation that might have matched her own at the prospect of being reunited. Instead, she found only cold indifference.

“Jackboot?” she repeated, concerned.

I held her gaze for a few moments, the corner of my mouth turning up in annoyance. My attention then went to Doctor Lancet, “no flying for a week?”

“At a minimum,” he reiterated.

“So she's useless,” was the conclusion I drew as my eyes returned to Windfall, “great,” I glared down at the mare, “you can't fly, you can't fight, and all of this just cost me a mountain of bits. So what the fuck are you smiling for?”

The white pegasus' ears fell limp. By the look on her face, she was positively mortified by my assessment, “I...I just thought that-”

“You thought what?” I snapped at the mare, “that I'd be happy about ending this trip a couple thousand bits in the hole?” I snorted and stepped past her on the way to the receptionist to settle the bill, “next time I'll leave you for dead.”

Needless to say, I received more than a few unflattering looks from the staff. Doctor Lancet in particular was regarding me with a rather cold pair of eyes. I said nothing to any of them; merely placing the required bits on the table and heading for the door. Foxglove was mumbling something to the distraught pegasus as the two of them followed me out of the hospital.

I directed my path towards Seaddle's principal market. There were more than a few things that we'd need to gather before heading back out into the Wasteland. The other two mares followed in my wake at a fair distance. The two of them were having a hushed conversation with one another that I couldn't make out. At any other time, I'd have been suspicious about what they were talking about behind my back; but given what I was trying to accomplish, I let them be. Foxglove's part of the plan was to convince Windfall that leaving my company was in the best interest of the young flier. To that end, I was going to allow the unicorn all the opportunities that she needed to whisper in her ear.

Instead, I directed my thoughts towards compiling the list of what I was going to need. Ammunition was right at the top of the list. I hardly had anything left for Full Stop, and even my 9mm was running low. Windfall would need a fair number of rounds for her own weapons while she was still tagging along. A dozen grenades wouldn't go amiss either. I also needed to give some thought to another weapon. It was looking like Foxglove was going to be along for the ride for some time as well, and without firepower she was just dead weight in a fight. Not that the mare had shown any particular inclination towards firearms.

Somepony brushed up against me and derailed my train of thought. I whipped my head around to snarl at the offender but I didn't see anything but a crowd of ponies milling about. No clear indication as to whether any of them had been the culprit. So, I was forced to bite back the scathing epithet that I had been planning to issue and simply grit my teeth. I looked back over my shoulder at the others and let loose a sharp whistle. Both mares perked up their heads and looked in my direction.

“Hey!” I snarled at them, “you going to actually start pulling some weight around here, or just keep being useless?”

Foxglove's expression remained one of stern disapproval, while the pegasus winced and closed the distance, “sorry, Jackboot,” she offered, trying to cultivate a reassuring smile to appease my ire. I kept my gaze cold, “what do you need?”

“What you need is to make sure you have bullets for those guns of yours,” I quipped, turning away and walking deeper into the market. Windfall stayed close by, “so if you two are done gossiping, then maybe you can find some time to buy supplies?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Windfall assured me, offering up another smile.

I continued walking, looking around for any merchants that looked to be selling explosives. Then I noticed that the pegasus was still close by, walking at my side. Admittedly, we had often done our shopping together in the past. It was a habit that I needed to break her of, “do I look like I sell bullets?” I snapped.

“What?” the flier balked, looking confused, “but...”

“Oh, I'm sorry, does the little foal need me to hold her hoof while she talks with the scary merchants?” I drawled in a chiding tone. My features shifted into a sneer, “pull your own weight or get lost, you useless filly,” I stormed forward deeper into the market.

I didn't make it three steps before I felt her brush up beside me in what I could only assume was some sort of misguided effort to soften me up. Immediately, I whirled around to warn her away, only to find myself looking at nopony at all. There wasn't anypony beside me, only an older stallion walking by who gave me a puzzled look. Windfall was still sitting where I'd left her, deep in a conversation with Foxglove.

Must have just been my nerves acting up, I guess. Crowds weren't something that I was a huge fan of in general, and I was still a little wary about that mare who was supposed to be out looking for me. Between all of that and snapping at Windfall for every little slight that I could grasp, I had to admit that I was starting to feel a little worn.

“You could probably ease up a little bit,” I was unable to stop myself from jerking a little when I heard the unicorn mare speaking from so close by. I settled for an irritated glare at her while I resumed walking through the market. Foxglove stayed at my side, “she's been through a lot.”

“The sooner you get her to leave, the sooner she stops hearing it,” I remarked acidly as I scanned the nearby stalls, “that was the plan, remember?”

“You hit her with too much of this at once, and it'll break her,” Foxglove warned, “that poor filly is halfway to tears, because she thinks that everything going on right now is her fault; and we both know it ain't. You want to be cold to her? Fine. I get it,” she sighed and stepped around in front of me to make certain that I was paying attention. I frowned, but came to a stop, “but this is just being cruel.”

“So what do you suggest?” I growled.

“Be curt,” she narrowed her eyes, “be distant. Don't just be a fucking ass because it's how you get off.”

“You think I'm enjoying this?”

“Aren't you?” Foxglove replied with mock disbelief before hardening her features once more. I wasn't sure when this unicorn had grown a spine when it came to dealing with me, but I wasn't sure if I was finding it irritating or...well, she was a unicorn, “I saw how you spoke to those-” she cut her sentence short, shifting her eyes to the passing crowd. When she resumed, it was in more hushed tones, “others. Isn't saying stuff like that how you're kind flirt or something?”

It was actually hard not to crack the barest of smirks at that. In fairness, yes, being vulgar and abrasive was often how some White Hooves demonstrated interest. Granted, there were a lot of subtle nuances when it came to such things. After all, you would make similar statements towards ponies that you genuinely hated as well. A lot of care had to be put into facial expressions and inflections on certain words. Otherwise the pony you were trying to spend some quality time with would clock you.

Still, an amusing distinction or not, I wasn't going to let myself get distracted by those sorts of thoughts, “are you saying you'd rather I fuck her?” it was rather gratifying to see Foxglove recoil at my question, which broadened my smirk. Before she could reply, I let my features sour once more to denote my seriousness, “fine, I'll tone it down. For now,” I started to turn away, but then I heard Steel Bit whisper something in my ear that made me smile once more. He didn't always have great ideas, but this did sound like a fun one. My attention returned to Foxglove.

“The next time you open that dick holster you call a mouth,” I whispered low enough so that only she could hear me, “it better be because you want to choke on my cock,” leaving Foxglove stunned into mortified silence, I stepped past her and left the two mares behind.

Yeah, Dad, I didn't act on a lot of your ideas, but that right there? That was fun! Even Whiplash had to concede that it was funny to see the unicorn flush as deep as she had. I'd have to remember that the next time I needed that mare to shut up. The comment, not my dick down her throat. Though, I'd be lying if I said the image that thought conjured wasn't a pleasant one. Her accent didn't do a whole lot for me, but it's not like I'd want her to be doing a whole lot of talking at the time.

I watched Foxglove and Windfall travel deeper into the market as the unicorn took the flier to collect the ammunition that she'd need for her redesigned weapons. The pegasus was upset, and I had the impression that the unicorn's opinion of me was getting less flattering by the minute. Things were progressing the way I needed them to.

Another pony bumped into me. Oh, for Celestia's sake, what was with the ponies in this city? Didn't anypony watch where they were going anymore? I was an armored stallion standing in the middle of the road, it's not like I was freaking invisible here! My head whirled in the direction of the hit, a rather scathing indictment of the offender's observational skills ready on my lips.

My retort died a sudden and violent death as I found myself looking into a pair of deep blue eyes framed by a gray coat, a few crimson wisps of mane dancing above them that had escaped from the braid most of it was tied in. There was a coldness to those eyes, tinged with an unsettling mirth. Then, in an instant, the eyes were gone, vanished behind a passing earth pony.

I looked around, but couldn't see any further sign of those eyes, nor the gray mare that they had belonged to. Had that been the mare that Collard had mentioned? He hadn't said anything about the color of her mane, and blue eyes weren't exactly a rare feature...

There was the sensation of something slipping off my side. Curious, I glanced to my left and noticed that my saddlebag was on the ground. What the...? How had that happened? Had the straps come loose? It wasn't just the bag that had dropped off either, it had brought along a piece of my barding as well. I guess it had taken a descent beating in recent weeks. I'd need to look into getting it repaired I guess. There should be a pony nearby that was capable of such things, given where I currently was. Not that I was thrilled by the idea of yet another in the long line of expenses that had been mounting today.

Then a mare's scream pierced the crowd from nearby, “A White Hoof!”

The scruff on the back of my neck went rigid. I could feel the tension around me spike suddenly as the mood of the throngs shifted. It no longer felt nearly as crowded as it had just a few seconds ago, and I soon discovered why: the ponies around me had suddenly back away, forming a subtle ring. It was then that I realized that the piece of barding laying on the ground with my saddlebags was the segment that would have been covering up my brand.

Oh, horseapples...

For a terrifying moment, nothing happened. Everypony simply stared at me with varying degrees of fright and surprise etched into their features. They were in shock. A White Hoof, here? This was the middle of the heart of Luna's Republic. Someplace where they were all safe from the dangerous ponies that lurked in the wider Wasteland beyond. For one of those dangers to be right here, walking among them unknown...

Of course, this was the area of the market that favored weapons merchants and other ponies dealing in wears related to self defense and Wasteland survival. The ponies that tended to do their shopping here were familiar with threats and how to deal with them. They were also rather well armed.

Once those first few overcame their shock, it wasn't long before I heard the chorus of scraping leather and cocking hammers as a dozen different ponies drew their weapons and prepared to deal with the tribal raider in their midst in an expedient manner.

I activated SATS. Time paused.

A ring of rage surrounded me. Ponies from all sides were in the process of taking aim and preparing to fire. Some of them even had pipbucks of their own. Standing and fighting simply wasn't an option if I wanted to survive this, so I didn't even bother reaching for my own revolver. I'd be dead before I could take the first shot.

Fuck! What was I going to do? I had to run. There was no help for it. I wouldn't even have time to collect my saddlebags, to say nothing of stopping by the apartment. I had to get to the ruins as quickly as I could and hope that most would be content enough not to chase me much further. I would also need to get there fast, too. If word reached the guards at the gate that a White Hoof was inside the city, they'd seal me in and trap me here in order to catch me for interrogation.

Assuming this mob didn't just rip me into little pieces first...

I glanced around the crowd, sizing up my opponents. My gaze settled on a smaller, younger, unicorn stallion that looked to have been a little slower on the draw than most. His pistol hadn't even cleared the holster yet. He'd be my best chance for getting out of this dandy little kill zone that I was standing in. With a preparatory breath, I disengaged SATS.

The air was once more filled with the sounds of weapons being readied and brought to bare, but I wasn't paying them any mind. I was pretty strongly banking on the notion that these presumably 'good' ponies wouldn't be so brazen as to simply open up on me while other citizens were in the line of fire. I sprung towards the unicorn stallion drawing his pistol. He tried to avoid me, but he was hemmed in by the other ponies around him who would need to clear out of the way first before he'd have enough room to effectively maneuver. While those other ponies near him were indeed backing off as the dangerous White Hoof charged them, my target wasn't going to get the chance to counter.

My hooves wrapped around the stallion as I leaped onto him. I felt the unicorn tense up as he yelped in surprised terror. I'm sure he thought I was about to do something rather painful and likely lethal to him, but I really didn't have the time to kill anypony right now. My interest was in creating an obstruction to buy me a little time. Once he was in my grasp, I threw my hip into him and heaved with my shoulders, capitalizing on his surprise. The lighter unicorn went up and over as I released him into the empty ring of ponies that I had just vacated. Using the momentum of that throw, I spun and fell into a gallop through the crowd away from the main throughway.

There were a few gasps and anxious outbursts as I came near some of the other bystanders who'd only just now begun to grasp what all of the commotion was about. I ignored them and concentrated on not colliding with anypony as I dashed for a sheltered alleyway. Once I was past the line of vendor stalls, and out of the crowd, I heard the first pops of gunfire. There wasn't anypony else standing around me, so the risk of hitting an innocent was minimal. Maroon eruptions of brickwork and brilliant bursts of sparks spat at me as rounds from a half dozen different weapons skipped off my surroundings.

I probably could have avoided being shot at if I'd chosen to sprint through the crowds in the market, but that would have presented other risks. A well placed hoof would have been enough to send me sprawling to the ground, where it would only take a couple of brave ponies piling on my back to keep me pinned down long enough for the guards to arrive and properly subdue me. If I ran away from ponies, I might at least have a chance of getting out of sight of anypony and losing my pursuit. Maybe I could even sneak out of the city at some later point once night had settled.

A stiff smack to my rump reminded me that I still had a long way to go before I reached that point, as a round struck my barding at an oblique enough angle to be deflected. There'd be a bruise for sure, but I could worry about that later. I hoped.

The alley came to an abrupt end up ahead. The gutted remains of apartments loomed to either side. My eyes fell on a pile of junk and old wooden crates stacked against one of the walls just below an open window. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw at least four ponies heading into the alley behind me, the barrels of their guns flashing as they spat slugs in my direction. I quickly scampered up the pile of crates, while at the same time snagging one of the two grenades that was attacked to my barding. I'd bought nearly a dozen assorted grenades the day before, but most of them had been in my saddlebags. Only a pair of simple apple-shaped fragmentation grenades were at hoof now.

To say nothing off all the ammunition for my pistol and Full Stop that I'd left behind as well. Oh, and I was now completely broke too.

Celestia? Why for must you shit all over my life like this?

I dropped the grenade behind me as I jumped through the window. I hugged the floor, waiting for the imminent detonation. The floor felt like it convulsed when the grenade went off. My ears were ringing a little bit as well. I could barely hear the sound of the pained and outraged cries from the ponies below that had only just avoided the blast. Carefully, I peered out the window. I was pleased to see that my plan had worked, and the crates that I had climbed only a few seconds ago were nothing more than splintered ruins that would offer no purchase to anypony else. They'd have to come up here the long way, which would by me enough time to get away and out of sight.

Oops!

Brickwork exploded around my face as upwards of a dozen rounds of various calibers raked the wall around the window. I pulled away, cringing. Well, that had been close. I should be safe now though, for the moment.

My ear cocked back as the ringing faded away enough for me to hear movement behind me. I looked over my shoulder. That was the thing about moments: they didn't last for very long.

Three ponies were sitting around a on metal barrel holding cards. Upon the barrel was the remainder of the deck, and several piles of a mixture of bits and caps. Their eyes were all locked on me. Then they all glanced at an array of pistols and rifles laying nearby. Then back at me.

Simultaneously, I drew my 9mm, and they went for their weapons. One of them was a unicorn, and so he hadn't even needed to drop his cards as a hunting rifle abruptly grew an amber aura and leveled itself in my direction. I was already running for a window that faced away from the market square, firing my pistol in their direction before any of them could get off a shot though. The rifle discharged, but the unicorn had taken his eyes off me in an effort to get to cover from my own wild shooting, and so the shot wen wide.

I doubted very much that I'd managed to hit any of them, and that wasn't really my goal right now. The longer I delayed up here, the closer those other ponies below would get. I just needed these ponies to be more worried about getting away from me than taking aimed shots at my hide. Please let there be something relatively soft below this window...

Glass exploded outward as I threw myself through what must have been the only intact pane in the whole building. I tucked myself as best I could into a ball so that I could roll with the inevitable impact of the ground. There were something like a hundred dumpsters in this city, and each of them seemed to be filled with all manner of material that would soften a landing from a second floor fall. Most of them tended to be under windows as well.

And indeed, there was just such a dumpster outside of this building. And indeed, it was located beneath the window that had been to the right of the one I'd chosen for my egress. I know this, because the momentum of my roll sent me tumbling into the side of it with enough force to produce a rather poignant CLANG as my head bounced off of its steel frame.

The ringing was back...

So was the stiffness and soreness that was becoming disturbingly constant in my life. Med-X was certainly something that I could have used a dose of right about now. Too bad it had all been in my saddlebags.

Awe, did the little pony hurt himself? Whiplash giggled.

Not. Helping.

I grunted with pain as I rolled back up onto my feet. I tasted something bitter in my mouth and instinctively spit it out. I saw a crimson glob appear on the pavement. Great. It probably had something to do with the pain in my chest. Never had let those ribs heal right, had I? No time for that now. I didn't have any potions on me anyway. Grabbing up my pistol in my mouth once more, I stumbled away from the building...

...and right smack into a mare. I looked up to see a pair of surprised pale green eyes looking back at me. Then I saw her alabaster horn glow and heard the sound of a lever-action rifle chamber a round. I did not have time for this. She needed time to bring her weapon to bare. Mine was clutched in my mouth and pointing at her chest. I bit down on the grip more tightly and tongued the trigger. Three bullets ripped into the mare, dropping her to the ground in a quivering mass. The glow of her horn died a second later. A second after that, she ceased quivering.

My hooves were moving at a gallop pace immediately afterward. I needed to get to a quiet part of the city. Somewhere where I would be out of sight long enough to find a good place to hide. Even if I did make it out of the city right now, I was in no condition to make it very far. No money, little ammunition, and no health potions. On top of that, I was hurting pretty bad. I'd be easy prey for the first radroach I came across like this.

Fuck, this was bad.

Memories of my flight from Flank tugged at the back of my mind. A lot of similarities there. Being chased through a city by an angry throng of ponies out for my blood. I was even worse off this time. Half crippled, only the gear strapped to my barding to survive on. I'd need to leave again, find somewhere else where nopony knew me. Preferably somewhere where nopony knew what a White Hoof was either.

Where was Trottingham from here?

“Jackboot!”

I stopped and looked up. I spied a familiar white mare looking down at me from the top of a building. Windfall hopped from the height, her wings snapping out to either side as she glided down nearby. I saw her wince slightly as she touched down a lot harder than she typically did. Her wings hung awkwardly at her sides. I guess that Lancet had been serious about the whole 'no flying' thing. The pegasus was probably hurting as bad as I was right now.

My mind raced. I hadn't figured her into any of my calculations about getting out of here. Frankly, I hadn't thought she'd want to be anywhere near me after how I'd been treating her. Especially now that she knew what I was...

Wait...she didn't. She hadn't been around when somepony outed me. Had she?

“What are you doing here?” I asked her.

“You're after the White Hoof, right?” Windfall said with a strained note in her voice. Oh, you wonderfully ignorant filly, you, “I'm here to help.”

I could have her go back and get my things, to include the part of my barding that would normally cover my brand. Only the ponies that had been right next to me at the time and a few others would know what I actually looked like. With the brand out of sight, I could once again move through the city relatively freely, especially with the pegasus to vouch for me. Windfall may yet be my ticket out of this mess. Maybe it was a good thing I hadn't ditched her yet after all...

It was about now that I realized that the flier's eyes weren't looking at me anymore, but past me. I turned my head, and immediately saw what had drawn her attention. The unicorn mare that I'd just killed. My mind raced as I worked to come up with a plausible explanation. I was about to shift the blame for the death to the 'White Hoof' that I was absolutely chasing when another group of ponies arrived from around the corner before I could get the words out of my mouth. They all looked in my direction, and I even vaguely recognized a couple as having been some of the ponies nearby me in the market when I'd been outed.

They were blocking my only exit.

Horseapples!

I was trapped. I couldn't run, and I'd never survive a fight. Not from this distance, and not against all of them. My mind raced in an effort to come up with a solution. The peanut gallery offered up their suggestions.

Yellow Bitch suggested I surrender and hope for the best. Some other naïve idiot suggested I tell them I wasn't a White Hoof anymore, and maybe they'd understand. Whiplash suggested I roll over and die. Steel Bit suggested I use the girl.

My eyes went to Windfall, who had looked away from the dead unicorn to the small throng of ponies with their weapon's drawn, her expression one of confusion. Those ponies after me were presumably decent sorts, right? Would they open up on me if it meant risking an innocent?

What did I have to lose?

I lunged for Windfall and wrapped a forehoof around her neck, bringing her head right up against the barrel of my pistol, “don't come any closer!” I yelled around the grip at the others. They came to a stop, glowering at me with clear intent on their eyes. They're weapons were all leveled in my direction but none of them fired. This might just work.

“Jack-ugh!” I tightened my grip forcefully against the pegasus' throat. They couldn't know that she knew me for this to work. They had to think that she was like them, a good pony. Somepony that didn't deserve to die. Once she was quiet, I loosened my hold enough for her to breath.

“Shut up!” I hissed at here, “not one fucking word,” to the others, I delivered my ultimatum, “you all start stepping back, got it?! You get any closer, and her brains will be all over the street!” I received some venomous glares from those ponies, but they all stayed where they were. One or two even lowered their weapons, clearly not willing to risk Windfall's life for the sake of killing me. This just might work.

“I just want out of the city,” I informed them, taking a tentative step towards them, dragging the flier with me. I was pleased to see that they all appropriately backed away, “you all or anypony else try and stop me, she dies!” I pressed the barrel more forcefully against Windfall's head to emphasize my point. The mare cringed, her eyes full of fear and confusion.

I took another cautious step, and once more they backed away, maintaining the distance. Even more barrels dropped away. One of them spoke up, “and once you're out, what happens to the mare?”

“She's all yours,” I assured them, “I sure ain't dragging her through the fucking Wasteland. I just want out of this fucking place.”

A few more steps. It was looking like I was going to make it out of this place after all.

“You're a White Hoof...” the words had been spoken so softly that I probably wouldn't have heard them if Windfall's head wasn't right next to mine. I ignored her, keeping most of my attention focused on the armed ponies nearby, “this whole time, you were one of them?”

“Shut up,” I hissed. The last thing I needed was her prattling right now while my life was still very much in danger. Not to mention that the last thing she needed was for any of these ponies to find out that she knew me as more than anything other than the crazy stallion holding her hostage. If they figured out we were partners, they'd just gun the both of us down.

“...is that why you never want to go after White Hooves?” she asked, her voice starting to tremble with what I took to be apprehension, “because you're one of them?”

“Shut. Up.”

A few more steps. It was slow progress, but it was progress none the less. My ear twitched as Windfall said something that I couldn't make out, even from as close as I was. I ignored her and kept dragging her along in the direction of the main gate. Then she spoke again, this time with an edge in her voice, “I said, is that why you were at my house that day?”

“What?” I was genuinely confused by what she was asking. My eyes even briefly flickered in her direction.

“I...said,” the mare seethed through gritted teeth. Then, suddenly, I felt her abruptly twist around in my grip as she brought her whole body around. Her face was facing mine now, and I felt one of her forehooves wrap itself around my chest as though she were preparing to throw me; which was ludicrous since there was no way for her to acquire the necessary leverage in the position she was in. What was she going to brace herself against?

Then her wings snapped out to either side. My eyes widened with comprehension, but it was too late, “...is that why...” Using the very air itself with a powerful flap of her wings, Windfall lifted me up off the ground and proceeded to pitch me backwards towards the ground. I was forced to release her is I was going to have any chance of recovering from the throw; but that was precisely what the pegasus had been counting on. The moment my arm was off of her throat, she allowed some distance to grow between us before using her wings to spin herself around, “...you were at...” her legs flew out as she completed her midair twist, catching me roughly in the side. There was nothing I could to to dodged them, and the force of her strike sent me sprawling sideways, “...my house!”

I grunted with effort as I struggled back up to me feet. That blow had been expertly delivered, and my already aching ribs hadn't been up to the task of absorbing the hit very well in the first place. I could feel bones shifting around in my chest as I moves. The sensation made me feel a little nauseous. I turned my head back to look at the pegasus. She'd effectively gotten me killed, now that I was away from her. Nothing would stop the other ponies from opening fire now.

My eyes widened with shock as I saw a hoof flying at my face. Instinctively, I brought my foreleg up to deflect the strike. I turned away the initial strike easily enough, only for it to be followed up with a another midair twirl that brought her other hind leg up into the side of my head. The pistol went sailing from my mouth, and for a brief moment, the world was black. The blow sent me rolling once more. Desperately, I tried to scramble up to my feet, only to find another kick dlivered right into my spine. The barding did a little to absorb the blow, but not much. I kicked up with a blind buck hoping to get a little distance between myself and my aerial attacker.

I didn't land a hit, and nor had I actually expected to. I'd only hoped to but myself a few precious seconds to get up on my feet and start running. I didn't know where to, and I didn't even care anymore. I just wanted to get out of Windfall's reach.

Another powerful strike hit me from the side and sent my sprawling. The wind was gone from my lungs, and my vision was fading as darkness tugged at the corners of my eyes. The pain was overwhelming. I could barely even comprehend the mare that was straddling me now, delivering blows across my face as she screamed.

“You killed my parents, you fuck!” Windfall was hollering at the top of her lungs as she pummeled me, “my life! My home! You took everything from me! You lying fuck!” while her blows continued, they started to lose much of their power and vitriol. Her voice started to lose it's rage as well, “I hate you!” her words cracked as a sob found its way in, “you lying...fuck...”

I barely even felt the weight of her leaving me. I didn't feel much that wasn't pain at this point. My other sense were pretty far out of it too. There was the knowledge that a lot of ponies were around me. Something about guard ponies. Was I moving? Maybe, it was really hard to tell.

You're going to die, you know?

Yeah, probably. Whiplash was always such a helpful younger sister.

I learned from the best, Big Brother. But seriously, they're going to kill you. You know that, right?

The thought echoed in my head. The truth of it. I was a White Hoof, in the hooves of Seaddle citizens. There was nothing else for them them to do but kill me really. Somehow, that knowledge didn't fill me with the same dread that it had only a few minutes ago. Curious that. I wondered what had changed since then that had relieved me of my previous ambition to go on living.

Why would you even want to go on living?

At any other time, I'd have thought that Whiplash was just being her usual trite self. It was just the sort of thing she tended to say to me, right? At all those other times, I would have had a retort at hoof. This time?

…

Why did I want to go on living?

Spite? My sister offered feigning helpfulness.

For you? You stopped being worth that kind of effort a long time ago. I'd moved onto better things.

You mean the filly? Well, looks like she's moved on now.

Yeah. Looks like she did. She certainly didn't want anything more to do with me.

So, I ask again: Why would you even want to go on living?

I guess...I don't.

Be Honest...

I was.

…

Wasn't I?

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 13:...HE'S A DOLL

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“Thank you for what you did. No one ever took care of me like that before.”

My world was a very dark place for some amount of time that I couldn't determine. Though, in hindsight, I suppose I hadn't exactly been living the brightest of lives up until this point. Probably coming to the end though, wasn't I? I might be alive for the moment, but there was no way that I'd be able to remain this way for long. The Seaddle guards or that mob of ponies had me for sure; and there was no way that they'd let a pony like me live for very long. The only reason I was probably even still breathing at all right now was because they hadn't settled on whether they wanted me to die fast or slow.

If there was a silver lining in all that happened, it was that Windfall hopefully wouldn't be implicated along with me. She'd do well to leave the city though, before word got around that she'd been traveling with me for years before today.

I mentally chuckled at the absurdity of the pegasus living while I died as being a 'silver lining'. Jackboot, you sorry sack of shit. You just put yourself through a whole load of crap in order to make sure you stopped giving a shit about that filly, and here you were, at the end, grateful that she wouldn't be dying on your count. What the fuck happened to you?

Probably just growing soft and senile in my old age.

Be Honest.

Oh, for fuck's sake! You guys are still here? Are you fucking kidding me?! I'm about to die, let me have a little peace at the end. I've earned that much, haven't I?

Be Honest.

The fuck I haven't! Yeah, I was a real fucking bastard in my earlier days, but that wasn't my fucking fault, was it?! I was just a fucking colt! I didn't know any better. My father told me to kill, and so I did; because what foal doesn't do what their parents tell them to at that age? Besides, killing was what everypony did in the Wasteland. Merchants killed bandits, bandits killed merchants, gangers killed whoever looked at them funny, Hoofington raiders killed anypony, and I killed who I needed to to get what I wanted.

That's how life was, and so that's what I did. I didn't regret any of it.

My mind flashed with the image of a little white colt laying dead in the dark corridors of a Seaddle mansion.

...Fine. Yeah, I regretted that one thing. But that was the only-

An image of Golden Vision crying in her little dark closet of an apartment as a stallion that looked a lot like me climbed on top of her.

Hey, I wasn't the one that ki-

Now I saw myself running down a hallway while the desperate cries of a young pegasus filly echoed after me.

I went back for her!

...You made your point. So I had a few regrets. Who didn't?

Then I was back in a place I didn't expect to be: the very first bed that I ever remembered sleeping in. It was made from thistle brush wrapped in thick brahmin hide. Not as soft as a bed from a Stable, I would later discover, but a lot more comfortable that the hard scrabble that was the ground itself. I was young. Not yet nearly a stallion. It was pitch black outside, the middle of the night. I wasn't asleep though. I couldn't sleep. She was calling for me.

Perhaps she wasn't using my name. She knew better than that, but the two of us knew that I was the one that she was begging to save her between the deeper, older, grunts of our father.

I just lay there, staring straight up with my eyes wide open as I listened to her pleas.

You never came, not even once.

No...no I didn't.

I was suddenly my older self, standing in the doorway of my old sleeping tent, looking at a small colt version of me laying awake in bed. Standing beside me was Whiplash, looking the way I had last seen her the night I'd fled. She'd be a lot older now, not the adolescent piss-yellow earth pony mare with a dark gray mane and tail that I saw at this moment. From a nearby tent, I could still hear her filly self crying and my father grunting.

Why?

I was scared.

There was no sarcasm or malicious chiding in Whiplash's words as she spoke to me now, and so I was honest with her. This was a side of her that my subconscious rarely saw fit to express, and I didn't want that to change. Not right at this moment anyway. What was happening to her right now, what had happened back then, it wasn't something to really joke about at a time like this.

Too scared to face Steel Bit?

Yeah, that was part of it.

And the other part?

I didn't want to see it.

Why not?

Because that would make it real. Lying in my bed like that, just listening, I could at least try and pretend that everything that was going on was happening to somepony else. It wasn't you that Father was raping. It wasn't me that you were crying for. All of those sounds mattered to somepony else, not me. That was what I kept telling myself at least. If I'd actually gone out and seen it...I wouldn't be able to pretend anymore.

What about now?

I looked over and I saw Whiplash walking towards the tent where she'd slept as a filly. She stood at the door looking in. Her expression was...sad. She was watching her own suffering, unable to do anything about it except remember. Assuming a hallucination of my own mind could possibly remember something that I'd never actually seen with my own eyes.

What would I see if I looked in there, I wondered? I know what I'd imagined it looking like. That was probably what it would be. I guess, in that regard, it wouldn't be so bad if I walked over. So I did. I strode up next to Whiplash and peaked into the tent.

Only it wasn't Steel Bit I saw rutting my little half-sister. It was me...rutting Windfall, as she had looked when I first discovered her in that old barn. I withdrew as quickly as I could and looked away with a gasp.

What the fuck?! Why would I have seen that?

The cries were different too, I noticed. It was no longer Whiplash's voice that I heard making general pleas into the night for help. It was Windfall, begging me to stop. I ducked my head and covered my ears with my hooves, but it was a useless gesture. This was all happening in my own head, after all. Somehow the crying and begging got even louder.

Make it stop!

It got even louder.

Please!

Why should your pleas get answered when mine didn't?

There was no mirth in her voice. It was posed as a genuine question seeking an honest answer. I just didn't have a response to give. There wasn't one. I didn't really deserve for any of this stop. I'd earned this. Maybe there wasn't anything that I could have realistically done to make Steel Bit stop back then. But that wasn't the point was it? What I'd done had been even worse, in some ways.

I had always pretended that it never happened. The morning after a particularly bad night, I would just act like I'd heard nothing when I saw her the next morning.

Windfall's crying grew in volume once again. I futilely buried my head deeper under my arms, cringing.

What do you want from me, Whiplash?! You want an apology? What the fuck would an apology matter? It wouldn't change a damned thing that happened, and you aren't even the real Whiplash anyway!

You want me to suffer? You're in my head. You damn well know that I've fucking suffered! I've lost everything I ever had in this life that made living bearable. I'm about to fucking die, for Celestia's sake. How much more could I realistically suffer at this point? And don't for a minute think that I don't know all of this is my own damned fault!

What the fuck do you want?!

There was silence.

The crying had stopped. I peaked out from under my hooves. The White Hoof camp was gone. I was sitting out in the middle of the Wasteland now, and I wasn't alone. There were other ponies around me as well. Ponies that I recognized. A blue unicorn mare with golden eyes. A small unicorn foal. A dark gray unicorn mare with a blue earth pony stallion sitting next to her. There were others as well. Dozens of others.

Whiplash was still standing next to me.

I see. It's not just my sister. All of you guys want an apology too, is that it? Fine. I'm sorry.

What good does an apology do any of them? Whiplash posed with an amused note in her voice, they're all dead. Dead ponies don't need apologies.

Then what do they need?

Nothing.

So then why are they here?

Whiplash chuckled, they're always here, Jackboot.

I supposed they were. This was my head, after all. I knew who I'd killed, and why I'd done it. Well, on the bright side, they wouldn't be here for much longer. Once the ponies of Seaddle executed me, this would all finally end.

Taking the easy way out. I'm not surprised.

It wasn't Whiplash who'd spoken that time, but I had instantly recognized it. I whipped around and saw a white pegasus with blue eyes and a teal-streaked mane walking towards me through the group of ponies I'd killed. What was she doing mixed in with that lot?

I didn't kill you...

Really? How long do you think I'll last on my own?

Foxglove is with you. She's a smart pony. She'll help you.

Did you see Foxglove anywhere nearby when I left?

I didn't kill you, I repeated stubbornly.

No. You just taught me how to kill, and then left me on my own. Just like Steel Bit did for you.

Why wouldn't I end up the same way?

I didn't...you're a good pony. You'll do better than I did.

Are you so sure you set that good of an example?

Does it matter? I can't do anything about it. This isn't even you. I'm just arguing with myself.

You're lying to yourself is what you're doing.

I've lied to everypony else in my life. Why leave myself out of it?

Do you enjoy it?

I'm used to it.

That wasn't what I asked.

I know.

If I asked you a question, would you give an honest answer?

Probably not.

Windfall cracked a wan smile. At least my subconscious had a sense of humor, If you had a second chance, would you change?

Change is a hard thing to ask of a pony.

Would you try?

Only now did I realize that it was just me and Windfall standing in the Wasteland around us. None of the other ponies from my past were there. It wasn't really Windfall of course. Just my mind projecting. The question was a real one though; and lying would just be an attempt to deceive myself at the end of it all, and what was the point of that? It was just hypothetical anyway. Ponies like me didn't deserve second chances.

Would I have tried to change if I had it all to do over again?

Maybe.

I've got questions for you.

A frown creased my features.

I just gave you my answer.

Can you hear me?

Of course I can fucking hear you, you idiot. You're in my head.

Wake up!

During that last final command, it was Windfall's lips that were moving, but that had most certainly not been her voice that came out. It was the voice of a rather annoyed stallion. What the fuck was going on?

“I said, wake up!”

The Wasteland dissolved around me as it was gradually replaced by a concrete box. It was no longer a young alabaster pegasus that was facing me, but an irritated looking gray unicorn stallion. He wasn't the only one in the box with me either. Next to him was the familiar form of Seaddle's leading physician, Doctor Lancet. To either side of me were two earth ponies adorned in the midnight blue armor of the Lunar Republic's guards.

Nor was I sitting up. I was laying on the cold stone floor of what was very obviously a prison cell. Heavy metal manacles were clasped around my fetlocks, linked together by a thick chain that would be long enough only to allow me the barest of footsteps if I tried to walk in them. Not that I thought I'd be doing a whole lot of walking any time soon. Though, I had to admit that I wasn't hurting nearly as much as I felt that I should be, given what I remembered going through before waking up here. Doctor Lancet had probably had something to do with that if the small satchel of medical supplies slung across his side was any indication.

Upon seeing my eyes flutter open, the gray stallion smiled and gave a pleased nod, “glad you could join us,” he glanced at Lancet, “thank you, Doctor. You're dismissed,” The physician looked briefly between myself and the other unicorn and then turned around and walked away. He left through the open iron-barred door that I could now see comprised one side of the otherwise solid concrete room I was lying in. Yeah, a jail cell alright.

So, I wasn't dead yet. Great. I certainly wasn't far off from it though, by the looks of things. I shifted in an attempt to make myself a little more comfortable, and discovered that I still possessed more than a few aches and pain throughout my body. It seemed that the treatments that Lancet had provided had been rather limited in scope. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. There was no doubt in my mind where I'd be going once these ponies eventually took me out of this cell, and there was little sense in wasting a whole lot of medicine on a pony that you were going to kill in the near future anyway.

Oh, fuck, Lancet! Fear crept along the back of my neck. He knew that Windfall and I were partners. Hell, I think he might actually still believe that she was my daughter. If he knew I was a White Hoof, and he'd been in here with these ponies...had he told them about her? Was the Republic out hunting her right now?

“Now,” the remaining unicorn continued, interrupting my frantic thoughts, “the Princess has a few questions for you.”

The Princess? Did he mean Luna? She was going to be here? The Princess rarely left her palace, as far as I knew. Ponies in the Republic talked about the day she'd arrived of course, and how she'd looked when she saved the city. I think there were a couple speeches that she'd given every few years or so. But other than that, she never came out in public. She wouldn't actually be here to question me personally, would she?

“How many more of you are in this city?” the unicorn demanded simply.

I blinked, “I thought...” had I misheard?

“You thought what?” the unicorn quirked an eyebrow.

“You said the Princess had questions...”

He snickered, as did the guards with us, though in a far more guarded volume, “you thought I meant she was going to be here?” he laughed out loud at this as I grimaced, “a pony like you is hardly worth Her Majesty's time. That's what she has me for. I speak for the Princess in all things.

“You do know who I am, don't you?”

I actually did, as a matter of fact. I'd never met this pony personally, but I had seen images of him, and knew who he was from the various proclamations and decries posted in Seaddle. Every pony in the Republic would certainly recognize his voice from the regular broadcasts he made, “Ebony Song,” the Prime Minister of the New Lunar Republic, and the Princess' right-hoof pony.

“Correct,” he nodded. Then his expression became more serious, “now, I ask you again: how many other spies does Whiplash have in my city?”

“I don't know,” I could have tried explaining that I wasn't a White Hoof anymore, but I doubted very much that he would believe it. Lying wouldn't get me much either, I imagined. Not that the truth was likely to get a warm reception from these ponies anyway.

“Of course you don't,” he sighed in a bored tone. Then his horn started to glow. Before I could even hazard a guess as to what type of spell he was casting, I started to scream. I'd never been on fire before, but I couldn't help but feel as though what I was going through right now would be consistent with the pain an immolated pony would be feeling. Every single follicle of fur in my coat was it's own stabbing pain in my flesh. I writhed in agony as I tried to squirm away from the source of my agony. The only problem was that I was the source. My entire world was pain.

Then, as suddenly as it started, the pain vanished, leaving me a panting, sniveling wreck of a pony lying there on the floor.

“How many spies?” Ebony Song asked again, as though nothing had happened, “As well as identities and locations, if you could.”

I was still recovering from what I'd just been put through, my eyes wide with the knowledge that I would be going through all of that again if I couldn't devise an answer that would satisfy this pony. But what could I possibly say? If I told him the truth, he'd just think I was holding out like any good and loyal agent would. If I provided him with some false information, he probably wouldn't believe it anyway. After all, wouldn't a pony in my position say whatever it took to not have to go through that again?

Well, fuck, if I was just going to be tortured to death anyway, “two hundred and seventeen,” I managed to get out without stuttering too much.

Ebony Song rolled his eyes, and then I was consumed with torment once more. It probably lasted longer this time, I couldn't tell. From my perspective, it was just futile screaming and writhing. When it ended, my cheeks were soaked with tears and I'd managed to soil myself. I guess I wasn't going to get to die with even a shred of dignity, was I?

“Would you like to try again?”

“Just kill me...” I managed to get out through haggard breaths.

“Don't worry,” the unicorn said in what was becoming an irritatingly proper tone. It was like he was chatting with somepony about the weather, “we'll get around to that. I just want to see if I can't get a few answers out of you. You're not the first White Hoof we've caught skulking around this city, after all. I doubt you'll be the last. Which, honestly, is perfectly fine with me.”

I glanced up at him in confusion. He was happy about White Hoof spies being in his city? The unicorn flashed a rather cold grin down at me, “the citizens of the Republic feel ever so safe when they see the headsmare's axe come down on one of your lot. It reminds them that their Princess is protecting them from all the wicked ponies out there in the Wasteland.

“Ponies like you are good for morale,” he cleared his throat and the grin faded away, “but back to the question at hoof...” his horn glowed.

I was screaming again.

Please, Celestia, let me die! Let this end!

Maybe I hadn't been the greatest pony that had ever walked the Wasteland. I'm sure I deserved a lot for the things that I'd done to others. There was no denying that I'd inflicted a lot of pain of my own on ponies during my life, and I'd accepted a long time ago that I'd probably end up accounting for it all with my life some way or another. But this...

“Believe it or not,” Ebony Song said once he'd paused his spell once more, “you're being a lot more stubborn than most agents I've questioned. Your lot don't tend to be very loyal when it comes down to it. A little blinding pain and you're ready to sell out your own mothers,” he quirked an eyebrow in my direction, “whatever did Whiplash do to secure such loyalty from you?”

“Fuck Whiplash,” I sputtered, still quivering on the ground. My eyes remained shut in anticipation of another round of torture. I didn't know what I could probably do to steel myself against pain like that, but anything was worth a try.

“Indeed?” the unicorn sounded genuinely surprised by my comment, “so you're ready to talk then?”

I tensed up, ready for what I knew was going to come, “I wasn't sent by Whiplash. I don't know who her spies are.”

Just as I suspected, the pain wasn't dulled in even the slightest. It was under my flesh, inside my joints, ravaging my very mind. Every nerve in my body was screaming at my brain that I was being hacked to pieces by inches at a time, and that was truly what it felt like. Nothing was touching me, but it was agonizing all the same.

“I'm actually inclined to believe you,” was what Ebony Song had to say when my world reasserted itself once more.

I choked and coughed for several seconds on the floor while I recovered, after which I peered up at the Republic's Prime Minister. Had I just heard him correctly?

“Doctor Lancet informed me that he's known you for years,” the unicorn explained, “and that in those years, you've hardly spent much time in the actual city. Certainly not nearly enough to be gathering meaningful information.

“Of course, it was still worthwhile interrogating you to be sure,” he sighed, “more's the pity, I suppose.”

Ebony Song glanced at the two guards who had remained silent standing to either side of me and nodded at them. All three ponies left the cell, the door closing behind them. He looked at one of them, “sergeant, ensure that the preparations for tomorrow's execution are completed. I need to go and make the appropriate announcement.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard saluted.

He glanced at the other guard, “keep me updated on the investigation. Lancet mentioned that this pony sold a lot of weapons in the city. He probably used the same merchants. They might be able to offer more insight into his activities. Find out where he stayed while he was here as well.”

The other guard looked briefly in the direction of my cell and nodded his head in that direction, “we could try getting that out of him,” the guard suggested.

Ebony Song offered a slight smile, “Anything he tells us is suspect and would need to be corroborated by witnesses anyway,” then he shrugged, “however, if you or the others feel beating a little more information out of him is worthwhile...just be sure he lives long enough to die in the morning. It would be a shame to deprive Her Majesty's subjects of seeing justice done on their behalf,” he then headed for a door that probably lead him out of the building.

The look the guards gave me as the Prime Minister left put a cold knot in the pit of my stomach. I doubted very much that they were even the slightest bit concerned about getting information out of me. It's not like I'd ever taking any pains to make my presence in this city a secrete, and I'd lived here for years. There were probably close to a hundred ponies that could tell them everything they wanted to know about everything I'd ever done since coming back to Neighvada.

More likely, they simply knew somepony out in the Wasteland that had met an untimely end during an run-in with a White Hoof raiding party, and were glad of the chance at dispensing some retribution via myself.

The guard tasked with preparing my demise glanced towards his partner, “just make sure he's still conscious when I get back. My brother died fighting some White Hooves last year.”

“Sure thing!”

Great.

I watched the first guard leave to carry out the orders that he was given by Ebony Song. The second stretched out his joints and walked back towards my cell. His expression was a familiar one. Id seen it on the faces of many a White Hoof and raider alike in my life. It was the look of a pony intent on causing a lot of pain, and feeling gleeful at the prospect. It looked like the guards of Seaddle weren't so far removed from the groups of violent gangers that lived in the ruins outside the city's gates. They just had more “acceptable” targets, I guess.

The iron-barred door slid open and he stepped inside. He didn't even pretend to ask me any questions. Why bother, right? There was nopony else there to see what was going on, and their boss had already given them carte blanche to do whatever they wanted to me, so long as I was breathing up until the moment my head was removed from my body. So he just started kicking, lashing out with his forehooves, landing blows wherever he felt like. I couldn't do anything to resist. My own hooves were manacled with heavy chains, and I'd been through a lot of punishment already that day.

This torment I could at least mitigate. Tense up at the right moment. Twist as far as I could before a blow struck to control where it landed. It didn't do a lot really, but it made the difference between a painful blow and what could have been truly agonizing ones. It was still a rather vicious beating though. The guard didn't limit himself to physical abuses either. As he landed his strikes, he regaled me with tales of previous White Hooves they'd captured and executed. How they'd suffered. The humiliations they'd inflicted. What a pleasure it was to see them so cowed and defeated as they were marched to the headsmare's block.

I had little cause to doubt him. From where I was right now, I was pretty certain I would be just as resigned come morning. At this point, I was practically looking forward to it. At least then all of this would be over with.

Celestia, let morning come soon. Let me die.

Please...

I've always said you were pathetic, haven't I?

I don't care anymore, Whiplash. I really don't. You win, I lose. Happy?

I'd be happier if it was me doing the kicking right now, the piss-yellow manifestation quipped.

Life's full of little disappointments like that. However will you cope?

I mistimed a roll and screamed as I felt one of my ribs crumble beneath the guard's hoof. The outburst only served to encourage him, and it was suddenly a lot harder to counter his strikes. Each blow became more painful, and his point's of attack more brutal. A particularly savage double-buck to my gut set me into a spasm of coughs and curled me into a bawl. Then I received a hoof across my jaw that set me looking the other way at the bare concrete wall.

What was the fucking point? I couldn't stop him, and he was going to keep at it until he was satisfied. Then his friend would eventually come back and I'd just go through all of this again.

Giving up?

Why shouldn't I? I'm dead in the morning anyway. There's no way that I'm getting out of this, and there's not a damn pony in the whole Wasteland that would waste the energy it would take to even think about saving me.

You're probably right. You are a worthless little shit.

Yeah.

You sure never gave anypony you ever met a reason to care about you...

Whiplash's voice faded away, as did the rest of the world around me. A haze of gold blurred out my vision, and while I could still feel the guard beating his hooves down against me, the pain felt...distant. It was as though I had been wrapped up in a thick blanket that muffled all of my senses. Sort of the way that a hefty dose of Med-X made me feel after particularly rough outings, except...it was more than that.

I tried opening my eyes, but they refused to yield more than the merest slit of visibility. The most probable explanation was that I was passing out and, in a way, that was probably what was going on. Weird though. The last thing I saw wasn't the guard, or my cell. It was a yellow pegasus with a pink mane, cradling me in her wings.

Why wasn't it ever a unicorn...?

Consciousness found me again eventually. I couldn't say when, but it had to have been a good while later. My eyes slowly opened, letting me see that I was once again alone in my cell. Through the bars, I could see a pair of ponies dressed in the midnight blue armor of the Republican guard sitting around a table. One held several cards in her hooves, then other in a shimmering glow of his orange magic. Neither were the guards that I had seen earlier with Ebony Song. They must have had their fun and left. I wondered idly if the second had been upset that I'd not been awake for the beating I was sure he'd still meted out to me.

I wondered how much longer it was going to be until morning.

Experimentally, I made an effort to right myself. I immediately regretted the movement as a half dozen fractured bones and a scores of deep bruises screamed in protest. Well, so much for that. It looked as though I was just going to lay here as I was until my time came. Fantastic.

A third guard walked into the room beyond my cell, prompting the other two to look up. I didn't recognize this one either. It was a unicorn mare, and she was floating a bottle of Wild Pegasus in front of her, wrapped in an emerald glow. Her golden eyes flashed with mischief when she saw the other two guard's exchange a look.

“Either of you fancy a swig?”

The earth pony shifted nervously, “isn't drinking on duty against regs, lieutenant?” she glanced at her unicorn companion for confirmation, but the unicorn stallion was giving the offer a little more consideration.

“Hey, who's the officer here?” the newcomer mare inquired, floating the bottle closer to the unicorn, “I'm making an exception for tonight. We caught ourselves a White Hoof fuck; we deserve to celebrate.”

Topaz magic replaced emerald as the unicorn stallion took the offered alcohol and imbibed several generous swallows before finally passing it on to his companion, “amen to that, ma'am!”

The earth pony guard held the bottle in her hooves for a few hesitant seconds, but then took in a mouthful of her own. Her expression soured at the bitter taste of the whiskey, prompting a chuckle from her partner. She was about to pass the bottle back when a veridian aura tilted the bottle towards her once more, “I said we're celebrating,” the lieutenant stressed, flashing the guard a look of mock disapproval. The guard offered up a sheepish expression and took another drink from the bottle before it went to the stallion once again.

“Enjoy the booze,” the unicorn mare grinned. Then she took a few steps in the direction of my cell, “you two mind if I go a round with the White Hoof? I feel like venting a little.”

There was an absent wave, “knock yourself out, ma'am,” the stallion said as he passed the bottle back to the mare he was playing cards with.

Just what I needed, I thought with a resigned mental sigh. I watched the guard officer walk towards me, making no effort to move or offer any outward indication of my feelings about what was coming other than resignation. She stopped right outside the door, frowning down at me with her pale golden eyes.

“You look like shit,” she stated. I had expected the guard to come up with something a little more colorful than that to describe me, given the prevailing attitude in this place. Maybe she was working her way up to it. The door's latch glowed green for a moment and then slid open. Then my manacles glowed as well. I saw the unicorn's eyes glaze over briefly as she stared at the restraints. They didn't unlock, but rather fell apart into an assortment of pieces.

...the fuck?

The two of us stood there for a moment just looking at one another. Then the mare said, “you wanna go, or...what?”

“Huh?” was I still hallucinating?

“Seriously? I have to spell this out for you?” the mare's frown deepened, “just how many times did they smack you upside the head?”

The mare brought up her hoof and tapped the middle of her armored chest plate. Her body shimmered for a brief second and then the guard lieutenant was gone. Standing in her place was a familiar looking purple unicorn mare with green eyes and a brown mane. Strapped across her chest was a odd looking metallic device with a large gem mounted in its center. My eyes must have just about fallen out of my head at the sight of her, because her frown shifted into an amused smile now.

“Foxglove?”

“Y'all were expecting Princess Luna? Seriously? It ain't like this thing fiddled with my voice. You didn't recognize it?”

“I...I wasn't expecting you to show up,” I admitted. Truthfully, I had pretty much forgotten about the unicorn mare. I hadn't seen her after I'd been outed in the market, and had simply assumed that she'd taken the chance to be free and clear of me. At most she might have gone off with Windfall to keep an eye on the pegasus like I'd asked. Did that mean that Windfall...?

The guards! We weren't alone in this room. Surely they would be...fast asleep. What.

The two guard ponies were passed out on the floor near their table. The bottle of Wild Pegasus dripping the last of its contents onto the floor between them. I glanced from the sight to Foxglove, who's smile broadened into a grin, “still had a little of what we used on Tommyknocker. So, we going or not?”

“Yeah...sure,” I tried to get up once more, but found that the pain was still the next best thing to overwhelming. I grunted and went right back down to the floor. The unicorn mare became instantly concerned and knelt by my side. A pair of healing potions floated out of her saddlebags and levitated over to my mouth. I drank them down gratefully, but I could feel there effects doing only minimal repairs. Most of what these things did were stopgap measures. The majority of my injuries consisted of broken and fractured bones. Still, I did try to get up again, but it wasn't any more fruitful than my initial effort.

I shook my head at Foxglove. I would need more than a few healing potions.

“Fuck it,” she sighed, drawing out something else from her bag. I didn't get a clear look at it, but it had a needle at one end and her magical field plunged in into my flank.

The injection prompted a wince of mild discomfort. The sensation of my insides moving around inside of me prompted a scream. My bones started to crawl around beneath my skin in a way that I'd never experience before. It wasn't as painful as what Ebony Song had put me through, but it hurt all the same. Foxglove followed it up with a dose of Med-X to take the edge off, but I still threw up a little as a result of the nausea I felt while my skeleton reconfigured itself. It lasted for several seconds, leaving me in a heaving, panting mess by the end.

“The fuck was that?!” I finally hissed when it felt like my body had ceased doing...whatever it was it had been doing.

“Hydra,” Foxglove told me, looking at me with a little concern. It was as though she were checking to make certain all of my parts were in the right places. After what that had just felt like, I was inclined to do the same later, “I bought some for use in an emergency, but...I didn't expect to have to use it this soon.

“Can you stand?”

I tried moving one of my legs. Except for a dull ache, there was no pain this time. Even putting wight on the limb didn't send the same shooting stabs of agony it had before, “looks like.”

“Good. They won't be out forever, and I don't know when anypony else will be by,” she walked back over towards the other two guards. Her horn started glowing and green motes of light began tugging at the straps of their armor, “go look for you weapons and pipbuck,” she flicked her head back at a cabinet, “probably in there.”

She was a smart pony all right. It wasn't five minutes before my pipbuck was back on my leg and Full Stop was snug against my side in its holster. The guard barding didn't feel nearly as comfortable as my own, but it was my best shot at getting out of the city in one piece. Foxglove was dressed in a set of real guard barding as well. She had reminded me about the experimental device's limited battery life.

“I'm lucky it lasted long enough for me to get in here,” she admitted.

I nodded. Then I paused, “thanks for this.”

The mare glanced over at me. A wan smile touched her face and she looked away, “figured I owed you a few,” I guess she had, “besides, I need you to help me find Windfall.”

I perked up, “where'd she go?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn't need your help, now would I?”

Touche.

The barding finally on, and us looking the part, we left the cell block and made our way out of the guard barracks. I hadn't been conscious during my trip in, so I followed Foxglove's lead. We only passed a couple of other ponies, neither of whom gave us a second look.

It was dark outside, the middle of the night. Once free of the barracks, and away from prying ears, I cleared my throat, “did Windfall say anything?”

The unicorn was silent for a moment before speaking, “she had a few choice things to say about you. I had to pretend I was just as surprised about it. Didn't like lying to her like that, but she'd had enough surprises for one day,” she frowned, “then she said she had to go home. I thought she meant the apartment, but it didn't look like she'd been there. I waited all day, but she never showed,” Foxglove looked at me now, “did you two have any other places you stayed?”

I shook my head, confused by Windfall's words. The apartment in Seaddle was the closest thing that the two of us had ever had to a home in Neighvada. If she hadn't gone there...I shrugged.

“I see. Well, we're going to want to leave the city as soon as we can. They'll notice you're gone any time now, and it won't take them long to figure out they're looking for a guard pony none of them recognize.”

I nodded. That sounded like a good plan to me...except for one thing, “we need to make a stop first,” and the uniforms might even come in handy there.

“I already cleared out everything from the apartment-”

“Not there,” I corrected, “the Seaddle Arms.”

“Why there?”

“I need some answers.”

“Jackboot, we really don't have time-”

“Then we'll make time!” I snapped, causing the unicorn to recoil slightly. Without waiting for her response, I turned and started in the direction of the hotel. Foxglove followed behind.

A pair of Republic guards walking the streets drew nopony's attention, as regular patrols were a feature of the city. Though the proper looking mare standing behind the receptionist desk of the Seaddle Arms let a surprised look sneak through her otherwise well-schooled demeanor.

“May I help you?”

Since this was my show, Foxglove remained completely silent and deferred to me, “we have a couple of questions for the mare in two-oh-six,” I said simply, “is she in?”

“As a matter of fact, she arrived half an hour ago,” the receptionist nodded, “would you like me to go get her?”

“That won't be necessary,” I assured the mare, “it's a delicate matter. We'll go up and talk in her room.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you for your help,” I headed up stairs. Foxglove nodded and followed me up, looking at me with a mildly quizzical expression.

“We really don't have time for goodbyes, Jackboot,” she whispered to me at the top of the stairs.

“We have time for this one,” I stated evenly. I would finally get some answers about this mare. I brought us in front of the correct room and motioned to the purple unicorn, “ask to speak with her.”

Foxglove frowned, “why don't you do it?”

“Just get her to open the door!” I hissed.

“Fine!” Foxglove hissed back and planted herself in front of the door. She rapped her hoof on the door.

There was a brief pause, and then, “yes?”

“It's the Guard, ma'am,” the unicorn stated in an official sounding tone, “may we ask you a few questions?”

“What's this about?” the voice carried back through the door. My ear twitched at the barely noticeable note of apprehension. Worried about the guard, were we?

“It's about...” she glanced at me, but I merely shrugged. It didn't matter so long as the door opened. Foxglove rolled her eyes and improvised, “...a missing foal. We're asking every pony in the area if they recognize her. Can you please look at a picture for us?”

“Oh. Alright, I'll be right there,” my ear twitched as the lock clicked. The door opened a crack, and a gray head with brown hair and blue eyes poked out, “yes-”

I shoved Foxglove to the side and shouldered my way through the door before either of the mare's knew what they were doing. The gray earth pony was caught completely off guard, reeling back in surprise. I charged her, relishing the fact that none of my joints or bones ached the way that they had been for the past several weeks. Or had it been months? Hydra, was it? I needed to seriously invest in that stuff!

The mare recovered rather quickly, but I was at the top of my game. Her attempts to deflect my strikes were sluggish in her surprise, and her style was sloppy. I was able to recognize that rather quickly, as it was a style of fighting that I was very familiar with. No wonder this mare had been wary of guards. It also explained why she was using somepony else's room.

Of course, neither of us had time to spar all night. The receptionist might hear us soon, so I moved to put the fight to an end. I targeted a jab with my right forehoof at her head. The mare predictably brought up her left to block. I let her do so, and then stepped into her, rearing up and swinging my left foreleg up and around her neck in a fluid motion that sent her flipping over my left hip. The mare hit the ground with a grunt and I followed through with three quick jabs to her head from my now freed right hoof.

With the mare stunned, I rolled her over and slipped a leg around her neck. By this time, Foxglove had managed to regain enough of her wits to close the door, “what are you doing?!” she demanded, cognizant of the fact that there might be others in the hotel. So what? They'd walk in to find two guard ponies apprehending a mare with a dead pony in the bathroom. Foxglove didn't know about the corpse, but it set my mind at ease knowing that I had a perfect alibi for why I was doing what I was if somepony wandered in.

Plus, as a bonus, “relax,” I rolled halfway off the now struggling mare. Her nightgown had torn in our tussle, and the familiar brand was plainly visible on her backside. It looked like Ebony Song really did have at least one White Hoof agent in his city after all. Foxglove's eyes widened in clear surprise, and she ceased protesting.

I reminded the mare beneath me about the arm I had pressed tightly against her throat, which set her to choking, “I just have a few questions,” the mare glared up at me out of the corner of her eye, but her struggling abated slightly, “good girl,” I said through clenched teeth.

“You've been asking about me. You knew I was a White Hoof,” there was no way her being at that market when the part of my barding responsible for keeping my secret just 'happened' to fall off was a coincidence. She'd been the cause. Probably all of those bumps. They'd been her loosening my barding, “who sent you?”

“Can't figure it out?” the mare hissed, “you're even more pathetic than she said you were...”

My ear twitched. A piss-yellow mare in the back of my mind smiled, “Whiplash?” the word surprised even me as I spoke it aloud.

“Look at the fucking genius here. What do you want, a parade?” the White Hoof agent squirming beneath me scoffed. I tightened my grip on her neck with one arm and used the other to secure her leg in a rather painful position. The mare bit back a pained cry.

“She knows I'm back?” well, obviously. I snarled at my own stupid question. Horseapples. She knew I was in Neighvada, and already making an effort to get rid of me. Fuck!

“Jackboot...”

I looked up to see Foxglove glancing nervously between me and the door. Did she hear somepony, or was she just anxious to get out of the city before my absence was noticed? Either way, I suppose there really wasn't anything more for me to learn from this mare. With a grunt, I put both forelegs around her neck gave her head a sudden and violent twist. The room echoed with a loud chorus of cracks, and the mare beneath me went instantly limp.

Once more back on my feet, I straightened my armor and stepped past a stunned Foxglove, “let's go.”

The unicorn nodded listlessly and followed me out of the room, “did you have to do that?” she asked in hushed tones as we descended the stairs and headed for the hotel's exit.

“She was one of Whiplash's agents,” I responded tersely, “she'd have reported my escape to the White Hooves,” I had no illusions that my sister wouldn't learn I'd escaped death eventually, but this would at least buy me a lot of time to drop off of her radar once again. I'd taken a lot of pains to avoid being discovered by her, but it looks like word have finally reached Whiplash that her long lost older brother was back in the area. It looked like she was also quite intent on finishing the job she'd started two decades ago.

How did she find out though? Perhaps I'd put too much faith in the passage of time helping me to hide who I really was from everypony. I certainly hadn't been shy about using my real name while I'd been here. Maybe some agent of hers had recognized it and passed word along that I'd returned. No telling who that could have been though, or where they were. Horseapples, for all I knew it had been that interaction with that pair of White Hooves last week. Hearing about an older White Hoof earth pony with a rusty coat and black mane could have raised a few eyebrows back at the camp from among the elder crowd.

Whatever the source of her information, Whiplash knew about me, and she wouldn't be satisfied until she had a body. So, I needed to be constantly looking over my shoulder for New Lunar Republic soldiers, and White Hoof agents from now on. On top of anypony that might happen to get a look at my brand somehow. Because Celestia knew my life hadn't been difficult up until this point.

“Whiplash,” the unicorn repeated, “that's your sister, right? The pony leading the White Hooves?”

“Yep.”

We were back on the streets of Seaddle now, making our way towards the city's main gate. Once we got beyond it, I had no idea where we were going to go, but I certainly couldn't remain in the city. I'd do well to avoid any part of the Republic, frankly. Maybe head for New Reino, and hope that word hadn't reached there about me, and probably wouldn't? The leadership of New Reino weren't inclined towards White Hooves of course, but they didn't exactly pay very close attention to any wanted posters put out by the Republic. It's do for the immediate future, but I'd need to consider moving further south after that. Out of the reach of the Republic.

“You really aren't welcome among them, are you?”

I glanced at the obviously surprised unicorn, “I should probably feel insulted that you thought I was lying about that,” I muttered, not bothering to hide my annoyance, “but I'm self-aware enough to know better,” can't hide the truth from the ponies around you all the time and then expect them to take you at your word, I guess, “but yes, Whiplash really does want me dead. Like I said: I'm not a White Hoof. I can't go back to that life.”

Foxglove bumped into my backside as my steps came to an abrupt stop. The unicorn grimaced and looked at me quizzically, “what is it?”

“I know where Windfall went,” I said, a smirk touching my lips.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” I resumed walking, my pace slightly accelerated from what it had been, “she went back home.”

“Okay, see, that's what I told you she said,” the unicorn mare sounded annoyed as she trotted up to my side and matched my pace, “but she never went back to the apartment, and you said you guys didn't stay anywhere else. So where is 'home' exactly?”

“Her family's ranch,” that had to be it. There certainly wasn't anywhere else I could think of that she might be at. And in any case, her old homestead was about as far off the beaten path as I could hope to get while I thought out my next move from here.

Eight years since I was here last. The remote house and barn hadn't seemed like all that much the first time I was by here, and eight years later, it somehow looked to be even more dilapidated. This place had to have been the next best thing to two hundred years old when I'd found Windfall. Hard to believe that a paltry additional eight could show themselves so well. It had looked habitable when I'd been by the first time, save for the obvious signs of the raid that had recently taken place. But now it resembled the ruins one expected to stumble upon in the Wasteland.

I'll admit, I wasn't positive that this was where Windfall had gone. It was simply the best idea that I'd had of what she could have meant by what she told Foxglove. There was also the fact that the trip here had hardly been instantaneous. The pegasus had had nearly a day's head start, and if this was where she had gone, there was no guarantee that she would still be here. Maybe there would be a clue, maybe not. It was just the best I had to go on.

“This was where Windfall lived as a filly?” the purple unicorn beside me asked.

I nodded, “until she was about five or six,” I supplied, “then they were hit by raiders.”

“White Hooves,” Foxglove corrected, “she told me.”

“Yeah,” I agreed in a more hushed tone, “White Hooves,” the pegasus' last words to me echoed in my head. It was surprising how much hearing that had hurt. Especially given how I had been so intent or getting exactly that sort of a response from her in order to get her to leave. Mission accomplished, and yet here I was trying to find her again almost immediately.

Just long enough to get Foxglove with her. Then I'd leave them both. That was the new plan.

I love your plans, Whiplash whispered in the back of my mind, they have such a wonderful success rate.

Yeah, yeah.

I stepped into the house. Ponies had been here since, at some point or other. Mattresses had been dragged out into makeshift sleeping areas, and I saw scattered Sparkle Cola and Wild Pegasus bottles that had not been there during my first visit. No sign of any recent habitation though. It simply looked like this place had been relegated to a resting spot for travelers seeking shelter from the Wastes for a night or two.

My eyes scanned the room for any sign of Windfall. They settled on a single yellow dot. My chest tightened. It didn't occur to me that the dot could have been anypony else really. I'd brought us here specifically because I'd expected to find Windfall here.

The dot lay directly through the back of the house. I motioned for Foxglove to follow me and began making my way towards the rear of the homestead, and the barn I knew to be behind the house. It was a familiar route, though with fewer corpses in the kitchen.

I peered out the back door. Curled up in the middle of the small pasture was a ball of white fur and feathers beneath a tangled teal mane. She was here alright. Mission accomplish. All I needed to do now was turn and walk away. Foxglove was more than capable of taking things from here.

So naturally I took a step outside and started walking towards the pegasus mare. Because, you know, I was completely crazy. The voices in my head told me so; Whiplash most loudly. Nopony up there thought this was a good idea. A sentiment echoed by the unicorn behind me as she hissed for me to stop and let her smooth things over first. After all, the last time Windfall had seen me, it was just after I had put a gun to her head and she'd beaten me to within an inch of my life.

None of that mattered right now though. There were things that I needed to say to her. Apparently. Nothing smart. After all, crazy ponies were not smart.

She's so going to shoot you, Whiplash predicted.

Maybe. Her dot was yellow though.

I cleared my throat by way of making my presence known to the curled up mare. Her ear twitched, then her head rose up slightly to look behind her at the source of the noise. Her blue eyes locked on me. In a flash, their apathy was replaced by cold rage, and the little ball of fluff exploded into the air in an acrobatic twist that ended with her braced on all four hooves before me, with one of her submachine guns clutched in her mouth. The barrel was trained on my head.

The yellow dot hovering in front of my eyes went red.

Told you she was going to shoot you.

Horseapples.

“Windy!” Foxglove exclaimed, scampering ahead to interpose herself between us as a living shield. The pegasus looked right through the unicorn mare like she wasn't even there. I raised up a hoof and placed it on Foxglove's shoulder, drawing her gaze, and gently pushed her aside to leave myself fully exposed once more, “but...”

“Do you think I won't shoot you?” Windfall's words trembled with a tense mixture of grief and hatred. Her weapon remained remarkably steady in her mouth as she spoke around the grip. I idly wondered if she still tended to aim up and to the left as I subtly bowed my head to the right of her point of aim.

I didn't answer for a while, considering the next words that I was going to say. They might well prove to be my last, after all, “I think...you really do want to,” another long pause, “but I hope you'll let me say my piece before you do.”

She didn't open fire at right that moment, which I took to be a good sign. So I took a deep breath, “I'm sorry.”

The pegasus scoffed around the gun in her mouth, “sorry? That's all you've got, you lying son of a bitch?!”

I winced. It did sound rather pithy, didn't it? As deeply as I'd betrayed her, a couple of words didn't really amount to much, I guess. But, “yeah...that's it. I'm sorry,” and I was. I wasn't sorry about being caught in my grand lie to the pegasus. I was sorry that it had caused her this much pain. Odd to realize that, let me be the first to admit. It wasn't like I'd had a tendency to care about the feelings of others.

Windfall was different though. She'd been by my side for years. The most loyal pony I'd ever know. Practically family in the sense that most ponies knew it. I'd never done well by family in my life. Maybe I was just growing old and soft to let it start bothering me now.

Windfall shook her head, the submachine gun started to shake in her grip, “no,” she seethed, “you don't get to be sorry, you lying, murdering, fuck,” she was practically spitting the words at me, “you don't get to be sorry!”

“Windy...” once more Foxglove tried to insert herself into our altercation, and once more I quieted her with a hoof and a shake of my head.

My gaze returned to Windfall, “you're probably right,” I agreed, “I've killed a lot of ponies in my life. Most didn't deserve it. Stallions, mares, even foals,” I swallowed as I saw the anguish growing in the flier's expression. She looked like she might well kill me before I finished saying my piece. I'm not sure that I'd blame her for doing it either, “the stuff I've done...I deserve to die for.

“You'd be right to shoot.”

Whatever Windfall had expected to hear me say, that had not been near the top of her list. Nor Foxglove's either, judging by the shocked look on her own face. I was startling myself a little bit too. Oh, crazy, crazy, crazy pony.

“I trusted you,” the pegasus' voice quavered, “I looked up to you,” her head was shaking now, her whole body trembling, “I lov-” her words caught in her throat. She swallowed and steadied herself once more, “what was I to you?”

Be Honest.

What? No! Shut up! Whiplash protested frantically, Don't be honest! She'll kill us for sure!

I hesitated, considering the emerald eyes framed by an orange face. Was she sure that's what I had to do? Fine. Yellow Bitch had proven to know what she was talking about at times, I'd give this newcomer that same chance. It would probably be a last chance though.

“At first?”

Ahh...fuck.

“You were a cover,” I saw the pain in Windfall's eyes, but I continued. I resolved to keep speaking right up until the point she finally opened fired and gunned me down. Foxglove seemed to be anticipating just such an outcome and was subtly sidling away from me, “I used you to avoid suspicion, having you pose as my daughter.

“Then I trained you to fight. You became a weapon I could use to get rich. A pretty face that would distract ponies,” every word was painful for Windfall to hear, but I went on, “you were a tool. Somepony I could use to get what I wanted.

“And then...somewhere along the line, you became...important to me,” both mares perked up at that admission, “or rather, I realized that you were important to me, and not as a tool. I liked your company. I felt...better...having you around.

“You were...” I struggled for the unfamiliar word to describe how I'd regarded the pegasus. Finally one of the voices in my head supplied it, and I smirked, “...my friend. Probably the only one I've ever had. And so I'm sorry for how I hurt you.”

Windfall was silent for a long while, “how can I believe you?”

“I don't expect you to,” I admitted, “and I don't deserve for you to. But whether you believe me or not, it was the truth.”

“And I suppose you think that makes everything all better between us?”

“Not even a little,” I shook my head with a wan smile, “I'm not asking you to forgive me, Windfall. I just wanted you to hear me out. After this, I'll go my own way, and you'll never see me again.

“Assuming you don't decide to pull that trigger.”

The three of us stood perfectly still for several seconds as Windfall weighed the options available to her. Then, to my immense relief, the pegasus lowered the weapon. Foxglove looked between us uncomfortably before clearing her own throat, “well...that was tense.”

A small smile briefly crossed my face, “bye, Windy,” I turned and headed back for the house.

“Jackboot.”

I paused, looking back towards the pegasus, my eyebrow raised expectantly.

“Are you really a White Hoof?”

“I used to be,” I nodded. The pegasus looked away, her eyes cast towards the ground.

Once more I started for the house, though not perfectly convinced of where I was going to go from here. I had a few options open to me, I suppose...

My eyes were drawn to the overlay of the pipbuck that was projected in my field of vision. I immediately tensed up. A half dozen red bars were visible. I couldn't see any sign of other ponies or critters, but the threats had to be nearby if the amount of movement that the dots were doing in response to the motion of my head was any indication.

Foxglove noticed my hesitation, “what's wrong?”

“I don't know,” I drew Full Stop, “something's nearby.”

“Took you long enough.”

The words had come from the doorway directly in front of me, but when I looked, there wasn't anything there. Though a red dot supplied by my pipbuck did suggest that something indeed was. Before my eyes, there was a shimmer, and then a brown earth pony stepped out of the very air itself. He was dressed in the royal blue of an NLR soldier, except his armor was not of any style that I recognized. Its contours were sleeker, and the trim was done up in black instead of silver. A pair of assault rifles were rigged into a battle-saddle slung across his back. His hoof moved away from a pipbuck strapped to his fetlock.

Additional flickers of movement to either side of me drew my attention as I saw five other figures similarly extract themselves from the air around us in much the same manner. All of them were armed with an assortment of weapons, but their armor was of the same style, and they each possessed a pipbuck on their leg. Though the brown stallion in front of me did possess one distinguishing attribute on his barding in the form of a silver crescent moon on his right shoulder. The emblem of a lieutenant serving in the Republic military.

I took several steps back towards Windfall and Foxglove, who were both looking around in apprehension at the soldiers that had materialized around us. Full Stop was still clutched in my mouth, but I kept the barrel pointed at the ground. If these ponies got it into their heads to open fire, there wouldn't be much that the three of us could do about it. Best not to provoke them unnecessarily until I'd come up with some way to get us out of this mess.

Not that my mind was coming up with a lot of options at the moment. Where had these ponies even come from?

“Drop your weapons,” the brown stallion stated in a firm tone, “and surrender. You are all under arrest by order of Her Royal Highness, Princess Luna.”

“What's the charge?” Foxglove demanded in a feeble attempt to promote our innocence. It was clear in her voice that she knew exactly why these ponies were here. For Celestia's sake, the two of us were still wearing the guard armor we'd 'borrowed'. These soldier's certainly weren't buying it.

The stallion frowned, and then pointed a hoof at me, “let's start with him being under arrest for murder, espionage, and escaping from custody; and then the two of you for aiding and abetting, hmm?”

They were going to arrest Windfall too? I mean, yeah, Foxglove was technically guilty of helping a murderer escape, so those charges were legit—how's that for honesty? Windfall, however, had never had anything to do with any of my crimes. But I knew if they got us back to the city and started questioning ponies, they all put her in my company. Windfall would be convicted by association, and probably face the same punishment I was sentenced to.

I couldn't let that happen.

“Now,” the stallion stressed again, “drop your weapons.”

“On one condition,” I growled. This drew an amused look from the brown earth pony, and a couple of surprised snorts from the other soldiers. It even drew a concerned glance from Foxglove.

“Oh? You think you get to set terms? You're surrounded.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, “and I've also got a pipbuck,” I idly wondered how a fight would go between like-equipped ponies. Did SATS work against itself? It was very possible that we might find out pretty soon if this didn't go the way I hoped, “you'll get me, but I bet I can take down at least two of you before you do,” I looked around at the other ponies surrounding us, “any volunteers?”

There didn't seem to be an immediate takers, “you let them go, I'll surrender.”

“And why should I believe you?” the soldier demanded, glowering at me, “what's to stop you from fighting anyway?”

“At least you'd just be fighting one pony and not three,” I pointed out, “let them go. They don't have brands, you can see that. They're not part of this.”

“Do you think we're not prepared to give our lives in the service of our Princess? I'm not about to let White Hoof collaborators escape because of a few idle threats.”

Are they idle, Big Brother? If you start shooting, they'll start shooting. Windfall and the unicorn could die right here because of you.

I'm not going to let that happen, “they're not collaborators,” I insisted, “they're good ponies. I'm the one you're after, and I'm willing to let you have me. Just let them go.”

“Their guilt will be determined by the courts,” the brown stallion insisted.

“That's bullshit,” I sneered at the earth pony, “you and I both know they'll be convicted just because you brought them in with me. You've been watching, right?” I glance between the other soldiers with him, “you saw the pegasus was about to kill me. You heard her talking about how I'd been lying to her for years?

“Let her go. She wasn't a part of what I did.”

The brown soldier snorted, but looked to actually be thinking over what I'd said. Finally, he pointed at Foxglove, “fine, but that one does come with us,” his eyes locked on the unicorn, “assaulting Luna's guards and breaking a White Hoof out of custody are no laughing matters.”

“Deal,” I nodded immediately.

“What?!” the violet unicorn exclaimed in surprise, her eyes glaring at me, “you could at least have tried to get me off the hook too, asshole!”

I shrugged, “well, you did do those things.”

“I was trying to do you a favor,” she seethed, “do something nice for somepony, and what do you get?”

“Decapitated, it looks like,” I smirked.

Her eyes flashed at me, “I will plea out to this bullshit so hard, I'll get you convicted of shit you never even did!”

“Do we really have to do this right now?” I nodded my heads towards the surrounding soldiers.

“Yeah,” the lieutenant pipped up, “do you have to do this right now?”

“Um...guys?”

Windfall's words went unacknowledged by anypony.

“Well apparently I have to do it now, because I'm going to get my head lopped off later!” Foxglove screamed in frustration, “it's fucking bullshit!” she glared at the brown earth pony, while jabbing a hoof at me, “a few nights ago this asshole had me tied up with a gun to my head! I don't even like him!”

“Wait, Jackboot tied you-?...whatever,” the pegasus tried once more, “look, I really think-”

“I notice you still came to my rescue after that,” I grinned at the mare, “you sure you didn't actually like it?”

Foxglove's expression deadpanned as she looked back at the lieutenant, “I'll plead guilty to whatever you want as long as I get to watch him die first.”

“Guys!”

My hoof went up as I looked back at the brown earth pony, “I second that. I don't want to have to listen to her whine any longer than necessary.”

“I heard you tortured him last time,” Foxglove piped up, “I'm sure he knows a lot of stuff. You should totally torture him again. I'll help.”

“Just let her stand nearby and loudly judge me,” I muttered, “Celestia knows that's been torture enough this last month.”

“You are such a colossal-”

“Incoming!”

Before the single word had a chance to be completely processed by my mind, I felt myself being tackled from behind. Even if I had been anticipating the blow, I wasn't convinced that I could have done much to stay on my hooves, due to the staggering momentum the individual grabbing me possessed. Whoever it was that had collided with me had been moving as a preposterous speed.

Nor was I the only pony taken unawares. The earth pony officer in front of me was likewise swept up as I was forced into his chest and the pair of us went rolling through the open back door of Windfall's old home. We became a twisted ball of red, white, and brown hooves as we rolled onward into the house's kitchen.

A moment later, there was a thunderous explosion and a blast of heat and sand crashed into us. Somepony screamed, but I didn't recognize the voice. There were other screams too, and a lot of yelling that I was unable to comprehend through the ringing in my ears. I disentangled myself from the other two ponies with me and found that it was Windfall that had carried us out of harms way.

More explosions soon followed from outside, and the kitchen became a very crowded place as other ponies rushed in, all of them dressed in the blue armor of Republic guardponies. We were being attacked, but I couldn't imagine who it could be. My first guess would have been White Hooves or some other band of raiders, but none of the groups that I knew of dealt in ordinance like this! In fact, the only faction in the Wasteland that I knew of that might carry this sort of firepower was the-

“Rangers!” one of the soldiers screamed above the din, “three of them. Two hundred yards and closing from the east!”

The brown earth pony shook away the last of his shock and immediately started snapping out orders to his troopers, “Caltrop, Flechette, get to some windows and lay down suppressing fire!” two Republic Guard ponies dashed off into nearby rooms and I heard the rattling of automatic weapons, “Picatinny, upstairs! Sabot...where's Sabot!”

“Sabot's down,” a golden unicorn mare informed him. I glanced over and saw that this pony was already in pretty bad shape herself. Numerous cuts on her face and neck where shrapnel had struck her were starting to bleed, and the chest piece of her barding looked like somepony had hacked at it with a knife.

“Fuck,” the lieutenant cursed under his breath. His eyes briefly fell on me, but then quickly went back to the nearby trooper. Clearly, I had taken a backseat to the current crisis. Hard to blame them. Steel Rangers were a forced to be reckoned with. Their tendency to wear power armor and preference for heavy weaponry made them ruthlessly efficient on the field of battle. You pretty much needed to match them with your own arsenal of high explosives in order to hope to have a chance. A quick appraisal of the soldiers with us suggested that none of them possessed such weaponry. Assault rifles and automatic carbines would only do so much.

A series of small explosions wracked the house as a line of forty-millimeter grenades walked across one of the exterior walls ended with somepony screaming in agony from the next room, “medic!”

The bloody yellow unicorn wasted no time and sprinted out of the kitchen, her horn and saddlebag glowing, “coming!” the brown earth pony watched her leave, looking anxious.

For a second time, he looked at me. I felt somepony else nearby and saw that Foxglove and Windfall were both standing next to me. The brown earth pony opened his mouth, as though to say something, and then thought better of it. Instead, he simply snarled in frustration and ran to support his fellow soldiers.

“What are we going to do now?” the purple unicorn mare asked, her voice tinged with worry. I glanced at her and noted that she looked to have fared about as well as the yellow unicorn mare had. Her barding looked a little singed, and she was favoring her right foreleg, which was matted with blood.

“You okay?” I found myself asking. The unicorn glanced at her leg, and then nodded. Windfall was already fetching her a healing potion anyway.

Now was our chance to run, I realized. Even if Luna's soldiers won this fight, they have to return to Seaddle to take care of their wounded at the very least. By the time they or anypony else got back out on the search for us, we'd be long gone and likely far beyond the NLR's borders. We weren't likely to get a better opportunity.

Leaving somepony to die in order to save yourself, Whiplash grinned with glee as she rubbed her hooves together, now there's the Jackboot I know and love!

I'm leaving the ponies who want me dead to die. I'm pretty sure that's perfectly okay to do, right?

Another explosion and another scream, this one from above, “Ringers, check on Picatinny,” the cry came from the other room. The sound of automatic weapon fire redoubled.

We needed to get out of here before the Steel Rangers ran out of Republic soldiers to shoot at. I glanced at Windfall and saw her standing tense, her attention locked in the direction of the sound of the screams and gunfire. There was an anguished look in her eyes.

Deep down, she was a republic citizen. These soldiers were her soldiers. Good ponies who had sworn their lives to protect ponies like her. They were fighting against the enemies of Princess Luna, the ruler that she had known since she was a filly. And, right now, they were losing that fight. I knew that she wanted to help them. If I didn't speak up, she probably would. Given what was coming at us, she'd probably die in the effort. Windfall had never faced Steel Rangers before. Neither had I; but I'd seen them in action often enough to know what they were capable of.

“Jackboot!” my eyes snapped back to Foxglove, who was looking at me expectantly, “what do we do?”

Run!

I dug my hoof into my saddlebag and drew out a pair of spark grenades. The power armor employed by Steel Rangers was pretty adept at deflecting away anything less destructive than a missile, but at its core, it was a magical device. A well placed spark grenade would render them helpless for a time, “Windfall,” the mare looked up at me in surprise, then she noticed the blue-banded apples being held out to her, “wait until I have their attention, and then hit them with these grenades,” the pegasus looked between myself and the grenades for a few seconds, and then took them with an acknowledging nod of her head.

Next I took out an ampule of Dash and sucked down as a big a dose as I'd ever taken. Foxglove was clearly dubious of my plan, but she didn't say anything. I merely shrugged and drew Full Stop before sprinting out the door.

Perhaps it's my fault for not being clearer that I wanted you to run away from the Rangers!

You're just going to have to accept that Windfall is important to me.

In my head, I cracked a mental smirk as the manifestation of my younger sister sputtered fruitlessly and threw her hooves up in surrender. Was this whole endeavor stupid and reckless? Absolutely. Was it what a White Hoof would do? Not a chance. And maybe that was the point. After all, I wasn't a White Hoof anymore.

Out in the open, I finally had a good look at what we were up against. A trio of steel clad armored warriors was steadily marching towards the house. One of them had an automatic grenade launcher that was currently being used to pound the homestead into nothing more than a pile of debris. A missile launcher was visible mounted on the back of another. The third was directing a multi-barrelled chain gun that was spitting out a nearly constant stream of glowing red tracer rounds that made it look as though a true magical energy weapon was being employed. At the moment, their attention was focused on the house, and the Republic soldiers spraying back answering volleys of sporadic fire.

They were still about a hundred yards off, far too distant for any shot I took with my revolver to have much of a chance of landing a hit. But that wasn't the point though. While Full Stop probably did have the power to punch through their magically enhanced barding if I found the right spot, I'd need to be almost right on top of them. Getting that close would be asking a lot. All I wanted them to do was keep their attention horizontal so that Windfall could get into position without drawing their fire. So I fired off a couple rounds in their direction and galloped towards them.

One of them, the Ranger wielding the gatling gun, seemed to take notice of my efforts, and swung the whirling barrels in my direction. A fresh stream of crimson beads lashed out at me. I toggled SATS.

The world obligingly paused. I studied the hail of bullets suspended in midair heading towards me, tracking their path as the Steel Ranger maneuvered his weapon to try and tag me with at least a few of the torrent of slugs he was casting in my direction. Then I discontinued the magical time-stop and dove abruptly to the left, tucking into a tight roll. Dirt and rocks spat up from the ground next to me as the pony's gunfire drifted right. Had I not moved, he would almost certainly had ripped me into little pony chunks.

I was back on my hooves a moment later and continuing my forward dash. I fired another shot to alert the other two Rangers that a pony was charging them. Look at me, the crazy pony doing what you'd never thought you'd see a pony do! A second armored pony, the one with the missile launcher did indeed look in my direction.

Once more I activated my pipbuck's targeting assist. That crimson line was looping back around in another effort to cut me down. I eyed the trajectory of those tracers that were only just now leaving the barrels of his machine gun. When I disengaged SATS, I leaped up into the air as high as I could go, and winced as a stream of glowing lead swept beneath me. When my hooves touched back down I heard the telltale roar of a missile igniting and hugged the ground as low as I could get. A white tube spewing a trail of gray smoke streaked just above me, detonating a dozen yards to my rear. It had been far closer than I would have preferred.

Knowing that the gatling gun would be brought back around for a third pass in only another few seconds, I jumped back up onto my hooves and urged myself back into a full run. All three Rangers were focused on me now. Well, my plan had certainly succeeded insofar as my end of things was concerned. But at this range, even with the help of SATS, I wasn't going to be able to effectively dodge their attacks. Even hopped up on Dash, I wasn't going to have the time I'd need to react. No pony could outrun a bullet from a few dozen yards away.

The ground around the three Steel Rangers leaped up at them with a dozen puffs of dirt, startling the armored ponies. It startled me a little bit too. Then I saw the pair of metal blue apples bouncing into their midst. A moment later, they were consumed within spheres of sparkling sapphire magic that crackled with tendrils of lightning. When the light faded, the three Rangers were left standing motionless, frozen in stances of dismay and confusion. One of them had apparently not been in a proper state of balance the moment that their armor locked up, and tipped over rather comically.

I peered up into the clouded sky above and saw Windfall hovering nearby, surveying her handiwork. Our eyes met, and we shared a nod. The plan had worked. Our plans had a tendency to. I was going to miss that.

The two of us were soon joined by the others. I wondered idly if Foxglove realized how out of place she actually didn't look as she and the Republic soldiers hobbled towards us, most of them supporting somepony else. The fight had been rough on them. Each bore at least superficial wounds and their barding was soiled by debris from the building that had been nearly brought down around them even as they sought shelter in it. The brown earth pony lieutenant was still on his hooves though, and his attention was fixed on me. A couple other ponies peeled off to deal with the incapacitated Steel Rangers.

They're pretty fucked up, Whiplash noted, you could probably take them in a fight with no problem now.

Maybe. I was coming down off the Dash now though. Foxglove wasn't much of a fighter. I wasn't going to be able to count on Windfall for help either. It'd be me against them, and even wounded there were a lot more of them. We'd have to see how this played out.

The Republic officer stopped in front of me, his gaze locked on mine. We stared at each other for a long while, and then he finally spoke in a voice that was rough from all of the yelling that he'd been doing during the fighting, “this doesn't change anything,” he informed me, coolly, “you'll still face justice when you're brought back to Seaddle.”

Foxglove inhaled sharply, even as she continued to help support one of the troopers that looked to have taken a pretty bad wound to his shoulder. She glanced between the two of us nervously. The unicorn feared another fight. I saw that even the soldier she was helping looked a little nervous at the prospect. At least he wasn't feeling very comfortable with the notion. I imagined that if it came down to it, the trooper would still follow the orders of his superior though, personal feelings aside.

You had to admire his sense of duty, I thought wryly. It took a special kind of pony to go through all that, know that his flank had been saved in part by the very pony he was here to arrest, and still be determined to-

“But I ain't going to be the one to do it,” the lieutenant finished.

“Really?” I hadn't meant to utter the surprised word out loud, but it drew a smirk from the lieutenant.

“You probably saved our lives. We weren't ready for a run-in with a Ranger patrol,” he admitted. His eyes retained a little bit of their coldness while he looked at me, “I ain't forgiving you for your crimes, and this isn't going to go in any sort of official report, you understand? I ever come across you again in the Republic, I'm taking you down,” he glanced at Foxglove, “you too.”

“What about Windfall?” I asked.

“Nothing in my orders mentioned her,” the brown pony replied, “she won't be in the report either,” he looked at the flier, “but I suggest you pick your traveling companions with more care in the future.”

One of the soldiers that had been sent to deal with the Rangers reappeared and issued a salute to her commander, “the Rangers' barding is neutralized, sir. It won't reinitialize.”

“Good,” he nodded, “I'll call in reinforcements once I'm done here,” a pause, “Caltrops, go help Ringers with Sabot,” his tone was far more subdued as he gave the order. The other pony nodded and trotted off.

“You'll want to be as far from here as possible when the others show up,” the earth pony suggested.

I nodded and looked to Foxglove. The unicorn confirmed that her charge would be fine standing on his own and then walked to my side. She glanced at the Republic officer, “thank you, mister...?

“Lieutenant Ramparts,” the pony finished for her, "and you can thank me by not ever letting anypony know we had this conversation,” another slight smirk touched his lips.

“Right,” Foxglove laughed awkwardly and then cleared her throat. Her gaze wen to me.

I nodded once more in the direction of the Republic soldiers and then glanced back at Windfall, “good luck, Windy. You and Foxglove stay safe.”

Without another word, I started walking away. Nopony followed.

None of that should have worked out for you, Whiplash grumbled in the back of my mind, you kept doing exactly the wrong thing!

Steel Bit agreed vehemently, but I felt a couple of others sitting in the corner with silent, smug expression on their faces. They hadn't doubted for a moment that it would work. I sincerely hoped that they didn't get used to this side of me, because I was still in Whiplash's court on this one. That shouldn't have worked out in my favor. I was going to provisionally chalk it up to being a fluke. For the most part, it was too. Had those Rangers not shown up, I don't think that Ramparts would have been convinced to take me up on my offer.

It was a stupid offer.

I was just looking out for Windfall.

Fuck, Windfall! Whiplash spat, oh, wait, I'm sorry, you'd never do that because you're too much of a pussy to fuck her. Sometimes I think you left your balls back in Hoofington.

A smile started to spread across my face as I listened to the little apparition’s rant. Once upon a time, it probably would have bothered me and gotten under my skin. Today though? Maybe it was the last of the Dash working its way through my veins, the fact that for the first time in months I was walking away from a fight without a limp, or maybe even the knowledge that I wasn't going to have to move on to a new city while outrunning a horde of angry armed ponies out for my blood; but whatever it was, I was feeling good. Honestly and a genuinely good.

Bitch all you wanted to, Whiplash. Because everything worked out today.

You're all alone again.

I've been alone for a long time. Sure, I'll miss Windfall. That pegasus had become a big part of my life, but I didn't feel like letting my past dictate how I felt in the present anymore.

I'm coming after you.

It took you the better part of two decades to find me once, I snickered. I'll probably be dead of old age before you catch up to me again.

...you're still pathetic.

Probably.

The sound of hoofsteps trotting up in my wake drew my attention. I glanced back to see Foxglove working to close the distance to me. Just above her was Windfall gliding along towards me as well. Curious, I slowed my pace. The purple unicorn fell into step beside me, while the younger flier hovered above.

“So,” Foxglove began, “where are we going?”

I came to a stop and blinked at the pair of mares, “what?” was it possible that I hadn't heard her correctly. My gaze went to Windfall, “I thought...”

The pegasus landed in front of me. Her blue eyes weren't looking at me with the same hatred that they'd held earlier, but they were not filled with the warmth that I remembered either, “I'm not going to pretend that things can go back to the way they were between us,” she said, sounding disappointed, “but what you did back there...you really aren't a White Hoof anymore, are you?”

I shook my head. Windfall took a deep breath, “and you've killed a lot of ponies, right?” this time, without being able to continue to meet her gaze, I nodded. Another pause from the pegasus, “innocent ponies?” another nod.

“Look at me.”

A wince creased my features, but I did raise my head back up and meet her gaze. The disappointment I saw within them hurt. In my mind, I saw that little white filly who had once regarded me as a hero. The way that her face had lit up whenever I'd praised her skill and ability during our time together. I'd probably never see her look at me that way again. Which hurt quite a bit, now that I knew how much I'd miss it.

“If I gave you a second chance,” the pegasus stated, a razor sharp edge in her voice, “would you change?”

My ears shot up. A blurry memory and an echo of a question asked that nopony could possibly have overheard played back through my head. Windfall's eyes pierced deep into me as the pegasus waited for her answer. I'd answered this very question, from this very pony, once before. I swallowed and responded, “I'd try.”

It might not have been the answer that she'd hoped for, but a pair of emerald eyes framed on an orange face agreed that it was an honest one. Hopefully Windfall thought it sounded honest as well. In any case, she nodded her acceptance of the response.

“From now on,” Windfall stressed, looking between both myself and the violet unicorn standing next to me, “we're good ponies. All of us,” she stared us down until she got an acknowledging nod. Then she looked back at me, “a long time ago, you told me I could channel my talent. If killing ponies was what I was good at, then I should make sure I just kill ponies that deserve it. Now I'm going to hold you to that same standard.

“You fuck it up,” her voice started to quaver a little bit now, but her expression remained grim, “and I'll end you myself.”

I nodded.

The pegasus exhaled and hopped up into the air with a flick of her wings. She hovered nearby for a brief moment, “we're going to New Reino,” she took off towards the west, at a pace that the two of us on the ground could easily manage to match.

Foxglove starting walking first, and I soon moved to fall into step beside her. The unicorn retained a wry smile, “you're welcome.”

My eyes flashed to her, “why? After everything I did to you...everything I said...

“None of this was for your benefit,” the unicorn quipped, “I did it for Windfall. She needs you. Or rather, she needs you to be the pony that she thought you were. I'm gambling here that you can be that pony.”

“Windfall doesn't need me,” I started shaking my head.

Foxglove snorted, “she needs you now more than ever,” the mare countered, “she's a young mare, and she just found out the pony she admired most is a monster,” I reflexively winced, which seemed to amuse the unicorn beside me, “the best way to help her is for her to see that monster change.”

“Do you really think I can? What about anything I've done makes you think it's possible?”

“I'm not saying I think you could ever run for Princess,” Foxglove rolled her eyes, “but I'm not convinced that you're as much of a monster as you think you are. I can't speak to what you did in the past; but I've seen what you're willing to put yourself through for Windfall's sake.

“If anypony can get you to do better, it's her.”

Maybe. I had my doubts though.

A little yellow pegasus was nudging me, flashing her blue eyes at Foxglove.

Ugh, “sorry,” I muttered.

“Hmm?” the unicorn's ears perked up as she glanced at me.

“I'm sorry,” I repeated with a sigh, “the whole...gun thing. And the argument with the lieutenant back there.”

“Ah, yeah. That,” she grimaced, “you're going to pay for that. Just so you know.”

“Really?” I quirked an eyebrow, “how?”

“I'll figure something out.”

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Terrifying Presence - Can intimidate ponies through dialogue.

CHAPTER 14: PUTTIN' IT ON

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“So. You're looking for a job. How fortunate, I have one that needs doing.”

“Two more on your left!”

Some day, far in the distant future, I would be able to look back on this day, and perhaps then I would actually understand why I was here. At the moment, I could only think of it as the stupidest decision that I had been a part of in a long while. There wasn't any sort of justifiable reason for us to be here, not to my thinking.

Don't get me wrong, the payout would be spectacular. The client had offered a sum on the order of five thousand caps for the rescue and delivery of the caravan that had been captured. On the face of it, a pony might have been forgiven for being skeptical of such a weighty compensation for a rescue mission. An offer like that could have been thought of as 'too good'. Perhaps even a trap meant to ensnare the foolhardy and greedy.

At this moment, with the odds that we were facing, I might even have been inclined to lean that way as well. Except that I knew better. The payout had been that large, not to entice the overly bold, but to get the attention of larger groups. A band of, say, two dozen mercenaries wouldn't be very motivated to take on jobs that paid out shares that totaled in the dozens of caps for their efforts. But for a few hundred each? Two dozen armed ponies would have had little trouble doing what the three of us were attempting. In all reality, they'd have been long done by now.

The client had tried to explain that same notion to us, but Windfall wasn't having any of it. It wasn't that she was interested in getting rich. Caps and bits didn't hold the same appeal for the pegasus that they did for me, not really. All that the flier had needed to hear was that eight ponies were being held in a bandit stronghold, and that their captors were threatening to turn them over to the White Hooves if a hefty ransom wasn't paid. Killing bad pones, rescuing good ponies, and depriving the White Hooves of slaves. That was a veritable hat trick of what made up the perfect job in Windfall's mind.

So, here we were. Embroiled in a job farther out of our weight class than sanity dictated, with a plan that was possessed of all the tactical brilliance and finesse that I had come to expect from the brash young flier:

Show up and shoot things.

I took Foxglove's warning to heart and dove behind half of an old cart that looked to have been constructed without the intent of fitting it with any sort of wheels. A good number of the conveyances in this old scrapyard looked like they'd never been intended to spend much time on the ground actually. It was labeled as being the 'Las Pegasus Salvage Yard' on my pipbuck. I took that to mean that it had once been associated with a pegasus settlement, and as such I guess their carts and wagons would have been of the flying and not the wheeled variety.

The wreckage didn't offer as much protection as I would have preferred. I was pelted with splinters of debris as lead rounds chewed through the cart around me. Fuck this. I plucked a grenade out of my saddlebag, relieved it of the stem at the top and lobbed it over the cart. The gunfire directed at me stopped abruptly and was replaced by a pair of curses. A few seconds later, a thunderous explosion and a tremor that set my molars wiggling washed over the area. I wasted little time and sprinted around the side of the cart, engaging SATS as the two ponies came into view.

Two rounds pumped into the torso of one of them was all that the pipbuck had the energy to support. Which was acceptable, as I was more than up to the task of putting down the second on my own with manually aimed shots. Their flimsy brahmin-skin barding offered paltry protection against the brutality of Full Stop's powerful cartridges. Blood and viscera splashed across the rusted metal hulks of the old salvage yard as my bullets wrought their terrible destruction upon the raiders' bodies.

Above me, I heard the chattering of twin 10mm submachine guns and the screams of pain that soon followed. Windfall banked low as she strafed a stack of massive wagons which comprised the fortifications that surrounded the base of operations used by the ponies here. A unicorn standing on the top of the uppermost wagon, where he'd been using a sniper rifle to keep Foxglove and I from getting too brave with our advances, toppled limply over the side. He dropped like an old doll, bouncing haphazardly against the exterior of his former stronghold.

Other ponies raked the sky with protesting rounds. At least one or two crimson lances of light sought the flier as well. In response to the barrage of fire, Windfall tucked in her wings and dove for the deck. I lost her momentarily behind some wreckage, but before I could concern myself with whether or not she'd struck the ground, I spotted a blur of white and teal sweeping around stacks of rusting hulks so close to the ground that she may as well have been running on her own legs. Only when she was far beyond the effective range of the raiders' fire did she arc back up into the sky in preparation for another attack.

The sniper was out of action, this would be our best chance to move in on the entrance. I glanced around, seeking out the violet unicorn I knew had to be nearby somewhere. Foxglove was cautiously peeking out from around a pile of corrugated sheet metal, “come on!” I waved and started running towards the towering construction that was our target.

This is so ridiculous.

You're preaching to the choir, I mentally snorted at my sister's observation. The barricaded entrance loomed just ahead. The guards and watches along the exterior of the fortress had been taken care of, but the pipbuck suggested that there were still upwards of a dozen armed ponies waiting for us within. I could also see a small cluster of yellow blips nestled off to the side. The missing caravan that Windfall had volunteered us to find. Hopefully they be somewhere out of the line of fire.

I watched the unicorn mare levitate the improvised breaching charge she'd constructed earlier out of her saddlebag and start affixing it to the gate. Their attention would be rather firmly cemented on us the moment we made our entrance. I plucked a couple more grenades out of my bags.

You never should have agreed to this.

Windfall would have just done it on her own anyway, I pointed out. Not that I imagined for a moment that Whiplash really cared much about the pegasus' well-being. I did though. Which was why'd I'd agreed to follow her on what I privately thought of as a 'fool's errand'. Whether this was Windfall putting me through some sort of test to prove I was determined to be a 'good' pony, or the flier's determination to emulate the feats being performed by the Lone Ranger out in Manehattan, I couldn't be sure. I knew it was stupid and reckless in either case. However, I wasn't exactly the sort of pony that Windfall was going to be listening to any time soon.

So, while I might not be able to talk her out of her insane mission, I could at least be there to keep her alive long enough to come to her senses.

Granted, that did presume that whatever trouble Windfall got us into was something that the three of us could actually hope to overcome. Storming this bandit stronghold in order to rescue a bunch of captured ponies might have been a bit further on the side of 'ambitious' than I was comfortable with. For the moment we were doing well though.

“It's ready,” Foxglove nodded as she completed the setting of the charge.

I reached around and snagged one of the flares from its carrier on the side of my barding and struck it against the ground. It sputtered to life, gushing crimson fire and casting the occasional sparkling flake as two century old fuel burned as best it could. I quickly cast the flare out into the open and then withdrew behind some cover, “do it.”

The violet unicorn tapped a button on the side of the device that she'd built and backed away from it, seeking shelter of her own. I looked about, my attention focused on the amber display that the pipbuck projected across my field of vision. Eventually, I spied the yellow dot moving far too quickly to be a pony running along the ground. While she was not visible with my bare eyes, I recognized the blip that was Windfall reacting to the flare. The blip started arcing around the backside of the cobbled together fortress.

When the charge detonated, there was no concussive explosion; but instead a sound much like a discharge of electricity. A green light of blinding intensity flashed from the direction of the gate. Even though I wasn't directly looking at it, I reflexively closed my eyes and turned my head even more away from its brilliance. This lasted for only a few seconds and then, as suddenly as it had come, the light and noise both ceased. I opened my eyes and glanced questioningly at the unicorn.

She urgently waved at me to get through the gate. Curious, as I had heard nothing that had really sounding like the reinforced metal portal being blasted open, I craned my head around. I blinked in surprise. Where the gate had previously been, was now a rather startling opening in the shape of a circle. A remarkably smooth and perfectly rounded circle. Through that opening, I could see the faces of at least four other ponies that were looking in my direction with expressions that encompassed varying degrees of surprise.

Huh...I guess that was it. As big as the charge had looked, I had really expected something with a more pronounce 'boom'.

Well, it was what it was; and concussive blast or no, the bandit ponies within were still obviously stunned to see me peeking through their barricaded front entrance where a gate had once been. Their surprise wouldn't last forever of course. Time to get to work.

I leaped out into the open now, tossing the grenades held in my mouth up into the air with a sharp flick of my head that ripped the arming stems right off them. Then a deft spin that left my rear exposed for a brief moment as I coiled on my forehooves. My eyes watched the apple-shaped steel orbs descend until I judged the moment to be right. A solid buck with each of my hind legs shot the armed grenades off through the opening at the hesitating bandits beyond. One or two recognized what was happening quickly enough to take appropriate cover, but their companions seemed to not actually notice what I was doing at all. Their minds still trying to ferret out where their gate had wandered off to.

Full Stop was in my mouth before I finished whirling around to face the fortress' interior. Mirrored bursts of smoke and shrapnel greeted my sight, screams of pain and death riding their coattails. Facing directly into a pair of explosions, even ones as moderately far off as those of my grenades, was not the most prudent of courses of action. I knew this well, and my dismissal of the risks earned me several painful cuts as tiny fragments of superheated steel found their marks in my flesh. It was as much as I had anticipated, and I knew that a lethal wound would have been a miracle at such a range. They were injuries I was forced to accept if I was going to truly take full advantage of the momentum our assault was building.

These ponies were no strangers to combat in general. While I doubted they saw many actual assaults on their home from armed ponies, let alone a band as small as ours was, the surprise our audacity had earned us had quickly passed. Once it had, their response had been viscous and determined. It had only abated briefly once more when Windfall fell upon from the skies. Many of the bandits found that their barricades and cover meant to shield them from ground-based attacks offered little shelter from a hail of lead rained down on them from above. Once more their resistance had buckled for a time and allowed us to advance quickly to their gates.

It was not hard for them to mitigate the worst that Windfall could do to them by dedicating a few of their number to directing their attention to the air and warding her off with volume of fire. They didn't have to necessarily kill the pegasus if they could keep her from lining up truly effective strafing runs by denying her huge swaths of the sky with their energy blasts and torrents of bullets.

Now we had breached their sanctuary, and once more our group enjoyed a temporary reprieve from their coordinated defense of their home as they desperately adjusted their positions in search of effective cover and fields of fire. This area could very quickly become a killing field if the bandits were given half a chance. I needed to do everything that I could to deny them that opportunity.

So I charged in.

SATS offered me invaluable moments to appraise the threats around me as I cantered through the interior of the bandits' lair. My grenades had been well placed. Three corpses lay splayed on the ground, their bodies ravaged by supersonic shards of metal and pummeled with a point blank concussive blast that would have ruptured most of their internal organs. I few ponies had escaped the worst of it, but were clearly still disoriented by their proximity to the detonations. Having been present far closer than I would have liked to such explosions in the past, I was well aware of how their senses would have been affected.

The first mare I killed probably hadn't even regained enough of her hearing to register the gunshot that blew out her rib cage. She certainly hadn't heard me running up beside her. The earth pony stallion sitting next to her may not have heard me either, but his partner's blood splashing across his face had certainly alerted him to the nearby danger. Not that he was in much of a position to do anything about it. Clearly, he'd been relying on the mare to cover him while he applied a bandage to a gash on his left leg. His eyes went immediately to his comrade. When he saw that she was certainly dead, the stallion's gaze went to me.

I didn't engage SATS. At this range, it would have been a waste of magical energy that I suspected I'd be calling upon rather shortly. Still, meeting the gaze of the earth pony bandit, time had seemed to slow down considerably. His rifle lay nearby, but he didn't make a move for it. Why bother? He'd be dead in the next second anyway. Instead of offering a token resistance, he spent that last second of his life looking right at me. No fear. Not even any sign of defiance really. Just a sort of...acceptance.

Why so surprised? Whiplash mused, stroking her chin with an idle hoof, you've had that same look before.

The back of the stallion's head opened up and painted the ground with blood and brains as my bullet drilled through his skull; and I was off again running through the stronghold. I glanced at the pipbuck to confirm what I already suspected and cringed as I saw that the revolver was empty. In hindsight, I should have reloaded while Foxglove was planting the charge at the gate, but I hadn't. Maybe I could find some temporary cover and reload, but I'd just be giving these ponies the perfect opportunity to pin me down. I had to stay mobile.

Full Stop was returned to its holster and my 9mm drawn in its place. Less power per bullet, but quite a few rounds before I'd need to reload. I started off by firing a few of them towards a unicorn mare who had finally worked up the courage to survey the aftermath of my entrance. An automatic rifle hovered nearby, gripped in a golden glow. None of my hastily fired shots struck home, but the sparks as the copper-jacketed slugs skipped off her cover sent the mare back behind her barricade. The rifle remained however, and answered my gunfire with a few sprays of its own.

They were not aimed bursts, but there were enough bullets coming at me that she must have figured that she'd get lucky. I declined diving for cover, and instead charged her position. I engaged SATS. As the device was want to do, it defaulted to the nearest threatening pony, which was the bandit unicorn mare huddle behind her cover. Unsurprisingly, the pipbuck indicated that my rounds had exactly zero chance of striking my target. No problem, as she was not what I was interested in shooting. I mentally tabbed to the rifle suspended in the air.

Huh. Fifty-fifty chance. While a remarkable piece of Old World technology, I often found myself unimpressed with my pipbuck's marksmareship. At this range, I could almost certainly hit an object the size of the rifle nine times out of ten at worst. Then again, I had to concede that I was running at a rather brisk pace and more than a little stressed besides. I honestly wouldn't have trusted myself to have perfect accuracy against any target larger than a pony that wasn't within hooves reach. So I queued up three shots to be safe and commanded the pipbuck to execute.

The second round struck home while the first and third went wild. The golden aura enveloping the weapon dissolved and it clattered to the ground. I heard a hushed curse just as I came charging around the corner of the mare's barricade. I was just in time to see her making a break for the other end of the long wall of metal in an effort to escape to safety. My pistol bucked in my mouth as I galloped after her. The first round caught her in the right flank, causing her to stumble slightly. The misstep allowed my second round to sail harmlessly past her, but the third and fourth buried themselves in her left foreleg. The unicorn tumbled rather ungracefully into the dirt with a pained cry.

When I caught up to her, I ended the altercation with another pair to her chest.

I brought the world around me to a halt with SATS once more. Not to engage any specific target, but to have a moment to appraise my surroundings. Five red blips remained. A cluster of nearly half a dozen gold blips lay to my left. Judging by the position of the two singular gold blips, Foxglove was still by the door keeping out of harms way. Windfall was nearly where she needed to be. That was good. My attention was directed to the locations of the remaining hostiles.

Altitude was difficult to gauge with the compass at the bass of my vision, but with SATS actively engaged, I was permitted the chance to cycle through and get a bearing on each individual target. Two of them were on upper levels, looking to be moving to positions where they could get a better angle on the interior of the stronghold. Great. The other three were at ground level with me already. Two were behind cover across the way and one was...

Oh fuck.

My eyes were staring directly at the steel barricade, but I was actually looking at the pony beyond them. The pony which was apparently in the middle of a charge directed right at me. Up and over and gun me down from the direction that I'd least expect it. Bold plan. One that almost certainly would have worked too if I hadn't looked around the way I was.

Your accuracy sucks, but I do love your situational awareness, pipbuck.

I didn't have the energy built up to engage SATS the moment they vaulted over the barricade and gun them down in mid air, but I probably wouldn't need magical assistance now that I knew where they'd be coming from. Instead I disengaged the pipbuck's magical assistance program and fell onto my back, my pistol aimed at the top of my cover.

A dark shape leaped into view and I fired. The slide bounced with the recoil of my shots until locking back after the third. Then my eyes went wide. I'd stuck the pony with all three rounds. Only, it hadn't been a pony at all. It had just been a cloak, which landed next to me in a heap, unimpressed by my gunfire.

There was a flash of movement in the corner of my left eye. Well played, you clever bastard. I spat the empty weapon out of my mouth and rolled up onto my hooves ready to receive my attacker. My eyes widened as I saw the near-blur of red, black, and white charging towards me. Was that a-

I reared up and only just managed to block the kick that was lashed out at me. A strike that was followed up quickly by a second kick as the pony's body twisted in midair. Only, that was wrong, wasn't it? It wasn't a pony that I was fighting, but a zebra! The unexpected nature of the follow-up kick didn't break my block, but it was enough to make me take a step back.

Their 'barding' consisted of crimson robes that were so dark in hue they were nearly brown. Little of their body was actually visible beneath the robes, and even their face was almost entirely obscured by a cowl that was wrapped around their muzzle; but their striped legs and the preposterously straight monochromatic mane were dead giveaways regarding their species.

What was a zebra doing here?!

There wasn't a lot of time for me to process theories of course. My striped attacker had achieved an advantage in the fight by forcing me to give ground early on, and seemed keen to press their attacks. My body was working overtime trying to keep pace with them, and even try to lash out with an attack or two of my own. My parries were marginally successful, but my jabs were swept aside with hardly any effort at all. Then they surprised me even further by rearing up on a single hind leg with their forelegs stretched to either side. I hesitated at the sight. Which was a mistake.

I hardly saw the kick snap out at me, but I most certainly felt its effects. The force of the blow sent me tumbling backwards out from behind the barricade. Great. Not only was I fighting a zebra, but it was one of the ones that knew that weird zebra fighting style I'd heard about. Figured. This was not going to go well for me. By all accounts, only a few ponies could top them in a bare-hoofed brawl.

My ear twitched as I heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun chamber a round. My head looked out across the stronghold's interior. Oh, right. I was no longer behind cover now. The pair of ponies that had been behind cover earlier were out in the open as well, their weapon's trained on my exposed body.

Then the ground around them seemed to explode in a cascade of dirt and rocks. The ponies themselves looked little better as their bodies opened up from a dozen nearly simultaneous wounds. The chattering of twin submachine guns echoing up above heralded the source of the slaughter as Windfall swooped in low to the ground as a follow-up to her nearly vertical dive just now. She didn't land, but instead worked her way into an upward spiral, offering a parting hail of bullets to one of the ponies on an upper level even as another pony began to blast away at her with lances or furious crimson death. I heard a scream amid the gunshots as Windfall darted out of sight. My pipbuck confirmed that there were only two red blips remaining within its range. A pony on the upper levels, and the zebra facing me.

I took advantage of the reprieve and rolled back onto my feet, facing the zebra. Idly, I sort of wished that they'd been Windfall's target. Armed ponies I could generally handle. Zebras with better hoof-to-hoof combat skills than me? This was going to be a real challenge. Maybe I could keep them occupied long enough for the pegasus to get into position for a second pass.

That being said...

I reached into my saddlebags and withdrew the last of my grenades. Then I saw the zebra charging at me once more. Horseapples! I hopped back, which put me outside of their first strike, but they were quick to follow it up with a flurry of additional jabs and kicks. I was forced to give ground with nearly very blow. A few swipes directed towards my mouth kept me acutely aware of the explosive clutched precariously in my teeth. The last thing I needed was for this zebra to get their hooves on an actual weapon!

Not that it was looking like I was going to have a whole lot of choice at this rate. There was no way that I was going to win in a straight up fight like this on their terms. The zebra was simply too quick. I needed to stop fighting their kind of battle.

This was going to hurt...

I staggered under the assault and my guard dropped. Seizing upon the opening, the zebra lashed out with a devastating kick. It certainly hurt quite a lot, and the zebra drove it home hard. I noted that I felt part of my rib cage noticeably shift. I'd had broken and cracked ribs before, of course. I'm not saying that I was used to the pain, but it wasn't exactly anything like a surprise either. I grit my teeth against the sudden fiery agony and swept my foreleg—which had been up far too high to block a kick but was in the perfect position for what I intended—down and locked the zebra's leg into the crook of my fetlock. I then spun into the zebra and threw the full weight of my body into a blow which sent the pair of us to the ground.

There was the sound of somepony that wasn't me gasping as we hit the ground and I wasted no time in following up the grapple with a few backwards blows into the zebra's face with my other arm. I managed to get a couple of decent hits in before I felt the much more lithe form beneath me contort themselves into what I would have thought to be some rather impossible shapes and slip out of my grasp. Their departure was followed up by a swift kick to my back which made me grunt. Even the plating of my barding didn't feel like it had done much to soften the hit. I was glad I decided to keep the stolen Republic armor, though it had since acquired a less ostentatious color scheme. I shuddered to think that the strike might have even paralyzed me if I'd been unarmored.

So the tally was at least a cracked rib from the kick earlier, and a bruised vertebrae or two just now. I wasn't positive that I'd come out on top in that exchange just then.

I rolled up onto my hooves once more and squared off against the zebra, ready for their next push. A smirk touched my lips as I finally got a good look at the results of my blows. The zebra was shaking their head, their right eye half-lidded now. I could already see their flesh darkening around it as the bruise set in. While I doubted that it was ultimately as damaging as their blows had been to me, I was prepared to savor that small accomplishment. At the very least, they seemed a lot more hesitant about closing with me. Which was fine, as it gave me time for what I'd planned earlier.

A quick flick of my head sent the grenade still clutched in my teeth into the air, sans stem. I sprung onto my forehooves and held the pose for a brief moment as the explosive charge fell back towards the ground. This would be a trickier shot, so I brought SATS in to help. A single target, and a single grenade, and the pipbuck executed. The steel ball arced high into the air and vanished into the upper levels. Then SATS ended and the zebra was almost right on top of me again.

This time I had a good idea of what I needed to do. Their hoof work was impeccable, I wouldn't deny that. But their grappling ability was a lot rougher. They were clearly used to ponies keeping their distance. That probably meant that they didn't have a whole lot of experience with holds either.

I didn't hop away this time. Instead, I actually leaped towards my zebra attacker. I paid for my audacity with a blow to my jaw, but my tactic was obviously unexpected and the hit had been a glancing one. The zebra balked after the first blow was landed and actually tried to reverse course and back away from me, sensing their danger. It was too late though. My leg was wrapping itself around their neck in preparation to draw them into my grasp and end this fight.

Then their elbow caught me in the face. Something else caught me in the gut immediately after that. It felt like a knee. Then a hoof drilled into my shoulder and I was no longer anywhere near the zebra. I could barely move or even breath. They'd hit me pretty hard in a lot of vulnerable places all at once. It was like they'd...

Horseapples. They'd suckered me.

“Well played,” I gasped as I struggled back onto my hooves. The zebra remained silent, staring me down with their cold gaze. Probably for the best that they weren't the talkative sort. From what I'd heard, zebras weren't great conversationalists anyway. Didn't mean I couldn't chat though. It'd take my mind off the pain somewhat, “but I'm not done yet, asshole,” I drew my knife from its sheath and adopted a defensive stance which was far less steady than I would have liked it to be. My shoulder didn't seem to want to support a lot of my weight at the moment. I didn't have time to inject any Med-X either.

A thunderclap and a scream sounded from above. I quirked an eyebrow and glanced up. Several tendrils of smoke were snaking their way out from beneath the roof of one of the upper levels. No red dot was present on my Eyes Forward Sparkle, “seriously?” I couldn't help but comment with a note of disdain, “that had to have been like a ten second fuse on that fucker. How'd that idiot still get killed by it?” The zebra, though remaining silent, was looking upward with a narrowed gaze that suggested they shared my low opinion of the victim.

“Not exactly recruiting the best and brightest, are you?” now their cold stare was back on me, “it's just you and me now,” my lips tugged in a smile. I was beaten and battered, but this was probably still a fight that was going to end in my favor very soon now.

Then the zebra was charging me again. I steeled myself in preparation to fight them off, but at the last second, my attacker actually jumped over me. I spun around in an effort to keep my knife between us, but before I could complete the maneuver the zebra grabbed my tail with their hooves and heaved. There was a whole new sort of pain and I found myself being thrown, bodily, by my tail. My landing was far from graceful as I rolled head over hooves into a collection of tables and chairs. Glass and ceramics shattered around me as the contents of those tables fell to the floor. I finally came to a stop once I slammed into a line of crates.

Ouch...

A strong odor suggested that much of the wetness I was feeling all over my body was mostly alcohol, and not all blood. However, I was certainly doing some bleeding too. I grit my teeth as I slowly got back up, noting that I no longer had my knife. A yellow blip that I had been watching come up behind the zebra darted behind me and out of sight. I'd heard no sound of gunfire from a familiar pair of weapons, and the reason for that was quite apparent, as the two of us were now underneath a roof. Judging from what I'd been thrown through, I was going to guess a bar of some sort. Even bandits liked to drink, after all.

Windfall could come in and land on her next pass, now that she knew nothing was shooting back at her, but that would take her time that I wasn't sure I had. It was getting a lot harder to stay on my hooves, and I'd so far only managed to give this zebra a black eye. They were tearing me apart.

The zebra closed once more. I brought up a hoof to ward of a high angled kick, but I couldn't deflect it in my battered state. Instead, I just ended up being hit in the face by my own leg and toppled over to the side. I was once more on the ground struggling to get up. A blow to my ribs that I didn't even see coming set me rolling through a table that I'd somehow missed during my initial entrance.

They were toying with me, I realized. I'd killed all their little friends, so they were going to take their time with me. Good. It'd give Windfall time to get into position. All I had to do was buy a little more time. I reached out and started to get back up once again. Beneath my hoof, I felt a slender metal pole. Probably a broken table leg. It'd do as a weapon I guess. I looked towards the zebra, who was preparing to deliver another swift kick to my gut, and engaged SATS. I targeted the zebra's head, grimacing as I noticed I had only the power for the single strike. It was something at least. I acknowledge the attack order and let the pipbuck do the rest.

I lashed out with the pole, mustering as much power as I could. The trajectory was right on the money. Then the zebra brought up an impossibly fast hoof that not only stopped my swing, but somehow managed to harness the momentum of it. I could barely make out what was happening as I found myself swept up in an impromptu spin that ended with myself being held up against the zebra with the pole in her hooves crushing my windpipe. That...had gone poorly.

Horseapples.

My left shoulder was too injured to allow that arm much use, and my right arm alone possessed nowhere near the strength that I required to break free of the zebra's grip. I couldn't even do much to relieve the pressure that was compressing my throat. As I thrashed as best I could and gurgled in a struggle for breath, my soon to be killer still said nothing.

“Hooves off!”

Windfall? No. That hadn't been the voice of the pegasus.

“Foxglove?”

Only, it had really sounded a lot more like, “kkg-ggr?” as the surprised word made an effort to squeeze through my constricted larynx. What the fuck was she thinking?! What the hell did she know about fighting?

Next to nothing I soon discovered as the unicorn leaped bodily onto the back of the zebra. Though, to the unicorn's credit, it was a move that the zebra had obviously not anticipated. After all, only a complete moron would do such a thing in a fight like this. Complete morons we had thus far proven ourselves not to be.

Things change, I guess.

At least the pole was removed from my neck as the zebra released me in order to deal with the new arrival. However much time Foxglove thought she was going to buy me with that move, I think it had to have been more than she actually did. Because it sure wasn't much. I watched with a sympathetic cringe as the zebra deftly removed the violet mare from her back with a quick jab to the unicorn's face and a hardy sweep of the metal pole. Foxglove grunted with the blow and looked to try and wrench the pole away from the zebra. Surprisingly, the zebra seemed to let her have it with little protest, choosing instead to double-buck the unicorn across the bar where she landed in a heap that didn't immediately move.

Whiplash was very slowly clapping for the performance, you tried, she cooed sarcastically.

The mare's got spirit. Fewer brains than I thought, but plenty of spirit.

I felt the presence of another pony nearby. That would be the zebra again. I turned my head, and indeed the robed equine was standing over me, “s'up? You ready to give up yet?” their eyes narrowed dangerously. I started choking once more as a hoof began to apply direct pressure to my throat.

“choking fetish, huh?” I gurgled out, “that's cool...”

I can't decide if you're being brave or trying to get them to kill you quickly, Whiplash said with a wry smile.

Just trying to buy a little time.

For what?

Bottles of Jennyson and Steernov exploded as a burst of gunfire ripped through one of the shelves nearby. The weight on my throat eased considerably as the zebra's attention was drawn away from me, and towards the ivory pegasus and the two smoking barrels strapped to her side. The flier's piercing blue eyes bore deep holes into the zebra standing over me.

“Get away from him.”

The lithe little pegasus was certainly a sight to behold right now. There was fire in those eyes. The zebra didn't move away from me as she had demanded, but instead swooped around and ripped me up off the ground. I soon found myself being used as a living shield between the zebra and Windfall. Great, a stand-off. This could go on for a while.

Windfall frowned, but she kept her guns trained on the pair of us, “it's over,” she informed the zebra, “all your friends are dead,” the pegasus didn't make a move to get any closer to myself or my zebra captor. She didn't need to. There was nowhere for the striped equine to escape to with the pegasus blocking the way to the courtyard and the gate beyond, “let him go, and you can walk out of here.”

Awe, listen to her, bargaining for your life. It's sweet.

“Ponies with silver,” for such a powerful zebra, her—as the soft soprano was indeed that of a mare—voice was eerily sweet, “poisoning their honeyed words, would promise the world.”

“What?” the confused question was echoed by me and Windfall both.

The frown on Windfall's face deepened noticeably, “don't make me kill you,” she growled.

“Gone goes temptation,” the mare cooed with a sinister smile, “with the carrot cast aside, she presents the stick.”

“Oh, for Celestia's sake,” I croaked, “what does that even mean?” I guessed from the fact that I was still being held tight that the zebra wasn't exactly agreeing to Windfall's demands. This couldn't possibly go on forever of course. The zebra had to know that. She could plainly see that she was surrounded and outgunned; so what was she holding out for?

“I'm offering you a way out,” the pegasus stressed, “if you refuse, I won't be responsible for the consequences.”

“Promise of freedom; reprisals offered in kind; words in arid winds.”

The zebra thinks that Windfall's just bluffing, I realized. There might even be something to that. Held the way that I was, the pegasus didn't have a very clear shot at the striped mare. If she used armor piercing rounds, they'd go through me and strike the zebra as well. I doubted that the pegasus would be quite so determined to get the zebra that she'd be willing to kill me in the process. The two of us might not be on the greatest of terms, I know, but I don't think we were quite right there at this moment. A week ago, maybe.

Are you so sure? Whiplash whispered in my head, how many raiders have you seen Windfall spare?

Yeah, she was pretty ruthless. I'd taught her not to let ponies linger around who could prove a threat to you later. Still, she'd never been willing to harm an innocent in order to get at a target.

So you're an innocent now?

Well...I mean...

Horseapples.

I could almost see the debate going on behind Windfall's eyes. She didn't want to let this zebra live, but at the same time she wasn't willing to put both of us down just to get at her. I saw her mouth playing with the firing mechanism on her battle-saddle as she mulled over her options. Finally, she seemed to make a decision.

“What do you want?” the pegasus sounded defeated as she resigned herself to negotiating with her adversary.

“A swift exodus; worryless provisioning,” there was a noticeable tightening of her arm around my throat that made me gag slightly, “token of safety.”

Awesome. She wanted a hostage to make sure that Windfall would be on her best behavior. The problem with that was...there was no end game as far as I was concerned. The zebra had to know that, right? Especially with me in tow, she would never be able to outrun Windfall and Foxglove. When they caught up, we'd just go through this whole thing all over again until the zebra either got to where she wanted to go, or she felt that the pegasus had overstepped one two many times and killed me in reprisal.

Either way, it didn't end well for me. Whether this mare was on her way back to zebra lands or some other group of bandits, I suffer more or less a similar fate. I wasn't going to let that happen, thank you very much. I'd already been a prisoner this month, and had little interest in reliving the experience. So, since I had very little to lose, it seemed like a good time time to do something stupid and hope that it worked out for the best. All that I had to do was give Windfall a clear shot at the zebra, not escape and subdue her entirely. I hurt in a lot of places, but I could probably manage that little thing.

“Head's up!”

You have got to be fucking shitting me, I mentally groaned. What the fuck was Foxglove thinking?!

The zebra and I both looked over as the unicorn mare charged us. The pole was hovering at her side, wrapped in her magic's emerald glow. I foresaw this working about as well as it had the last time she had come at the zebra. Especially since this time she wasn't in anywhere near a position to surprise the striped mare the way that she had before. In anticipation of a repeated failure, I cringed as I saw the unicorn swing the metal pole and the zebra throw up a deft hoof to deflect the blow.

Then I saw the pole pass right through the upraised hoof as though it wasn't even there. No...it was more than that, I soon realized as the striped hoof and fetlock detached themselves from the rest of the zebra's leg and fall to the ground. Blood streamed from the newly formed stump, gushing up like a rhythmic geyser.

That...it...how?

The zebra was just as stunned as I was by the realization that their hoof was no longer a part of their body. Her other arm went limp around my neck, letting me fall to the bloody floor in a grunting heap. Her eyes stared numbly at the severed limb. Then, after several seconds, she finally screamed and doubled over in an effort to staunch the flow of blood with her other hoof.

They didn't even seem to register that they had discarded their cover. I noticed though, and I hugged the ground as a stream of bullets streaked above me and shredded the robed zebra. Upwards of two dozen rounds ripped through the air and rendered the zebra into a bloody mess. The corpse crumpled to the floor next to me.

Silence hung over the bar. The pegasus release the mouthpiece of her battle saddle and stepped over to inspect her work. She stared down at the broken body, “all you had to do was walk away,” she murmured to herself. I looked up and saw the icy glint in her blue eyes. Her gaze shifted to me a moment later, but they softened only slightly, “are you okay?”

I nodded. I was many things, but the traditional definition of 'okay' was not among them. I was alive perhaps, but far from 'okay'. Broken ribs, a shoulder that felt dislocated, a sore back, and most of me was probably just a giant bruise despite the barding that I was wearing. The zebra hadn't been pulling her punches in that fight. Still, nothing that was wrong with me could be fixed by the pegasus, so there wasn't much sense in telling her about it.

“Alright,” she said softly and turned away. She glanced at Foxglove, offering a brief smile, “nice work. I'm going to go free the prisoner. See what you can do for Jackboot,” she flicked her head in my direction.

“No problem,” the unicorn nodded. She watched the pegasus flutter away and then approached me.

The pole still hovered at her side, and I looked at it warily for a moment before looking back at the zebra mare. Specifically, her stump of a leg. The cut was perfect. I'd seen a lot of Lancet's work over the years during my visits to Seaddle. He knew his way around the surgical table, and I'd seen first hoof the sorts of cuts that a scalpel could make as they effortlessly parted flesh. This looked like one of those surgical knives had completely bisected flesh, sinew, and bone like they were so much warm cram.

“Are you really alright?”

The tone of her voice suggested that the unicorn was dubious of the assurance that I'd given to Windfall earlier. That was probably fair. The pegasus wouldn't have been in a position to clearly see that beating that I'd taken in the exchange. Foxglove, on the other hoof, had been right at ground level and would have had a good view of everything from the open gate. Heck, with some of the blows, she'd probably been close enough to hear my bones snapping.

At the moment though, I was far more interested in the pole havering at her side than answering the unicorn's question. Now that I had a few spare moments to look at it up close, I realized that it wasn't exactly what I had thought it was when I'd first picked it up. That was no broken table leg, but some sort of specialized equipment or something. One end of it was tapered into a little nozzle, while the other end ballooned out slightly at the bottom. Honestly, it sort of resembled a pool cue, but I knew it wasn't one of those either. Though, if pool cues could sever limbs like that, they would have made more sense to me as being the weapon of choice for certain groups of raiders out east.

“What is that thing?” I asked, feeling a little nervous at having it so close by.

“Hm? Oh,” Foxglove brought the pole around in between us, which I instinctively flinched away from in case it happened to touch me, “it's an eldrich lance,” she answered with an amused smile at my reaction, “nothing to be afraid of. They're perfectly safe if you know how to work 'em.”

“And you do?” I quirked a skeptical eyebrow. The mare barely knew how to handle a pistol.

“Sure! I used these things all the time in the stable,” her telekinetic field set the metallic pole twirling in the air, “ain't no better way of turning large pieces of broken equipment into manageable bits than an e-lance!” I watched in stunned silence as the pole darted over to a nearby table and promptly diced it into sixteen nearly identical squares. She set the lance down next to her and smiled broadly down at me, “fabricator pony, remember?”

“Yeah, right,” my gaze lingered on the table. Somehow, I had felt a little better about having the unicorn around before I knew she was capable of dicing ponies into little bits with a flick of her horn. On the bright side, I guess she could start pulling a lot more weight in fights now though.

I tried to get back on my feet, but found myself grunting a lot louder than I had intended. A bottle of purple liquid and a syringe floated into my field of view and hung their for a moment. I nodded and opened my mouth. Foxglove obligingly helped me drink the healing potion while simultaneously jabbing the Med-X into my shoulder. Between the two, I felt a lot of my more pressing pains fade away into merely dull aches, but I could sense that I was once more going to be stiff for a good while. I was getting too old for this shit.

“Thanks, by the way,” I mumbled once I was back on all four hooves.

The unicorn acquired a broad smile, “at this rate, you'll be owing me,” she chimed in an amused tone. Then her attention went back to her magically powered lance as she twirled it lazily in the air. Her expression faltered subtly as she watched the device turn. I recognized that tiny mote of regret in her eyes. I'd seen it in my own reflection a time or two when I'd thought of the White Hooves long ago. That lance would likely forever be a reminder of what she had once had when she'd live in her stable.

Her face retained the smile, subdued though it was, as she threaded the lance through the straps of her saddlebags and finally released it from her magical grip. She looked over at the zebra, and her smile waned a little more. The unicorn mare studied the corpse for a while before finally speaking, “it felt different this time.”

“What did?” I asked, following her gaze.

“Killing,” was the purple mare's reply, “Tommyknocker was the first pony I'd ever killed, and doing it had felt,” she shrugged as she struggled to come up with the right word to describe the sensation, “cathartic? No, that wasn't it. But I felt like so much of the stress I'd been carrying inside me had been washed away. The source of so much pain and misery in my life was gone.

“I was relieved, that's it. But this time...”

“You didn't know this zebra,” I said, venturing into her little bout of introspection. I knew a few things about how killing could make a pony feel, “you didn't kill her because it was personal. She was just a threat, so she had to go. Like killing a bloatsprite. It's how it felt, isn't it? Like you killed a bloatsprite, or radroach, or some other vermin.”

“I...guess,” the unicorn sounded very uncomfortable at the prospect that I was correct. She looked up at me, “is that what it feels like for you and Windfall when you shoot a raider?”

“Yup.”

A slight hesitation, “what about when you were a White Hoof? You said you'd killed foals...”

There was a brief flash of a broken colt laying on the floor or a dark room, but I savagely ripped the scene from my thoughts, “don't let yourself get too focused on how it makes you feel,” I suggested coolly, “sentiment like that might make you hesitate. Then you're dead.”

“Right,” the unicorn nodded. She swallowed, and then her wan little smile was back, “let's go meet back up with Windfall.”

The pegasus had been busy while Foxglove and I were occupied. She'd freed the prisoners and was currently helping them gather together weapons and supplies for the trip. I could see that a few of them would be sloing us down a good bit as the limped about. Medical attention must not have been a high priority for their captors. It wouldn't surprise me if a few of them weren't a little weak from malnourishment either. A thought that was confirmed when the white pegasus and a yellow earth pony mare standing beside her noticed our approach.

“Homily,” the flier began by way of introduction, “these are Foxglove and Jackboot. Guys, this is, Homily. She'd the leader of the expedition.”

I inclined my head towards the yellow mare and then hesitated as my mind got around the processing Windfall's words, “expedition? I thought we were rescuing a caravan?”

My mind went back over the conversation that the three of us had had with the pony that had described the job to us. I was certain that he had described the group of ponies as the members of a convoy that had been ambushed on their route and captured.

“So did I,” Windfall confirmed with a wry smile, “we were just talking about that, actually,” she held the other mare's attention, “would you mind starting again from the top?”

“Of course,” Homily's voice was a fair bit deeper than I'd have expected, and a little scratchy as well; though I suspected that a good bit of that could be attributed to a low intake of water over the last few days. A theory reinforced by her taking frequent sips from a bottle of Sparkle-Cola she'd recently acquired.

She cleared her throat and began her explanation, “we're not traders,” she corrected, “we're on a mission to the nearby McMaren Calvary Base south of here.”

“Weapon salvage?” I guessed. Few other reasons to go to a military base, after all.

The earth pony surprised me by shaking her head, “not salvage, and not weapons. There's an old Ministry of Image facility on the base. Propaganda station during the war, complete with radio tower and everything you'd need to make regular broadcasts. We want to get it up and running again.”

“Why?” I felt compelled to ask, “there's already DJ Pony and the NLR Broadcasts. How many radio stations does the Wasteland need?”

“When's the last time DJ Pony mentioned anything that was happening in Neighvada?” Homily asked wryly, “and all Princess Luna does is talk about how the NLR is holding its own against the Steel Rangers. There's never any actual news that matters to the ponies here. We're looking to fix that.”

“What if the radio tower's broken?” I asked, “figure somepony else would have started doing just what you're aiming to if it worked at all.”

“Everypony here is an expert in electronics, magical circuitry, and telecommunications,” the mare informed us, “it doesn't matter how broken it is, we can get it back up and running eventually.”

Windfall chimed in now, “all you have are technical experts? Isn't anypony here a fighter?”

The yellow earth pony mare's expression darkened, “we had bodyguards,” she confirmed, but said no more on the matter.

The pegasus cringed momentarily, and then flashed a reassuring smile at the other mare, “well, you some more now. We'll get you to that tower safe and sound.”

“I appreciate that,” Homily forced a little smile as well, sharing it with all three of us, “you're all doing a good thing for Neighvada.

“If you'll excuse me,” she continued, “I should make sure everypony else is getting everything they need,” she nodded at each of us and then trotted off towards her comrades.

“I don't like it,” was the first thing out of my mouth the moment the mare was out of earshot. The comment earned me a couple of dubious looks from the others.

“She showed me a map, the tower isn't much farther away,” Windfall assure us, “we'll be there by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

“That's not it,” I shook my head, “a group of experts like she was talking about, plus guards? That isn't cheap. It isn't just a bunch of ponies that got together, threw their money together, and hiked off into the Wasteland either, like most expeditions I've heard about. Somepony back in New Reino is financing them, and cares enough that they put out a contract to rescue them and keep going. Somepony that isn't shy about throwing around thousands of caps to get it done, too.”

“Maybe it was a bounty put up by their families?” Foxglove suggested.

“It wasn't any family we spoke to to get this job,” I pointed out.

“Why does it matter?” Windfall demanded, sounding slightly irritated, “these ponies needed our help, and they're going to get it,” she bore into my eyes with her own sapphire stare, “that's the end of the discussion. Got it?” I grimaced at the glare from the young flier, but I eventually nodded, “good.”

She turned away and headed off the aid in helping the others get equipped, “you two should scavenge what you can too. We're leaving in an hour.”

“I still don't like it,” I grumbled quietly so that only Foxglove could hear me.

“Homily seems like a good pony to me,” the unicorn said.

“It ain't Homily that concerns me,” I admitted, “it's her benefactor that throws good caps after bad like that.”

“It's a worthy cause though,” said Foxglove, “setting up someplace to let ponies know what's happening in Neighvada? It's a good idea.”

“But who's paying for it, and what's their angle?”

“Not everypony has an 'angle', Jackboot,” the unicorn shook her head as she offered a smirk, “there are good ponies in the world who just want to do good things because it'll make the Wasteland a better place. Like the Lone Ranger, or DJ Pony.”

Maybe. I wasn't convinced about that though. It was easy for DJ Pony to be altruistic, he had comfortable and secure patronage in the form of Tenpony Tower. He didn't have to eke out some sort of living out in the Wastes. With nothing better to do with his time, why not turn himself into a celebrity known the Wasteland over? A pony who had everything might as well get their ego stroked by their fans every chance they got.

The Lone Ranger wasn't much better in my take either. A Steel Ranger that felt like his friends weren't killing enough ponies and so took it upon himself to go out on his own to blow as many ponies to pieces as he could with enough firepower to level a small town? That hardly had 'hero' written all over it in my view. Like I'd told Windfall more than a few times growing up: 'heroic' ponies were just mass murderers who had chosen 'acceptable targets'. They were still just going out looking to hunt down other ponies and kill them because they wanted to.

You know who else had done that? Me. As a White Hoof. So where were my throngs of ponies celebrating my heroics? Oh, right; the ponies I'd hurt had been 'good' ponies.

“We'll see.”

Eleven. That was how many ponies in Homily's expedition had survived long enough to be rescued out of the original twenty-seven that had set out from New Reino. Most of those lost had been killed during the ambush that they'd fallen prey to. Four others had died of their wounds later while in captivity. With a casualty list like that, any pony could have been easily forgiven for wanting to abandon their mission and simply go back home. A couple of the survivors wanted to do just that, as a matter of fact. But the yellow earth pony mare that was leading them seemed to be very good at her job. All it had taken was a couple of private conversations with those ponies, and they soon been willing to see the mission through to its conclusion.

She was one determined pony, that Homily. It didn't even look like she was the least bit dissuaded by the disclosure that the three of us was all of the protection that their group would have until they reached New Reino. I'd reminded all of them that our small band wouldn't just be able to hang around the old military base indefinitely when we finally arrived; raising the question about what they'd do for security once they'd gotten there. Foxglove, the ever helpful technical wizard that she was, assured Homily that if there were sufficient supplies in the local armory, she could assemble suitable automated defenses to keep out the more common wandering threats in the Wasteland.

Its not that I was eager to get back to civilization, though I certainly was that. With all the little aches and pains that were plaguing me, I was looking forward to investing a portion of our payout into some quality medical care. Windfall's overconfidence was starting to concern me. I'd known that she respected idols like the Mare-Do-Well and the Lone Ranger. Larger than life ponies that were reportedly accomplishing monumental feats. The young flier seemed desperate to measure up to their successes, and that was what was leading her to take on such assignments as assaulting a bandit stronghold with just three ponies.

If she took on one of these tasks and failed—no, when she failed—the emotional blow would be...bad. Assuming that any of us survived the incident to begin with. Windfall's needed to start tempering her expectations. Not that it looked like she would be doing that any time soon. Not so long as we kept succeeding. I felt that the more impressive victories that were accrued, the greater the shock when one of her endeavors failed spectacularly.

That was why I'd suggested we hedge our bets and go home. Homily could gather a larger escort and try again, rather than pushing our luck the way that we were.

“When word gets out what happened to us the first time, who'd be stupid enough to sign up for a second attempt?” the yellow mare had pointed out when I'd posed the suggestion. It had been hard to fault her there. Only the stupid and desperate would have agreed after hearing about the disaster that the survivors had barely survived. A protective for of stupid and desperate ponies wouldn't be much of a protective force at all.

So now the fourteen of us walked across the Wasteland, heading further south. Well, thirteen of us were actually walking, Windfall was in the air, acting as our scout. Homily and I walked at the head of the column. Foxglove was moving between others in the line, chatting and exchanging technical knowledge. At the moment, she was debating with an argile earth pony stallion whether capacitors that used topaz gems as their cores were better than those that used peridot. It was a discussion that had both of them fully consumed, and had recently brought in a third pony who was extolling the virtues of citrine cored capacitors.

Homily was glancing over her shoulder at the heated conversation, her lips cocked in a tired smile. Then somepony threw the prospect of garnets into the mix and all tartarus broke loose. The yellow mare simply shook her head and returned her attention to the trail ahead, “I haven't seen them this happy in a long time.”

I glanced momentarily back at the jabbering ponies as well, “I think Foxglove's just thrilled to finally have ponies to talk to that understand all of that stuff.”

“Not a technical sort, huh?”

“Not hardly,” I snorted, “I can get a terminal to do what I want it to sometimes, but that's about it.”

“Same here,” the mare admitted.

“I thought you said that you were all a bunch of experts?”

“They're the experts,” the yellow earth pony nodded her head back towards the rest of the group, “I'm just the stubborn mare with crazy ideas who brought them all together.”

“So you're the one funding all of this?”

“Not really, no,” she admitted, “somepony else fronted the money. It was the strangest thing,” Homily went on as her mind worked to recall the string of events that had led her to this moment, “I knew about McMaren, and the Ministry of Image station there; and I was trying to put together a small team to go and see if it still worked. I wasn't having a lot of success though.

“Then, out of the blue, this brown earth pony walks up and says he knows somepony that will hire all the help I'd need and pay for our supplies. How could I say 'no'?”

“Because it's obviously too good to be true?” I posed, “they must have wanted something out of the deal. What was it?”

“An inside track,” the yellow mare smirked, “and the occasional..special broadcast,” the second part of the deal, Homily seemed much less happy about.

“He want's you to lie to your listeners.”

The mare cringed painfully, but was quick to defend herself, “he just wants me to slip in an exaggerated story or two. Nothing that would affect the average pony living in Neighvada; I made him swear that much before I agreed to this. Still, right now there isn't anything resembling a reliable news service in the valley. I figured that this had to be better than nothing,” there was an edge in her voice that suggested she was subtly asking me for a tacit confirmation of the justification that she'd come up with.

I'm sure a truly altruistic pony would have insisted that compromising her integrity like that would only serve to undermine her completely legitimate reports. If ponies didn't know what they could trust, then why trust anything at all? Of course, altruistic I wasn't; and I had my own issues with trust as it was. Besides, having a source of news about what was going on in Neighvada would have tremendous advantages for ponies like the three of us. Just as long as we also knew what was fact and what was fiction.

There wasn't much I could do to fault her benefactor though. Control what ponies know, and you could come close to actually controlling the ponies themselves. A few scenarios filtered into my mind where this could be well worth the investment I'd seen put into the expedition: such as setting up a way-station along a rarely used trade route and then broadcasting that the normal routes had seen a sharp increase in raider activity. Suddenly, your little pit stop is swarmed with caravans topping off their food and water while paying the properly inflated prices.

Nopony got hurt, not really; but whoever knew what the news was going to be ahead of time, and which stories were the bogus ones could make a small fortune in a very short amount of town. If whoever it was that had set this up was going to be in on the inside track, I wanted to be right there with them for all of the effort our small group was putting into making sure the enterprise actually succeeded. They owed me that much, I figured. Plus, it'd keep us from wasting a lot of time chasing down bad leads. I was sure that Windfall would appreciate that.

“As long as nopony's getting hurt, I can't see how it's a bad thing,” I provided by way of an answer to Homily, “you're just trying to do the best you can for the valley.”

The yellow mare seemed to relax a little, grateful for having her justifications vindicated. After all, I was just another good pony trying to do the right thing by helping other ponies in trouble. I was a perfectly reliable source for knowing what was and what wasn't an end that was justified by any means. We were alike.

Personally, I think you'd get on better with the pony that paid for all this, Whiplash remarked casually.

They were a pony that I was going to make it a point to meet when we got back to New Reino, there was no doubt about that. Both to make sure that I was getting in on the ground floor of their little media scheme, and to see what other work they had that might satisfy Windfall's little pseudo-quest without putting us all through the sort of risk we'd just managed to survive earlier.

A brief message flashed across my vision in the upper left corner. I faltered slightly in my steps, which drew the attention of Homily and a couple others nearby.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” I murmured as I sat down and quickly examined the fetlock-mounted device. My right hoof tapped at the buttons and carefully adjusted a dial. At the end, I tapped a button that enabled the pipbuck to play its audio feed aloud for the others to hear. The rest of our column gathered around to listen to what the pre-war contraption had just started to pick up.

“-weapons to protect you! If you can hear this message, we can provide you with protection. Equestria has not fallen! I say again: Equestria has not fallen!” there was a pregnant pause filled with static, then, “this is Colonel Bivouac at the McMaren Calvalry Base, broadcasting in the clear to anypony out there! We have food, clean water, medicine, and weapons to protect you! If you can hear this message, we can provide you with protection. Equestria has not fallen! I say again: Equestria has not fallen!”

The message continued to repeat on a loop. The ponies gathered around listened in awe to the scratchy voice of the disembodied mare whose message was being transmitted across the Wasteland. I noticed a second message that only I could see tick down and swapped the screen over to see the map. Only a dozen miles further south, a new location had been marked on the map. It was the base.

“It looks like we'll be there in a few hours,” I jerked slightly as Windfall's voice drifted over my shoulder. The pegasus had apparently noted us all huddle up and flitted over to see what had gotten our attention. The ivory flier ceased hovering and flung herself high up into the air, coming to a halt a few hundred yards above. I watched her hang there in the air for a few seconds before she floated back down to the rest of us, “I can see the tower from here. It looks pretty intact.”

“Intact and still working,” Homily affirmed with a relieved grin plastered across her face, “Celectia bless those ancestors of ours, they knew how to build things that last!”

Another member of her group, a unicorn stallion was peering at the map and rubbing his chin, “the signal's got to be really weak if we're only picking this up now,” he observed, “that tower's supposed to have been able to reach all the way to Roam.”

“Could just be a power issue,” another pony offered, “maybe a transformer went down. Signal strength is an easy fix as long as everything's working alright.”

“Well that message suggests it is,” the yellow mare pointed at my pipbuck her face still one glorious smile, “which is more than I could have hoped for.”

Foxglove peeked up into the sky, “we can be there before dark,” she noted.

“So what are we waiting for?!” Homily was off at a trot before the words were out of her mouth. The others of her group followed, though most didn't seem to mirror her level of enthusiasm. Hard to fault them for that, as there were still a few of them who were recovering from injuries and malnutrition. Windfall easily overtook the earthbound mare and resumed her post as the group's scout. I chose to hang back this time and cover our rear. Foxglove did the same.

“Mind if I take a look at that signal?” the unicorn mare asked.

I hesitated, but only for a brief moment before extending my arm. She was not only far more technically knowledgeable than anypony I knew, but she had been a stable pony on top of it. There was probably a lot that she could learn from my pipbuck about the transmission that I'd never even think to look for. So I sat in a slightly awkward pose while the mare manipulated the little device's controls and stared at the screen.

My eyes were on her face, carefully watching her expression as she parsed through her findings. I noticed her brows begin to knit themselves together in mild confusion as she studied the pipbuck, “what'd you find?”

“A few things,” she replied, sounding as though she was still trying to come up with explanations to her discoveries, “first, that broadcast isn't being sent over the radio, it's a general transmission to pipbucks. Which let me learn something else: the date the transmission started.

“This signal's only a couple decades old, not centuries.”

The two of us looked at each other for a long moment as I processed that information, “we're walking into a trap?”

The mare shrugged, but her features suggested that her own thoughts had been leaning that way, “I mean, the message is coming from McMaren, and there is a perfectly innocent explanation for those things.”

“Such as?”

“Maybe their radio did die, and so they patched a pipbuck into the transmitter to keep it broadcasting. Of course, that means that-”

“Somepony's still there,” I finished for the mare, my lips creasing in a frown as I pondered that realization.

“Or at least there was somepony there twenty years ago,” Foxglove corrected, “it doesn't mean it's a trap.”

“A group of ponies living in the Wasteland broadcasting a signal for anypony that gets close can hear, and nopony else has ever heard about this place?” I said, not hiding the suspicion in my voice, “there's only one way somepony who wants to be found can still be a secret like that.”

Foxglove nodded, “nopony ever leaves to tell anypony about it.”

“Exactly.”

“Do we warn the others?” her tone suggested there was little doubt in her mind that we should.

“Get word to Windfall that there might be bandits there,” I decided, “she can fly ahead and get a good look at things before we get there,” the unicorn nodded and galloped towards the head of the column of quickly moving ponies.

It wasn't a hour before Windfall called for us all to gather up. She had just returned from her reconnaissance flight to the base and was ready to share her findings, “the base is occupied,” she informed us, “ponies dressed in green uniforms. Most of them are armed.”

The expedition ponies reacted negatively to the news, Homily most of all, “more bandits?” she looked between the three of us, “do you think you can take them all out?” her voice was hopeful, but there was doubt plainly visible in her eyes.

“I...don't know if they're bandits,” Windfall admitted, and then elaborated, “they were...organized. Like, really organized. It was like watching NLR guards on patrol,” the flier hesitated a moment, chewing on her lower lip, “I...think they were soldiers. Equestrian soldiers.

Foxglove blinked, “you're not serious,” the mare sputtered, “there can't possibly still be Great War soldiers around anymore!”

“I don't know,” Windfall admitted, “but they even had the flag flying in the middle of the base!”

All of us were silent for a moment. Most residents of the Wasteland knew what the ancient national flag of our pre-war ancestors looked like. It served as a backdrop on many of the faded propaganda posters scattered throughout old ruins. Just one more relic of a world long gone. I'd certainly never heard of anypony flying those colors as a banner though. It was hard to conceive of any group that would still be embracing a culture like that after two centuries. Who would even still feel that sort of connection to a heritage that they never knew?

Unless...they did know about that heritage, I realized. Not every pony had hid in a stable when the megaspells and balefire bombs burned the world. The White Hooves had been one such group of dubiously fortunate survivors. Could there have been another? A group of soldiers at a remote outpost that hadn't made the list of primary targets for the zebra missiles?

“It might make sense,” Homily said, breaking the silence, “it's not impossible that the ponies there survived the war.”

“But that was two hundred years ago,” Foxglove pointed out.

“Maybe they're ghouls,” she shrugged, “maybe they're descendants. The point is that we might be able to work with them. Offer to fix their transmitter if they'll let us use it to make our broadcasts. They might not even know about all the other places in the Wasteland! We can really help these ponies!”

If they want to be helped, I mentally noted. I shared a brief look with Foxglove. The unicorn didn't look much more convinced than I was, but neither of us had any real sort of evidence that anything nefarious was going on. Having Windfall confirm that there were ponies living there, but that those ponies gave every indication of being relics of a bygone age didn't give us anything more to work with in developing our theories about why this settlement was unknown to the wider Wasteland.

Somepony would think that the cultural descendants of Old World ponies would be all about doing everything they could to rebuild Equestria to the way it had once been. On the other hoof, how many ponies in the Wasteland were really interested in that sort of thing? You had little bastions of civilization like Tenpony, Flank, and Seaddle, sure; but it's not like any of them were interested in banning together into anything remotely resembling a nation. Every group was just out for themselves, and nearly every time two or more groups met, it was on the field of battle and not in conference rooms to draft treaties and alliances.

Maybe the ponies here had tried once upon a time to pick up all the pieces left behind by their fallen princesses, and gave up when the impossibility of the task at hoof became too obvious to ignore. Now they just sat back in their little refuge and minded their own damn business to keep off the radar of the more hostile groups out there. Meanwhile, they advertised their services as a sanctuary to anypony who wandered by. As far out of the way as these ponies were, the only ones who were likely to come out this way were the desperate. Ponies who would jump at the notion of being accepted into a well-equipped group and probably given little thought to leaving anyway.

Whatever the case, Homily's mission was clear and hadn't really changed as a result of this new information. There was a working radio tower at McMaren, and she intended to get her hooves on it. Our mission was to keep her and her team alive long enough to do just that.

And if it did turn out that these uniformed ponies were on the up and up, then all the better for us. They'd have all sorts of weapons and gear that we could trade for.

I peered through the binoculars at the distant gate. There was a creamy colored unicorn mare leaning against a shack made of corrugated steel sheets just beyond it. I watched as the mare issued a bored yawn and brushed aside a few strands of pink hair that had escaped from beneath her helmet. I suppressed a reflexive yawn of my own and continued scanning the rest of the fence line.

The 'patrols' weren't doing a whole lot of active 'patrolling', I noted. Mostly it was just pairs of ponies standing around chatting with one another. Their uniforms weren't all identical, and had all seen a lot of wear and tear. The similarity of style was unmistakeable though. The affiliation was also quite clear. Those uniforms bore an uncanny resemblance to that worn by the long dead soldiers depicted in so many of the old recruitment posters in the Wasteland. Whether these ponies were genuinely part of some remnant of the defunct nation of old, or just clinging to some past ideal, I couldn't say.

I was forced to admit, however, that nothing about what I saw was screaming 'trap'.

From all appearances, it was a functional cavalry base. It also clearly possessed the large radio tower that Homily had hoped to find here as well. Judging by the size of it, I could understand why some of the ponies earlier had been underwhelmed by the range of its signal. The thing had to be nearly a thousand feet tall, at least! I had to admit though, that it didn't look to be in the greatest shape, and there were a few sections that boasted makeshift repairs.

I finally lowered my binoculars.

“So, what do you think?” Foxglove asked from nearby. Beyond her were the others, eagerly waiting for my appraisal. Windfall was on the ground as well, keeping out of sight with the rest of us until the decision had been made about how to proceed.

“It looks legit,” I admitted, noting that I sounded a little surprised myself. I had firmly expected to find what was clearly some sort of raider camp. Nothing about this suggested any such thing. Their uniforms, while tattered, looked to have been maintained as well as could be expected. The buildings looked to have seen regular repair, and the grounds themselves were rather well kept. It was all quite orderly, and what somepony would expect to find when looking at a military base. If these ponies weren't who they were claiming to be, then they were certainly as close as anypony could come.

The violet unicorn nodded and looked back at Windfall, “we should still be cautious,” she shifted her gaze briefly to the other ponies in the expedition, “seeing this many ponies heading their way might make them nervous. We should keep our weapons in their holsters.”

Windfall nodded, “you're probably right,” the flier looked to Homily, “you take the lead. This whole thing is your show after all.”

The yellow earth pony mare nodded, “right. Thank you,” she looked at all three of us in turn, “all of you. We wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

“Let's hold off on the thanks until we make contact,” I suggested with a wry smile, “there's still know way to know if they'll agree to your offer. This trip might still have all been for nothing.”

“I really hope not,” Homily sighed, but she did seem to temper her expectations a little at my warning, “but there's only one way to find out,” she motioned for the rest of her troupe to follow, “let's go and make our introductions.”

Homily led the way to the entrance of the Old World base, with Foxglove and I at her flanks. The rest of the expedition formed a gaggle behind us, while Windfall hovered close by. It wasn't long before we could see noticeable activity beyond the chain link fence. Ponies who had been keeping watch at other points along the perimeter were cautiously converging on the entrance.

It wasn't long before we'd advanced close enough for my pipbuck to note the ponies on my Eyes Forward Sparkle. Which caused a slight misstep when I first saw it. Normally, the pipbuck was rather clear about how it classified other ponies. Threats were red, and everything else was yellow. These ponies were yellow...most of the time. It was like their blips were...flickering? I'd seen the occasional blip swap over from one color to another when a pony's disposition changed during the course of an interaction, but this wasn't anything like that. The change was sporadic and rapid. It lingered on yellow most of the time, but would randomly blink red for fractions of a second.

I'd never seen it do that before. I wasn't even sure what to make of it. That didnt stop the little hairs on the back of my neck from bristling though.

By the time we arrived, there were close to a dozen ponies arrayed on the other side of the gate to meet us.

They remained silent as we approached, and I gratefully noted than none of them drew their weapons. A green mare with a close-cropped scarlet mane stood at the head of the uniformed group of ponies. Her topaz eyes watched us carefully as we drew near the gate. Our little entourage drew up just short of the gate before Homily cleared her throat and initiated the dialogue.

“Hi, um,” her voice cracked slightly, prompting her to clear her throat a second time as she tried again. If she was trying to suppress her embarrassed little blush, the mare was failing spectacularly, “we heard your broadcast,” she began again, her tone growing with more confidence as she spoke, “and we want to see if we can help each other.”

The green mare nodded, her expression still stern, “I'm Colonel Bivouac, and I'm willing to hear out your offer, Miss...?”

“Oh! Wow,” the yellow mare's blush intensified along with her embarrassment, “sorry. My name's Homily.”

“It's good to meet you,” the faintest glimmer of a smile peeked out from the corner of the colonel's lips as she nodded, “and what sort of help are you offering?”

“Well,” the yellow mare began nervously—this was the mare who wanted to speak to thousands of ponies? “we heard your broadcast, and we couldn't help but note how weak it is. We're all experienced technicians,” she gestured back at the rest of her group, “and we're pretty sure we can get everything working like new again if you'll let us.”

“That's awfully generous of you,” Bivouac nodded, “is this a free service you're offering?” Looking for the angle. I could appreciate this mare's mindset.

“Kind of,” Homily explained, “we're actually hoping that you'll let us use it. You see, my group is looking to set up a regular news broadcast to keep ponies in the Neighvada valley informed of what's going on. So, the deal is: we'll fix your equipment, if you'll let us use it. We can even help you get your own message out to more of the Wasteland!”

The colonel blinked at the offer. She looked to the side at another of the ponies with her, and the two of them exchange a few brief words that I couldn't make out. When the two were done, Bivouac looked back at Homily and nodded, “that...actually sounds like a very reasonable offer.

“I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to have to add a few additional conditions,” she went on, “we don't usually get such large groups of ponies arriving all at once, you understand.

“First, none of you will be allowed anywhere without at least two of my own ponies with you at all times,” she began, “this is for your safety as well as ours. The base is very old, and there are some places that aren't safe because of that; the magazines, armory, that sort of thing. Second, while I won't ask you to surrender all of your weapons, I would appreciate it if you at least kept them unloaded,” she must have noted the uneasy looks on mine and Windfall's faces, because she followed this demand up with an explanation, “once again, that's in the interests of everypony's safety. Even my own soldiers only have their firearms loaded while on guard duty,” a few of the ponies with her nodded in confirmation.

“If any of you are ever found to be on your own, or have a loaded weapon, you'll be asked to leave,” the colonel concluded, “is that acceptable?”

Homily wasted little time in voicing her assent, and quickly demonstrated her good faith by ejecting the magazine from her pistol and cocking back the slide to expel the chambered round. Her fellows followed suit, if not as gingerly. Windfall and I hesitated the longest. If things went wrong, I could probably load my 9mm pistol quick enough, but Full Stop wouldn't be an option until I got somewhere where I could put the rounds into the revolver. The pegasus would be in a similar boat. Thanks in part to Foxglove's alterations, loading the weapon could be a cumbersome affair. The trade off was that she rarely found herself needed to reload in anything short of a protracted fight.

Still, I'd have my knife and my hooves. I also noted that Foxglove hadn't so much as nudged her eldrich lance. Nor had any of the colonel's ponies made any indication that they thought of the metal pole as anything other than a simple staff. It would count us a lot if things went south. So, I proceeded to disarm.

Once the McMaren ponies were satisfied, they opened the gate, “welcome to McMaren Calvary Base,” Bivouac greeted with a broad smile, “the last bastion of Equestria.”

She looked over her should and barked a hasty order, “Sergeant Cypher!”

A mottled gray stallion snapped to attention, “ma'am!”

“Grab somepony and escort Miss Homily here and anypony she wants to take with her to inspect the radio room,” Bivouac returned her attention to the yellow mare, “I figure you'll want to get a look at what you're getting yourselves into before you get to work. Anypony else is welcome to go either with Lieutenant Abatis to the mess, or follow me to the barracks. I think we can find a few spare bunks for you.”

Food was tempting, but after the trek we'd just been on, I was a lot more interested in the bed. I was still a little sore from the fight in the salvage yard, and the hike hadn't done me a whole lot of favors. Homily and a couple other ponies headed off in the direction of the tower, while most of the others seemed quite eager to get a hot meal. Hard to blame them. Windfall, Foxglove, and I looked to be the only ones eager for a bed. Made sense. Of all the other ponies, we were the ones who had been eating regularly for the last few weeks.

“Still waiting for the other horseshoe to drop?”

I glanced over at the unicorn mare with a wry smile, “I don't even know anymore,” my eyes wandered over to Colonel Bivouac. Her blip was still yellow...most of the time. I'd ask Foxglove about it later when we were alone.

The scarlet maned commander brought us to a building that was in better condition than most. Inside was a long hallway with over a dozen doors on each side, “officer's quarters,” the colonel informed us, “not a lot of us left these days, so there are plenty of vacancies. If the door's open, the room's open. Latrines are in the middle—and yes,we do have hot water,” she added with the flash of a grin, “make yourselves at home. If you need anything, there'll be somepony right outside. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to check with Miss Homily and see what she thinks she can do for us.”

“Thanks for the hospitality,” Foxglove bowed her head slightly, “it's pretty rare to meet ponies like y'all out here.”

“More's the shame,” Bivouac mirrored the bow before leaving.

I peered through the nearest open doorways. Inside I saw a room that looked lived in at first glance. The night stand next to the bed had a few nick-knacks on it, and there was a fade Wonderbolts poster on the wall. However, the thick layer of dust on everything suggested that nopony had actually slept in this room for a long time. I stepped inside for a closer look.

The bed was nestled into one corner, and across the room from it was a desk and chair. I saw a couple of old books stacked on the desk. A few tomes that looked to have been part of a series dealing with a pegasus in a rather outrageous looking hat, at least one manual about military history, and even a book whose title suggested it dealt with zebra history. 'Know thy enemy,' I guess. A plague denoting some sort of award hung above the desk.

“I'm going to got see if the shower works,” Foxglove announced. I glanced out the door and saw that she had claimed the room across from mine and had wasted little time in stowing away all of her gear. The mare moved quick. A quick peek out into the hall revealed that Windfall had staked her claim in the room next to Foxglove's. I watched as the flier stifled a yawn and closed the door behind her.

I withdrew back into my own temporary quarters and closed the door. The room wasn't luxurious, but it was certainly comfortable enough. The bed had to be as old as anything that you were going to find in a stable, but its springs still seemed to possess some tension. I shucked my barding and saddlebags and crawled stiffly onto the mattress, sighing as I let myself relax for the first time in weeks. The flickering of the blips on my EFS still nagged at the back of my mind, but it was something that I could ask Foxglove about when she was done with her shower.

From all appearances, there wasn't anything sinister going on here. If these pones had wanted us dead, they'd had plenty of opportunities to do it up to this point, what with us all split up like we were. My eye twitched slightly. Actually, yeah, right about now would be the perfect time to take us all down. A few of use at the radio tower, a few more in the mess hall, and the three of use in these rooms; all without loaded weapons. A shiver started crawling up my spine as I considered how vulnerable we all were at this very moment.

Apparently I was far enough on edge that the soft knock at my door nearly sent me diving for my knife. Fortunately, I managed to draw myself up short, and only nearly fall off the bed. Ponies coming in here to kill me probably wouldn't have politely knocked first.

“Yeah?”

The door cracked open and a puple head with a pair of green eyes poke in. I relaxed visibly at the sight of Foxglove, “can I come in?”

I motioned for her to come all the way into the room, shaking my head at my own nervousness, “sure, what's up? I thought you wanted a shower?”

The mare cracked a smile, “shower can wait,” she closed the door behind her and walked over to the edge of the bed. I watched her curiously as she then proceeded to crawl up onto the bed and lie down next to me.

“Um...what are you doing?”

Foxglove shrugged and rolled onto her side, “nothing,” she said, a playful little glint in her eyes. She reached out with one of her forehooves and started to slowly trace it along my shoulder, “you're really tense,” she noted, “you should really relax.”

“Uh...” I didn't really have a coherent response for what was happening at this precise moment. Curiously enough, Whiplash seemed just as dumbfounded as I was. A fact for which I was pretty grateful. My brain was having enough trouble to process what was happening without also trying to deal with any snark from that yellow specter.

The unicorn mare put her hoof on my lips, “shush,” she said softly, “let's see if I can't get you to relax a little,” then she leaned her head in close and started nibbling at my neck.

Huh. I must have been more tired than I thought. Since, obviously, I had already fallen dead asleep and was currently having one of the most vivid dreams that I could ever recall having in my life. That was the only thought that served to explain what was going on right now. This had to be a dream. I was simply fantasizing about Foxglove nibbling on my neck...and now lapping daintily at my chest. It was all in my head. Her hoof was on my crotch, but this event was all in my head.

It was the only explanation.

That being the only possibility, and knowing that this was just a harmless dream; I foresaw no reason not to indulge. After all, what the Foxglove in the real world didn't know I did to her in my dreams, wouldn't come back to bite my in the ass.

I reached out and placed my hoof under Foxglove's chin, lifting the mare's head up nearer to mine. Without a word, I engaged her in an embrace that would certainly have betrayed my eagerness if this had been real. I'd been without for fucking years! Fantasy or not, it felt real enough and I was more than willing to settle for getting laid in a dream. What a dream it was too! I swore that I could actually taste her. It was like...well, actually, I couldn't place what it was like. I'd kissed a lot of mares in my life, but this was...very different.

When we separated for breath, I pulled back a little and looked at the mare. There was an eagerness in her eyes that actually put me off a little. It almost seemed like she was just as desperate for this as I was. Which, I guess made a lot of sense if this was my fantasy version of the unicorn mare. The violet unicorn latched herself onto my neck, her nips far more aggressive than they had been before. I could also feel her moving her body in closer to mine.

Wow. This mare knew what she was about! Even Saffron had never been this aggressive. Which was fine with me, in all frankness. I was still pretty tired, so if Foxglove wanted to do all the work, I wasn't going to stop her. Then my thoughts were interrupted as she left my neck and found my mouth again. She wrapped her legs around me and rolled me over on top of her. It was at about this moment that I discovered I was developing a strong inclination towards aggressive mares.

There was the sound of shattering glass nearby, but a brief glance confirmed that it was only a picture of Colonel Bivouac and a stallion I didn't recognize falling to the floor from where it had been sitting on the nightstand. I went back down for another kiss, offering my own nibbles on the unicorn's neck; relishing the groans they elicited.

Wait.

My head shot back up, and I quickly peered over the edge of the bed at the picture on the floor. Foxglove seemed mostly oblivious to my actions, as she leaned up and started licking my chest; which I only half-noticed. My attention was becoming more and more focused on the picture on the floor.

There was a green mare with orange eyes, and though the scarlet mane was long and braided in the photo and not short like that of the mare I'd seen only minutes ago; it was clearly the same pony. She was wearing a blue sundress, and clinging tightly to a broad-shouldered orange pegasus stallion wearing a Wonderbolt uniform. In the background was a banner that read, 'Best Young Fliers Competition 1012'.

It was only then that I noticed that Foxglove was looking at me with a rather annoyed expression, “are you fucking serious right now?” she frowned, “I'm throwing myself at you, and you're looking at some old picture?” Her eyes glanced downward briefly, “you obviously aren't gay, so what gives?”

“But it's the-”

There was a sudden pounding at the door that would have made me jump if Foxglove hadn't had a rather tight hold on me. Before I could even consider who might be calling on me right now, I received an answer that promptly threw my whole worldview for a loop.

“Jackboot, are you in there?!”

The voice coming from the other side of the closed door was, impossibly, Foxglove's.

My eyes went from the purple unicorn laying beneath me to the door, and then back again in utter confusion. A dumbfoundedness that was only further compounded by the look of annoyance on the mare's face. It was as though she was not actually surprised to hear her own voice coming from the door, but was rather merely perturbed by what it signaled.

Foxglove sighed, “well...shit.”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 15: YOU WERE ONLY FOOLING

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“Anything interesting going on around here?”

I could recall with vivid clarity the first time I knew that I was crazy. That first moment, when my estranged kin began to chide and deride just about everything I ever thought or did.

There was this bar in Megamart, back in Hoofington. At least, it was there when I first arrived. Who could say for sure if it still existed all these years later. When I knew it, it was exactly the sort of place I liked. Quiet, out of the way, and cheap. There was also a steady stream of mares willing to demean themselves for a quick cap, especially if you bought them a few rounds first. Everything that I was looking for when it came to relaxing between Wasteland adventures.

One day, a mare walked in that I hadn't seen there before. Ragged looking thing. It had looked like she'd just stumbled out of the worst parts of the Wastes. She didn't have a cap to her name, naturally. Wasn't particularly cute either, in my estimation. In fact, I would have been completely oblivious to that mare, except that she had born an uncanny resemblance to Whiplash. Her coat had been the right shade of dirty yellow, though most of that was probably the grime. Her mane had been the right color as well; and though her red eyes bore a timidity that had been absent from the sibling I'd seen order my execution, their shade was almost a match too.

That was when I'd first heard the tiny little voice in the back of my mind. So soft at first, but present. It had urged me to approach the mare, buy her a meal, offer her a drink. She'd been hesitant at first. I wasn't exactly the vision of altruism back in that day, when looking like a pony that could hold his own in a fight was what kept you from getting pounced by every two-cap lowlife looking for an easy target. But she hadn't been in much of a position to refuse, not really. So she had accepted the food, and my company along with it.

The voice kept whispering to me, feeding me what to say to the mare. I expressed my condolences when she told me about how the cannibalistic raiders of the Hoofington area had descended on her family's caravan. She'd been the only survivor, and had lost everything in the attack. She didn't know what to do, and was frightened for the future. It was a tragic story, to be sure.

At the urging of that little voice, which was growing ever louder and clearer in my head, I offered her a place to stay until she got on her feet. I'd pay for her meals, provide her with a bed to sleep in. Again she hesitated at first, but a few carefully posed questions about her other available options and a couple more rounds of Wild Pegasus, and the little earth pony mare agreed to follow me home.

That voice became very loud in my head that night; and I was finally able to place it. It had been the voice of my father, and he screamed for me to perform every sort of depravity I could conceive of on the unfortunate mare that looked so much like that bitch who'd destroyed my life. Celestia damn me if I didn't listen to him too.

Damn that mare for being stupid enough to follow me home again the next night. Steel Bit had only just been getting started that first time. The second night, things started to get out of hoof. Before I even knew what I was doing or why, I was actually punching her in the face and screaming Whiplash's name at the top of my lungs. It was a miracle I didn't kill her.

There hadn't been a third night, because that morning I gathered up everything I owned and left for Flank.

The experience had shaken me to my core. Steel Bit had managed to become a constant companion from that moment on. He'd always been there, I realized. I'd always heard a quiet little voice in my head reminding me what my father would expect of me. It had been that little voice that got me through all my arena fights growing up, and let me do what needed to be done to the ponies that bucked the indisputable superiority of the White Hooves.

I just hadn't known what the voice meant until that moment; when I stopped being Jackboot looking to have a good time with a pliant mare; and became Steel Bit, screaming obscenities at the daughter too weak and worthless to resist him.

From that moment on, I knew that I was crazy, and that I needed to keep a close eye on that voice, and the ones that followed.

Then there was this moment right now, when I realized that I had finally snapped completely under the weight of the stress the Wasteland built up in my life.

Like part of some prepubescent little fantasy, Foxglove had wandered into my room and made some rather unexpected—if not unpleasant—sexual advances. Not wanting to disrespect the spirit of what had clearly been a dream, I had cooperated with—what I would look back at in hindsight as—a rather embarrassing amount of enthusiasm. Things had started escalating quickly, as was expected in a purely mental encounter such as this.

Then the moment had come to a rather abrupt halt as my attention was drawn by the two hundred year old picture of a mare that I had just met that evening. Given the context of everything that had been happening up until that moment, such a sight could have been very easily chalked up some underlying portion of my psyche creating a random nonsensical moment; as dreams were often want to do. Of course, even for my rapidly unhinging mind, that picture had been a bit too on the nose.

Frankly, under most conditions, my subconscious had all the wit and creativity of a radroach.

Of course, the picture had just been the beginning of my unraveling. Strike two had been the sound of Foxglove's voice coming from the other side of the door to my temporary quarters. The voice of the same Foxglove that I was currently engaged with in my bed. Neither of these, somehow, prepared me for what strike three was going to be...

There was a brief flash of green light arcing around the edge of the door frame, and then the simple wooden portal fell down. I watched in stunned silence as a doppelganger of the violet unicorn that I had been traveling with for the past few weeks stormed into the room with what at first had been an expression of worry and concern. Her face blanched rather suddenly as her eyes found me and...herself, on the bed. Very quickly, and with a speed that was hard to keep up with, she adopted a rapid string of emotions and sputters that finally ended on something very much like cold fury. The unicorn mare was very silent as she looked at the two of us. Her eldrich lance hovered at her side, the tip of it glowing with a sickly green light.

Who she intended to use it on next seemed rather unclear, even to her, right now.

Without a word, she strode further into the room, dragging something behind her in an emerald telekinetic field. Very few things could have torn my attention away from the furious looking double of the mare that I was mounting. Somehow, this second Foxglove had managed to bring just one of those things with her.

Adding to the list of impossible things that had happened in the last two minutes, I watched, my mouth agape, as Foxglove dragged into the room, a neatly bound and gagged...me. A me that was looking very much just as resigned as the mare that I was sharing a bed with.

“This is the weirdest dream I've ever had in my life,” I mumbled, half in shock.

“It's not a dream, moron,” the lance-wielding Foxglove snapped, looking patently disgusted with what she was seeing, “now would you mind...stopping that, so we can get to the bottom of this?”

I blinked, “this isn't a dream?”

“No. It's not,” Foxglove number two reiterated. I looked down at the unicorn beneath me, who nodded her own head in resigned confirmation.

I blinked again, “what's going on?” I asked weakly, still not moving. I couldn't genuinely be seeing a copy of myself and Foxglove, could I?

“Get off the bed!” the angry Foxglove screamed at the top of her lungs.

It wasn't the most graceful dismount I'd ever executed. Then again, I'd never done so under conditions quite like these before. This was...very much not a dream, I began to realize as my brain stopped grinding its gears and managed to finally start gaining some momentum. The EFS became the focus of my attention now as I looked around the room. Two of the blips in the room were flickering the way they had outside. Only the Foxglove with the lance retained a perpetual solid yellow color; which I took to be a good sign on my part. As furious as she looked, it was immeasurably comforting to know that she wasn't going to dice me up any time soon.

Though that wasn't to say that I hadn't seen such a blip turn crimson at the drop of a bit in the past. So I made a note to remain on my best behavior until the situation had been resolved.

Beyond the room, I noted a second yellow tick that must have been Windfall, as well as an additional flickering dot.

“Windfall?” I asked, that cold wave of concern for the pegasus doing far more to douse me back into complete lucidity than the rather surreal moments earlier.

“She's fine,” the armed unicorn assured me, not taking her eyes off of...herself, “she's keeping an eye on...um...another you.”

“What?” Exactly how many of me were there in this place?

The purple unicorn on the bed groaned in exasperation, adopting an icy glare of her own at the bound stallion on the floor, “you doubled up? What are you, stupid? You never double up!” she grunted with disgust at me. Er, the other me.

The rust colored stallion on the floor wriggled his head in an effort that managed to get him just free enough of the improvised gag so that he could respond. If I thought that seeing a duplicate of myself had been disorienting, that was nothing compared to hearing that double speak with my own voice, “we didn't have a choice,” he insisted defensively. He jerked his head in my direction, “he was the only believable option for both of them.”

“Really?” the mare on the bed said, looking in my—the real me's—direction, “color me impressed.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” I demanded, “who the fuck are you?” more importantly, I suppose, “what are you?”

“Oh, now that would be telling,” the bed borne Foxglove smiled coyly.

“How about 'telling' why we shouldn't kill the both of you right now?” the pony I presumed was the real Foxglove growled, her lance darting over to her twin. The end crackled menacingly with green light as the enraged unicorn threatened to duplicate with the mare, the same trick she had just performed on the door.

“We don't mean you any harm,” the other mare insisted. She kept her tone far cooler than most probably would have under the circumstances. She kept a wary eye on the lance, but otherwise retained an eased composure.

“So then what the fuck was all this about?” Foxglove snarled.

“We just want you, all of you, to feel happy,” the other mare said in a reassuring tone, “to feel loved.

“That's it,” she frowned slightly now, “I'm sorry you found out like this. Most ponies don't catch on so quick,” her glared returned as she briefly glanced back at the bound stallion, “of course, most of the time we don't double up...”

“Hey, it wasn't my fault” the other stallion snapped sourly, “she knew something was up before she saw both of us.”

“Oh?” the other purple unicorn was looking at Foxglove now. I was looking at her curiously as well.

Foxglove glanced in my direction, “you came into the shower and tried to kiss me. So I punched you in the face. I knew it was something you'd never try on me,” her cold gaze looked at her double for a moment and then back at me, “we're going to have to have a talk after this, by the way.”

“I suggest you start with techniques,” the unicorn on the bed smirked, “because he needs to work on his,” her eyes danced in my direction with a pitying glint, “do you even know what you're doing down there?”

Despite herself, the real Foxglove seemed to momentarily laps in her ire and actually let out a short braying laugh that she immediately reined in. For my part, I was rather bewildered by how the conversation had managed to derail so suddenly from discussing why there were ponies pretending to be us to my alleged lack of bedroom prowess. The unicorn with the lance had managed to recompose herself and resume her serious glare at the imposters, but the one on the bed was still smirking with amusement.

“Wha-?” I stammered, caught off guard by the unflattering appraisal, which I felt was a rather unfair one, given that, “we barely even did anything! It'd been less than a minute!”

The mare snorted, “once you've been with as many ponies as I have, you can tell immediately whether they're bringing anything worthwhile.”

“Exactly how many ponies have you slept with?” I cocked my eyebrow, unable to restrain my curiosity.

“Hundreds?” the mare frowned as she mentally tallied her conquests, “hey, Coleo,” she looked at the bound stallion, “what was that monthly average you calculated a while back?”

“Five point three seven,” he replied.

“So, I guess that makes it somewhere around...six hundred?”

“Give or take,” he nodded his confirmation.

“Trust me, there was a lot more taking in there,” the mare frowned sourly, “I feel like I'm always stuck being the mare...”

“Can we focus, please?” I ventured, wondering once more how we'd wandered so far off of what should have been the primary focus of the conversation. We were being attacked after all...weren't we? I mean, I guess if we were, it had to be one of the most underwhelming ambushes that I'd ever been a part of. Yet, also one of the more stimulating too. If, not incredibly flattering.

“Funny, I was wanting you to do the same thing just a few minutes ago...”

“Anyway!” I growled in frustration, focusing my attention on the unicorn standing near the door in an attempt to address our more pressing concerns, “so what's the plan? Shoot our way out?”

Foxglove frowned as she considered the option, “we need to find the others first, and find out if they're in danger or not.”

“Ugh! Nopony's in danger,” the other mare insisted, “we don't want you dead.”

“So...what? You just want to have sex with us because...?” Foxglove prompted.

“Because we want you to feel good,” she assured us, looking genuinely exasperated, “what's so wrong about that?” cautiously, she rose up from the bed and stepped off. The lance continued to hover nearby, but Foxglove allowed her double the leeway to get up. The doppelganger's eyes were on me, “obviously, she doesn't like you being with a pony that looks like her, but that's an easy fix,” she smiled as a wave of jade fire ignited at the tip of her nose and swept through her entire body.

In the blink of an eye, I was no longer staring at a duplicate of Foxglove, but of the lithe ivory flier in the next room. She was a perfect representation of Windfall, down to the little scars that marked her flesh. Blemishes born of a hard and violent life in the Wasteland. One of her wings flipped up and brushed my cheek as those intense blue eyes bore into mine, “oh...” she cooed as she looked up at me, speaking in the same soft voice of the pegasus, “I think you like this one better anyway...”

I pulled away from the pony that wasn't Windfall, swallowing hard as I firmly instructed my body not to react to this mare's advances, “what do you really look like?” I croaked out hoarsely.

The seductive little smile of the pegasus mare's face faltered slightly, “there's no fantasy in that,” she said coolly, “no feelings of longing and desire. You don't want the real me,” she glanced at her outstretched wing as she brought the tip to her mouth and gently nibbled at it, “you want her.”

“There's got to be somepony out there you wouldn't punch for trying to kiss you,” my own double chimed in from his place on the floor, looking up at Foxglove, “I'm perfectly willing to be that pony for you. Stallion, mare, it doesn't matter much to me,” he looked at his hooves, “you can even keep me tired up, if that's what you're into?”

“We need to warn the others,” Foxglove insisted. She didn't seem at all interested in taking my double up on his offer; which inflicted a disappointed frown on the propositioning pony.

“Yeah,” I nodded my head in agreement, not taking my eyes off of the uncanny recreation of Windfall in front of me. The pegasus' face soured at my assent, “we should get out of here.”

Windfall was no longer looking sultry, but disappointed. She let out a defeated sigh, “we could have had a lot of fun, you and I. I could have taught you a lot about making a mare squeal,” then she shrugged, “oh well. I'm sure the others will be enough.”

Before I could work out what the ivory pegasus had meant by that, she lunged at me. It was actually a rather terrifying sight, as the pony diving for me lost many of the features that made her a pegasus and acquired a few that firmly classified her as something...else. Her mouth unhinged to a frighteningly unnatural width, revealing a maw filled with countless black, needle-like, fangs. Flecks of green spittle flew out of her mouth on the cusp of a high-pitched screech that threatened to shatter my eardrums. Her brilliant sapphire eyes clouded to pale cyan orbs that were devoid of pupils.

I was being attacked by something that I could only describe as a demon wearing the skin of a pony. I was also unarmed, and those fangs looked like they could have easily bitten me in half if they got a good hold of me. It didn't look like Foxglove was going to able to use her lance to give me any support either, as the unicorn was dealing with her own problem at the moment. Either here knot tying skills were far less impressive than her mechanical prowess, or my double had been faking this whole time. In either case, he was very much free and rolling around on the floor with Foxglove. She'd managed to get her lance in between them, using it to keep his own gnashing jaws occupied.

Perhaps I held no weapons, but I wasn't without some ability. I met the mare's charge and spun with the momentum of the attack. A quick step and a little pressure with my foreleg, and I managed to send Windfall's double flipping over into the wall, where she collided with a rather pronounced crackling sound. Another burst of emerald flame surrounded her. When it dissipated, I wasn't looking at Windfall anymore.

The pony that rolled up onto its hooves and snapped its maw at me in a vicious snarl was a pony only in the sense that it shared some of the most basic anatomical characteristics. It was possessed of four limbs than ended in hooves, but those limbs, like the rest of its body, were as black as the inside of a gun barrel. The lower sections of those limbs looked like they had been shot away, possessing several holes that penetrated clear through. A pair of sheer blue wings quivered on its back, adding a furious faint buzzing sound to the room. Those pale blue monochrome eyes were framed within a glistening black shell of a skull. A twisted facsimile of a horn protruded from its forehead.

Damn, Whiplash remarked in a deadpanned tone, and you were about to fuck it, too.

“Not helping!” I lashed out with my right hoof and caught the creature in its jaw. When I had caressed this thing as Foxglove, their flesh had felt as soft and pliable as that of any mare. Beneath my hoof now, with its true form revealed, was a cold carapace that reminded me of hitting a Sparkle-Cola bottle. Only, not nearly as fragile.

It reeled at the hit, but shook the blow off rather quickly. Its mouth opened up to that unnatural degree once more and released a braying scream that set my skull vibrating before it lunged a second time. That gaping chasm of ebony daggers looked like they intended to swallow my whole head. I reflexively swept up with my left leg. I heard the sound of grinding metal as those jaws clamped down onto the casing of the old pipbuck strapped around my limb. The force of the collision pitched me onto my back; and suddenly I found myself in a position very similar to the one that I'd seen Foxglove in only a few moments ago.

The difference was that I knew a good deal more than the unicorn about how to turn this fight around.

I relaxed my left arm and let the shape shifting monster get her head to within mere inches of my face. Then I through my right hoof around its neck while simultaneously kicking out with my left hind leg at its own rear limbs. I felt the momentary shift in the creature's weight as it suddenly lost its support for its flank and took the initiative by throwing my weight to my left, using my right hind leg to help propel the roll. Thrown off balance by the sudden shift in their center of gravity as their body was simultaneously pulled forward and without any hind legs for stability, I had little problem in putting them on their back.

Now I was the pony on top in this fight. Their teeth were still clamped around my pipbuck, but that only worked even more in my favor. I leaned my own weight forward, pinning the creature's head to the floor. My free right hoof pummeled them mercilessly in what I knew to be vulnerable portions of the head for a typical breed of pony. They looked vaguely similar enough, so I hoped that there might be a little parallel in that regard as well. My hoof came down again and again on the orbit of their eye socket and the point where their jaw attached to the rest of their skull.

I could feel their own forelegs frantically kicking at me in an attempt to push me away from them; but it was too late. Their mandible cracked with sickening clarity under my vicious strikes, robbing them of their control of their own jaw. Limp fangs caught on the squared edges of my pipbuck, locking it in their mouth and thus fixing me in place close to them. I ignored the hooves raking my ribcage and continued my assault on their skull. The screeching was muffled, and had taken on a rather desperate tone as they desperately thrashed in an effort to dislodge me; but I wasn't going anywhere.

Finally I felt their orbit give way beneath my hoof. A web of cracks exploded across the monster's face as the ebony shell shattered. Pale blue spheres that had once been filled with a desire to kill and rend my flesh from my bones, now glistened with terror as they beheld my own determined snarl. There was an emerald flash of flame as my hoof came down for the killing blow.

My snarl fell away in an instant. A brief glimmer of despair gripped my heart as my mind reacted to what it saw, and not what it truly knew deep down. I would later reflect on this moment, and know what this demon pony had intended. It had simply been too late for their plan to have any meaningful affect. My strike was already committed. I couldn't have recalled it even if I'd been possessed of a desire to.

So it was that I found myself with my rusty red hoof buried in the skull of an alabaster pegasus mare with a short teal striped mane and bright blue eyes. The image held for only the briefest of moments. Whatever magic the monster had used to create its illusions died with its body. The eyes paled, the mane vanished, and the white darkened into black before my eyes. Yet, for that one impossible moment, contrary to everything I knew intellectually; I was haunted by a thought that shook me to my core:

I had killed Windfall.

It was a lie, and I knew that almost as soon as the thought entered my brain. Yet, that did nothing to erase the memory of how I had felt for that single fleeting second. My hoof had dealt a lethal strike to the mare I had spent the better part of a decade protecting and raising. For that fraction of a second...I'd heard Steel Bit laughing with unbridled mirth.

He'd sounded a lot like me.

Did we learn something about ourselves, Brother dear?

“Little help?!”

I looked across the room. Foxglove was still struggling with her own adversary. In the back of my mind, I made a mental note to induct the unicorn into the same unarmed instruction course that I had put Windfall through when I'd taken the pegasus on. If the mare was going to be a permanent fixture in our group, she was going to need to learn how to fight. In the meantime, I dashed over to my discarded barding and drew my knife from its sheath. The monstrous creature trying to sink their fangs into Foxglove's face and didn't even seem to notice my approach.

With a flick of my head, I sank the combat knife clutched in my teeth into the creature's throat. It was a monster that I'd never seen before and I knew nothing about their biology. They did look a lot like ponies though, even when not wearing one of us as a disguise, so I was hoping that they possessed similar critical points. Whether I hit something vital or not, my strike certainly grabbed the creature's attention. It reared up, letting loose a piercing scream whose volume forced me to wince. The reaction was a least enough for Foxglove to free her lance from its grasp. The unicorn wasted little time in turning it from a defensive barrier into an offensive weapon. There was a brief emerald flash and the scream abruptly ended.

I shook the knife, dislodging the severed head and thorax from the blade, letting the chunk of dead flesh fall to the floor and join the other half of the corpse. Only a momentary glance was spared for the unicorn mare before I charged out of the room and sought out Windfall. Both the solid yellow blip that was the pegasus, and the now solid red dot which must have been the third creature were just about on top of each other. The anxiety over what I might find when I arrived drove me to move far more quickly than I would otherwise have thought possible.

That anxiety was immediately proven to have been misplaced. While Foxglove's knowledge of hoof-to-hoof combat was virtually non-existent, Windfall had been practicing such skills for the majority of her life. So while the violet unicorn had been immediately pinned and was only barely able to keep her attacker at bay, the ivory flier was actually the dominant party in the altercation with her opponent.

Which made things a little uncomfortable for myself, as the pony that she currently had restrained in an obviously painful hold was, well, me. A rather fresh memory of a recent altercation between the two of us flashed through my head. Both ponies glanced up from their tussle and locked their eyes on me.

“Feel free to join in at any time,” came the growled invitation.

Except, it hadn't been Windfall who had made the comment. There was a brief moment where I simply stood in the doorway in confusion as to why that impostor could possibly have thought that I was there to help them in the fight. Then I almost immediately recalled that a couple minutes ago, there had been a second disguised version of myself. This doppelganger must have thought that I was their friend come to help them.

Judging from the icy expression on Windfall's face, she had jumped to that same conclusion.

Horseapples.

“No, wait-!”

The garbled words barely even made it out of my mouth before the pegasus was in motion. While my instruction had provided a solid foundation for the flier's knowledge of close quarters brawling, her drastically different physiology had allowed for innovative variations of those techniques that I could never have conceived of, let alone performed. I was restricted to two possible fulcrums during a fight: my shoulders and my hips. Any throw or movement required that at least one of those parts of my body be in contact with something rooted in order to transfer power into a hit or throw. Windfall possessed a third such point: her wings. What was more, these could use the very air itself as a platform to push against.

Everywhere and anywhere was a surface against which she could brace herself, so long as she had room enough to spread her wings. The young pegasus demonstrated this fact now by flipping her whole body around while still maintaining her iron grip on the pony in her grasp, dragging them along for the ride. Windfall wasn't just spinning in mid air either, a flick of her wings had propelled her forward, bringing her hind hooves within reach of my head when they finished arcing around. I managed to get a leg up in time to ward off the brunt of the hit, but the momentum of her flip soon brought my doppelganger around to collide with me as Windfall released her hold and used them as a cudgel against me.

That hit I had not been ready for, and taking the thrown weight of a full-sized pony sent me sailing back out through the doorway into the hall beyond. I hit the far wall with a grunt and felt the knife go flying from my mouth. Judging from the pained sound nearby that closely mirrored my own, my double had not enjoyed the exchange either.

“Damn does that pegasus know how to fight,” I heard somepony nearby mutter in my own voice.

“Tell me about it,” I grumbled in reply as I struggled to my hooves. I soon found myself looking into my own face, which was currently regarding me with an expression that bordered on confused. Familiar brown eyes searched mine for a few brief seconds, then went wide with surprise.

“Wait, you're not...oh fuck!”

The hallway felt a lot more crowded now. Foxglove had emerged from the room that we'd been fighting in, and Windfall was in the doorway that I'd just been thrown through. The unicorn's expression was uncertain, while the flier's was murderous. My double noticed those other two ponies and seemed to draw the correct conclusion about what had happened to their comrades. Then I was surprised when I saw his concern shift to mirth as he lowered his head and snarled at me.

“Come here, you impostor!”

“Wait. What-?”

Then they were upon. I'll admit that the initial charge had surprised me as my brain had tried to make sense of what they had meant by their comment. After all, they were the impostor, not me! It only took a couple of seconds rolling around on the floor to figure out what the plan had been though. I knew which of us was the real Jackboot, and who the monster actually was; but how would either of the other two be able to tell? My double even had a pipbuck on their leg.

We grappled in the hall for several minutes. That wasn't to say that this was a melee that I was in danger of losing any time soon. I maintained a noticeable upper hoof throughout; but it was hard to truly put this other pony down definitively. Every time I was about to get them in a fight-ending hold, they'd slip away at the last moment. I was certain that they were briefly and subtly morphing their form to escape my grasp. However, if they were, it wasn't producing the same sort of obvious visual display that their total metamorphoses produced.

Eventually, my double managed to successfully escape from me completely and put several feet of distance between us. I was about to lunge at them and renew our tussle, but it seemed that Foxglove at least had grown tired of waiting for a victor to emerge. Before I'd even made it half a step, her lance interjected itself between us, flashing a warning flare from its cutting tip. I immediately came to a halt, glancing at the two mares. My doppelganger did the same.

The unicorn exchanged a brief look with Windfall, her expression uncertain, “how do we figure this out?”

Windfall thought for a moment, her eyes shifting between the two Jackboots standing in front of her, “I could ask them something only the real Jackboot would know,” she suggested.

To my mind that sounded like a rather good idea, and I was about to make such a comment when my double spoke up, “what good's that going to do?” he protested irritably, “these things can probably read our minds,” he flashed me a lethal glare, “they did try to make themselves look like ponies that we'd let get close to us. How could they know that?”

“You lying sack of shit,” I spat, “you just don't want her asking the questions because you know it'll find you out!”

“And you want her to ask the questions because you'll just read the answers from her head,” he looked at the pegasus, “and what happens when I get it wrong because I might not remember what happened as well as you do; while all that thing has to do is look in your head?”

I looked on with seething rage as the creature wearing my face appealed to the flier. There was fear in me too, as I could see that Windfall looked like she was buying that load of lies, “you lying fuck,” I snarled, ready to launch at them again and renew our fight. Only Foxglove's hovering lance kept me playing nice as she sent it darting in between us to keep the tentative peace in the hall.

Windfall looked at the unicorn, doubting her suggestion now, “could that be true?”

“I don't know,” she admitted. Her own tone suggested that she was seriously considering the idea to be plausible. I kept my mouth shut, biting back my anger. My doppelganger certainly had a way of playing off of the doubts of other ponies where their friend's identities were concerned. He'd probably been through this sort of stand off before.

Given that he was still standing here; if he had done this before, he was obviously good at it. Probably a lot better than I would be, since I'd never had to convince somepony that I was the real Jackboot before.

“What else could we try?” Windfall asked of the other mare.

“They bleed green blood,” Foxglove pointed out.

“Are you seriously going to shoot us?” Much to my own dour amusement, the both of us managed to asked the same question with nearly identical tones; which did nothing to raise my hopes of winning this competition.

“It'd just be a graze,” Windfall offered helpfully. Neither of us looked amused, “well then what else can we do?!” she said in exasperation, “you both look completely identical!”

She was right about that. Looking at that other rust-colored pony standing beside me felt like a rather unsettling out of body experience. My double had even go so far as to mimic the little scars on my face and limbs. Every little detail had been replicated perfectly, right down to my...

My eyes widened, an a smirk tugged at my lips, “my brand,” I said, softly at first, and then more loudly, “the brand on my back!” I jabbed my hoof in the direction of the other me, “he doesn't have it!”

There was a moment's confusion on the other stallion's face, but he was quick to cover it up, “of course I have it,” he sneered at me.

“Bullshit,” I scoffed, “I can see from here you don't have it,” I looked at Windfall, “have him show you his back!”

The doppelganger met the pegasus mare's gaze, ready with a response, “he just wants to see it clearly so he can mimic it,” he protested, “make that impostor show you his back first!”

“At the same time,” I quickly suggested, “check us both at the same time. You count, and we'll turn around,” I smiled victoriously at the impostor. His mouth was pressed together in a thin line as he likely tried to come up with some reasonable explanation why my suggestion wouldn't solve the riddle of which of us was the real Jackboot. It was clear, however, that the two mares had accepted the simple trial, and I certainly couldn't think of any plausible argument against it.

Windfall nodded her assent, “alright, on three. One. Two. Thr-”

Before the pegasus could finish her count, my double made a break for it. They did not make an attempt to harm either myself or the mares, but instead launched themselves towards the doorway. Jade fire illuminated the corridor as the disguise was shed and a black, winged, demon with a pony's shape darted for the exit. There was no way that I would be able to catch up to them, and even Foxglove's telekinetic field looked to have a limit on the velocity that it could maneuver her lance.

It was not able to outrun bullets however. Where she'd had it hidden, I couldn't have told you. Honestly, I didn't even know that the pegasus had taken to carrying a smaller sidearm at all. It was fortunate that she did though. A trio of forty-five caliber slugs raced down the hall after the fleeing ebony creature. Two caught it in the flank, the third gouged a hole in the ceiling—up and to the left of the target, I noticed. The hits were damaging enough to bring the monster down though. Their landing was less than graceful as the jet form tumbled along the floor and slammed into the frame of an open door. I couldn't tell if it was still alive or not, but it certainly didn't get immediately back up if it was.

The pegasus glared after her target, the pistol still clutched in her mouth. Foxglove's lance was brought to hover near the body in case it hadn't been outright killed by the flier. Only then did Windfall lift up her right wing and expose a small leather holster strapped high and tight near the joint. She tucked the weapon into its hidden carrier and deftly folded the wing down over it. With the limb down, her ivory pinions completely obscured any sign of the weapon or its holster. Even knowing it was there, I couldn't find any sign of its existence.

“When'd you get that?” I asked of the pegasus, nodding at her wing. I'd never even seen her pick up another firearm since she'd adopted her two submachine guns.

She glanced briefly at me, her gaze still rather cold with the same glare that she'd had for the fleeing shape shifter. She didn't hold my gaze for very long. In fact, she looked away rather suddenly. I could have sworn that I'd also seen her tense up when she looked in my direction, “just felt like it was good to be prepared,” she walked towards the creature before I could ask more.

Prepared for what?

She carries a secret gun that she never told you about, Whiplash tapped her hoof to her chin as she feigned pondering a tough riddle, that she didn't let you see her buy; or ever took out and cleaned while you were around. I wonder who she felt like she needed to be prepared for...

“You fuck it up, and I'll end you myself.”

That was the promise that Windfall had made to me.

She's ready for you to turn on her at a moment's notice, the idea sounded as though it filled my sister's specter with glee, I guess it's going to take you a while to earn back her trust, huh?

Whatever. I trotted over to join the other two mares.

“It's still alive,” Foxglove informed us, motioning to the creature. I looked down and saw that green froth was bubbling around the corners of its open mouth, and I could indeed hear a faint wheezing sound as it struggled for breath, “we should question it. Find out what they're really after.”

“Can we trust anything it says?” I didn't bother to hide the skepticism in my tone. These things seemed very adept at deception, “we should get out of here as quickly as possible.”

“Homily and her friends could be in danger right now too,” Windfall pointed out, “we can't just leave them behind.”

“Do you think we can really fight all of these things?” I asked, dubious, “there're dozens of them.”

“And they could look like anypony,” Foxglove admitted reluctantly, “how would we know if we found the real Homily?”

I only just barely managed to bite back the words that threatened to spill out of my mouth. Neither of them knew that my pipbuck reacted rather uniquely when it came to identifying these creatures. I would know at a glance which pony was the real deal and which one was an impostor. Of course, if I said anything, that would only compel the others to want to stay and make an attempt at fighting these things to save those other ponies. Ponies we had only just recently finished rescuing once already, I might add.

Our contract had been to rescue Homily and her crew from those bandits and then get them to McMaren, that was it. Nothing had been mentioned about fighting an army of shapeshifting doppelganger monsters once we'd gotten there. If our employer wanted to set up a follow-up contract, that was another matter; but I'd already risked my life saving those ponies once this week. There was a limit to my kindness.

I mentally glared in defiance at the yellow pegasus in my head.

Of course, she wasn't alone in here, was she? An additional tenant had taken up residence in recent weeks. While not telling the others about how my Stable-Tec device perceived these creatures wasn't an outright lie, per say; that other little orange cunt didn't seem particularly found about lies of omission either. Between Yellow Bitch's pleas for altruism, and the now formally christened Orange Cunt's insistence on telling the whole truth, I felt forced to finally capitulate.

“I'd know,” I sighed in exasperation.

Both mares looked at me in surprise, “what? How?” Foxglove asked, curious.

I held up the Old World device on my fetlock, “the Eyes Forward Sparkle,” I explained, “it does weird things when I see them. Like it doesn't know what to make of these things.”

The pegasus mare frowned at me, “and you never thought to mention this when we first got here because...?”

“I didn't know what it fucking meant,” I snapped at the violet mare, none too fond of the accusing tone in her voice, “it's not like I can look at somepony with this thing and immediately know their name and species!” that wasn't to say that it wouldn't be incredibly convenient to have it show me that information, “all that happens is the dot flickers between yellow and red really fast. I see that happen with regular ponies sometimes too; just never quite like this.”

Windfall didn't look to be very pleased with the notion that I'd had a method of seeing through their deceptions this whole time, but at least Foxglove seemed to be more understanding. Since she was the pony that knew a thing or two about how pipbucks work, I felt confident that she'd be willing to speak up in my defense if the flier continued to prove dubious with regards to my claims.

“So we have a way to see through their disguise,” the unicorn nodded, “there are still a lot of them though,” she shared a look with the pegasus, “if we just go in shooting, we might get overwhelmed.”

Despite the well justified argument in favor of exercising caution, it was clear from the expression on Windfall's face that she was still rather firmly in favor of taking overt action in order to solve our current dilemma. I wasn't in favor of an open confrontation either. While what I would have strongly preferred was to just make a run for the gate, I knew full well that the others would be against it. Trying to leave on my own was too risky; but fighting all these monsters, even a few at a time, would be a challenge.

On the other hoof, “they don't know that we know,” I pointed out. I took another look around, making a note of the visible dots being displayed on my EFS. None of them seemed to be making their way here to investigate the gunshots. Of course, we were the only ponies in the building, and everypony else had headed off to either check out the radio tower of or get some food; which were a fair distance from here, “we can either act like we don't know anything about them until we can get word to the others; or even pretend we're those creatures in disguise.”

“He's right,” Foxglove agreed, “as long as they all think we don't know anything, there's no reason for them to not act all friendly like they have been.”

“How does that help us get everypony away safely?” the pegasus demanded, “they're not just going to let us up and leave.”

“It'll let us get a look around,” I insisted, not keen on provoking a fight if I didn't have to, “we can find their weak points, get everypony organized quietly, and then make our move when the time is right.”

“That might be our best bet,” Foxglove looked at the younger pegasus mare.

Windfall was silent, obviously considering the options before us. Her gaze migrated between the building's exit, and the wheezing black monster nearby. After several seconds, she stepped over to the incapacitated creature and stared down at it. I watched as she lifted a hoof and set it upon the carapace covered neck. She grit her teeth, and then the hallway echoed with a sound akin to that of somepony crushing a full can of Cram.

The creature's form lay still.

“Everypony get dressed. We'll warn Homily first,” the pegasus mare went back to her room to retrieve her gear.

It was fascinating how much less inviting our surroundings felt now. When we'd first been invited into McMaren, there'd been this feeling of security and safety. As much as anypony could feel such things in the Wasteland of course. Colonel Bivouac and the other soldiers had immediately come across as being decent ponies doing their best to make the Equestrian hellscape a better place.

Now that feeling was gone. My hackles rose every time one of the McMaren ponies came into view as the three of us headed towards the radio tower. Their expressions were all quite amiable, and a few offered passing waves. The gestures were easy to return. The smiles less so; at least genuinely. It wasn't that I found it difficult to feign enjoying the company of a pony I actually despised. I'd done that for many years. The issue now was that it was hard for me to actually think of these ponies as...well, ponies. They were monsters, the very likenesses of demons and devils walking the Wasteland in the guise of equines.

I don't care what those three had said about desiring for us all to feel 'happy' and 'loved'. I didn't know what they really wanted from us, but Celestia fuck me if I intended to find out.

At least they were easy enough to kill. Bullets, knives, and even hooves seemed to hurt them about as much as they hurt real ponies. That was something at least. There were some points of concern that I made a note to consider though. They obviously possessed some magical ability, at least as far as changing their physical appearances and voices went. I'd need to be on the look out for additional spells as well. They also had the ability to fly while in their true form. I grimaced at the thought of having to face down a swarm of flying magical pony-like creatures. I really hoped that we managed to get through this without having to fight them all at once.

Now that I was being reminded of the numbers that these monsters had on their side, I was also straining my brain for some means by which to gather up Homily's crew and get away without much of a confrontation at all. We genuinely didn't have the ammunition to deal with all of these things. It was a military base though. Maybe if we could get to an armory or something...

“I thought the three of you were going to turn in for the day?”

How I managed not to jump in surprise, I'll never know. Judging how Windfall's downy chest had puffed in kind, it looked like I wasn't the only one who was running a little high strung. I whipped my head around and felt my chest tighten slightly. Bivouac and one of her subordinates had come up from behind us without any of us noticing. Their expressions suggested that neither of them was anything but indifferently curious, but I wasn't about to trust the expressions of ponies that could apparently look like anypony they wanted to. Even ponies that had been dead for two hundred years.

“We are,” I replied simply, internally relieved to hear myself managing to speak in a calm tone, “we just wanted to let Homily know where she could find us if she needed anything,” I nodded my head in the direction of the radio tower, forcing a smirk, “pony like her, doubt she'd even think to look for a place to sleep tonight, what with that radio to mess with.”

The base's commander returned a knowing smile of her own, “she's passionate, that one,” the green mare agreed, “loves her work. I can tell,” despite her complimentary tone, the words made my flesh crawl. Knowing what I knew now put them in anything but an innocent light. It was all I could do not to shudder. Colonel Bivouac nodded, “well, carry on then. Stop by the mess on your way back. We're serving something special in honor of your arrival.”

“What's that?” I heard Windfall ask is a tone that was almost accusatory.

The crimson-maned mare grinned, “it's a surprise.”

“Sounds great!” Foxglove interjected before the pegasus could offer up a less-than-complimentary retort, “we'll be there in a few minutes.”

“We look forward to having you,” the other pony with Bivouac said as the two departed.

We watched the two not-ponies head towards the mess hall. My stomach clenched as I recalled that a significant portion of Homily's party had headed in that direction when we'd first arrived. Images of the gaping black maws rimmed with sharp fangs flashed through my mind. They seemed to me to be ideally suited to rending pony flesh from bone.

How many of the ponies that had gone to the mess hall were even still alive? Was Homily?

“Let's go,” Windfall broke into a hurried trot, the two of us following close behind.

The radio tower actually looked to be in worse condition up close than it had been at a distance. Now that I could clearly see the extent of the patchwork repairs that had been slapped on over the decades. I could clearly see where portions of the tower had rotted and rusted away and been supplemented with the remains of what had once been barracks buildings, judging by the color of the paint that was still flaking off the old wooden slats. Parts of the transmitter even looked to have been replaced with...cleaning rods?

“How many are in there?” I heard Windfall hiss from beside me, her eyes intent on the closed door that served as the only entrance to the tower's broadcast room.

I swept my gaze across the whole of the building, focused intently on the pipbuck's Eyes Forward Sparkle, “seven blips,” I informed them, “three ponies...and four whatever those things are,” I probably did need to come up with something to call them other than 'monster'. Doppelgangers? Doppels? Eh. Worked for me.

The pegasus nodded and crept to the door, placing her ear to it. Foxglove followed suit. Myself, I perched near the doorjamb in anticipation of a rather sudden entry. I opted for my knife, in the interest of reducing the chance of any errant gunfire being heard by the base's other residents. My head remained turned towards the interior of the building, giving the others as much detail about what was inside as the mere blips hovering before my eyes would allow.

“Looks like they're paired off,” I went on, “one solid and one flickering blip...except for the two flickers at the far end of the room. They're spread out pretty evenly,” my ear twitched, and my eyes narrowed, “they're not moving...and the blips are almost on top of each other. Almost like...” my ear twitched again. Was I hearing...?

I looked at the other two mares, about to ask them what they thought the sounds were, but I could immediately tell from their expressions that they had interpreted those sounds as being the same thing that I had. Foxglove's face was rather stoic, while the flier's cheeks had taken on an every-so-slight rose hue. For myself...I was no longer sure what our next course of action was supposed to be.

The easy answer was to burst in and use the element of surprise that we had. Of course, with Homily and her two companions in such close proximity, there was a rather large risk of friendly casualties. We'd also seen that these doppels did not respond well to being found out.

They still didn't know that we were on to them, I rationalized. Everything we'd seen up to this point suggested that they did everything they could to maintain the ruse until the last possible moment. So...

I reached out and knocked on the door with my hoof, drawing surprised looks from the other two mares, “hey, Homily, you in there?”

Windfall glared at me and hissed under her breath, “what are you doing?!”

“Oh! Um...yeah,” came a voice from the other side of the door. Then there was a slight pause and the muffled sounds of some furniture being moved, “the door's unlocked.”

I held the pegasus mare's gaze until she relaxed enough to at least not make Homily and the others think that anything was wrong, “we're all happy and calm,” I quietly reminded her through a faux smile. Then I opened the door and strode inside, “sorry if we're interrupting your work.”

My nostrils immediately filled with several odors that kindled some rather pointed feelings. I'd spent enough time in enough whore houses to know what a room smelled like when ponies had been getting...frisky, with one another; and that described the scent to a tee. The disheveled clothing of a couple of the ponies that were suddenly far too intent on their work only further supported the mounting evidence.

Heh. Mounting.

Yes, Whiplash, thanks for that.

Homily and the pony that had been identified earlier as one Sergeant Cypher, were huddled together beneath one of the consoles. There was a dangling tangle of wires that suggested that at one point the two of them had embarked on a mission to rewire the device. The fact that the yellow earth pony mare was presently a lot more concerned with straightening her inexplicably tangled mane implied that something had distracted her rather recently.

She peered up at me, doing a rather poor job of looking like the three of us hadn't interrupted anything, “so, what's up?”

I kept the pleasant smile I'd been cultivating plastered on my face, forcing myself to look as though I was completely oblivious to every pony in the room having rather blatantly paired off with at least one doppel. The events in my room were still very fresh in my mind, so I could certainly appreciate what had been going on here. Homily and her crew had been through a lot these last few weeks, and the ponies of McMaren were more than they could have hoped for. Stalwart defenders of a dead nation faithfully looking after the very machinery they'd come to find and use. What's more, they were attractive and flirty! Why wouldn't they get in a quick bump while everypony was in the mood?

Some more than others, it looked like. I noted that while Homily seemed to be faintly abashed at the prospect of having had somepony not invited to the party nearly walk in on her; the sergeant she'd been sharing that moment with looked subtly more...aggrieved. It was a faint thing, that look of irritation in his eye. I could empathize with a stallion that had been cock-blocked on a sealed deal, but there was more than that there. I could see it in his eyes, whatever his bored lips might imply. I hadn't just stopped a pony from getting some. That was the hunger of a predator that had nearly trapped its prey.

Beneath the pony visage, I could see those glistening black teeth coated in green bile, ready to strike. The moment we left, Homily and the others were doomed.

“We found our bunks, and just wanted to get an idea of how long it'd take you to get this thing up and running,” I gestured at the console mounted into the wall, “the sooner you get word back to our employer that you've arrived safe and sound, the sooner we can leave and get paid.”

“Right...right!” the mare straightened herself and became very interested in the nobs and switches on the panel, “I'm, um, still assessing the situation; but it looks good so far. A couple of days, at the outside?” she looked over at her MacMaren counterpart, as though for confirmation.

The other pony looked back at us, a more genuine smile on his face this time, “well, that's to get the electronics in working order; there's still a lot to do on the tower itself if we want to get a decent range out of the system. That could take a week, or even two,” he paused for a moment of reflection, and then added, “then we'd need to address the power situation.”

“Power situation?” Foxglove pressed, not sounding as suspicious as she could have.

“Oh yeah,” the doppel went on, the smile shifting into a grin, “a tower like this takes a lot of watts to create a clear signal. We'll need to up the base's reactor output quite a bit to accommodate that.

“Another two weeks there alone.”

“Oh, wow,” Homily's comment didn't sound nearly as shocked as she had probably intended. She certainly didn't seem to be disappointed by the news when she looked back at the three of us, “we'll be here nearly a month.”

“Minimum,” the doppel amended.

“Minimum,” the yellow mare echoed, still not sounding like she hated the idea. She was also very pointedly trying not to keep glancing at the nearby stallion out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't doing a very good job, “and that's if nothing else comes up,” her eyes widened suddenly, “goes long—goes wrong!” she cleared her throat and shifted in her hooves.

I mentally rolled my eyes. It hadn't even been that much of an innuendo. My mind drifted to the four equine mimics in the room with us, and how each of them was regarding us with a mote of impatience. They wanted us to leave so that they could get back to doing what they had been before we'd interrupted. What was more, Homily's two pony companions were looking equally eager for us to depart. Fucking morons. If something seemed too good to be true, then it was obviously a fucking trap!

Somewhere in my head, Whiplash feel over laughing as she gleefully directed my thoughts to what I had been doing not fifteen minutes ago. Or, more specifically, who I had thought I had been doing. Because wetting your dick is exactly what Foxglove has been alluding to ever since you met her.

I couldn't argue that point, but I'd never claimed not to be a hypocrite.

The question now, was how to extract Homily and her crew without riling up the doppels too much. If I concocted some story about an issue some other members of her crew were encountering...but if one of the doppels insisted on coming with us, our deception would raise too many questions. Besides, what we really needed was for some way to not only explain, but to prove, to Homily what these things really were. Getting her to follow us back to the barracks wasn't likely to work, since she'd expressed no desire to anypony to find a bed yet.

My gaze darted to the violet unicorn beside me in a silent gesture for help. The mare picked up on it, and seemed to have a more agile mind than I did, “where's your generator at?” she posed to the nearby doppel.

“Hm?” the question caught the disguised pony off guard, “why?”

My eyes brightened and I threw a hoof around the unicorn's neck as I flashed a broad grin of my own. She was a smart pony, this one, “because our little Foxglove here's a prodigal mechanic! If anypony can fix your power situation in record time, it's her,” it gladdened my spirits to see the corner of the doppel's mouth twitch into a faint grimace. I looked at Homily, “you should come too.”

“I should?” she blinked, surprised at my proposition.

“You'd know best how much power Foxy here'd need to get out of those old generators,” beneath my hoof draped over the unicorn's neck, I could feel her tense at my use of a nickname. I was likely going to pay for this later somehow. Probably while she 'talked' with me about what she'd seen me doing in my room earlier. And, frankly, she could make all the ruckus she wanted to about today. Later.

For now, she just had to play along, “I'd just need the two of you to give me an idea of where to start,” the unicorn even managed a warm smile, “it'll just take a minute or two.”

The doppel glanced at Homily and then at the three of us, “well, then I guess we'd better get along then so we can get back to work here,” to the others in the control room, he said, “we'll be back in a bit.”

I could tell that Windfall wasn't happy about the prospect of leaving Homily's two companion's behind. They'd been kept alive thus far; so we could hope that they'd be alright for a few minutes longer. All that we needed to do was get the yellow earth pony to see the danger that we were all in, and then get her input on how best to go about rallying her ponies. I shared a stern look with the pegasus to make sure she kept her composure, and then stepped aside to allow Homily and the McMaren pony through.

Once the five of us were outside, Sergeant Cypher took the lead, directing our little group towards one of the military base's many bunkers. A number of thick cables running from the structure suggested that this was indeed the hub for the facility's power. A short flight of stairs later, and we found ourselves in a rather expansive basement level with three rows of very large spark-generators. Several dim lights provided illumination in the dingy interior of the generator room; exposing the wear, corrosion, and the rust that coated nearly everything.

At one point in the distant past, I was fairly confident that this had once been a rather noisy chamber. No fewer than a dozen and a half spark-generators existed down here. At the moment though, only two of them seemed to be in operation, and even then only just barely.

For a moment, it seemed like Foxglove let our present peril slip her mind as she found herself drawn to the ancient reactors. Her head ducked in and around several of the nearer units, making mental notations about what was and wasn't salvageable. The unicorn's expression suggested that she wasn't holding up a very optimistic prediction for how much good even she could do down here. Then I guess it finally dawned on her that we weren't actually planning to stick around long enough to need to worry about such things.

“Do any of these others actually start?” Foxglove directed the question at our doppel chaperoned as she bent in to examine one of the nearer generators.

The sergeant shrugged, “we haven't tried to start most of these in a while.”

“That's probably a good thing,” the violet mare noted as what seemed like a rather gentle touch of one of her hooves snapped off a knob on the control panel for the generator she was looking at, “these things would probably just explode anyway,” her expression creased with a frown as she continued her appraisal. What I noticed were her faint glance at myself, “I might be able to cannibalize most of these to get one or two more online. Homily, how much power would we need to reach New Reino?”

The yellow earth pony thought for a long moment, her hoof tracing out numbers in the air as she performed a few rough calculations, “sixty kilosparks?”

“Hmm,” Foxglove looked at one of the readings on an operational generator, “and these are putting out thirty each. So, we'd need to more.”

“Can you do it?” Sergeant Cypher asked, the prospect of having a signal that was capable of reaching out all the way to one of the larger pony settlements in the area seemed to be genuinely appealing to him.

“Maybe,” Foxglove replied with a thoughtful expression, “come here a minute and show me where the central breaker is,” she nodded for the doppel to follow her between two rows of the generators. Another quick glance at me, and I readied to act, “I'll need to see how these are all wired together...”

I waited until the doppel was both in front of me, and trapped between the hulking machinery to either side of him. I drew the knife from my sheath, ignoring the bitter taste of the ichor that had dribbled down the grip from the last of these monsters that I killed. With the faintest of grunts, I threw myself onto the sergeant's back and wrapped my right hoof around his neck so that I could plunge my knife into the left side of his head and end this fight quickly.

Whether it had been Homily's surprised yelp at seeing my unexpected attack, or if the shape-shifting monster was merely that good; my initial assault was a complete failure. Before I managed to get a tight grip around his neck, the doppel's own right hoof managed to snake upwards and thwart my attempt to achieve a true stranglehold. Meanwhile, he reared up and threw his left elbow into my face, deflecting what could have been a killing strike into a glancing scratch along his shoulder. Then he clamped down on my pipbuck and bucked me up and over his shoulder.

I collided rather unceremoniously into Foxglove, only barely noting that my pipbuck was making a rather irritating racket now. A message flashed across my vision that suggested the reason was because the dial had been twisted to a frequency that just blasted white noise all the time.

“What are you doing?!” Homily was screaming at me, rather aghast that I had launched an unprovoked attack at our host.

Ignoring her surprise, I gathered myself back up onto my hooves and charged the doppel once more. The not-pony sneered at my effort and I saw a flash of sickly green light in his eyes. The next thing I knew, I was sailing over his head, and careening into one of the running generators. The collision itself wasn't really all that bad. I'd certainly taken worse hits in my lifetime.

Rarely though, had those hits been up against the side of high-voltage equipment though. Whatever my pipbuck ended up hitting, only Foxglove knew the word for. However, the result when the steel casing of my fetlock-mounted device connected with it was very...evident.

For my part, and that or every other pony in the room, the reaction was more annoying than harmful. A good sized portion of the charge had apparently reacted with the radio in my pipbuck and cause the noise that had been coming from it to reach rather irksome volumes. It wasn't exactly pleasant to my ears, but hardly crippling.

For Sergeant Cypher, on the other hoof...

It was as though he had suddenly lost on control of his abilities and his composure. The not-pony flared green, and then the guise was gone; leaving only the monster beneath for all four of us to see. Homily's reaction was instantaneous. Her cries went from protests and demands for us to cease, swiftly to gasps of shock and surprise.

For his part, Cypher doubtfully even noticed, as his now pocked hooves were clutched at either side of his head and he was screaming incoherently. It was like somepony was physically tormenting him.

Windfall capitalized on the suffering and ended the yelling with a single gunshot to the back of his head.

A moment later, every light in the room went dark, and the generators shut down. The grating noise that my pipbuck had been making died away until it was just a buzz of soft static in the darkness. I groped around on my arm until I found the device and turned off the radio. Then my hoof went over to one of the other controls, and a soft white light flooded the room.

It was joined almost simultaneously by a green glow from the center of Foxglove's forehead. The unicorn mare darted to the generators nearby and immediately launched into an assessment of the damage. In the back of my mind, I recognized the danger that we were in now. If the unicorn couldn't get them back in operation soon, the base's residents would doubtless be here soon to find out what the issue was. If they found us gathered around one of their dead comrades...

There wasn't anything I could do to help with that situation though. That was something best left in the hooves of an expert like Foxglove. My attention was directed at Homily, and the mare's reaction to what she had just seen. We needed her to understand what was going on, and devise a plan to get her and the others—and ourselves—away from here safely.

“Wha...what is that thing?”

“We don't know,” I admitted, directing the light over the glistening black carapace so that the earth pony mare could get a good look at our adversary, “but they can look like anypony. We need to get everypony out of here.”

Windfall poked the corpse with her hoof to reassure herself of the monster's lack of life before she holstered the pistol once more. The she turned to the two of us, her features set in a determined scowl, “running isn't going to be an option,” she insisted, “these things need to be destroyed for good.”

I grimaced, “we're outnumbered here, Windy,” I pointed out, not liking the way that the pegasus was thinking, “and they know this place a lot better than us. We need to save as many as we can and get out before they catch on.”

The alabaster flier wasn't to be swayed though, “do you really think they won't chase us? Nopony's known about them for, what? Decades? Why do you think that is?”

I wanted to think that was because nopony up to this point had managed to figure out that they weren't really ponies until it was too late. Of course, I recognized that it was highly unlikely that nopony else in all that time had managed to figure out what I did. It wasn't like I was any sort of genius.

That didn't change the fact that, “we can't take them all on and hope to survive. There's got to be a hundred of them, or more.”

“Maybe we can.”

Both myself and the pegasus looked at Foxglove with equal amounts of surprise. The unicorn depressed a button on the generator that she had been tinkering with and it roared to life. A moment later, the lights in the room flickered to life. In the lit room, I could see that the violet mare was looking rather thoughtfully at my pipbuck. In my mind, I was trying to understand why this unicorn had suddenly gotten it into her head that charging into a fight with an overwhelming force was suddenly a good idea. Windfall seemed to be equally surprised that Foxglove had sided with her.

“Let me look at your pipbuck for a minute,” the unicorn gestured towards the device. Curious, I extended my left hoof towards the unicorn and watcher her as she tapped a series of buttons. Then she waved over at Homily, and drew the earth pony's attention to the screen, “can you set the tower to broadcast at this frequency?”

The yellow mare stared at the pipbuck for a few seconds, and then nodded, “yeah, that's no problem.”

“Okay, next question,” Foxglove continued, “how much power will we need for it to be audible?”

“What?” the question seemed to genuinely perplex the earth pony, “you mean like through a speaker?”

“Sort of,” the unicorn shrugged, “but I mean even if the speaker is turned off. How much power would the signal need to create sound so long as the speaker was grounded?”

The question sounded preposterous to me. How could a radio transmission just create noise from something at was turned off? Surely Foxglove was asking an impossibly desperate question to make some sort of point, right? That notion of mine was mildly thwarted by the genuinely thoughtful expression on Homily's face as she seemed to actually consider the suggestion.

“A hundred and twenty kilosparks,” she finally replied, “assuming you're talking about reaching every speaker within a quarter mile.”

“That many?” Foxglove sounded as though she had been hoping for a much smaller number from the earth pony.

“Most speaker systems have a lot of resistance built into them,” Homily explained, “since their crystal components are naturally receptive to radio waves. We'd have to overcome a lot of design safeties to do it. That frequency is way outside the normal range.”

Foxglove looked once more to the generators for a long moment before shaking her head in resignation, “that's too much. It'd take me days to get more of these online, and these two are barely working at half capacity as it is. What can thirty get us?”

“Not much,” Homily shrugged. Then the yellow mare thought a little longer about it, “if I set the equipment to feed back in on itself, I might be able to get a good burst every minute or so.”

That seemed to encourage the violet unicorn a little and she looked back at me, “do you think we can take them if they're brought to their knees every minute?”

“If we get as many of her crew to help as we can when it happens the first time,” I admitted with a jerk of my head towards Homily. If memory served, most of the ponies with her had gathered in the base's mess hall; which meant that if we could get word to them about what the plan was, we could launch our attack from a single coordinated point. If the rest of those creatures reacted the way Cypher had, then we really would have a good chance at getting the upper hoof early on in the fight.

“Then we have a plan,” Windfall summed up for the rest of us. She regarded the unicorn, “you and Homily get back to the radio tower and set things up. Jackboot and I will organize the others.”

“What about the four...whatevers in the radio room already?” Homily ventured.

“Just act casual,” I urged her, “they don't know that you know. Set things up like its part of fixing the tower, and Foxglove can handle them when the first burst hits.”

“We'll be fine,” the unicorn assured the yellow earth pony.

Maybe they even would at that, so long as they could remain calm and not let any of those doppels catch on. Honestly, Windfall and I had the harder job of quietly getting the others ready for the moment to strike without alerting any of the doppels to what we were doing. We also had to do it without weapons. Well, I guess that wasn't entirely true. Windfall still had her little pistol, and I had my knife. Foxglove also had her lance. Maybe there was time to sneak back to the barracks and get the rest of our gear?

No. We wouldn't have anywhere to hide it while we worked on organizing the others. The less we did to tip off the doppels, the better off we'd be in the long run.

“Then let's go,” the pegasus nodded at the corpse laying on the floor in a pool of green blood and blue brains, “before anypony notices this.”

Homily and Foxglove dashed back towards the radio tower and its control room. Windfall hovered nearby while I trotted towards the distant mess hall. The sky was growing dark rather swiftly beneath the overcast skies. Great. Fighting these things in the dark wasn't going to be a particularly enjoyable experience. At least my pipbuck would let me get a general idea of where they were.

Speaking of which, a pair of flickering blips lay directly ahead of us even now. I noticed the pair of ponies heading our way, making a direct line for the generator room that we had just come from. The sound of hooves softly touching down to the ground next to me suggested that Windfall had landed. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and saw her rather busily tucking her wings snugly to her side to cover up her pistol and its holster. The downy fur on the back of her neck was standing up. Relax, I thought at both her and myself, nothing's gone wrong yet.

“Hey fellas, what's up?” I began by way of greeting.

“Power flickered out for a bit,” one of the McMaren 'ponies' said, as she and her companion stopped in front of us, “know anything about it?”

“Oh, right,” I clapped a hoof to my forehead and snorted, “Homily and Foxglove had to rewire the breaker panel to help boost the range on the tower. Cypher said we should let y'all know, but Foxy was all, 'it'll only be a second, nopony'll know!',” I cast an aside at Windfall, “I guess she owes me ten caps. Somepony noticed.”

I looked back at the pair of doppels, noting that their expressions weren't particularly dubious and decided that they were buying everything up to this point at least, “everything's good now,” I assured them, “but Foxy'll still need to take them off line later when she's ready to brink more of the generators online. Can you ask Bivouac when a good time will be to do that? Don't want to get y'all in a tizzy again.”

“Yeah...sure,” the mare said, then glanced briefly at her stallion companion and then at one of the nearby lights, “I guess we're good now. Just let us know next time.”

“Will do!” I forced a grin and swept my right hoof out in a salute, “come on, Windy. I'm hungry,” I nodded at the pegasus and headed for the mess hall. The younger white mare fell into step behind me at a trot, casting parting wary glances at the other two ponies.

As long as they didn't go into the generator room, we were in the clear. I wasn't keen on being too overt about watching where those two went either, lest I make them more suspicious than they might already be.

Just have faith, Jackboot. There was a slim chance that this could all work and you'll make it out of here alive.

There's a slim chance that Windfall will ask you for a quick fuck on your way to the others, Whiplash snickered in the back of my head, wanna place bets?

I shook my head fiercely and directed my gaze towards our destination. I tried not to let the dozens of flickering blips that were quickly saturating my Eyes Forward Sparkle distract me. It was difficult. There were so many of them that they blotted out the relatively few solid yellow bars that identified Homily's crew. At least there were still yellow bars at all; which meant that they were alive.

For the moment...

At the door, I looked hard at the flier by my side, “stay calm, stay collected. We just need to mingle and spread the word...quietly. Make sure the others know to keep cool too,” Windfall nodded and I watched her take a deep breath. She was still grinding her teeth a little, but it looked like it was the best that I was going to get out of her. Frankly, knowing the pegasus, I counted myself lucky that she didn't have her pistol drawn and cocked right now.

I pushed the door open and peered into the massive dinning hall beyond. The two of us were immediately pelted by the sound of raucous laughter and the off-tune singing of several groups of ponies chanting the lyrics to various popular songs. It was a veritable party. To my genuine astonishment, I even saw actual food gracing the tables. Some of it even looked a lot better than the typical Wasteland fair. There were the plates of Cram and bowls of Sugar Apple Bombs, of course; but mingled in with them were platters of some sort of root vegetable and pitchers of what looked like milk but smelled of alcohol.

It was a few seconds before I recognized that I was staring and that my jaw had gone slack. I guessed that I hadn't really known what I was expecting to find when I opened the door; but it certainly hadn't been this. If I didn't know for a fact that three out of four ponies in this room were actually monsters in reality, I could easily have forgotten that all of us were in danger.

Windfall prodded me into the room and I regained my composure. The truth was that this was all an act, I reminded myself. A good act, to be sure; but that didn't change things. I nodded at the filly and started making my way around the left side of the room while the flier went right. My eyes took in as much as I could as I slowly made my way past the tables. That was when I started to notice all of the little details that screamed 'wrong'. They were subtle, and could have easily been missed by anypony that wasn't trying to find them.

The first thing that I noticed was that only Homily's crew were actually eating any of the food. The McMaren ponies gathered up a plate on occasion, but I never saw them actually eat any of it; they were always grabbing something to give it to somepony else. They weren't even drinking anything either.

Did they only consume pony flesh or something?

I also noticed that there was also at least one doppel clinging to every one of Homily's crew. That was going to be a problem when it came to trying to get word to everypony; but it also raised a rather pointed red flag in my head. Homily and her ponies had been together for at least a few weeks, but I couldn't find any two of them talking with one another. They were all separated and carousing happily with at least several doppels. No two actual ponies were anywhere near one another.

Fuck.

My eyes caught Windfall's on the other side of the room. She had noticed the lack of unattended ponies as well, and was silently asking for an alternate plan. I hadn't expected the doppels to have so thoroughly occupied the other ponies like this. Somehow I kept the contented expression on my face as I snagged a seat at a table and gathered together a small plate of food. A steady stare at Windfall coaxed her into doing the same on the other side of the room. This was a dinning hall after all. Ponies came here to dine, not walk laps around the perimeter.

The plan was now to wait for Homily and Foxglove to get that signal broadcast and let things sort themselves out once the truth was revealed. It was going to be a shock to the ponies here, and I imagined that things were going to be messy to boot; but it was all we had left. Maybe most of them would be quick on their hooves and know how to react when the pony they were kissing on suddenly morphed into a carapace-clad monster.

Somepony sat next to me. I glanced in their direction and noticed a blue earth pony mare with golden eyes and a rather sultry expression as she nestled in close. A sudden application of warmth from the other side announced the arrival of a second pony. This one was a light green unicorn with orange eyes. Hovering in front of me was a pitcher of the milky alcohol that was currently pouring itself into a generously sized glass.

“Care for a drink?” the blue mare asked, “you look like you could use it.”

“You're so tense,” her companion added as she floated the glass that was surrounded in a green aura to my lips, “take a sip and relax. You've had a rough trip.”

“We can tell you all have,” blue continued, not missing a beat. It was like the two of them were having the same conversation with me, but were just trading off every few words, “but you're safe here.”

“So why not have a little fun while you can?”

I cleared my throat, noticing that Windfall had been accosted by a trio of stallions herself that were also bearing food and drink. I mentally begged for her not to shoot any of them before the broadcast went out. Meanwhile, I had doppels of my own to deal with. So I put on my best smile and took a sip of the drink. It wasn't poisoned, I reasoned, or everypony else here would have already been long dead.

It was strong. Damn, was it strong, “what is this stuff?” I gasped after I somehow managed to swallow the searing liquid.

The two mares giggled, “we call it Nettle Water.”

“It's brewed from a cactus that grows around the base.”

“It warms us up during those colder nights.”

“Tonight's pretty cold, come to think of it.”

“Want to help keep us warm?”

A delicate hoof wandered over my leg and started rubbing the inside of my thigh. Oh, Celestia, why did they have to be monsters? Out loud, I said, “not sure if Foxy'd like that,” they didn't know we weren't an item, did they?

“The more the merrier,” the green mare pointed out.

“We could just watch at first if you'd prefer,” blue suggested, leaning her head in front of me.

The unicorn mare leaned in too, until their heads were nearly touching, “or you could watch us,” then she gave her companion a peck on the cheek. The cheek peck was met with a lip tap. Then it turned into a rather intimate kiss that devolved from there.

Of course, all I could see through a mind's eye that knew better were two of those black things rubbing their jagged fangs together. Which was a shame, since this should have been really erotic in all the best ways.

Celestia? I hate you.

Then my attention was stolen by two other ponies arriving on the scene. I felt myself grow instantly tense in my shoulders, and rather relaxed in my nethers simultaneously as I recognized Foxglove and Windfall standing nearby. The pegasus was looking rather sternly at the pair of mares still making out right in what was essentially my lap. The purple unicorn was looking a good deal more concerned; which made me concerned.

Wasn't she supposed to be setting up the signal?

“There's a problem,” Windfall said, gravely, and nodded at the exit.

Shit! I gingerly extracted myself from the mares and looked to Foxglove, “what's wrong?”

“Not here,” she whispered, nodding at the other ponies around us.

I nodded and followed the two mares through the dinning hall. This was bad. I didn't know exactly what the problem was, but it couldn't possibly be good. Whatever the hold up was with the signal, the longer we waited, the greater the chance that we would be discovered. We were already pretty much surrounded by flashing red blips as it was. If we were caught, there'd be nowhere to hide.

Whiplash cleared her throat in the head.

What was she on about now? I didn't need her bullshit at a time like this. My EFS was going nuts, and I had to stay alert for any sign that we'd...been...

We were already outside the mess hall. All of the flickering blips should have been behind us.

And Foxglove's should have been a solid yellow.

I hadn't noticed inside; what with so many blips everywhere, and most of them flickering anyway. It hadn't occurred to me that the unicorn's should have been a solid yellow line like Windfall's was. Out here though, not only should her's have been solid, but all the other blips my pipboy was detecting should have been behind me.

They weren't.

Fuck!

“Trap!”

My cry was chorused with Windfall's. How she had managed to pick up on it without the benefit of a pipbuck, I would have to ask her about later. That presumed that we both lived long enough to do so of course.

'Foxglove' wheeled about and charged me, a dangerous glint in her eyes. Her horn flared a sickly green color; which I easily recognized in the darkness as being very different from how the real Foxglove's magic looked when she wielded it. There was a brilliant sweeping flame that engulfed the unicorn, and then I found myself facing off against a black monster that I had come to know as a doppel.

My head dipped for only a brief moment to my fetlock, coming up a second later to meet the charging creature with my knife gripped tight in my teeth. The monster's maw opened in a piercing screech that I could feel deep in my joints, but I refused to flinch away this time. If my pipbuck was right, then this one was but a single adversary of dozens that had Windfall and I surrounded. Hesitation was just going to get the both of us killed.

A jet hoof struck out at me in an attempt to land a blow to my head. I pulled back slightly, and weaved to the side. My right hoof curled up and around the outstretched limb and trapped it. Then my left slipped over the creature's shoulder and brought then in close. I could see a brief glimmer of fear in the doppel's pale blue eyes, focused upon the tip of the blade clutched in my mouth. That sharp edge soon vanished from view as I plunged it into the nearby exposed neck. The monster gurgled and thrashed for a brief moment. A jerk of my neck twisted the blade, and then the creature went limp and fell off my weapon.

I dropped the corpse and planted myself in anticipation of another attack. Above me, I heard a pair of gunshots and the tussling of bodies as Windfall grappled with an opponent of her own. Faint light from the windows of the nearby mess hall provided a dim corona of illumination around the edges of nearly a half dozen pony-shaped figures standing a few paces away from me.

One of them I was able to recognize as Bivouac.

The base's commander cast her gaze at the dead creature at my hooves, and I saw the corner of her mouth dip in a brief frown before she returned her gaze to me. For a brief moment, I entertained the notion of pressing an attack, as I had my doubts about winning out if all of these doppel's charged me at once. On the other hoof, only a couple of these other ponies seemed to currently be poised for any sort of offensive actions. Bivouac and those nearest her actually looked to be rather calm, all things considered.

“You're being very difficult, right now,” the older mare said.

There was the pained cry of a mare from above me, drawing my gaze instinctively upwards. Unfortunately, I couldn't make out much against the dark clouds; just faint shadows of movement as at least three ponies fought it out in the sky above me. Then a sudden noise to my left caught my attention, and I glimpsed a small pistol laying in the dirt nearby. I swallowed as I recognized that it was Windfall's pistol. Another look skyward, still wary of the ponies on the ground with me. The pegasus was obviously in trouble, but there wasn't anything that I could do about it from down here. Not when I couldn't even tell which blur was her. The blips were so close together that they blended into one on my EFS.

So I looked back at Bivouac. She seemed willing to talk. An effort to negotiate for our voluntary surrender no doubt. It was an offer that I had no intention of ever accepting, but if I could buy time, then...I didn't know. Something...

“You're not giving me a lot of reasons to cooperate,” I growled back at the mare around the hilt still clutched firmly in my jaw.

“Haven't we?” she scoffed with a snort, “we have offered food, and beds, and companionship; and what have we asked for in return?”

“You're monsters,” I sneered, “you're not even real ponies. Why deceive us like that if you've got nothing to hide?”

A smile touched her lips now, “because revealing our true selves doesn't get us what we need.”

“So you admit that you do want something?”

“Of course not,” Bivouac replied easily, “I said that we need something,” her smile expanded into a half-grin, “and if you give it to us; then you and your little mare friends get to live.”

“You expect me to trust your word, when I can't even trust your face?”

The mare thought over my words for a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders, “that's fair,” she took a deep breath, and emerald flames swept over her, starting from the base of her hooves, and crawling upwards. As the fire progressed, the average-sized green earth pony mare grew into a form that was easily twice the height of any pony that I had even seen. Her form was slim and graceful; and though she was clearly a doppel, there were several notable difference between her and the others that I had seen up to this point.

Most of her body was formed of the same black carapace that the other were, save for her dull verdant torso. Her wings were long and sweeping, and tendrils of wispy mane were draped over the side of her head. A long, crooked, horn adorned the crown of her forehead.

Even though I was prepared for the mare to transform into something other than what she appeared to be; I hadn't quite been prepared for that! At the side of the larger doppel, her other minions followed suit and reverted to their true selves as well. I took an unconscious step back, and felt the knife nearly fall from my slack jaw.

Fuck me.

“Satisfied?” even Bivouac's voice was different now. The words of this doppel sounded scratchy and deep, when compared to those of the mature green mare that I had met at the gate of Camp McMaren earlier that day.

“What are you?” I heard myself asking with a tremble in my voice that I hadn't expected.

“Desperate refugees, doing what we can to survive in the hellscape that your ancestors left for us,” Bivouac replied tersely, all guise of her previous gentleness gone now, “it has not been easy.”

I cleared my throat and took a more firm stance with my hooves. They still weren't moving to strike, so I had some time left to try and come up with a plan to get out of this. My eyes darted to the gun that still lay on the ground. The slide wasn't cocked back, so it still had rounds left unfired. Perhaps if I put one of two into Bivouac's head, the others would think twice. She was their leader, after all. My gaze went to the lithe black creature in front of me, “preaching to the choir, lady. Wasteland's rough on everypony,” then I jutted my chin in the direction of the mess hall, “I saw that spread in there; you look to be doing better than most.”

The lanky doppel scoffed at my assessment, “that food may as well be dirt to us,” she sneered, “it's not what keeps my children alive,” her eyes shifted to me, a hungry glint in their slit-pupil gaze, “it's your kind,” I felt myself swallow and take a step back in response, “the emotional bond that you have with one another,” she went on, and I felt my steps hesitate for a brief moment as my mind worked to make sense of that last statement.

“Even now,” Bivouac inhaled deeply, as though she were scenting out a delicious aroma, “I sense how much you care for that pegasus of yours,” she sighed and fixed her cold eyes upon me, “so if you drop your weapon, I will ensure that she does not come to any harm.”

“What's to stop you from killing us all anyway?”

“Because we don't want you dead,” she insisted, sounding a little impatient now, “dead ponies can't be happy.”

I brushed a hoof at the nearby corpse that had pretended to be Foxglove, “you'd let me live after I killed your friends?”

Bivouac clicked her tongue dismissively, “please; I have hundreds of children, and each of them is willing to lay down their lives for the good of the hive. I would not deprive the rest of them of what they so desperately need just to punish you for exhibiting exactly the traits we need you to have.

“So put down that knife, come along inside, have a few drinks, and enjoy yourself.”

“You expect me to believe there isn't a catch?”

“The catch is that we won't kill you and your friends,” the tall doppel snapped.

“And what about everypony else that's ever come through here?” I asked, “you don't expect me to believe we're the first.”

The taller doppel narrowed her eyes, her lip twitching in a near snarl, “they were happy...while they lasted. They lived for months, some of them.”

“Months?”

“It's an eternity compared to the two seconds you'll survive if you refuse,” she nodded her head at her nearby minions.

“I suggest you take the offer while it still exists.

“The compassion of a queen is nothing to be taken lightly, and neither is it eternal,” her eyes glared down at me now, “so decide quickly,” she seethed, her ear twitching slightly.

My eyes scanned the other doppels, noticing now that they were slowly circling to close in around me. Their stance was tense, ready to pounce at a moment's notice, and their eyes were glued to me. I carefully edged around in a circle, doing my best to move closer to the gun on the ground while not allowing any one of them into my blind spots for very long. My ear twitched at the sound of their hoofsteps on the ground as they crept around me in the darkness.

The air filled with the sound of hissing and crackling from the doppels as they surrounded me. No...wait, that wasn't quite right. That wasn't coming from the doppels...

I glanced at my pipbuck, noting that the radio was still on.

The plan!

My eyes went briefly towards the sky, and widened slightly when I noticed that the Eyes Forward Sparkle indicated that there were neither doppels nor pegasi above me. They hadn't come down to the ground at any point that I'd known of. So...

I turned my attention to the larger doppel, who had not moved closer to me. Her ear was quivering, and the corner of her mouth was scrunched up in an irritated grimace, as though she had recently tasted something unpleasant. My own lip curled into a smirk, “actually, I think you're right,” I said, and allowed the knife to drop from my mouth, “life out there hasn't been easy. Hell, I could be dead in a week even I do make it out of here.

“A few months of paradise might be worth it,” I leveled my gaze at the lanky doppel leader, “can you arrange it so that I always have somepony that looks like the pegasus and the unicorn down for a fuck at a moment's notice?”

The sneer on Bivouac's face dissolved into a satisfied grin, that was only slightly marred by whatever sensation was clawing at her ear, “of course,” she assured me, “whatever makes you happy,” she nodded her head, and I suddenly saw a young white pegasus mare with a teal streaked mane on my left, and a sultry purple unicorn with emerald eyes on my right, “how about a drink?” she said, gesturing back towards the dining hall.

“That sounds perfect,” I nodded, sitting down on my haunches and bringing up my pipbuck, “but first let me pick out some good 'mood music',” I put my hoof to the volume dial, “there's this one station that I really like. Want to hear it?”

I spun the volume dial up to its highest setting.

At first, there was nothing but the faintest static. There was a sickly heavy ball of fear in my gut as the longest seconds I'd ever known ticked by in my head. After all, I was taking a pretty big leap of faith here, with hardly any evidence to back it up. Maybe Windfall had managed to evade her opponents and get to Foxglove and Homily. Maybe she'd even managed to sort out whatever had happened to the pair and get them back to work. Maybe those two ponies had even managed to make the changes they said they could to the radio tower.

Maybe I was completely wrong, and this bluff was going to come crashing down around my ears in another five seconds when they decided that I was just stalling for more time and killed me to save themselves any future grief.

You're putting a lot of faith in a pegasus that bought a pistol specifically to kill you if she thought she needed to...

I didn't have faith that Windfall was going to save me, if that's what Whiplash was getting at. The pegasus wasn't going to go out of her way to risk her life for my sake. I knew that perfectly well.

But to save the lives of everypony else here? That little pegasus would move the whole of the world itself. That was just the sort of mare a pony like her was. Unlike myself, she was a good pony.

Static roared forth from the pipbuck. A burst of screeching and buzzing that sounded to have no form or function to it. Of course, function was exactly what it truly did have. Every doppel around me reared up and clamped their hooves over their ears in an effort to dull the sound that was tearing at their brains and would give them no peace.

I threw my hooves around the creature that had only a second before been wearing Windfall's face and gave the head a violent twist while my right hind leg shot out and caught Foxglove's impostor in the jaw. Then I dove for the forty-five caliber pistol laying in the dirt nearby. I scooped it up into my mouth and leveled the weapon at the cringing Bivouac. I depressed the trigger with my tongue as rapidly as I could...

...only to feel the slide lock back after just a single round, which looked to only catch the larger doppel in her shoulder without inflicting any perceptible injury.

Oh, for fuck's sake!

I spit the useless weapon out of my mouth and went for my knife again. It didn't look like that burst of radio noise was having the same level of effect upon Bivouac that it had on the others though. Where the smaller black creatures were writhing around in paralyzing agony, their larger matriarch seemed merely annoyed by the sound and had simply been made to pause by the unexpectedness of it.

She opened up her mouth in a vicious snarl which morphed quickly into an outraged roar that sent flecks of green spittle in my direction. Her wings buzzed to life and lifted her into the air. Then she dove for me with a murderous glint in her eye. My knife was ready to meet her, but I had little faith that I was going to be able to take on the larger equine monster.

Then the air cackled with a roar of gunfire and ricochets. A hail of lead slugs tore into the large black creature, transforming her aggravated roar into a pained scream. She slammed into the ground off to the side. I tore my eyes away from her corpse, and turned them towards the sky, and the brilliant yellow blip that darted across my EFS. Windfall!

Another burst of gunfire ripped through the air and splattered a pair of the nearby doppels into even holier messes than they had already been. I took the opportunity that presented itself and jumped onto a third with my knife, making short work of the creature. It was good that I had, as the screeching cacophony crackling from my pipbuck died away a second later. The remaining doppels were slow to shake off their disorientation, but they were still many in number; and I was reluctant to engage them up close, lest I be swarmed by their superior numbers.

“Jackboot,” a voice called down from on high. I risked a quick glance upward just in time to see a tiny bundle falling towards me, “catch!”

My eyes widened as I recognized the shape of my old pistol's holster. I spat the knife from my mouth and leaped to snag the firearm out of the air. The weight of the weapon testified to it's loaded status, so I flicked off the safety and turned to face the nearest of the doppels. My tongue depressed the trigger three times in quick succession, eliciting a scream as two of those rounds found the beast's chest and inflicted oozing green pock marks upon it. The third shot caught it in the head and silenced those screams. I turned my head slightly in an effort to line up my next target.

Before I could fire though, something massive and black leaped into my line of fire. Furious blue eyes with thin pupils glared down at me. I froze as my mind processed what I was seeing yet again. Part of me suggested that it couldn't have been possible, as I had just watched Bivouac get cut down by a barrage of bullets from Windfall's twin automatic weapons. Yet, the giant doppel seemed for more irritated than maimed by the attack.

Her mouth parted and she screeched in my direction as several of her minions dashed past her.

For my part, I backpedaled as quickly as my legs would allow, firing far more wildly than I perhaps should have. If was hard to force myself to take the necessary time to line up my shots though, as I was still trying to wonder at how I was going to take down something that had shrugged off the pegasus' efforts like Bivouac had.

It seemed that Windfall was intent of confirming the effectiveness of her weapons as she executed another pass at the enemy with both barrels blazing. She wasn't firing normal slugs this time though. Green pellets rained from the sky as the flier employed her limited supply of magically explosive ammunition against the monster that had refused to die with her first run.

Bivouac was ready this time though, as she glared towards the pegasus. Her horn flare to life, and an emerald sheen glimmered around her. The darkening sky became very illuminated as Windfall's round struck the manifested barrier. Magic met magic, and the results were a wave of brilliant green orbs of light as the round detonated short of their primary target. Some strays did managed to strike down a smaller doppel or two They others scattered in an effort to avoid dying in the exchange.

I continued to withdraw while I found myself no long the center of attention. Then I saw Bivouac's reprisal in the form of a jade bolt launching into the sky. There was a flash in the darkness and a feminine grunt. My eyes tracked the yellow blip that I knew to be Windfall as it dropped to the ground.

“Windy!” I charged in her direction, disregarding the other doppels nearby. The blip remained solid on my Eyes Forward Sparkle, so I knew at least that the flier hadn't been killed by the magical attack; but the pegasus had obviously been taken out of the fight by Bivouac's attack.

I neared the fallen Windfall, and saw could see that her alabaster coat was marred by...something. The pegasus was conscious and clearly struggling against whatever the substance was that was covering most of her body, but it was fairly clear that she was not going to be able to free herself on her own. I mentally winced as I realized that I'd left my knife behind. Perhaps I'd be able to bite through whatever that stuff was and-

There was an emerald flash and my legs became suddenly bound up beneath me, sending me plowing into the hard scrabble ground. My pistol clattered out of my teeth as I hit with a rather painful amount of force. Cognizant of the nearby threats, I pushed the pain into the back of my mind and rolled to get a look at what had brought me down so suddenly. I snarled at the sight of some sort of stick green ichor that had appeared around my legs. I strained against the substance, but it seemed to possess an elasticity that belied its strength.

Heedless of the numerous doppels closing in, I continued to struggle against the unusual bonds. That they stretched at all suggested that there would be a point at which they would break. I yet to find that point though. Windfall's own frustrated growls suggested that she hadn't either. Then the flier's tone shifted very suddenly to own of outrage.

I ceased my own struggles and craned my head around so that I could see what was happening to her. Two doppels had clamped their jaws on the green bonds and were proceeding to drag her away into the darkness, “hey, you fuckers, let her go!” I strained harder against my bonds.

“Oh my,” Bivouac's voice sounded so close to me was startling, and caused me to involuntarily whip my head around to stare at the lanky black creature standing over me. Her tongue ran over her lips, which had wound their way into a satisfied smile, “aren't we just the little buffet of emotions? Rage, frustration, and terror; but, beneath it all, is the root cause...” she inhaled deeply though her nose, as though she might be inhaling an enticing aroma, “...love. An awkward, bittersweet, love; but love all the same.”

She nodded her head, and I heard the sounds of dragging stop. Then Bivouac stepped closer to Windfall, ignoring the string of epithets and curses being flung at her by the flier. The larger doppel stood over the pegasus for a few moments, and then glanced back at me, completely oblivious to the winged pony. Bivouac locked her eyes on me, “hmm...is it unrequited? Let's find out.”

The doppel craned her head down closer to the cursing pegasus, “quiet...” it didn't even appear that Windfall cared in the slightest that Bivouac was saying, as her swearing endeavored to become even more creative and colorful, “...or I'll snap his neck,” she nodded her head in my direction.

To my surprise, Windfall fell instantly silent. The pegasus was very much doing everything in her power to make the larger doppel explode with her baleful glare, but not a single sound escaped her lips. Again the creature inhaled and smiled, “my...so stale, this love. Scorned, were we?

“You two are clearly a package deal,” she continued as she straightened and returned to my side, “it's been a while since we've had ponies as close as you two,” she stood over me once more. Her tongue traced over her lips, dribbles of bile oozing down her chin as she brought her jaws near to my face, “what a meal you'll make!”

“You leave him alone, you bitch!” Windfall screamed.

“Patience, darling,” Bivouac murmured, though I doubted that the pegasus could actually hear the soft words, “I'll leave room for desert,” then her jaws opened up far wider than I had ever thought they would be capable of. I cringed away from the gaping maw of jagged black teeth...

I was curled up next to something warm. There was the sound of humming. A steady beating pulsed through my whole body, as though it were in time with my own little heart. A fire crackled nearby, and the scent of spices filled the air. Nothing was cooking though. That was just how my mother smelled. This was my favorite spot; curled right up next to her like this. My mother's singing washed away every bad memory that I had about what my father had put me through that day.

This was a moment that I wanted to have last forever.

...Something was wrong. The humming had stopped. The fire had gone out. No longer was I pressed up against something warm, but a hard cold shell. The air smelled of rot and decay. I craned my tiny head upward to see what had gone wrong, and found myself looking into the face of terror itself. Black jagged teeth, baleful blue eyes, and a sickly green glow.

I screamed.

Something warm was curled up next to me. I was humming a whimsical little tune that I only vaguely remembered. I could feel my heart beating against a slightly smaller body. There was a faint scent of sweat and the rancid stench of a stallion's dirty work. Tremors periodically flooded back into my body. It was okay though. I ignored the trembling and the sour smell. A bath could wait for later. Right now, my sister needed to know that not everypony in the world was out to get her.

She needed to know that somepony cared. Maybe her big brother couldn't stop what was happening to her, but I could be there to help put her back together afterwards.

...Something was wrong. She wasn't trembling any longer, but it wasn't because she had finally finished crying. The cold body that I was leaning against stirred, and I opened my eyes, the song from my memory dying away. I was looking once more into the face of horror.

I screamed.

The only source of warmth around me was a tiny little furnace that blazed beneath my neck. Every other part of me was soaked to the bone and freezing. A tuft of pinions from a minuscule wingtip occasionally twitched and poked me in the eye. How the little pegasus filly had managed to fall asleep in this storm, I doubted that I would ever understand. Still...I remained at my post as her shelter and source of comfort. She'd had a rough day, like all too many of the days she'd seen since losing her family.

She worked hard though, this little filly. Always did as she was told, and took everything I taught her to heart. I'd never given much though to ever becoming a father; not after the shining example I'd had to model off of. That and never really finding myself fancying a mare enough to want to hang around for as long as it'd take to raise a family.

But this though...this was nice.

…Something was wrong. My little furnace was gone, and that soft pinion was now an insecticide monstrosity. I pulled back and looked down at the twisted form of a creature that was not quite a pony.

I screamed.

There was a deep, regretful, sigh from somewhere nearby. A grating voice that I had begun to associate fully with the colonel that had greeted our group at the gates of McMaren spoke in wistful tones, “that's the trouble with ponies these days: so little to hold onto. I remember when I barely got through all of a pony's foalhood memories in a single gulp,” my eyes fluttered open, and I saw the tall, lanky, doppel standing over me, wiping something from her mouth. A faint verdant aura emanated from her, drifting to the smaller creatures nearby. They basked in this dim glow, as though it was a soothing shower of bliss.

I looked past the scene and saw Windfall looking at me in wide-eyed concern. I had no idea what she'd just witnessed, but from the looks of things, she had found it quite frightening. Hard to imagine, given the sorts of horrors that we'd faced regularly in the Wasteland. It'd be interesting to see how she reacted to what was going to happen next. I recalled Bivouac having previously mentioning 'desert'.

Something else caught my attention too, as I looked tiredly at the young white mare: she'd brought more with her than just my pistol. A familiar pair of saddlebags that did not belong to the pegasus were slung across her back beneath the sticky bindings that had caught her. I mentally went through a list of what those bags would contain.

Done with me, the taller black monster turned from me and headed for the pegasus. In the back of my mind, there the temptation to simply lay there and watch what was about to happen. On the other hoof, this would be the first time that Bivouac's attention wouldn't be focused on me. Indeed, it looked as though most of the doppels were intent upon the ivory flier and the fate that was about to befall her. A quick glance all around me provided some other enlightening insight as well. If I was going to make good on an escape, now was the time.

My eyes darted to my bound up limbs. Struggling alone against whatever this substance was had proved futile, but perhaps something else would work. I craned my neck downward and grabbed a wad of the material in my mouth. It tasted rancid and foul, but I somehow managed to keep myself from retching too loudly. I ground my teeth together, pinching as much of the substance as I could between my molars, and felt it start to fray apart. Strands snapped one by one as I continued to chew my way through my bonds. Meanwhile, my ears kept track of Windfall and Bivouac's nearby exchange.

“Aren't you a feisty little filly,” the lanky doppel cooed, “I like that. The feisty ones always have so much that they care about.”

Finally, I felt the bindings wrapped around my legs give way with a muffled snap. I extracted my legs from the loosened bonds and looked around. All eyes were focused on Bivouac and Windfall. None were looking at the stallion that had finished with. Odd, I thought in the back of my head, that they hadn't seemed to want all that much from me in the first place. I had expected that they would either physically devour me or drain the life from me in some other fashion; but aside from a mild headache, I felt fine.

Didn't change the fact that I still considered them a threat that needed to be dealt with.

A quick glance to my left confirmed that my pistol hadn't fallen far from where I'd gone down. Not that I thought for a moment that it would be enough to take down the sort of creature that could shrug off Windfall's own assault. Regular bullets seemed to work well enough on her minions though. As for Bivouac herself, I had a few notions of what might be able to bring her down.

I got to my hooves and collected the pistol in my mouth. Compared to how the bindings had tasted, the dirt covered bitter steel of the firearm was a welcome respite. Now I just needed an opening...

My ear twitched.

Good timing there, Homily.

I confirmed that the volume dial on the pipbuck's radio was turned up to the highest setting and then started walking towards the group of doppel's surrounding Windfall with careful, quiet, steps. I lined up the barrel of my weapon on the closest of the smaller creatures and waited for the burst of static that would cripple them.

A few seconds later, I was rewarded by said cacophonous squealing from the little fetlock-mounted device. As before, Bivouac herself was more annoyed than truly pained by the noise, but her fellows were outright tortured by it. I fired a pair of shots into the back of one of the doppel's heads, ending its misery, and then put down a second. The gunfire got the taller creature's full attention, and she whipped her head around, genuinely surprised to see me up and about.

My face broke out into a broad smile around the grip of the pistol in my mouth, “s'up?”

I fired a round into her forehead.

The shot didn't kill her of course, I hadn't expected it to. Of course, just because small caliber bullets wouldn't pierce her carapace didn't mean that they still didn't have a fair amount of kick behind them. At the very least, it would still feel like she'd been bucked in the head by a rowdy mule. All I needed was for that brief moment of pain and shock to make it past the doppel leader and get to Windfall.

“Jackboot, cut me free!” the pegasus cried, her eyes scanning the surrounding doppels that were still writhing on the ground nearby.

“Maybe later,” I mumbled and I flipped open the flap of one of my saddlebags and grabbed out a thin red stick, “busy now.”

“Jackboot!”

Ignoring the outraged flier, I turned to face a very annoyed looking Bivouac. Her eyes darted to the object clutched in the crook of my fetlock, and her lips twisted into a cruel smile, “dynamite? As though such a simple weapon could possibly be enough to take down me,” she actually sounded a little insulted by the prospect, “I once defeated the pony that your kind now reveres as a goddess in single combat.

“What hope do you have?”

“Hope?” I snorted, “hope ain't never helped anypony in the Wasteland,” even now the sound of the static burst was dying away, and all around us the remaining doppels were struggling back to their hooves and shaking off the effects of the errant signal. They didn't seem very pleased at me for having inflicted it upon them for a second time.

“And this ain't dynamite,” I slammed the crimson stick into the ground and reflexively winced as the ancient flare sputtered to life after two centuries of dormancy. The brilliant scarlet flame turned night into day for about twenty feet in every direction, casting everything in a reddish-orange light that twinkled off of the doppels' carapaces as the flare spit and flickered in a desperate effort to remain lit despite the passage of time.

Bivouac stared at the flare for several seconds, as did the other doppels with her. Then she snarled and looked back at me, “less than useless,” she spat, “that pathetic little fire won't save you. We don't fear the light!”

“Never thought you did,” I shrugged and rolled my eyes, “but back to that whole 'hope' thing you were talking about,” I cleared my throat and slung the pistol off to the side of my mouth to make speaking a little easier, “as I was saying: hope is useless. It never did nothin' for nopony.

“Reinforcements on the other hoof...they help out a good bit. Especially when they have some way for finding you in the middle of the night,” I once more smiled at Bivouac in a broad grin, “you see, this little gadget does more than make noise,” I tapped the pipbuck on my leg, “it's what let me see all of you for what you really are. Y'all look mighty particular to me compared to regular ponies. You fellas look like flickering red dots. Normal ponies are a solid yellow.

“I tell y'all this because I feel you've been neglecting the larger battlefield in favor of this little skirmish.

“And because I'm seeing a lot of yellow out there.”

Bivouac blinked at me, her expression losing nearly all trace of malice and intimidation; replaced instead by worry and concern. She glanced about briefly at the half dozen minions near her, and then cast her gaze further out. The smaller doppels around their leader likewise looked less sure of themselves. My own eyes briefly flicked in a narrow arc around Windfall and I, taking note of the dozen solid yellow blips that were now close enough to be detected. Blips that had ceased to traverse my vision as they had been before I lit the flare. Now they appeared still, suggesting that they were heading either towards or away from us; and with a brilliant beacon like the one that I had just provided that showed clearly the positions of the monsters around us, I could think of no reason why those ponies should be withdrawing.

A few brief seconds later, ponies emerged into view at the edges of the flare's glow. All of them were armed, and most were covered in smears of green blood that testified to the many doppels they had slain up to this point in the evening. I could only imagine how rough those first moments of fighting must have been, even with those monsters indisposed they way they had been. They initial shock would have cost Homily's ponies precious seconds during the revelation. Nor would the doppels have been inclined to restrain themselves very much once they'd been exposed like they had. It had obviously been a very bloody affair.

Yet it seemed that the ponies had won out in the end.

My eyes locked onto a purple unicorn at the head of the group. Her hair was matted with a mixture of green and red blood. At her side hovered her eldrich lance, thrumming with power. Foxglove's eyes flickered briefly to Windfall and myself to make sure than the two of use were relatively unharmed, and then returned their focus to the doppels.

“Looks like you have a choice to make, Bivouac,” I said, turning away from the tall black carapace-clad monster and her concerned expression. I sought out a small utility knife from the saddlebags and passed it to Windfall so that she could begin freeing herself, “run or die,” I poked my head back into the bags for another brief moment and came out with an ampule of Dash in my mouth. Calmly, I depressed the small canister and took a long pull on the aerosol that flooded into my lungs.

Time seemed to slow as I let out a deep breath and allowed the inhaler to fall to the ground, spent. I turned back to face the doppels and craned my head from one side to the other, feeling the gratifying crack of my neck as I did so. Bivouac leveled a very irritated sneer in my direction. Around her, her remaining servants backed into a protective circle as they faced down the superior force being arrayed against them.

“Your still here?” I cocked my head to the side, intrigued. Then I shrugged, “die it is.”

I launched myself at the group of doppels. Bivouac's horn flared, and a bolt of green light arced towards me. I bound to the right, and let the magical ball of energy hurl itself uselessly into the ground. A deft hop put me into the air, and a twist of my hips swung my hind legs into one of the smaller doppels surrounding their leader. Its head snapped around far quicker then whatever musculature existed in its neck had been designed to tolerate, and the creature's head wound up facing backwards before the beast fell over dead. Not before I used the body as a fulcrum to push off of and give me the altitude that I needed to finally get eye level with Bivouac.

My forelegs wrapped around her head. My left swung beneath her jaw while my right grabbed her gnarled horn. I anchored my hind legs around her shoulders and then arched my back as far back as I could. Bivouac's head and neck strained against me, but her magical strength belied her physical prowess, and she soon found her head pulled back as far as I could get it, to the point where she was even able to glare right back at me; albeit upside-down.

“Didn't anypony ever tell you that it's important to keep your head in a fight?” I chuckled.

Bivouac's outraged scowl flickered in confusion for a brief moment. Then her eyes went wide for a terrified, pained, fraction of a second. The next thing I knew, I was off balance and falling backwards off of the tall doppel's back, her head still clutched in my hooves. I was able to roll over at the last moment and use the severed head and neck to break my fall as I hit the ground. The rest of the larger doppel's body crumpled down next to me in almost the same instant. In front of me stood Foxglove, her lance hovering at her side.

Small caliber rounds were one thing, magically powered cutting torches were another, I reasoned.

A quick glance confirmed that the remaining smaller doppels had been dispatched with little issue by the other ponies. I looked back at the blood-splattered unicorn, “took you long enough.”

Foxglove was not amused by the comment, “they caught us almost immediately when we got back to the radio tower,” she sighed, shaking her head, “Homily is not good under pressure. I think these things can literally sense fear. The moment she stepped through the door, all the McMaren ponies...er, whatever, looked right at her and pounced.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, “great. How'd you get away?”

“Me,” Windfall announced from behind me, having finally freed herself from her bonds. She was still fishing errant strands out of her wings though, “when I get away from the ambush, I figured something had to have gone wrong at the tower.”

“Yeah, about that,” I glanced at the young flier, “I knew that it wasn't the real Foxglove when we got outside because of my Eyes Forward Sparkle. How'd you figure it out?”

Windfall cocked her brow, “I knew the moment she approached me in the mess hall,” she blinked, “wait, you didn't know until we were already outside?”

“How could you have possibly have known then?” I asked incredulously. They looked identical!

“Um, no lance? Duh.”

I blinked and thought back over the encounter. Sure enough, there had been no lance with the mare that had come to get us in the mess hall; and given the situation that we knew ourselves to be in at the time, there would have been no way that the real Foxglove would have ventured out unarmed, “oh. Right.”

“So, yeah,” Windfall went on, “I darted back to our rooms, collected our gear, and then rescued the ponies at the tower.”

“So, is this the last of them?” I asked, nodding at the pile of corpses nearby.

“Pretty sure,” Foxglove replied with a nod, “we don't exactly know how many of them there were to begin with, but I got the impression that they all wanted to be near us all night. Did we ever figure out what they wanted to do to us?”

“Bivouac did something to Jackboot,” Windfall informed the unicorn, a note of concern coloring her tone. Both mares looked at me, “are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” I frowned at the pair, “just a little headache.”

“You're sure?”

“Of course I'm sure,” I curled my lip in a sneer as I jerked my head towards the beheaded carcass nearby, “I did just help kill their leader or whatever. Whatever she did to me, it didn't last very long. Fuck if I know what it was all about. A couple bad dreams and it was all over.

“Now, since the crisis is over with; I'm feeling kind of hungry, and I could use a shower,” I stepped past the pair of mares and headed for the mess hall. As I stepped past an orange earth pony mare that was part of Homily's crew, I brushed up against her and murmured in her ear, “I could use some help with those hard-to-reach places, honey,” she drew back in surprise and I winked at her, “think on it.

“And Windy, put my crap back in my room, would ya? Thanks!”

It had been a long night, and a bitter fight. Fortunately, it was finally over, and I could relax again. It had felt like weeks since I'd been in a position to do that. The thought that this was much the way I had felt only a few hours ago did occur to me, and it had proven to be an erroneous observation. On the other hoof, most, if not all, of the McMaren monsters were dead now; and I was through with worrying about what they had been up to. Whatever Bivouac had done to me hadn't seemed to have any real affect anyway, and I was feeling like I'd allowed myself to get all wound up for nothing.

A little food, a lot of alcohol, and a warm bed were the order of the—sweet mother of Celestia!

I nearly jumped out of my hide as a burst of deafening static burst out of my leg. I scrambled for the volume knob on the pipbuck and turned it all the way down. Then I smack the 'Off' button several times, but that didn't do very much. Then Homily and Foxglove's explanation about how the signal didn't care whether the receivers had power or not crept back into my memory. Hopefully somepony dealt with that before it pissed me off enough to do something about it.

The sound of movement coming from behind me drew my attention, and I turned my head only to see the orange mare I'd whispered to earlier coming up behind me. A smile tugged at my lips, and I slowed my pace to allow her to catch up. It looked like she'd opted to take me up on my offer after all.

“Foxglove said we shouldn't let anypony be alone in case there are more of those things out there,” the Orange mare said, by way or explaining her presence.

“Smart mare, that one,” I nodded, brushing up against the mare as she came up beside me, “we shouldn't be alone for even a moment,” I agreed, “not even when we're in bed. Have you got one yet, by the way? Because mine's pretty big.”

The mare frowned slightly and stepped further to the side, “I'm...not sure I'm really in the mood for that sort of thing. Not after what I just went through.”

“I understand,” I said with a nod as we neared the mess hall, “it can be pretty stressful for anypony that's not used to that sort of thing. You know what helps?”

“What?”

“A drink,” I shrugged. The mare flashed a dubious look in my direction. I shook my head and smiled warmly, “I'm not saying get drunk,” I explained, “just have one drink. Enough of a buzz to make you a little numb and put what you went through into perspective. Trust me, it works. This isn't my first brush with long odds.

“We were the ponies that took on a whole raider den to rescue you, remember?”

The orange mare thought about this for a moment and then nodded, “alright,” she conceded, “but just the one drink.”

We arrived at the door to the mess hall and I opened it and waved the mare inside, “it's all you'll need,” I assured her, and followed the earth pony's red tail inside.

“Jackboot?”

I winced hard at the sound of my name. Honestly, the fact that the sound was my name had very little to do with what had induced the wince. That it was a sound at all had been enough. It was far too early in the morning for anypony to be speaking that loudly while they were standing in the same room that I was. Didn't anypony have an ounce of respect for sleeping ponies anymore?

“Jackboot?”

A grumbled garble of sounds that I had intended to be a sternly worded rebuke and insistence that this intruder leave was the response that they got as I rolled away from the sound and covered my head with my pillow. Learn to take a hint, whoever you were. And, for the love of Celestia, stop yelling!

“Jackboot!”

Oh, for pony's sake, “what?!” I shot up out of bed and glared at the intruder; and I immediately regretted everything that I had just done. The bright light of what I took to be the noon day overcast, combined with the rapid movements, only served to announce to myself that I did indeed have the mother of all hangovers. My brains started to throb with unparalleled pain. I was simultaneously overcome with a wave of nausea, which cascade up through my throat and out of my mouth and onto the floor beside the bed in a very unexpected fashion.

At least it was over quickly. Now if the pony in the room with me would be so kind as to pick up Full Stop and put a bullet through my head so that I wouldn't be forced to suffer any more, that would be wonderful.

My visitor was silent for a long moment while I finished retching and spiting out the contents of my stomach. After a few unproductive dry heaves, she continued speaking once more, “feeling better?”

“No,” I groaned, feeling my stomach threatening to rally for another bout of puking; despite its very empty state, “go away, Foxy.”

“Stop calling me that,” the lavender mare said in a dry tone, “we're not on pet name terms. Which brings me to why I'm here.”

“It's too early for this shit,” I grumbled and rolled back over in bed to face away from the mare.

“It's three in the afternoon.”

“Like I said: too early.”

“Tough. We're having this discussion, so make peace with it. You and I are going to get some things straightened out here and now.”

“You really need to get laid.”

The mare seemed to balk at the comment, “excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I tugged the covers up more over my shoulders and shifted to make myself more comfortable in the bed, “go get yourself a nice pony ride and then we can 'talk' about whatever's still bothering you about last night.

“Now if you'll excuse me, I struck out pretty hard last night, and I'm still very hung over,” go figure that orange mare was gay. A fact that didn't come to light until we were both already half drunk and Homily walked in. Gay, and attached...who knew? At least she and Homily got in a fair amount of passionate kissing before shuffling off to find someplace more private. I wasn't much for the whole 'watching' thing, but at least I'd known they weren't weird insectoid monsters that time. It did give me a little material for some personal time when I'd finally stumbled back to my own bed later that night.

Very suddenly, I was no longer on the bed. The sheet had been ripped away with such force that it had landed me on the floor with a very unceremonious thunk. If I wasn't too hung over to stand up, I'd probably have tried to take a swing at Foxglove. As it was, all I could do was voice my protest and glare at her, “what the fuck!”

“We're talking about this,” the purple unicorn insisted, “because it's about Windfall too.”

“Ugh,” I groaned, “why? That thing didn't turn into Windfall until after you came in the room...”

“Jackboot,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “one of those things was in Windfall's room too, you know?”

Oh, that was right, wasn't it? I remembered that now. It had lead to the little predicament where shooting me to make sure I still bled red blood was a viable option. Still, that didn't explain why it had this mare so wound up, “so? She had things pretty well in hoof when I got there,” she'd had my double rather expertly subdued as I recalled.

“Yeah, but when I found her before that, things were...different,” Foxglove stressed the word uncomfortably.

I looked up at the mare and cocked a brow, “different how?”

The unicorn only glared at me in silence. It was a genuinely amused smile on the face of a piss-yellow mare that live in my head and a rather lewd gesture with her hooves that started the gears turning, “oh. Oh! Really?”

Foxglove did not seem to care for the way that my lips curled into a smile around that last word. She shot me a very fiery glare, “it's not okay, Jackboot,” she insisted, “she can't think you'd really do something like that.”

“Why not?” I asked with a frown, “it's not like I'm her real father or anything, and she's a grown mare,” my response seemed to take Foxglove aback. The unicorn blinked at me in stark shock, “hell, I've saved her life like a hundred times or something. The least I deserve from her's a good fuck or two-”

I was very much not prepared for the smack across my face that my presumption earned me, “what the fuck?!” I yelled at the unicorn. Cold fury pushed aside most of my alcohol related impairments, and I finally found the balance necessary to get up onto my hooves and square off against the mare. I wasn't quite so sure of how competent I'd be in any sort of physical altercation, so I held my own hoof from a retaliatory strike; but I did keep Foxglove fixed with a deathly stare, “the hell was that for?!”

“I thought you raised her from a filly,” the unicorn seethed, “a couple weeks ago you were ready to give up everything to protect her, and wouldn't dreamed of touching her like that.

“What changed?”

“Call it an epiphany,” I shrugged. More of return to my roots really, if I was going to be honest. This had been the plan from the beginning: groom a fiercely loyal pawn that would defend me to the death, and provide comfort on demand. I had lost sight of that over the last few years, sure, but things were back in focus once more, “our relationship's changed quite a bit recently, if you'll recall. Windy knows I'm a White Hoof; the whole 'dad' angle's out the window. I'm just some stallion to her now.

“According to you, I'm a stallion she fancies, too. So why pretend?”

Foxglove looked shocked at my admission, “how could you even think to do that to a filly-”

“Because she ain't a filly no more,” I spat back at the purple mare, “and she's fucking hot, and I ain't had any in like ten years or something. You don't get to tell me who I can fuck; and her neither.”

“She's not old enough for that sort of thing, Jackboot. You touch one feather on her and I'll-”

“Oh, finish that threat,” I growled at the mare, “I dare you,” whatever else Foxglove had been about to say died in her throat beneath my cold gaze. She took a step back from me, and I saw her horn start to glow. My eyes flickered to the eldrich lance strapped to her back, and the faint emerald aura that it had taken on. I suppressed the impulse to take a step back of my own. She's have the upper hoof in a fight right now, and if I was the one that attacked her, she could very easily claim self defense when she explained things to Windfall.

Of course, now that I had access to some very interesting information...

I smiled at the unicorn and then looked past her, “hey, Windy? You mind coming in here for a second,” my gaze flickered back to the unicorn, who was now looking very concerned about what I was up to. The lance stayed affixed to her back though.

A few moments later, the pegasus stepped into the room, performing some minor adjustments to the straps of her modified battle-saddle, “hey, you're up,” she noted, “welcome back to the land of the living. Next time leave a little booze for the rest of us, I've only got the one bottle of Special Reserve left.”

“Ha, ha, Very funny,” I responded with a rather obviously feigned laugh to demonstrate my lack of amusement about what had transpired last night, “speaking of last night,” I cast a side glance at Foxglove, “Foxy here was telling me about who you thought was paying you a night-time visit,” I saw the young flier's cheeks instantly start to burn pink beneath her white downy fur, “you like older stallions, eh?” the glower from the unicorn was hard to ignore, but I was mostly sure she wouldn't cut me in half in front of Windfall like this.

Mostly.

For her part, the pegasus was looking a little uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation, and very embarrassed about the topic at large. I noticed a glare of betrayal being cast in the unicorn's direction as well, “Foxy here didn't go into details; care to share some?”

“I...” the pegasus began, shifting nervously from one hoof to the other, “...think we should get going. It's a long walk back to New Reino,” Windfall very suddenly and very quickly found a need to adjust her straps further as she turned and left the room at a brisk trot.

Foxglove and I were once more alone in the room, staring each other down. The unicorn's horn wasn't glowing anymore, her lance tucked neatly in its sling. It was clear from Foxglove's expression that she wanted very much to smack the satisfied expression I was wearing off of my face. I wasn't done toying with this bitch yet, though, and tapped a hoof on my chin thoughtfully, “there are actually quite a few nice bars in New Reino, now that I think of it. I should take Windy to one of them; buy her a few rounds. See where the night takes us...”

“Jackboot, don't,” the unicorn's tone was less threatening this time around, and leaning more towards a near-desperate plea, “she's confused. She's learned a lot about you recently, and she's still trying to figure things out.”

“Sounds to me like she's figured out a thing or two,” I noted, “out of curiosity, was she on her belly or does she take it on her back?”

“What is wrong with you?!” Foxglove hissed, making a cautious glance over her shoulder to see if the pegasus was still anywhere nearby, “Jackboot, please, don't! Not to her.”

I seized on those last three words, as they gave me a very new and interesting direction to take this conversation that might even work about better for me, all things considered, “alright.”

The violet mare was about to say more in an effort to make her case, but drew up short with a confused blink, “what. Really?”

“Well, why not?” I shrugged, and started poking around my barding and gear, “I mean, sure she's cute; but I've had 'cute' before. An older buck like myself needs more than just a pretty face,” I nuzzled the worn leather armor up and over my head and onto my back, “besides, she's never fucked, like, ever. I don't think she's ever even touched a dick before.

“I'd have to teach her everything. Hoofjobs, dick sucking, reverse pony-rides,” I idly fiddled with the straps of the barding, keeping my expression rather bored and neutral even as I watched Foxglove grow more flustered in the doorway, “I'd probably have to stop her every ten seconds to tell her what she's doing wrong. You're not a stallion, so you can't imagine how frustrating that'd be.

“It'd be the worst sex ever, like, the first three times, at least,” With the barding now fastened securely, I set about lifting my saddlebags onto my back and getting them tightened down.

“Well...it's not the reason I'd prefer,” Foxglove mumbled in a deadpan tone, “but I'll take the result. Thanks for agreeing to keep your hooves off of Windfall, Jackboot. I'll talk with her over the next few days, get her set straight.”

I nodded my accord, “that sounds fine,” I checked my pistol and Full Stop, and made certain that they were snug in their holsters. When I headed for the door, I drew up short just in front of Foxglove, making her take a half step back in surprise at my sudden proximity. A smirk appeared on my face at the sight of her perplexed expression, “I think the two of us should try out a quick kiss first; just to break the ice.”

“Wh-what?!” the unicorn took another, much larger, step back from me. It was very clear from her expression that she had no clue what I was talking about, which just encouraged my smile to grow a little broader, “have you lost your Celesta-given mind? Why would I ever kiss you?”

I shrugged, “ I mean, I guess we can go right to the sex, but I think that would just make those first moments kind of awkward, don't you?”

“What?!” Foxglove somehow manged to catch herself halfway through the outraged burst and rein it in to a loud whisper so as not to draw Windfall's attention to our conversation, “sex?! What could possibly make you think that I would ever have sex with you?!”

With a bored matter-of-factly look, I sighed, “hey, you're the one taking Windfall's slit off the menu; I think it's only fair that you provide the stand-in. Don't you?”

The unicorn's ears flattened to her head, and her eyes went hard once more, “you touch me and I'll castrate you right here and now,” she snarled in a low tone that suggested she wasn't exaggerating in the least.

I took a step back from her and raised a hoof in surrender, “alright, alright,” I conceded, “you're sending a lot of mixed signals my way, but fine. I'll stick with Windfall,” at a renewed glared from Foxglove, “but I'll take things slow, I promise. Tonight it'll be all about hoofjobs. I'll even be a gentlecolt and try not to cum in her eyes,” unfortunately, I wasn't able to keep my face straight for the entirety, and finished the promise a wry smile, “but if any gets on me, I'm going to make her lick it up, of course.

“I want her taught proper etiquette, after all.”

At this moment, I decided that Foxglove actually did have a phenomenal amount of self control when all was said and done. I could see in her eyes that she desired nothing more than to chop me up into manageable portions with her eldrich lance and then feed me morsel by morsel to as wide a variety of Wasteland critters as she could find until there was no trace left of me to soil this world. As it was, she just charged up into my face and growled. She didn't even hit me this time. For my part, I kept a level head and maintained my sly smile as I stared down the infuriated unicorn.

“Unless you'd like volunteer again?”

“You're a monster,” the mare informed me, as she glared up at me with seething emerald eyes.

“Never claimed to be anything else,” I said with a slight incline of my head, “shall we discuss terms?”

Foxglove said nothing, merely continuing to glare at me. I took her lack of an explicit refusal as a tacit agreement, “alright, I'll start: I get to take you whenever and however I want for as long as you're with us. Counter-offer?”

For several seconds, the unicorn was silent. Then she finally deigned to speak, “Once a week. Hoofjobs.”

“Ooh,” I shook my head and flashed the mare a frown, “we're going to have to meet in the middle on this one, Foxy. Once a day. Vaginal and oral, and you have to pretend to like it.”

“Vaginal or oral,” Foxglove growled in a low tone, “and you stop calling me 'Foxy'.”

“Vaginal or oral,” I conceded, “but I get to call you whatever I want. How else will I make Windy jealous while we're going at it?”

“Never in front of Windfall,” the unicorn was very emphatic about that point, and I let it slide. I was already making out better on this deal than I had honestly expected too. Foxglove was surprisingly protective of the young flier.

“Fine,” I said with a nod, “so we have a deal then? Once a day, vaginal or oral, I get to call you pet names, and never around the pegasus. Any other clauses you'd like to add?”

“You lay one hoof on Windfall, and I'll cut you in half.”

“Terms accepted,” I grinned at the unicorn. Then I leaned my head forward and casually ran my tongue over my lips, “let's kiss on it.”

Once again, Foxglove said nothing, but nor did she retract her head from my close proximity as she had the last time I leaned in. So, acting on a hunch, I pursed my lips and leaned the rest of the way in. It was hardly a passionate affair, and the unicorn kept her lips stubbornly closed, but I was still able to get a decent taste of the younger mare, and my nostrils filled with her scent.

I didn't let it last very long though. Already, after just a few seconds, I could feel myself starting to...anticipate...our first night; and I didn't want to start something that I wasn't going to have the chance to finish yet. I pulled back and took in a deep, satisfied, breath, “until tonight then.”

“You don't get to touch me until we reach New Reino,” Foxglove stated firmly, “like I said: not in front of Windfall.”

“A last minute addendum,” I softly chided, taking the liberty of once more extending my head and nuzzling the unicorn; mostly just to see if she'd balk at the intimate touch. To her credit, she did not. And why shouldn't she? I didn't know every detail about the mare's past, but I knew about her tenure in New Reino, and the gist of how she had spent her time in the city, “you're a shrewd negotiator,” this was how I should have approached things with Foxglove from the beginning, I reasoned. She was used to this: setting terms with clients for sex. Maybe it wasn't a straight up exchange for caps like I'd had with Saffron back in Flank, but services for promises was close enough.

“But that's going to cost you an addendum of my own,” I purred in her ear. My lips curled upward as I delivered the final little caveat, “I want to see some tears the first time,” I could feel Steel Bit sitting in the back of my head, and see his jagged grin, “and I want you to call me, 'Daddy'.”

Foxglove pulled away now, her face a mask of concern, and even a little revulsion. For a moment, I half expected her to back out of our arrangement, but she kept silent. I saw her eyes search mine for a few brief moments. When she didn't see any sign of whatever it was that she had been hoping to find, she turned and left. I watch her leave, my own gaze focusing on the supple little flank that was going to be all mine in just a few days time. My father's ghost was giving me a few suggestions for how best to abuse it during our inaugural rut.

It was going to be a lot of fun using that mare. If she felt good, I might even make an effort to let her enjoy things too and keep her around. If she was going to be as tight with her cunt as she had been with her lips though, I'd have to go ahead and make things rough for her. Enough so that I got her to renege on our deal or outright leave. Then I'd have an open go at Windfall with nopony to stand in my way. Steel Bit was all too ready to suggest a whole list of what to teach the little pegasus to do. A blank canvas like her would take a lot of work at first, but in the end I would have a mare that didn't have anypony else's bad habits to draw on.

You push that unicorn too far, and she might just kill you anyway, you know, my sister pointed out.

That was a possibility, yes. I'd take things slow with her at first. Make her think I was given fully to abiding by our contract. At least until I'd come up with some way of getting her out of the picture without further destroying the flier's trust. Maybe I could even arrange it in such a way that Windfall was driven into my bed for consolation. It was something to ponder on while we headed back for New Reino.

With the final bit of packing out of the way in terms of food and supplies, the three of us had one final meeting with Homily before we headed off. It was mostly just to confirm that things were as established at the ancient military base as we could have made them. I'd completed one final scan of the base with my Eyes Forward Sparkle, and confirmed that there was no sign of any other dopples. I very much doubted that every single one of them had been killed; but those that had survived had clearly fled. Hopefully for good. Though the suggestion had been made to Homily and her crew to keep a pass phrase system in place for the next few weeks just in case.

It would be weeks, if not months, before the radio tower was fit to make broadcasts with any meaningful range in the valley; but I was given leave to inform our benefactor that the mission had been accomplished, along with a message from Homily that would confirm as much and allow us to collect our payment. Frankly, that was all that I really wanted from these ponies, after eveything that I'd been through on their behalf. If there was any way to swing it, I was going to fish a bonus out of the pony that'd put out this contract for clearing out McMaren.

Footnote:
Level Up!: Quick Recovery - Getting up after being knocked down requires 1 less AP!
Unarmed Skill: 75

CHAPTER 16: COLD COLD HEART

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“Moral standards? It sure as hell ain't here!”

The trip back to New Reino was thankfully uneventful. Which wasn't to say that it didn't feel like it hadn't taken forever. If Windfall noticed that the unicorn and I weren't sharing even a word of idle chatter, she didn't comment on it. Even the pegasus and I didn't talk much. Foxglove and Windfall carried the entirety of the conversations on our return trip. I satisfied myself with hanging back to play the part of rear guard. Though, my gaze was directed not in the direction that we had come, but rather pointedly at the violet mare's hindquarters; with an occasional stare at the teal tail swishing behind the flier. At night, I played out a myriad of scenarios to put Foxglove through when we finally reached New Reino.

That wasn't to say that the fun got to start the moment we arrived at the city. It was late morning when the three of us finally trudged in through the gates; and even though I could have very convincingly played the 'let's just take a quick nap' card in order to collect on my blackmail from Foxglove; there was something nagging at the back of my head about the last contract that I needed to address before I'd be able to truly enjoy myself without feeling distracted. Somepony had spent a lot of caps on making sure that Homily and her team got to that tower in one piece; and nopony was rich enough in this valley to just be that altruistic.

There was an angle here, and I didn't see it yet.

I fished a pouch of caps out of my saddlebags and tossed them to the flier. Windfall deftly caught the tiny sac on an outstretched wing, “get us a couple of rooms, and some decent grub; I'll go collect on the contract.”

“Are we bunking at Bonny's again?” Windfall asked.

I quirked up the corner of my mouth in a wry smile, “fuck that shit hole,” I snorted, “with the payday we just scored? The Flash in the Pan Casino. High-roller suites. In fact,” I ducked my head back into my bag and tossed out another sum of caps, “have some fun at the tables until I get back, and make sure they stock the rooms with plenty of whiskey.”

Windall's jaw went slack as she judged the weight of the pouches that I'd tossed to her. There was somewhere in the realm of seven hundred caps in there. Enough for a deposit on the rooms and a decent meal. The two of them should even have enough to play a few table games depending on how quickly they lost everything. It would certainly keep her out of my mane until I was done with my little sleuthing expedition.

For her own part, Foxglove didn't comment. She did keep a rather distrustful glare pointed in my direction that Windfall couldn't see. Soon, my dear, very soon. But there are some things that are more important than a piece of cheap unicorn flank, no matter how much I'll enjoy wrecking the mare than owns it. Bits and leverage happen to be among those those things, and I intended to extort some of both in the next hour.

The first step was to track down the contact that we'd gotten the job from in the first place. An unassuming stallion that kept a reserved booth in a casino bar. It had been the casino that Tommyknocker had owned before he'd met his rather gruesome end. I didn't know who owned it now, but it was still up and running, so somepony had obviously stepped in. All I needed to do to make contact and collect on the owed caps was show up, sit in the booth, and deliver Homily's little code.

Being the stallion on a mission that I was, I didn't even waste a moment of passing pleasantries with the earth pony hostess that greeted me at the entrance to the bar. The only sign that I offered that I was even aware of her presence was a quick glance back in her direction in an effort to glimpse up her cocktail dress. Eh, nothing special. My mind was once more focused on the task at hoof, and I made a bee-line for the designated booth. The contact was sitting there, sipping something from a tall glass.

I sat down and stared at the pony. A well dressed unicorn stallion wearing a pin-striped suit and a tie. His eggshell coat was well groomed, and his golden mane glistened with styling gel. A very presentable pony, and the perfect face of a high-profile enterprise. That wasn't to say that I knew what party he represented. I didn't for a moment consider that he was the pony in charge, of course. Ponies that made decisions didn't have the time to sit at the same booth in a bar all day.

By contrast, I looked nothing like him. Weeks spent out in the deepest parts of the Wasteland had left my mane matted and dry. My coat was marked by scars and stains of blood and grim that a casual shower or two at McMaren had only been able to scratch the surface of. Perhaps tonight, a good first frolic with Foxglove would be best served in a long, warm, bath where she could do some real good by working on my coat. Those thoughts were for later though. For now, it was time for the grimy pony wearing tattered dirty barding to talk as an equal with the unicorn wearing a laundered and pressed suit.

“You're...Jackboot, right?” the unicorn began, as though he had been forced to swallow something vile by deigning to talk with me. A smile tugged at my cheeks.

“Job's done. Homily says that she'll be expecting her collection of Sweetie Belle records on the next convoy out,” I saw the recognition on the other stallion's face as I delivered the code phrase, “personally, I think that bitch is a hack. Give me the Ink Plots any day.

“Don't get me wrong, she looks all sorts of tasty in her pictures,” I continued, waving my hoof in the air idly, “but if she squeals like she sings, I'd need to face fuck her in order to finish.”

I took pleasure in seeing the unicorn stallion's face scrunch up in revulsion at my lewd remarks. Such a proper little pony, wasn't he? Hard to believe that this buck had grown up in the Wasteland, with sensibilities like that. Though, I guess the sort of life that he had lead was a far cry from what mine had been, “quite,” he cleared his throat, “where would you like your payment delivered?”

“Into my hoof,” I extended the mentioned appendage across the table, “by the pony that set all this up.”

“That is not how my client does things,” the eggshell unicorn insisted, narrowing his violet eyes. I noticed his horn start to glow with a matching amethyst hue, and a glimpse of motion from the far side of the bar drew my attention to a pair of ponies that were paying the two of us a lot of attention. Muscle, in case things went poorly with a contractor.

“It's how he's going to do things with me,” I responded, as though the two other ponies didn't concern me. They weren't likely to create that much of a scene in a place like this as long as I didn't do anything that was overtly threatening. This should be mostly about intimidation. Not that I wasn't a little intimidated. They had be backed into a literal corner, and I didn't want an all-out fight either. Killing these ponies wouldn't get me what I was really after, “unless he wants me undoing everything I just did. Homily and her friends trust me now, after all. If I dropped by for a 'friendly little visit', they'd never see it coming when I butchered them all in their sleep.”

That got the unicorn's attention. I thought it might, “imagine how upset your boss'll be when he finds out a friendly little chat was all it would take to keep that from happening.”

The suited stallion held up his hoof, and the two other ponies that had been slowly making their way towards us drew up short and returned to their seats at the bar. Those purple eyes glared hard into mine for a long, silent, moment. Then, “very well. A meeting can be arranged. Come back-”

“If I head out that door, and it's not on my way to speak with your boss, it'll be back to McMaren to put a bullet in everypony's head and blow that radio tower to tatarus,” I finished for him, driving the stallion to stunned silence, “either bring him here, or bring me to him. Don't take too long though, or I might get bored and take a walk out into the Wasteland.”

“You're playing a dangerous game,” the unicorn began, doing a passable job of sounding menacing. It might even have been enough to make most ponies in this city think twice. The trouble was that this pony had severely misjudged his audience.

I straight up laughed at the pony, “oh, please! I just got back from clearing out a fortified raider den and a base that was crawling with hundreds of fucking demons the likes of which you can't even imagine. And you're going to threaten me with, what? Them?” I snorted and rolled my eyes, “they wouldn't last a minute in the sorts of places that I make my living in.

“I killed my first pony when I was five,” I grinned at the stallion, who was now looking a good deal less sure of himself, “I can kill everypony in this bar in under five minutes,” I leaned in nice and close to the unicorn's face now, pleased to see him recoil, visibly shaken, “and you'll be the first to go.

“And all you have to do to avert all that bloodshed,” I leaned back in the booth, his drink in my hoof, “is arrange one tiny little meeting,” I took an appraising sip of the drink. Not great, but it had alcohol in it, “your life is worth one meeting with your boss, right?” I finished the rest of the drink and tossed the empty glass back at the unicorn.

A purple glow caught the arcing vessel, and it slowly floated down to the table. The eggshell stallion swallowed and nodded, “I'll see if he's free.”

“Fantastic!” I grinned at the unicorn, shifting to make myself comfortable in the booth, “while you do that, how about ordering some grub? It was a long trip. Oh, and a bottle of Wild Pegasus too.”

The eggshell unicorn slipped out of the booth and exchanged some words with his two companions that I didn't hear. The gist of whatever he'd said must have had something to do with my demands though, as a cute little waitress dropped by with a bottle of whiskey and a plate of grilled bloat sprite bits. The stallion with the nice suit was gone, but the other two ponies remained at the bar, keeping a cautious eye on me while I enjoyed the free meal. If these ponies were going to be this easy to push around, maybe I could give Foxglove a pass for tonight and just have them find a discrete whore for me to play around with.

Or, I mused with a smile, I could have some fun with the whore, and then go put Foxglove through her paces too. Nothing in our deal had precluded bringing in a second mare into our evening antics. The images such an adventure conjured brought a grin to my face as I finished off the last of my food. The bottle I only drained down about half way before stuffing it into my saddlebag for later. I wouldn't have drunk so much of it if it hadn't been so watered down, not with a meeting coming up where I was trying to fish out an advantageous deal. Ponies in this town were just such cheats when it came to their liquor.

“The boss'll see you now,” the eggshell unicorn announced upon his return.

I ran an appraising eye up and down the stallion for a few seconds before responding. He'd been gone less than five minutes. Wherever we were going, it must have been close. Or a trap. Probably a trap around back. Such a shame. Eggshell here could have lead a long and mildly luxurious life. Oh well, “lead on,” I swung out of the booth and motioned for the pony to precede me. Idly, my hoof brushed up against the holster for Full Stop and undid the strap that held the revolver secure.

My curiosity piqued however, when he did not take me outside, or bring either of his goons along. Oddly enough, we headed for the casino's main staircase, and went up two floors. His boss had a room in this place? No, that wasn't right either. We weren't going anywhere near the guest rooms; we were heading for the staff area. The pony that had bankrolled Homily and her crew worked here? That...seemed odd, to say the least. What sense did it make for a pony working in a gambling establishment to spend tens of thousands of caps on setting up a radio tower out in the middle of the Neighvada valley?

I didn't see any way for a pony to make a lot of money doing something like that.

That was apparently going have to be one of my questions during this meeting; which I guess was actually going to happen. The unicorn stallion's timely return hadn't been because he had just been setting up a killzone, but because he truly hadn't had to go very far to talk to his boss. Maybe I wouldn't have to kill him after all. At least, not for now. The future could be a cruel bitch, after all.

We came to a stop outside of a door bearing a placard on it that read, 'Lucky Bit CEO'. Once upon a time, this would have been Tommyknocker's old office, I guess. The eggshell stallion knocked on the door with a stiff hoof, and then nodded at me. I pushed the door open and stepped through, curious as to who I would find in the tubby stallion's place.

Inside, I found myself struck by a sudden sensation of deja vu. That wasn't to say that I had ever been inside this particular room before, because I most certainly had not. However, there was something strangely familiar about it. I didn't mean the old world art pieces and furnishings that were a part of so many rooms that affluent ponies liked to set themselves up in. As common as such things were, that wasn't what had me feeling nostalgic right now.

No, that had to do with the missing wall at the far end of the office. I felt that it must have been a rather recent addition to the office. That wasn't to say that there weren't a fair number of buildings in the Wasteland that were missing a wall or two in some of there rooms. There were. However, ponies rarely sought out such rooms for use as their main offices. They preferred rooms that were whole, and did not suggest that they lacked the funds or sense to keep them intact. So imagine my surprise when I saw, beyond the opulent desk and high-backed chair, nothing but air and sky.

Maybe it was part of some tactic to put visitors off? Ponies in charge liked to be at an advantage when they discussed business, after all; and walking in a room like this without knowing to expect it had certainly momentarily derailed my train of thought. The fact that the chair was facing away from me, depriving me of the seeing the face of the pony that I was here to meet, suggested another such tactic. This pony was good. They were also remaining silent, I noted. That was an expected approach. Let the visitor become disconcerted by the silence until they were forced to speak. Well, he wasn't going to get that satisfaction from me-

“W-w-what do you want?” was the abrupt question from beyond the chair that set my ear to twitching.

Now that feeling of familiarity ratcheted up several more degrees. A notion of why this was familiar tugged at my mind, but that couldn't possibly be it, could it?

“...Itchy?” I posed the question hesitantly, nearly certain that my mind was just having fun with me.

“Yeah? I-I-I mean—no! What? Itchy, wh-wh-who's that? Is that even a n-n-name?” the voice tripped over itslef as it tried to explain away it's own outburst, “I d-d-don't have an itch!”

My jaw went slack, having just been given all the remaining proof that I needed to confirm what my mind had been suspecting. Yet, it still did nothing to explain how this was even possible. This was New Reino, in Neighvada. Itchy lived in Flank, who knew how many hundreds of miles away. There was no way in Celectia's-fucking-tatarus, that Itchy could be here.

And yet, “Itchy, it's me: Jackboot.”

“J-J-Jackie?!” the chair suddenly spun around. A little too quickly for the pony sitting in it as it turned out, as I caught only a brief glimpse of the seated stallion before he vanished from sight once more as the chair completed its nearly full revolution. I then heard the sound of a surprised exclamation and the sound of somepony hitting the ground.

It had only been the second's glimpse; but even in the second I had managed to spy the familiar auburn face of the pony that I had known from my drug-peddling days in Flank. That confirmation didn't stem the cascade of questions that were starting to pile up in my head though.

Before I could ask any of them, a second voice from my past resonated throughout the room in a booming, but familiar drawl, “as I live and breathe,” my eyes shifted instantly from the desk that Itchy had vanished behind, and directed themselves out past the missing wall, and the griffon that had descended into view. Though the golden fur had dulled, and those charcoal feathers had whitened around his eyes and beak, there was no doubt about the identity of the new arrival, “Jack-boi!”

“Hey, Scratch,” my tone was far more listless than I had intended it to sound; but it was hard to keep myself schooled with so much happening all at once, “fancy seeing you here.”

The griffon glided into the office and tucked away his wings. He plucked a cigar from the ashtray on the desk and took a deep pull on it. The failing embers glowed anew as a fresh gust of air was drawn up through them. Scratch let out a contented sigh of blue smoke and then regarded me with eyes that nearly danced with mirth, “just when you start to think about how big this here Wasteland is; it get's a whole lot smaller, eh, Jackie?”

“I guess it does,” I glanced past him, at the auburn earth pony that had finally finished picking himself up off the ground and was now busily wiping down the chair for its true owner, “how...why are you guys even here?”

“I could ask the same about you, Jackie-boi,” the griffon noted, “last I heard, the Finders had a hard-on for your hide.”

My expression soured at the reminder of the events that had lead to my unintended return to the valley of my birth. Not my most graceful exit from a town. Not my last, either, as it had turned out, “no Finders out here,” I pointed out, getting a nod from the griffon, “but what about you? You had it pretty good there, why leave?”

The griffon's own expression darkened slightly now, “you don't get where I am without knowing how to read the winds,” Scratch said somberly, taking another puff on his dwindling cigar, “and they was a changin' in Hoofington. A lot of new players riding the thermals down there, what don't have no respect for how the game's s'posed to be played,” he glanced in my direction, “there's gonna be blood in that place, boi. A lot of blood.

“Winged it out o'there for clearer skies.”

“And so now your running The Lucky Bit,” I nodded at the office, “you move quick.”

The griffon snorted and stepped back around to the chair that Itchy was presenting for him, “don't you know it,” he flicked the remains of his cigar out through the open wall and snapped his fingers at the earth pony. The auburn stallion quickly set about clipping and lighting a fresh cigar for his employer, “lot quicker than I'd like, believe you me.

“I was negotiating with the pony that used to run this place, but then he up and died all violent-like,” I suddenly found one of my barding's straps quite interesting, and set to inspecting it very carefully, “fortunately, he had a few enemies. A few well-placed whispers, and they were suddenly too busy fighting each other to notice that little-ol' me had taken over,” Itchy provided his new cigar and the griffon took a deep drag, sighing with pleasure, “still have a loose end or two to tie up; but most everybody's accepted things.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said, having concluded that the strap was indeed perfectly fine; and I was, for the most part. The last thing I wanted was to find myself in the middle of a turf war being waged by the major players in New Reino. I had other matters on my mind after all.

“So what brings you here, Jackie?” the griffon leaned back in his chair, propping his hind paws up on the desk and letting thin wisps of smoke drift up through the nostrils in his beak, “Shell Game said you were being all kinds of ornery downstairs,” Scratch's demeanor was shifting, subtly. Reminiscing was over; business time had begun.

I cleared my throat, ready to get back to the heart of what had brought me up here in the first place. That Scratch was the one I was going to be negotiating with didn't change too many of the core facts of the matter, “you're the one that financed Homily and her crew to got out to McMaren, right?”

The griffon nodded, “I did,” then he rolled his eyes and corrected himself, “well, Tommyknocker did, but at my urging. Of course, he's dead now, so it all falls to me in truth of fact,” he took another pull on the cigar, “and you're the pony that was paid to get them out of the trouble they found themselves in, aren't you?” I nodded. Scratch looked at his earth pony aide, “I thought we'd hired some pegasus chick?”

Itchy just shrugged.

“Windfall,” I confirmed, “she's one of mine.”

Scratch raised his brow in surprise, “my, how the Wasteland does change us. Time was you were a solo act.”

“Reading the winds,” I nodded in the brown earth pony's direction, “and we all need a lackie.”

“Don't we just,” he agreed. Then his expression grew serious once more, “so what'd'ya want, Jackie? More bits? My understanding was that five thousand was still a lot, even here.”

There was a dangerous edge creeping into the griffon's voice that most might have missed. I'd worked with Scratch for over a decade though, and though it had been a while since my last instance dealing with the flier, I still recalled a few things about him. He'd always been a fair dealer with me; because I'd always respected him. Scratch was the sort the dealt in kind with those he employed; and right now, he viewed himself as employing me, since I'd taken on one of his jobs. If he thought I was trying to renegotiate a contract after the fact...things could get unpleasant for me.

“It ain't the money,” I assured him, “the money's fine. I just want in.

The griffon held my gaze for several seconds in silence while he took a slow tug on the cigar. He let out a steady dual stream through his nostrils until his face was all but obscured by the smoke. Then he finally spoke again, “in on what.”

The tone suggested that if I wanted to become a part of whatever the griffon's scheme was, I had to earn it by at least acknowledging what the scheme, well...was. And that was the trick, wasn't it? That expedition had cost tens of thousands of caps to set up and see through. According to Homily and Foxglove, it would be months before the radio tower was even capable of broadcasting anything over a worthwhile distance. Even when it was finally up and running, how was anypony, or anygriffon supposed to recoup that expense?

What was the angle?

I needed more information if I was going to figure this...out.

Information. That was the key.

A smile spread across my face. I tapped my hoof on the floor to get Itchy's attention and gestured at the box of cigars. Instinctively, the earth pony started to get one out, and then caught himself and glanced at the griffon for confirmation. Scratch thought for a brief second and then nodded. I accepted the prepared cigar and took a cautious puff, “it occurs to me,” I began, breathing out the first plumes of smoke from my cigar, “that the big difference between the East and the West, is that the West doesn't have a DJ PON3,” I glanced over at the griffon in order to get a reading on his face to see if I was on the right track. However, I wasn't very good at reading the subtleties of avian expressions. Still, nothing yet suggested that I was on the wrong path.

“What if we did? What if Neighvada had a news source?

“What if somepony, or griffon, controlled that news source,” I took another drag on the cigar, “what if they could use that to make a lot of caps?”

“This is why I like you, Jackie-boi,” Scratch finally said, sitting up in his chair, “you see the sky for the clouds. And I'd be lying if I said I could have gotten this far without you,” he shrugged, “finding ponies with both the skills and the drive to undertake that particular mission was hard enough to do once; I doubt I could have found more for a second attempt.

“As for bringing you in,” his expression narrowed once more, “what are you offering in return?”

Scratch wasn't going to like this, but it was the angle that I'd settled on before I even came up to this room. Who it was that sat in that chair didn't matter, “I'm offering to keep quiet,” I replied simply, taking another drag on my cigar.

The griffon's eye twitched slightly, and I noticed his talons flex and dig into the surface of the table. Itchy took a very subtle half step further away from the griffon, suddenly finding himself something the diligently clean, “I beg your pardon.”

“Ponies will only trust Homily if they think she's independent,” I continued, keeping a level gaze fixed on the griffon, “if word gets around that she's being paid by some griffon in New Reino, nopony's going to trust anything she says. She'll be useless to you.”

“You're playing a dangerous game, Jackie-boi,” the griffon growled, the feathers on his head and neck puffing out slightly. His tail twitched behind him.

“That's what the pony in the suit said downstairs,” I sighed. I looked at the griffon with a frown, “do you think saving your precious little ponies from those raiders wasn't dangerous?”

He was silent for a long time, then, “so...how much do you want?”

“I just want the five thousand caps I was promised,” I began, “and I want in. Whatever you get from Homily, I get from Homily,” the griffon didn't look very happy, but his eyes weren't nearly as enraged as they had been a moment ago, “which is a deal that keeps me honest, and you know it. I let the secret slip, I'd just be hurting myself.”

Scratch stretched out his talons and used them to smooth back his feathers, “fair'nough,” he nodded. He didn't sound very happy about the notion of sharing his secret with anypony but, in the end, I wasn't asking for a lot. Honestly, it wasn't even going to take any additional effort on his part to keep me quiet. It'd be more trouble, and most costly, to arrange to have me 'taken care of'. Which was what I was counting on.

“This just in,” the griffon said in a reluctant tone, “whenever Homily starts a story with those words, that means it's a fake.”

“Fake news,” I quirked an eyebrow, “bold. Won't ponies catch on after a while?”

“Unlikely,” the griffon shook his head, “it'll never be anything too obvious. Report of increased raider activity here, hell hounds spotted there; reports that can be chalked up to rumors and passing trials.”

I frowned at the examples, “that's it? The only ponies that would care about that sort of thing are...caravans,” I sighed and hung my head, “you're going to dictate trade routes.”

The griffon nodded, a smile once more finding its way onto his face, “I own some stakes in various way-stations. Enough to set the prices for food and water. When the timing's right, suddenly there are reports of caravans being raided along competing routes. The merchants get nervous, change their routes, and I reap the profits.”

“Then the communities that see reduced traffic raise their own prices to attract caravans, and you just 'happen' to have a wagon or two willing to make the 'risky' trip,” I finished, unable to help but sound a little impressed by the simplicity of it all.

“Exactly.”

It wasn't a bad way for an enterprising individual like Scratch to make a tidy profit. It wasn't going to earn back the fortune that he'd just spent setting it up overnight; but after a few years he'd have made back ten times what he spent. The best part was that nopony would be the wiser. They'd be too preoccupied with the convenient local news station to care about the one in a hundred stories that turned out to be an exaggeration.

The question now was how I was going to make money off of this information. Of course, that was something I was still going to have a few months to mull over, “thanks for the heads-up, Scratch. And the cigar,” I nodded at the griffon, “it was good catching up.”

“Quite,” he replied, not sounding quite as dour as he had a moment ago; though to say he was pleased would be pushing things, “watch yourself, Jackboot.”

“I always do,” I turned and strode out of the office. The unicorn was still standing there, waiting. I passed him the cigar, “have my pay delivered to my room at the Flash in the Pan. The front desk will know the room number,” without another word, I headed for the stairs and made my way out of the casino.

Now it was time to finally get more pressing concerns addressed.

When I arrived at where I'd had Windfall make our reservations, I swung by the gaming tables first, in case the two of them had somehow managed to not blow all the spar caps I'd given them. Meandering around the outer edges of the large central room, I scanned the ponies at the tables. While Foxglove might have been a bit harder to pick out from the crowd of earth ponies and unicorns, I felt that a white pegasus should be have stood out rather blatantly. Imagine my surprise when I couldn't spot her. Perhaps she was in her room?

An outburst from the middle of the casino drew my attention to the crowd of ponies that were clustered around a single table where some sort of show must have been going on. From the pitch of the yelling, a mare was having quite the lucky break, it seemed. Her howling was echoed by a chorus of other gathered mares and stallions that were vicariously basking in her joy.

Then I heard a stallion crowing above the crowd, “come on, lucky lady, let's have another kiss for another seven!”

Curious, I started walking over in the direction of the crowd. Foxglove would keep for a couple more minutes. The gathered ponies grew hushed, and then there was the sound of a pair of dice clattering across the table. A pause. Then the calm voice of the casino staffer running the table, “seven,” the end of the word was lost amid a raucous cheering from everypony else around the table. Punctuated by a mare screaming at the top of her lungs.

It turned out that the mare in question was Windfall, which I only realized because in her mirth, she launched herself into the air and did a little somersault before disappearing into the middle of the throng of ponies once more. I blinked at the spectacle. When exactly had the flier learned to play craps?

I pushed my way through the ponies, ignoring their displeased grunts and glares. At the center of the crowd, I saw that there were three ponies that had become the center of attention. A unicorn stallion that I didn't recognize, and a pair of mares that I most certainly did. For her part, Foxglove was clearly enjoying herself, but was keeping a much more reserved composure than the pegasus. Windfall was simply reveling in being the center of attention and feeding off of the adoration of the other ponies around her; who were in turn reacting to the flier's obvious delight. The dice were moved once more to the unicorn stallion, who lifted them into the air with a cyan glow from his horn. He floated the dice over to Windfall and winked at the young mare.

“Lucky lady?” he beckoned, flashing her a broad grin.

Windfall leaned in and kissed the dice, then sat back and watched them expectantly. The pair were jostled in the air for several seconds while ponies placed their final bets. Then they were cast at the table and clattered off the backstop. A pause, then, “eleven!” another chorus of cheering. Windfall was bouncing around with laughter and latched herself onto the unicorn stallion.

I glowered at the pair. Especially the stallion, who looked all too pleased to be receiving the flier's embrace. Foxglove was watching them idly, a small smile on her face. Then her emerald eyes caught sight of me standing on the other side of the hugging pair from her, and I saw her become instantly concerned. As well she should be. The violet mare was going to have three seconds to break them up, or I was going to.

Indeed, only two seconds passed before the unicorn mare tapped her pegasus companion on the back and pointed in my direction. Windfall glance up at me, and wasted no time in hopping over her now forgotten stallion friend and landing in front of me, with wide blue eyes that were dancing with glee, “I'm winning!”

“Are you now,” I glanced over at the table, and several growing piles of caps, wondering which belonged to the pegasus.

“Well, I mean, no,” the pegasus frowned for a brief moment, “Foxglove and I lost all our money pretty much immediately,” then her expression brightened again, “but every time I kiss the dice, they come up seven or eleven!”

“So everypony else is winning,” I grimaced.

“Well...yeah,” Windfall admitted, but her exuberance was not to be deterred, “but everypony else is totally giving me caps when they win big,” she produced a pouch that contained a hefty number of bottle caps. Her brilliant blue eyes locked back onto mine, “isn't it great?!”

Before I could respond with something that may not necessarily have been unkind, Foxglove was at my side, looking at Windfall, “I'm sure Jackboot was just checking in on us before he went to the room,” then to me she added, “I'll show you which one's yours,” I nodded and flashed one final glare at the unicorn stallion, “be back in a few, Windy,” the violet mare nodded to the flier as she ushered me away.

Once we were out of earshot of the crowd, which sounded to have gotten right back to their game, I said to the unicorn, “care to give me a reason why I'm not choking out mister 'lucky lady'?”

Foxglove's response was measured, and contained no hint that she even remotely enjoyed my company, “because you're about to get exactly what you want; and your part of the deal was leaving Windfall alone.”

“My part of the deal was not fucking her,” I corrected, “I don't recall any provisions about choking out stallions I don't like.”

“She's happy and she's having fun,” the unicorn pointed out, “there's no harm in that.”

“So, what, complete strangers are allowed to fuck her, just not me,” I growled at the mare as we headed for the stairs leading to the rooms, “that isn't going to fly, and you know it.”

Foxglove's jade eyes glanced at me, “do you actually think she'll let that unicorn take her to bed?” her tone suggested that she thought a lot better of the pegasus than I did.

“She's being awfully friendly with him,” I pointed out.

“She's just having a good time, that's all,” the unicorn insisted as she came to a stop in front of a door. A key floated out of her saddlebag and unlocked the entrance to my room, “just...let her have this. You're getting what you want.”

The mare had a point, I conceded. I stepped into the room and took a look around. These were going to be some caps well spent, it seemed. A spacious bed, of which I intended to make ample use of. Food and liquor had already been delivered. A couple bottles of Applepone Estates rum, a platter of dried fruit chips shipped down from Seaddle, and a couple Fancy Buck Snack Cakes. All in all, a respectable spread. I noticed a door leading off to the side, and glanced back at Foxglove, “does the plumbing actually work in this place?”

She nodded, “for suites like this one, it does.”

“Draw us a bath,” I instructed the mare while I made my way towards the bed, shucking off my barding and other gear as I went. Rum wasn't my thing, but I was going to take it over the watered-down swill that I'd gotten from the Lucky Bit. The fruit chips were delightful though, and the snack cakes didn't taste as stale as some tended to. They must have been well preserved wherever they'd been kept at these last two hundred years.

When Foxglove had the tub filled, I had her bring along one of the bottles of rum for us to share while I soaked. The plumbing may have worked, but the water heater appeared to be on the fritz. If it even actually had one. Probably just an open air heater on the roof, if that. Whatever. The water wasn't freezing cold, at least. I lounged in the tub, feeling the soapy water slowly eating away at the grime that saturated my coat. Occasionally, I'd ask the unicorn to pass me the bottle, or a piece of dried fruit.

It was clear that Foxglove wasn't enjoying this though. That was a shame. We had this glorious room to ourselves, and even a decent sized bath tub. How often did we get to enjoy this sort of luxury? She should absolutely be a part of it; that'll cheer her up, “you should join me,” I suggested, rolling over onto my stomach and laying my chin over the end of the tub. I motioned towards my backside, “help me get at those hard to reach places. Then I can do the same for you.”

“I'm a unicorn. I don't have any 'hard to reach' spots,” to illustrate her point, she levitated up a bar of soap and let it do a quick orbit around her body before letting it drop off into the water with me.

“Well, I do,” I slipped my arms under my chin as an impromptu rest and flashed the mare a mildly annoyed look. Then I nodded towards the water, “so help me reach 'em.”

Foxglove narrowed her eyes slightly, and then I saw her horn glow. I jerked unintentionally as I felt something slithering over my hind legs and flank. Quickly, I realized that it was the bar of soap that she had just tossed in with me, and was now manipulating with her magic. I glared at the mare, “not, with your magic.”

“Why not?”

I took a deep breath in order to keep myself from getting any more agitated than I was. The mare was being difficult because she could be. It wasn't as though she was actually my slave or property in any way; and she had made no secret about being a reluctant partner in this deal. I was practically blackmailing her, and she resented that. It only made sense that she would try to comply as little as possible without explicitly breaking our deal.

And that deal was the leverage that I had with her. There weren't any 'early termination' clauses, after all. I kept my hooves off of the pegasus only so long as I felt that I was getting satisfaction from her. A fact that she seemed to need reminding of.

I tapped my chin thoughtfully, “you know, Windfall doesn't have any magic,” I pointed out, as though the thought had just occurred to me, “and it's been just as long since she's had a decent bath. We could totally help each other out,” I raised myself out of the tub, “I'll go see if she's interested-”

“Fine.”

The word came out in the form of a resigned sigh from the glaring mare. I allowed myself to sink back into the tub with a pleased smile. My eyes watched the unicorn expectantly as she climbed into the far side of the bathtub. She kept her own gaze locked on mine as she sat there. Her hooves sought out the bar of soap, and I now felt her slothfully pushing it back and forth over the same part of my back.

Another sigh. Saffron was so much better at this. I bet that Foxglove wouldn't even be willing to put on a bridle either. Shame that; she'd be more bearable with something in her mouth...

“You are some piece of work, you know that?” the unicorn said nothing, she simply continued to lather those same three inches of my back. That portion of my coat was simply going to shine with the amount of attention it was getting. Whatever, I could talk for the both of us, “you act like you'd be happier if I just dropped dead; but we both know you let that caravan ride a long time ago.

“I was right on my way to a gruesome end back there in Seaddle, and you went ahead and rescued my ass,” I glanced back at the mare out of the corner of my eye to gauge her reaction. She was grimacing as she recalled the events in the prison, “then you went ahead and stopped Windfall from shooting me dead.

“So why all the hostility?”

Foxglove broke her silence now, “I broke you out of jail because I needed you to help me find Windfall,” she informed me, tersely, “and I stopped Windfall for her sake, not yours.”

“You got her to let me keep tagging along,” I pointed out.

“Again,” the violet mare reiterated, “that was for Windfall's benefit.”

“My hanging around the pegasus is a benefit, but my making a mare out of her isn't?” I frowned, “how do you know a dicking won't do her some good?”

“Windfall needed to see you not being a White Hoof,” Foxglove growled, the bar of soap rubbing against me a little harder as she spoke, “she needed to believe that she hadn't been raised by a monster all her life. Which means she needs you to not 'fuck' her.

“She needs you to care about her.”

I grimaced, partly from what the mare was saying, and partly from the rough treatment. I was supposed to be enjoying this, “That pegasus has to grow up sometime. The Wasteland ain't a place where ponies care about each other. You get what you can, when you can, from whoever you can.”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but Windfall doesn't think like that; in case you didn't notice,” Foxglove said with a note of satisfaction, “she believes in helping ponies.”

“So I ain't a perfect teacher,” I grumbled and shifted in the tub slightly, “don't change the fact she wants me, and you know it.”

“She's...confused,” I heard the waiver in the unicorn's words. It sounded like she wasn't too certain of things either, “she wants to you still care about her, but she doesn't know how to get you to express it.”

“I think she knows exactly how she wants to express it,” I chuckled.

“I'm not going to let you take advantage of her like that,” the violet mare insisted with a low growl.

“Ain't you a trick and half,” I was laughing now, “your mothering that little pegasus by lying to her. What's more, you want me to help you lie to her,” I craned my head and flashed the unicorn a wry smile, “you want Windfall thinking I'm a changed buck that loves her like a daughter—which I ain't; and what's more, you're here trying to buy me off on the notion with sex—and doing a piss-poor job of it, by the way.

“Horseapples, I don't even need to mount that filly to break her spirit, do I? How fragile is she right now? What do you think she'd do if I walked up and told her I'd had enough and was going back to run with the White Hooves?”

Foxglove balked and blinked at me in shock, “...would you really do that?”

“What, actually go back to the White Hooves? Fuck that! Whiplash'd have me dead in minutes,” I shrugged and leered at the unicorn, “don't mean I can't tell Windy though.

“What do you think she'd be willing to do to get me to change my mind?” could I get the pegaus used to a riding crop? Worth a shot...

The unicorn was glaring at me now, and I could feel the hate pouring out of those eyes. My own wry smile didn't falter though, because I had a notion that Foxglove wasn't the kind of pony she thought she could could be when it counted, “new offer on the table,” I informed her, nodding my head into the bedroom, “Full Stop is loaded and ready to go. Go ahead and grab it with that horn of yours and end me here and now.”

The mare was taken aback, searching my eyes with her dubious gaze. She wasn't going to find any sign of deception though. I had no plans to lift a hoof to stop her; because I knew she wouldn't do it. I waited until the count of ten in my head, and Foxglove hadn't so much as moved from where she'd paused in the tub.

“You ain't the sort that can shoot an unarmed pony in cold blood, are you? Though I have seen you stab a pony in hot blood,” Foxglove averted her eyes now, “not even to protect your precious pet pegasus' virtue,” I was favored by a reproachful glare from the unicorn, “if I got up and left, would you even make a genuine effort to physically stop me from going to her?” more silence, and a look of shame on the mare's face.

“That's the trouble with you 'good pony' types,” I sighed, rolling over onto my back, “you fall just short of what would solve your problems. One bullet. That's all it would take to protect Windfall from me doing what you're afraid of most.”

Finally I received a verbal response from the mare, “...please.”

I frowned at the unicorn, “unless you can think of anything else that'll keep me in this tub?”

My question was met with silence. Alright then. I started to raise myself up and out of the tub to make good on my promise to break whatever hold Foxglove believed that the flier yet held over me. However, I made it only a few inches before Foxglove placed her left hoof on my chest with just enough force to let me know that she wanted me to stay; but not so much that I couldn't simply push past her touch with minimal effort.

Her right hoof traced down to my loins, and I did indeed pause. I'll be the first to admit that I was a little surprised at this turn of events. It had seemed like she was going to completely renege on our prior arrangement. I guess I had managed to strike a nerve somewhere along the way. Foxglove certainly had my attention though; there was no hiding that.

Wow, it really had been a long time to get a reaction that fast...

The unicorn mare flashed one brief glance in my direction and let me see the resignation in her eyes. Then her head dipped below the surface of the soapy water and all thought of leaving the tub quickly vanished...

I lay in my bed, enjoying the remaining pieces of dried fruit that I hadn't gotten to before embarking on my bathtub escapades with Foxglove. The unicorn had left about ten minutes ago; presumably to find something to wash her mouth out with and then check on Windfall to make sure the pegasus hadn't gotten into any trouble while we'd been occupied.

It had been...entertaining to watch the mare work. She had good breath control, I had to give her that much; extra points for having her head underwater most of the time. Her technique wasn't bad either. A little lacking in the exuberance department, but you couldn't have everything I guess. I didn't manage to get her to swallow, even by releasing without warning with a firm hoof on the back of her head; but at least she hadn't spit it all back up in the tub either. I had at least gotten my tears though when she'd come up gasping and spitting up over the side of the bath. No 'Daddy', but I did get an 'asshole!' from the mare. Next time I was going to go ahead and take her from behind, see if she could get rid of anything then, heh.

This...this could work out, I thought to myself with a contented sigh. I had a full stomach, a freshly washed coat, and I'd just gotten off in the face of a pretty unicorn mare. It was like I was back in Hoofington again. In fact, the icing on the cake would soon be arriving in the form of a massive payday from an old business partner.

A knock at the door broke me from my revere.

Speak of Celestia, and she shall appear bearing gifts! Okay, that probably wasn't how the saying went; but my version was going to prove far more apt when describing the current situation. There was little doubt in my mind who would be knocking at my door, and for what purpose it would be. I rolled out of the bed and trotted happily over to the door.

“So, are they separated in hundred cap bundles,” I began, placing a hoof on the door's handle, “or are they all in one giant-” why was there a red dot in front of me on the Eyes Forward Sparkle?

“fuck!”

The door exploded.

Alright, so the door didn't literally 'explode' all at once; but significant portions of it burst inward in rapid succession from one side of the door across to the other. It sounded like a dozen ponies were on the other side all unloading shotguns into it! How I had managed to throw myself to the floor so fast was beyond me, but it had certainly saved my life. I scrambled away from the splintering portal and desperately gasped for one of the weapons holstered in my crumpled, discarded, barding. My teeth clamped around the grip of my 9mm just as I heard the remains of the door to my room get kicked in.

I wasn't even giving and thoughts to aiming right now, just shooting. I had fifteen rounds to go through, and with the tight confines involved, I figured that I had to score at least a hit or two just out of volume of fire. My eyes locked on the figure that was charging into my room. A pair of drum-fed shotguns were strapped to the sides of a silver mare dressed in heavy metal barding. My heart sank as I caught sight of the quality of her armor, but I was committed now.

The slide bucked in my mouth as I manipulated the trigger as quickly as the mechanism would allow. Most of my shots went wide of course, and even the hits did little more than spark off of her barding harmlessly. If at least made her flinch though. For a moment. She gave a massive shrug, which tipped forward a rather fearsome looking helmet that had been cocked back behind her head. The only exposed part of her body was now encased in what appeared to be a crudely modeled dragon face as she turned to face me and level her weapons at my still prone body. The slide on my pistol was locked back.

Well...horseapples.

The mare didn't shoot though. Instead, she spoke. The helmet slightly muffled her words, but I understood them, “drop the gun, and surrender,” she demanded, “I am binding you by law, under the authority of Princess Luna and the New Lunar Republic.”

Wai-what? “the Republic?! We're in New Reino!” it was stupid, I know; but at the moment, I was simply far more struck by how unfair the notion seemed than anything else. Seaddle soldiers didn't have the authority to operate in this city, did they? How could I be getting arrested here for crimes that I'd committed there?! Not that this mare was dressed like any proper soldier that I had ever seen employed by the northern city; Commonwealth or Republic.

“Drop the weapon,” came the reiterated command, “I'd rather walk you back than drag a corpse; and the bounty is higher if you're breathing.”

Oh, well that sort of explained a few things, “you're a bounty hunter?” my eyes darted between her and the doorway for a fraction of a second. She'd left quite a bit of an opening there; about enough for a pony to fit through. Maybe if I was fast enough...

“Drop the weapon,” the mare snarled through her armored helm, “I won't ask a fourth time.”

“You shoot me with those things, there might not be enough left of me to prove you got the right stallion,” I pointed out.

There was a brief pause from the armored mare, “you're probably right,” she conceded. Then she glanced to her left, at the empty air right beside her, “Medica?”

“Medi-wha...” my voice trailed off, and my eyes grew huge. It wasn't an empty space that was next to the armored mare anymore. It was a floating head. A floating zebra head; as though the fact that it was a zebra head was what really made the sight surprising. The zebra smiled, and then a pair of hooves flowed into existence. Between them was clasped a thin reed of some sort. He brought it to his lips and his cheeks puffed out.

“Ow!” I flinched and glanced at my chest. A tuft of red feathers were sticking out of my sternum. I glanced back at the strange pair with a bewildered expression, “did you...just...shooooooo...”

My head lolled back, the pistol, falling from my slack jaw.

This place had a nice ceiling...

One of these days, I was going to regain consciousness somewhere that was a far sight better than wherever it had been that I'd originally lost it. You know, like on some distant island that was inhabited entirely by lonesome frisky unicorn mares that had been so desperately hoping for a strapping and virile stallion to just wash up on their shores. Oh, and they had been practicing all of their carnal fantasies on one another and would be ever so enthusiastic about showing me how they went about things; and could I please let them know exactly what I wanted them to do to me, and could their friends join in on the fun too?

And while I'm dreaming, one of them looks like Celestia, because you know why? Fuck her! Fuck that thrice dead goddess and all of her fucking karma right in her goddess-damned face! I'd had it all; I was there! Caps, comfort, good food, plenty of booze, and a hot unicorn that I could fuck; I had finally achieved everything that I ever wanted in life!

Again, by the way! That was right; I had once had all of those things before too. In fact, I'd had all of those things a few times in my life. They were mine by right when I was about to take leadership of the White Hooves. But then my backstabbing sister stole them right out from under me. So I worked, and fought, and survived in the hellscape that is Hoofington for years! Finally, I had all of those things back again, if only for short spurts of time between Wasteland adventures.

Then along comes a group of Finders that made so tempting a target, how could I not murder them and take all of their stuff? Like it was my fault they were connected to the right ponies? Whatever. Once again, everything I'd wanted in life was stolen from me. Fast forward to now, eight years later. I just finished clawing my way back into luxury and was on my way to having a good thing going in New Reino. Sure, there'd been a hiccup or two, those sorts of things happened. Maybe Foxglove wasn't a perfectly 'willing' lay, but she was experienced at least...

...and now it was all gone. Strike three. Fuck. This. Bullshit! Why did it keep going so wrong just when it was all starting to go right?!

Bounty hunters! Since when were bounty hunters a thing in Neighvada?! I mean, yeah, okay; so anypony could post a flier in a town and offer somepony a bunch of caps to kill a guy. Even the local governments did that with particularly bad ponies...but it wasn't supposed to happen to me! It wasn't like I was a mass murderer or something.

...well, not that the ponies in Seaddle had ever charged me as one; whatever facts may exist to the contrary. Most of the ponies I'd murdered had been in Hoofington and Manehattan. I mean, there had been that farmer early on...but technically Windfall had killed him. At best, I was an accessory to that. And all of the ponies I'd killed as a White Hoof had either been slaves or ponies too weak to resist us. Besides, I'd been a colt. They couldn't charge me with the deaths of ponies that I'd killed as a colt, could they?

Oh, right...the colt, and his politician employer. I'd murdered them too; but I was still pretty sure nopony knew about that.

My point is, that I did not feel that I was the sort of pony that warranted having seasoned bounty hunters coming after him while he was just starting to enjoy himself.

Mentally bracing myself for...well, whatever depth of shit that I was now in, I opened my eyes and scanned the immediate area; making an effort to move as little as possible. The longer they thought that I was unconscious, the more I might be able to learn before they started minding their words and actions around me.

At the moment, the pair that had confronted me in the Flash in the Pan were the only two figures that I could see, and they were both currently laying around a nearby fire. It was sometime in the middle of the night. The silver mare wasn't wearing her rather impressive steel barding at the moment, leaving it piled in a neat heap nearby. Instead, she wore a simple brahmin-skin vest.

Earlier, in my room at the casino, I recalled having been rather intimidated by the size of the armored mare that had shot her way through the door. At the time, I had assumed that much of her size was the barding that she wore. While not the true powered armor fair that a Steel Ranger might wear, it was a quite comprehensive array of metal plating that covered the entire body. Now that she was out of it, I had to admit that the barding's plating must not have been nearly as thick as I had initially assumed. The silver mare was clearly quite the large specimen for a pony. While it was hard to tell from here, what with her currently laying on the ground, I suspected that she would have stood a fair bit taller than me; and I was hardly a small pony myself.

It wasn't idle girth either. Her coat looked to be stretched rather taught over a clearly well-muscled physique. That much I was jealous of. While I might not dedicate hours of every day to building up muscle mass, I did lead an active lifestyle. It kept me trim enough for my advancing age, though I had noticed a few areas that were developing an irksome pudge despite nearly constant trekking through the Wasteland. However, even during my younger years, I had never approached the level of physiological definition that this mare had. It was a little emasculating actually.

Like her barding, her dual automatic shotguns weren't with her. There was just an odd looking sledge hammer slung at her side. It was a clearly well used tool; and I suspected that the haft had been replaced a time or to in its lifetime. In the dancing firelight, I could even spot a few nicks and depressions present in the hardened steel head that testified to the many instances where it had struck something at least as hard as itself. Certainly an unusual melee weapon, when compared to what I typically saw ponies carrying. Except for some of those crazy Hoofington raiders. They'd swing at you with the oddest things...

At this precise moment, the silver mare was sneering at something that the zebra had just said. A brave stallion, that zebra. I wouldn't feel very comfortable saying anything to a pony like that that might upset her. Not when she was built like somepony that could fold me up like a bedroll if she felt so inclined.

The zebra wasn't just a floating head and a pair of hooves anymore. His back was to me as he pleaded his case to the mare, leaving me without much to go on with specifics where he was concerned; other than that her kept his tail bobbed for some reason. Maybe it was a zebra thing? His sense of personal grooming wasn't particularly important at the moment though.

A set of saddlebags of a style I had never seen before lay nearby. Most traditional bags were designed to drape over either side of a pony. The ones I saw here had a very different strap configuration; and they were of different sizes as well. How he wore them, I had no clue. What they contained was a bit of a mystery as well. The smaller rounded pouch was sealed up tight, and the larger boxy satchel possessed a number of colored tabs on each side. There was obviously a purpose to their marking, but without getting a closer look, I wouldn't be able to figure out what it was. Frankly, there wasn't very much that I could do from where I was. Not yet at least.

I kept still and listened in on their discussion.

“He can live with three legs,” the zebra stallion insisted in a slightly nasally tone. Then he sniffled and rubbed his nose, “he can probably even still walk without the one,” another sniff, “I'm just saying we should explore our options.”

“We're not cutting off his leg to get rid of the pipbuck,” the mare replied evenly. The conversation suddenly had my complete interest; as I was fairly certain that the number of stallions around here with pipbucks on their legs was a distressingly short list. Why was the subject of my dismemberment on the table? “besides, they'll probably want the pipbuck anyway; so we'd still have to bring it with us.”

“We could send it along by courier,” the zebra insisted, rubbing his nose some more.

The silver earth pony rolled her eyes, “oh, suck it up,” she sighed, “it's just a pipbuck. Your eyes aren't even watering, and for all your sniffling, I haven't heard a genuine sneeze yet.

“You'll live.”

The zebra started rubbing his shoulder vigorously, “but I'm already starting to break out,” he insisted.

“Bullshit,” the mare frowned, “you didn't even touch it. It's all in your head,” the striped stallion sniffed rather loudly, the wet sound demonstrating that there was a good deal of mucus in his sinus cavities. The silver pony rolled her eyes, “mostly in your head. Whatever,” then she jabbed a hoof in his direction and narrowed her gaze, “no dismemberment!”

I found myself in staunch agreement with my female captor: no cutting off the prisoner's legs!

“How can somepony even be allergic to technology in the first place?” the mare grumbled.

“I keep telling you,” the zebra said, sounding exasperated, “it's not technology, it's the fucking gem polish you ponies used on you jewels in your technology. I'm fine around guns and stuff like that,” The zebra huffed and snorted, wiping his nose again, “I still think it's dangerous to let him keep it on though.”

“It'll be fine,” she insisted, sounding a little less irate now; recognizing a much more valid point of concern where the little electronic device was concerned, “he's unarmed, and just an earth pony.”

“He's also awake,” the zebra cut in, turning his head slightly to the left and glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, “do you want me to drug him again?” his hoof reached out for a set of nearby saddlebags.

The mare whipped her head in my direction, her expression drifting from shock to a wry smirk, “I don't think that'll be necessary,” she stood up and walk over, stopping directly in front of me and staring down at me, “will it, Mister Jackboot?”

I frowned up at the mare and rolled onto my belly. I noted the steel shackles clamped around my fore-hooves that were chained to one another. They would allow me to walk at a slow pace, but not much faster. Running would be right out, “I don't suppose we can come to an arrangement?” I posed.

The mare cocked a brow, “beg pardon?”

“Well, you're bounty hunters,” I pointed out, “which means you're out here trying to collect a payday; I can appreciate that,” and I could, “so...how much?”

“For you? The Republic is offering five thousand Republic bits; or the equivalent amount of caps. That's for alive though. Dead is only one thousand.”

“In that case,” I smiled at the mare, “how does ten thousand sound?”

“What?” the mare's eyes widened with mild surprise.

“Ten thousand caps,” I repeated, a broad smile on my face, “and all you have to do is let me go.”

The zebra laughed a nasally laugh that resulted in a dribble of snot sneaking out of his nose, which he quickly wiped up. The mare similarly chuckled, which caused my smile to melt into a frown, “I'm being serious,” I assured them, “I've spent the last few years stashing away for my retirement. And I'm willing to part with all of it in exchange for a free pass,” in truth, I had significantly more than ten thousand caps locked away back in New Reino; but I figured it was better that they believed I was offering them all that I had so that they didn't hold out for more. After all, their bargaining position at the moment was rather advantageous, to say the least.

The pair of bounty hunters sobered up quite a bit at that and exchanged a look. Then the mare returned her gaze to me, “let's assume that I believe a pony like you has that sort of cash somewhere. Let's also assume you aren't just going to try to double-cross us or lead us into a trap. Let's also assume that the Republic never finds out about this little deal and completely tanks our reputation with them. That still leaves one little problem...”

The mare leaned in close, flashing her gritted and bare teeth in my face, “the only thing I hate worse than White Hooves or Steel Rangers is a White Hoof that works with Steel Rangers, you murdering scum,” the last word came out in a near-hiss.

“I-wha-?” my mind stuttered for a brief moment as I tried to comprehend what the silver earth pony mare could possibly have been talking about. Then I recalled the encounter I had last had with the Republic, and how it had been interrupted by a squad of Steel Rangers, “...oh,” while that officer, whatever-his-name-was, had promised to omit Windfall's involvement, he had not really gone into much detail about how he would ultimately report the incident to his superiors.

“Yeah: 'oh',” the mare snarled, “maybe most of my contracts are about business,” she conceded, “but this one in particular, will be a pleasure.”

Well...horseapples. I tilted my head to the side and looked past that mare to her zebra companion, “I don't suppose I can buy just your loyalty?”

“Afraid not,” the striped stallion shook his head, “I don't much care about the whole White Hoof/Ranger angle personally,” he admitted with a shrug, and a mild sniff, “but I'm not interested in getting my head crushed by Pritchel here,” he nodded at the mare.

“He's such a charmer, isn't he?” the mare frowned for a brief moment and then flashed one final glare in my direction, “if they'd let me, I'd swing the headsmare's axe myself; so save your bribes and your bargaining. You're going to get what's coming to you, so make peace with that,” she went back to the fire and laid back down, her attention now on the zebra again.

“Pass me a cola, Medica,” the silver earth pony said with a note of irritation, “and what've we got in the way of dinner?”

The zebra poked open the flap of his smaller rounded pouch and peered inside, “our choices are Cram, or Alfalfa Crisps,” he glanced back at his partner expectantly.

The mare cringed and stuck out her tongue, “ick. Didn't we have Sugar Apple Bombs?”

“You finished those off last night.”

“Oh, right,” she sighed and waved at the zebra, “pass me the Cram then,” the tin can passed hooves, “but please tell me we're not out of Sparkle-Cola RADs? I'll need something to get the taste out of my mouth.”

The zebra flashed a grin at the mare, “as if I'd ever let you go without,” he pulled a bottle that contained a subtly glowing pink liquid from his bag and passed it to the mare. A couple more bottles containing the curious drink spilled out of the bag as well. The zebra set them off to the side and closed up the pouch after withdrawing a small box that boasted the image of a young earth pony foal enjoying a green wafer.

I felt, but fortunately did not hear, my stomach issue a minor complaint at seeing my two captors dining while I went without. My throat felt suddenly dry as well. I kept my expression neutral, and my grumbling tummy in check. The hike back to Seaddle was going to take several days, and if these two were committed to delivering me alive then they'd have to at least give me something to drink at some point. I certainly wasn't going to give them the opportunity to demonstrate how much power they really had by asking for something they would most assuredly deny out of spite.

Honestly, at this point, if it looked like I was really going to be delivered to Seaddle, I'd probably rather die of starvation or thirst on the way there anyway. Ebony Song wasn't likely to be any gentler the second time around. Not when he had a whole host of new questions to ask me where my affiliation with the Steel Rangers was concerned.

I grimaced at the thought. What exactly had that brown earth pony told his superiors when he got back? Granted, I guess he'd had to come up with some explanation for why'd he'd come back without me. It's not like being in league with the Rangers was going to tarnish my reputation with the Republic any further, now that they knew I was a White Hoof. Still, I don't think that another round of 'I don't knows' was going to put the Prime Minister in a better mood than he was in last time.

The zebra gathered up the bottle of glowing soda and carried it over to the silver mare. Just after dropping it off, my eyes widened slightly as I saw him lean in for what was quite clearly a kiss. Then a smirk spread across my face when the muscly mare stopped his advance with a firm hoof on his lips and shake her head.

“Not happening,” she informed him sternly, “I'm not about to give him a show,” she nodded her head in my direction. The zebra followed her gaze, looking mildly irritated when I gave the two of them a little wave with my manacled right hoof.

“I understand,” the striped equine said in a tone that registered to my ears as meaning 'damn it', and returned to his side of the fire to munch on his own meal of Alfalfa Crisps and water. Well, it hadn't been much, but I was about ready to settle for anything that I could do to irritate either of these bounty hunters. There was something at least mildly satisfying about knowing that, between the three of us, I was the only one that had gotten any tonight.

Ooh...there was a depressing though: that little bit of bathtub head from Foxglove was the last I was going to get before I died. Baring a stupendous stroke of luck, or a fantastical lapse in bearing on the part of the silver mare, at least. That...that really sucked. If I'd known that was going to be my only shot at the unicorn, I would definitely have insisted on bending her over that bed. Fuck, if I'd had known this was going to be it, I'd have then reneged on the deal myself and found Windfall downstairs. The sex with the virgin flier wouldn't have been anything special; but at least I'd have gotten something for my last eight years raising her.

I winced briefly at an annoying flash of yellow and pink in the back of my mind. It vanished almost as suddenly as it had appeared, chased away by a dark shape, and allowed me to once more focus on my current surroundings. The mare was reluctantly eating her processed...whatever that stuff really was, and following up each bite with a generous sip from her bottle of glowing pink liquid. The zebra, in contrast, actually seemed to like the dried out green wafers of what may even have been actual processed alfalfa plants. He drank periodically from a simple canteen, his eyes watching his partner with veiled interest.

My mouth turned up in a curious frown as I regarded him. The longer I watched, the more I realized that he wasn't really watching her. His eyes twitched slightly every time she took a sip of her drink. Odd. I mean, I guess most ponies considered the habits of zebras to be strange, but this seemed...I don't know. If he wanted some of the soda, it looked like there were plenty of bottles to go around. He had two more right next to him that hadn't even been opened yet; but instead he stuck to his water.

I shrugged and made myself comfortable and closed my eyes. Not that I felt particularly tired. I had just woken up from an impromptu nap, after all. There just wasn't much point in my continuing to watch the two of them enjoy a meal and remind myself of how hungry and thirsty I was. I could still hear them eating of course, but those sounds were muffled by the crackling of the nearby fire. If I focused on the burning wood, I couldn't hardly hear anything else at all.

The next few days were certainly going to suck. The days after that were going to be a fair sight worse. Fuck you, Celestia. It's like you were letting me succeed just so that it hurt so much worse when something like this happened. I was there, damn it! I'd had it all...For one night, I'd had it all.

Setting your sights kind of low to settle for a few bits of fruit and two minutes with a mare's mouth on your dick as being 'having it all', aren't you, Brother Dear?

You know, maybe you should try wrapping your mouth around somepony's dick for a change, I grumbled at the voice in my head. Celestia knows I don't need to hear anything from you right now. Figments of my imagination aren't going to get me out of this crap.

There was a time you wanted the whole valley kneeling at your hooves, Whiplash continued, as though not having heard my previous comment, and now you just want to be forgotten by everypony.

Not everypony, I amended, just the ponies that wanted me dead. You're on that list too, by the way. Take a hint.

You are such a joke, the piss-yellow mare snickered from the back of my mind, to settle for that pathetic little life.

It's not like you gave me a lot of choice, is it? What am I supposed to do? Bathe the valley in blood on some crusade to take back my birthright? Kind of hard to take on the world when all you've got is yourself.

Hmm, I felt my sibling nod her assent, you're probably right. I guess pathetic little ponies like you shouldn't dream big. It's good that you know your place.

Fuck. You.

She gave a little laugh, oh, somepony's getting fucked; but it's not either of us, Brother Dear...

I quirked my brow, and then felt my ear twitch. The sound of crackling timbers still dominated the air; but where before had been the background noise of food being chewed, was now heaving breathing and hushed gasps. It was a very recognizable sound. Surprised, I opened up my eyes and looked around. I blinked in astonishment.

The silver mare, who had only minutes ago been very firmly against even giving the zebra a little peck on the lips, was now lying prostrate on her belly with the striped stallion draped over her thrusting away. Her head was canted to the side, stealing desperate embraces from her lover between soft urgings for him to continue at a faster tempo. If he heard her, he gave no sign, as he seemed to be quite focused on the task at hoof.

From my perspective, there was even a tiny note of comedy to the appearance of these two. I'd known that the mare was rather large, but I hadn't yet gotten close enough to the zebra to judge his own relative size. However, I could now see that the two of them were a rather odd pairing. Not only was the earth pony a larger than usual pony, her partner proved to be on the smaller side of the scale. In fact, I judged that if she were to stand up, it would actually be physically impossible for the zebra to successfully mount her while keeping his hind hooves on the ground. That mental image caused me to snort internally.

Still not much for the whole 'watching' angle, I found myself examining the scene far more academically than most might have. Unless I had lost track of an absurd amount of time just now, the silver mare had only a couple minutes ago been rather firmly against the notion of public displays of affection. Now she was literally begging for him to continue and I got the impression she didn't either know or care that I was only a short distance away watching them. What had I missed? Seriously, she hadn't really seemed all that into him about five minutes ago.

It certainly didn't look like the zebra was of a mind to complain about the shift in attitude though. He was rather happily plowing away, occasionally wiping at his still runny nose. What he lacked in relative size, he was making up for in enthusiasm. More power to you, you monochrome bastard.

Then the zebra faltered for a brief moment, his face scrunching up in irritation. He wiped at his nose vigorously for a couple of seconds, and then let out a rather impressive sneeze that nearly bounced him off the mare. He took a deep sniff and wiped away the snot that was now flowing more freely from his nostrils. He groaned and cursed, “huck you, Minessry of tehnologee,” in a voice that sounded more like he had just had his nose broken than his sinus' clogged up, “fuck you and your infernal gem polish!” his eyes flashed a glare in my direction, specifically at my pipbuck. Then they grew a fair sight larger, and his jaw went slack.

“Don't stop,” the mare beneath him gasped through her panting, apparently oblivious to whatever had caught her lover's attention.

I had to admit that I was a little curious as to what had caused the zebra's eyes to grow to the size of dinner plates though. A little wary, I turned my head to followed the striped stallion's awed gaze...

...and my heart caught in my throat.

Oh. Horse. Fucking. Apples.

Everypony in the Wasteland, from Neighvada, to Manehattan, to Trottingham, knew what Princess Luna and Princess Celestia had looked like. Their images were plastered over half the buildings in any ruined city that you chose to wander through. Them and the Ministry Mares. Posters that encouraged the citizens to be vigilant, loyal, and most of all to serve the war effort in any way possible, all contained some depiction of the ancient ruler of the pony kingdoms.

Princess Luna was always shown as being a stoic figure of the deepest blue, her flowing mane shimmering with glittering motes of light. Sea-green eyes spoke of a wisdom and knowledge beyond her deceptively youthful appearance. Her lips always set in grim, determined, lines. She would not flinch away from the enemy, and neither should anypony else that served Equestria.

That all being said, I had never actually seen the Princess before with my own eyes. I had not been present in Seaddle when the long absent alicorn had made her return to this world and vowed to restore the Wasteland to its former Equestrian glory. The ponies that had been there were also far more found of regaling others with the details of her martial victory, rather than the specifics of her appearance. After all, everypony had seen a poster at some point, and knew what Princess Luna looked like.

At this moment, I felt that it was rather obvious that all of the makers of those posters had taken a fair bit of 'artistic license' with their work. The pony that stood at the edge of the firelight looked nothing like her pictures. In fact, if not for a few key similarities, I wouldn't have even known that it was Princess Luna at all.

Her coat, for one, was not a deep indigo, but the blackest jet that I had ever seen. Where most ponies' coats might reflect back at least some light that was shone on their fur, this massive alicorn's body seemed to actually absorb the orange light that was so playfully dancing off every other surface around her. Her mane and tail were a different matter entirely though. They shone with such brilliant silvery radiance that the light of the nearby fire actually seemed to make things dimmer somehow. Her eyes as well, not blue-green motes of eternity; showed themselves to be cyan slits that held little more than contempt for all she beheld.

A silver breastplate that had been polished to a mirror shine covered her chest, and each of her hooves where tipped by glistening metal caps that glittered in a similar fashion to her mane and tail. While perhaps not practical barding from a combat standpoint, it certainly complimented the alicorn's air of presence quite well.

She was big too. Bigger even than Bivouac had been in her true form back in McMaren. The Princess of the New Lunar Republic stood three times taller than I did. Well, I say that she 'stood', while in actual fact her hooves were not in contact with the ground. She hovered in the air, massive wings pumping lazily to keep her aloft.

I could see now why the White Hooves had fled. By all accounts, her long, thin, horn had meted out death as though the act were a mere trifle for the alicorn. Just the sight of her would have been enough to send me running, I admitted that; and I didn't consider myself one who spooked easily. That wasn't to say that I didn't know when retreat was the wiser course of action. That wasn't abject fear so much as prudence though.

What I was feeling right this moment, however? This was fear. I had little doubt that my expression matched that of the zebra's.

My gaze had been so enraptured by the sight of the midnight alicorn, that I had completely missed the pony with her. A traditionally sized brown unicorn mare with green eyes dressed in the typical barding of a Republic soldier. It was her that actually addressed us. I got the impression from Luna's expression that the Republic monarch would hardly demean herself by directly addressing such insignificant creatures like ourselves.

“Her Grace, The Goddess Returned, Princess Luna demands your attention,” the soldier mare spoke in a firm tone.

The words felt very redundant, as I wasn't certain what sort of pony would have had their attention anywhere else. She certainly already had mine. The zebra's too, if his gaping mouth was any indication. Shit, he was taking her arrival worse than I was! His legs were trembling. It was the silver mare who needed the guard's words, if anypony did. While she had clearly registered that there were other ponies in the area now, I couldn't help but feel that she was not giving our guests their fair due; as she had one hoof tucked beneath her, and was sensually nibbling on the other.

...Seriously? How could she be...? My mind certainly couldn't have gone there, and the zebra was rather obviously no longer in the mood either.

The soldier seemed to notice this too, and I was ready for the Princess to strike her down for such a display. Why she did not was probably a testament to her nobility as a ruler of ponies. While the observation seemed to give the Republic soldier momentary pause, she retained her overall focus on the task at hoof, “you have done well for your Princess,” she commended the bounty hunters, “but Her Grace shall take possession of the prisoner from this point on.”

The silver earth pony mare finally seemed to take an interest in the conversation and she got to her hooves. Her head bowed slightly, “always happy to help deal with White Hooves, Princess,” she paused for a moment, “I just hope this won't affect the payment?”

The zebra looked livid, and he took a reflexive step or three back. His terrified eyes darting from his partner to the massive alicorn hovering nearby, “shut up!” he hissed, “you do not talk that way to the Herald of the Stars!”

To Princess Luna he said in a trembling voice, “forgive her, please. She is...not herself,” he bit his lower lip and winced as he watched for the midnight alicorn's reaction. The ruler of the Republic merely blinked and remained silent. It was once more her escort that spoke.

“You will be paid the full bounty,” the brown unicorn mare nodded. A satchel levitated into view, wrapped in a green glow, and floated over to the pair of bounty hunters. The zebra reached out and took the bag himself, as the silver mare next to him had taken to sighing and rubbing up against his side. Much to the striped stallion's consternation it seemed. Again the guard favored her with an odd look and then her green eyes went to me.

“You're in our custody now,” she strode towards me, a cold glint in her gaze. Her horn started glowing once more and I felt my shackles tugging at my legs, urging me to stand and follow. I was not particularly eager to comply though.

This was it. There was no way that I was going to be able to get away from a living Goddess! Maybe when it was just me and the two hunters I could have found some way to make an escape when their guard was down. The chance of that had been slim, perhaps; as they had initially seemed quite competent. However, there was absolutely no way that I was going to be able to do anything about my capture now! Look at her! She didn't even need a large escort of guards to watch over her while she was a hundred miles away from her throne. She had dispatched an all out White Hoof assault on Seaddle in less than an hour.

What was a little earth pony like me going to be able to do against that?!

Follow along meekly and die at her pleasure, obviously.

Horseapples.

The guard leaned down in front of me, still glaring. Then through her teeth she mumbled very quietly so that only the two of us could hear, “getupgetupgetup! We have like, five more minutes!”

I blinked. What? Wait...I recognized that voice, and those eyes, “...Foxgl-”

A hoof was planted firmly over my mouth and the emerald eyes narrowed at me, “shut up, cur!” she said much more loudly now, “and do not delay Her Highness any more than you already have,” she jerked her head westward, “now come!”

How...?

I shook my head and rose to my hooves. Questions later, escaping now. Ignoring the sense of deja vu at once being freed from my captivity by a disguised Foxglove—she was eerily good at this—I fell into step behind the faux guard; and nearly tumbled over her when she came to a sudden halt. Her eyes were on the bottles of Sparkle-Cola RAD that the zebra had left out from earlier. I glanced at her with a raised brow, but she ignored me. Instead, she set her horn to glowing again and fetched the bottles to herself.

“Her Majesty is thirsty from the long trip,” the unicorn informed the pair of bounty hunters with a wry smile, “and she thanks you for this generous contribution.”

The zebra's eyes went wide and he was halfway through the first syllable of some sort of objection when he caught himself. The brown unicorn mare Republic soldier—who was apparently also Foxglove somehow—quirked a brow at the striped equine, “you would deny Her Grace a refreshing beverage after her long trip?”

“I...ah,” the zebra swallowed, sniffed, and then sneezed. Finally he shook his head, though his expression remained very pained, “of-of course not!” he winced and forced a smile, “whatever she wants!” his lips quivered for another moment, and then he sneezed again.

Foxglove deposited the pair of bottles into her saddlebags and nodded her head at me once more. The two of us trotted at the fastest pace that I could manage in my hobbled state. As we left, I her the silver mare mumble something about getting back to more important things; a glance over my shoulder showed that she had pounced on the zebra, who was not looking nearly as into it as he had been earlier.

Then my eyes went to...'Luna'? The massive black alicorn fluttered along silently beside us, regarding me with a wry smirk. Then, for the first time, she spoke, “hey, Jackboot!”

I about tripped over my manacles and plowed headfirst into the ground, “Windy?!”

It had been her voice, certainly; but it was impossible that the small alabaster pegasus was playing the part of this massive alicorn that had to be closer to three times the flier's own size! Foxglove's disguise was easy enough to explain: a set of Republic barding and some paint or dye and, voila, you had yourself a NLR soldier. But how did you grow somepony Windfall's size into...well, this?!

Then she flickered.

Huh?

For the briefest of moments, Princess Luna had vanished, and I had instead spied the mush more familiar white pegasus mare. She had been her normal size too. Then, just as suddenly, the black and silver alicorn was back, though looking a little concerned. My ear twitched as I detected a faint electronic tone pulsing every few seconds.

“Um, Foxglove,” Princess Luna said in Windfall's voice, “it's beeping...”

“Keepwlakingkeepwlakingkeepwalking,” the unicorn leading us hissed through gritted teeth, glancing back over her shoulder at the vanishing firelight. I complied as best I could, but I still had a few nagging questions that I decided I could ask while I moved at my hobbled pace.

“Um...how?” was all I managed to get out, glancing between the Foxglove and...Windfall, I guess?

“That holographic thingy,” the alicorn tapped her chest, smiling. Odd, that I saw the silver-capped fore-hoof tapping the breastplate, but I heard no telltale sound of metal clanging against metal. In fact, it sounded more like a hoof tapping on a Sparkle-Cola bottle than anything.

The image of the alicorn wavered again, and for longer this time. I got a better glimpse of the pegasus now. She was wearing her normal fair of reinforced leather barding and twin submachine guns; but in addition to it was the familiar contraption that the three of us had pulled from the old Ministry of Wartime Technology bunker a few weeks back. The same contraption that Foxglove had used to imitate a guard and break me out of the Seaddle jail with. Then Windfall was gone, and Luna was back.

“Oh...” was all the response I could come up with. I thought back on all that Foxglove had told me about the device when we'd found it, and found myself with more questions, “I thought you needed an image or picture or whatever of somepony in order to make that thing look like them?”

The unicorn glanced back at me, and then looked further back to assure herself we were leaving sight of the bounty hunter's camp. Only then did she respond, “that's correct. Funny thing though,” she peered up at the massive alicorn fluttering along beside us, “when I was setting it up last time, I noticed that it had a couple images already loaded into it. A couple zebras, Rainbow Dash, and a file entitled, 'LunaMoon',” she shrugged, “I mean, I guess it figures they'd want to test it out to make sure it worked, right?

“I had honestly briefly thought about going in to free you as Princess Luna, but...I thought it would be too risky, what with the real one in the city somewhere. So I went out and took some pictures of a guard on patrol instead and used a terminal to load them into the holorig,” she looked up once more at the alicorn's image and frowned, “it's...weird though. This isn't how she looked in the history books. Hmm.”

Princess Luna flickered out for a third time, and did not reappear again. The metal device clamped onto the pegasus' chest gave a sad little warble and the gemstone mounted to the center of it dulled. Windfall glanced down at the stone, “all gone,” she said with a disappointment sigh. She glanced at Foxglove, “you were right, it really didn't last very long.”

The unicorn frowned, “it would have lasted a lot longer if we hadn't had to scale it up so much to cover your weapons and barding,” she shrugged and glanced at me, then back at Windfall, “but it worked.”

I glanced back at Foxglove, eyeing her coat, “and you?”

“Dirt,” she wiped a hoof across her face, removing the brown color and revealing her true violet nature beneath.

The pegasus settled to the ground and, with the other mare's help, started to remove the device strapped to her chest. They also used this time to finally relieve me of my restraints. After a few long moments of stretching, and a quick donning of my own gear, which the pair had brought with them, we proceeded at a much more gingerly pace away from the bounty hunters, and deeper into the Wasteland.

“So, what's the plan?” I asked the pair.

“Run,” Windfall replied as she flapped along lazily beside us.

“Hide,” was what the unicorn followed up with.

I grimaced, “where?”

“Old Reino,” was the answer that I received from the little white pegasus. It was a response that stopped me in my tracks.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me. Why there of all places?”

Most of the settlements in the Wasteland were built upon the bones of the Old World. Seaddle, Fillydelphia, and Trottingham, to name a few. The ruins of ancients buildings were rebuilt or repurposed to house and service the current generation. There were exceptions to this though. Nopony lived in Hoofington proper, as that old city was a death trap. In that same vein, Old Reino was a nopony's land filled with pockets of Taint and magical radiation that made establishing a permanent settlement all sorts of impractical.

The occasional prospector might chance a trip or two if the need for caps was particularly dire; but even raiders were loath to set up any sort base in that place. Thus, the prospect of hiding out there for any length of time was hardly what I would have considered to be an appealing option.

I had no way of knowing the exact nature of what had destroyed the ancient Equestrian city. Given that it had been a pony settlement during the war, one might have supposed that it had been leveled by one of the zebras' many balefire bombs; which had been their doomsday weapon of choice back then. Of course, with that weapon's prevalence also came a list of common identifiers that a knowledgeable pony could use to locate such detonation sites.

Old Reino lacked any. There were no scorch marks or craters. Magical radiation existed in only in small, localized, pockets instead of over a general area. What was strange, nopony could seem to agree on exactly where those pockets were. Mapping out places where it was dangerous for ponies to go when searching through old ruins was, in itself, a lucrative enterprise. A prospector would pay a decent sum of caps or bits to know where the most dangerous concentrations of Taint were. Indeed, many maps had been made of Old Reino in the past, with the purpose of pointing those locations out. Many different maps, actually.

Some chalked it up to scammers that were just trying to cash in by making and selling fake maps for a quick cap. The trouble there was that a lot of those map vendors had created and sold other perfectly respectable maps of other parts of the Neighvada valley. Being their primary source of livelihood, they relied heavily on have a trustworthy reputation; and trying to con caps out of other ponies didn't fit with their business model. A pony like myself might get in on something like that if I knew I'd be floating through some area; but not if I wanted to make a long term go of it.

In fact, those same map makers often released newer, 'updated' maps of Old Reino every couple of years. If you had any of their older maps, you would see a very different layout of the hazardous areas. I might not have known much about how magical radiation worked on any sort of scientific level, but I knew that something that had so far stuck around for two hundred years didn't just completely vanish in a month or two; and then pop up a few blocks away. Stuff like that had a source of some sort. Taint pools, damaged spark reactors, something like that.

Not Old Reino though. That place's radiation just sort of seemed to wander around.

I'd need to keep a close eye on my pipbuck in that place. Idly, I reviewed my stock of Rad-Away. It wasn't good, given that I took a lot of pains to avoid places like this because I didn't want to deal with that sort of thing. As far as hiding places went, this one was far from ideal.

On the other hoof, I was very much running out of decent places that I could hide out in, so...

I had to wonder though, “how bad is it? The bounty, I mean?”

The pair exchanged glances. It was Foxglove that responded, “it's...not good, Jackboot,” at my questioning glance, she winced and went on, “the NLR has a pretty big one out on you.”

“Five thousand bits, I know,” I frowned. Then something clicked in my head. Hadn't these two covered the bounty somehow?

“Wait...where did you get that...awe, fuck! The payment...” I groaned.

“Afraid so,” Windfall confirmed with a nod, “the Republic barding and spark-batteries weren't cheap either. They also charged us for the damage to the room.”

Every additional comment elicited another pained wince, “how much is left?”

There was a long pause. Then, “um...seventeen caps?”

Well, that wasn't quite true. I had somewhere just north of thirty thousand looked away in New Reino; but I wasn't so sure it would be a good idea to go back there quite yet. If those two had tracked me there, others would too, and they might even still be there if word hadn't yet reached them that somepony had already nabbed me. I also wasn't in a mood to let Windfall in on my retirement plan. Even so, the loss of all those other caps and bits really hurt.

What hurt almost as a much was the knowledge that I was once more on the run from civilization. I'd lost count of how many times this had happened to me now. Horseapples!

Whatever. It was over and done with, and crying over it—more—wasn't going to help me any. I needed to look forward if I was going to get through this...again.

The first order of business was finding someplace to shelter in. Preferably on the outskirts of the old city for now until we at least had a fair idea of where the radiation was concentrated in for the time being. After that, we'd need to work on securing viable food and sources of water. I had zero intention of moving in to that place, but it would take a fair while to figure out a more permanent place to go to where the NLR couldn't reach me.

I wondered in the Finders were still holding a grudge after all this time? The trip there would take me through a lot of Republic territory, but if I could make it back to Hoofington...

A frown creased my features. Scratch wasn't the sort that I figured to spook easily; so if he thought something big was going to be going down there, maybe now wasn't the best time to make travel plans...

So, east was out of the question for some ominous sounding reasons. North was the Republic. West were the White Hooves. What was south? Zebra territory, I think. I wondered how they felt about ponies on the whole these days? At least they wouldn't have any specifically personal grudge against me that would put them in a killing mood. It was an option to consider at least.

“I hope the two of you at least bought supplies before coming out here,” I glanced between the other ponies.

“Funds were pretty tight,” Foxglove informed me, “a few days of food and water; not much else.”

Great. I sighed and shook my head. We'd have to do a little ruin diving it sounded like; and I was not looking forward to that. Ruins were dangerous places. My eyes went to the pegasus hovering nearby. She was capable at least. Hopefully we wouldn't come up against anything too difficult for her to handle. I certainly wasn't going to be the one sticking my neck into any dark buildings first.

We walked—and Windfall floated—in relative silence for about the next hour before we spotted something rather interesting in our path. It was a cart. This was not a wholly uncommon sight, I know. Lots of carts and wagons littered the Wasteland's old roadways; left where the ponies pulling them had died when the megaspells and balefire bombs detonated. What made this particular cart a little bit of an oddity was that we were nowhere near any of those old road networks. So this had been likely left here by somepony that had survive the war.

Again, that was not something that was completely surprising, on its own. Ponies abandoned carts for all sorts of reasons. In this instance, however, it was very hard to tack down exactly what that reason might have been.

To start with, the cart looked to be in serviceable condition. Like everything that existed in the modern world, it was by no means 'new'. It was a relic of the fallen Equestria, like so much that ponies used today. In many places you could identify where repairs had been made over the centuries by ponies with a wide range of carpentry skills and taste in suitable materials. At the end of the day though, it had four wheels that turned, an intact yoke, and a sturdy bed that supported the weight of its contents.

Which brought me to the second notable aspect of this cart: it had contents. This world was not one where ponies that hoped to survive could well afford to part with any material they came across that could prove the least bit valuable or essential. Pawing through the items, we found ammunition—some of which even suited our preferred calibers—electronics equipment, and other salvage that a lot of traders dealt in. There was even a hefty quantity of Rad-X and RadAway which, given our current tack, we pocketed immediately.

My point was that whoever had brought this cart out all of this way, would not have simply left all of these valuables if they could have helped it. Granted, it looked as though they couldn't. For it was not just the cart that we found, but four sets of barding, saddlbags, and weapons.

What was rather pointed missing, were the ponies that should have been wearing all of those items.

“Okay...this is creepy.”

I silently agreed with Windfall's assessment of our surroundings, even as I slipped a pair of grenades into the pouches of my barding. Picking through their possessions, I noticed something rather pointed about the discarded armor: it had been cut off of the former owners. Not in some frenzy of claws or blades as one would expect from monsters or raiders. Key straps had been precisely cut that would remove the barding with as little effort as was absolutely necessary. Somepony had known what they were doing when they'd gone about this.

It didn't leave any answer's as to the 'why', of course.

“Think it was slavers?” Foxglove's asked of nopony in particular.

“Maybe,” was the flier's answer.

To which I shook my head, “not slavers. They'd have taken the weapons, ammo, and chems if it was,” I continued examining the piles of gear. They had been stacked in a specific order, indicating what had been removed first from the ponies wearing them. Weapons on the bottom, then saddlebags, then barding. These ponies had been...shucked, for lack of a better term.

“Then, what? Critters?”

Again I shook my head, “no monster I know of that would have piled the gear up like this. I'd also expect to see blood.”

Which was conspicuously absent. Also not in attendance were any spent casings. None of these ponies had been carrying energy weapons, so if they'd been attacked, they would have returned fire and left brass scattered everywhere. Yet, I had not spotted a single cartridge. These ponies had been taken completely by surprise.

This was a fascinating concept, as the terrain around us was flat and open. No rocky outcroppings or nearby buildings. You could see anypony coming at you for miles in every direction. In order to have taken these ponies by surprise, you'd need to be practically invisible...

...or actually invisible, I realized. The memory of the floating zebra head last night was still very fresh in my mind. I doubted that those two bounty hunters themselves had been responsible for this, but somepony else employing that sort of invisibility cloak—or somezebra I guess was the more likely case—could have caught these ponies off guard. Drugging them the way that I had been would also account for the lack of blood and casings. If all four of these ponies had been surprised and subdued by zebra agents, then it was no wonder why no sign of a struggle existed.

That explanation did make a lot of sense, and it ticked all the right boxes for a lot of the questions this scene raised. Except for one: 'why'? Why surprise a little party like this out in the middle of nowhere, take out the ponies and drag them off, but leave every piece of hardware behind? Even slavers needed medicine and ammunition, right? What was the angle here?

As I took in the sight, a memory of a conversation crept back into the forefront of my mind. A discussion about news from around the valley, and the rumor of caravans and ponies going missing. That had been close to two months ago though; and this site was not two months old. The gear barely had any dust on it at all. I'd say this happened a week ago, at the most. Which meant that there was a group out there who had been at this for months, at least.

Large scale, or at least a long term, operation. That implied that a lot of ponies had been abducted. The slave markets around here were drying up thanks to the Republic, so where were the captured ponies being taken to? Well, zebra technology, zebra tactics, maybe zebra lands was the answer to that little question.

Still no satisfying 'why' though.

“Take what you can use. Stay alert,” not that we were likely to do much better if what happened to these ponies happened to us.

As though heading to Old Reino wasn't dangerous enough; now we had to worry about invisible pony-nappers.

Thanks, Celestia. Fuck you too.

Wind Rider Wagons and Freight.

That's what the sign on the side of the massive warehouse said anyway. Far off to the south I could see the silhouette of a distant city, which had to have been Old Reino. It looked far more intact than most old ruins that one might come across in the Wasteland. Further evidence that whatever had killed off the ponies there during the war, it had not been a traditional balefire bomb like those that had ravaged most of Equestria. The warehouse that the three of us were looking at now was revealed by the mid-morning sun to be rather intact as well. Rusted and showing its age, but otherwise whole.

Outside was a large paved lot that boasted a half dozen large carts and enclosed wagons that were obviously designed to be pulled by a team of two or more ponies. Most had wheels, but I noticed a couple that were instead mounted on skids and struts. I wondered how those were supposed to have gotten around?

I fixed my gaze on the large open gate that existed in the side of the main structure. A red blip was present. I glanced up at the pegasus, “something's in there. Go kill it,” I received a nod from the flier, and a glare from the unicorn. Before Foxglove could voice whatever objection was on her mind, Windfall zipped away and darted into the darkness beyond the doorway.

A few seconds later we heard a short salvo of gunfire. This was followed by the roar of a beast that I was able to identify as a radscorpion. Then there was a pause and another, longer, burst of gunfire. Pinpoints of green light passed across the opening, followed closely by a rattling of small explosions. There was a second roar that was cut short, and then the gunfire stopped. In the next moment, the armored flier swooped back into view and flashed the two of us a satisfied grin.

“All clear!”

I nodded at the pegasus and walked through the door, skirting around the minced up corpse that had once been a decently large bug.

Inside the large warehouse it looked very much the same in terms of wagons; though there were crates and barrels as well. The transports inside were also in various stages of disassembly. Presumably, this was where they were maintained and repaired.

Foxglove instantly wandered over to where the tools and equipment that was used to conducted those services were kept. I grimaced slightly as the unicorn was distracted from helping Windfall and I continue to check the rest of the building out to be sure it was secure. It probably was, as my pipbuck showed no red blips to indicate hostile creatures or robots nearby. I still intended to get a better lay of this place to see if it would really be viable as a shelter for us while we were here.

I checked a couple of the crates to see what they contained, and was discouraged to find that it looked like nothing of any particular use to us. Bolts of cloth and sheets of rusted metal. Materials that would probably been very useful while fighting a war on a national scale, I suppose; but nothing that did the three of us any immediate good. No intact weapons, or ammunition. Not even bulk foodstuffs.

The smaller portion of the warehouse that had been dedicated to serving the ponies who worked here provided a little in that regard at least. Not the weapons so much, but there had been a vending machine with a few packaged Fancy Buck Snack Cakes and Alfafa-Crisps. A few bottles of Sparkle-Cola as well. Enough for a couple of days, but we'd need to do some foraging if we were going to make a longer go of this.

I had Windfall pack away what provisions we found and then continue to search with me. Two sets of eyes were preferable to one when it came to scavenging through ruins like this. One door along the simple hallway opened to reveal a small bunk room, where I presumed some of the teams of ponies stayed between trips. We searched the lockers, but found nothing of any real value. Some clothing and amenities, which I suppose was to be the expected haul from a place like this. One locker did have a box of ammunition, but it was thirty-eight caliber, which was a size that none of us had weapons for anyway.

There were two other offices on the other side of the hallway. Each was rather sparse with typical office furnishings and a terminal. Nothing useful was located in these either. There was one oddity that I noted though: the computers were blank. They had power, and looked to be functioning normally in most ways I expected them to. However, they didn't have any file directories or other programs on them. What kind of pony had a computer at the desk of the place they worked at that was completely blank?

At the end of the hall was a wooden door with a nameplate affixed to it that read, 'Wind Rider, CEO'.

When I stepped inside, I was expecting this office to be as sterile as the others. To my surprise, this one looked to have been very well furnished. The walls were covered in shelving and glass cupboards, boasting a wide variety of knick-knacks and frames. I found myself wondering what a pony like this was doing running what essentially an Old World version of a caravan company. The room was nice, very nice. Even after two hundred years, the crimson carpet still felt plush beneath my hooves. It wasn't even all that dull, really. The desk was exquisitely carved with etchings of ponies and clouds across its face. Beyond was a high-backed chair with velvet upholstery. I wandered over to take a closer look at some of the nearby baubles.

Most the frames had photos in them of ponies in uniform. The common denominator was a cyan pegasus stallion with a darker, wavy, mane. Well-groomed and a posh dresser, he had the same self-satisfied smirk in all of the pictures. The news clipping too. There were more than a few of those. 'Wind Rider Sets New Records!' 'Wonderbolt Honored!' 'Second Chance for Spurned Hero!' There was even a bust of a stallion's head that was adorned with a blue and gold mask that resembled those worn by the uniformed ponies in some of the other pictures.

“Some sort of war hero?” I mumbled to myself under mu breath as I looked through the awards and clippings, “who'd he piss off to end up here?”

“Maybe he retired?” the nearby flier ventured as she studied a trophy that was topped by a depiction of a pegasus in flight.

Possible, but, “I don't see a pony like this one being satisfied running caravans for the rest of his life,” he liked fancy parties and getting to know important ponies. I couldn't have named any of the ponies that he was shaking hooves with in all of these pictures, but they were all too well dressed not to be rich and important. This pony had made connections during his life.

So why run freight?

There was a terminal on the desk that still possessed some power. It was password protected though, so nothing of interest for me. Foxglove might be able to take a crack at it and see if there was any mention of a cache of food or weapons somewhere. Speaking of the violet unicorn mare, I thought with a smile, it was a new day; and I had some stress to work off. My eyes went to the pegasus. First, I needed to get her out of here for a little while.

“Drop the food off in that bunk room we found and fly a peremiter sweep,” I instructed the pegasus, “I don't want to be surprised by anything out here,” it wasn't just a line to get her away from Foxglove and myself either. We were a long way from civilization, and near a massive sprawl of old ruins. There could be all sorts of monsters and raider bands around here. Best we find out if any of them were close before we considered spending the night.

Windfall nodded, “on it,” she trotted out of the room.

I hung back for another minute or two, occupying myself with looking at a few more of the relics in the room. Notably the ones on his desk. Those were what he would have considered most important, probably. The things he'd want to be able to always keep in sight. Not a lot was filed under this category, surprisingly: just a medal, and picture of a young mare, barely more than a filly. I glanced at the plaque with the award on it, reading the caption.

'Purple Hoof, awarded to Airpony, First Class, Storm Rider for her ultimate sacrifice, in service to the Princess during the Great War.'

I glanced towards the picture of the mare. It was a bust shot, but I could make out the collar of the clothing that she was wearing, it was very similar in coloration and style to uniform that the stallion that once owned this office had worn in so many of the photos along the walls. Marefriend or wife, perhaps? Upon further inspection, I became skeptical of that notion. The mare bore quite the resemblance to the stallion. I wouldn't say they were straight up siblings, or even a father-daughter pair. Niece, then? Maybe even a close cousin.

'Ultimate sacrifice', huh? That's rough, pal.

Then I glanced briefly at the computer terminal nearby; my eyes darting between it and the picture of the mare.

He wouldn't have been that sentimental, would he?

Nothing would be lost by giving it a shot, I figured. I navigated my way towards the password prompt, and typed in the name that had been mentioned in the award citation. Sure enough, the screen flashed for a brief moment, and then presented me with a list of file directories. I browsed through the list. This was a freight company, right? That meant that they should have a list of warehouses or depots or something where they'd send their wagons to, and maybe even a log of what was in those places. A company this size would have transported all sorts of supplies for the war: weapons, ammo, medicine. If I could track down a location for a cache of that sort of thing, I could recoup my losses in no time.

The thing of it was, that I couldn't find that sort of list. Personal files, letters, personnel transfer logs, but nothing dealing with hardware. It had to be here though, right? It wasn't on any of the other computers.

Would he have talked about it in his letters? Maybe one or two of them were about shipments. I tabbed over to one promising heading: 'RE: Pick-up Details'. If they were picking something up, then they'd have to have delivered it somewhere too, after all. The file opened and the text started flowing onto the screen.

Lightning, I'm serious. Things here have been getting very tense ever since the operation wrapped up. Suddenly the Ministry isn't returning my calls, and all our other missions are on 'standby' until further notice. I have operatives that have been here for over a month with no orders. What gives? It sounds like your unit is still active in Seaddle, but how can that be when all of your orders are supposed to be going through me?

For fuck's sake, I tried calling RD just yesterday to find out where the 'merchandise' ended up. I didn't make it past her damned secretary, and do you know what that bitch told me? 'It's classified.' Classified?! I'm the fucking Chief of Operations for all MoA activity in the Neighvada Valley! How can something be going on here that's so classified that I'm not allowed to know about it?!

This is reckless and you know it. The zebra agents have our scent. First they killed the MoI rep last month, and then, two days ago, our entire network got hit with a worm that wiped our terminals. Just when I was about to finally find out where those crates had been shipped to. Thank Luna I installed that redundant drive on my computer; but my tech says that everything else is completely gone! My tech also confirmed that it was a zebra virus that they'd been using to disrupt systems all across Equestria.

We're compromised, and RD doesn't care. She's already gotten one good pony killed for no good reason. How many more have to die before anything's done about it?

Lightning Dust, she still trusts you. She's at least talking to you! See if you can find out what's going on. That MoI agent's family deserves some damn answers, and I don't have any!

Wind Rider

I frowned slightly. It seemed promising at least. The ministries wouldn't be dealing in junk, so if there was a shipment of supplies out there it would be worth something. It didn't sound like Mister Rider was in the know about it though. Maybe there were some clues in the other messages that would let me know who might have known...'Operation Report' looked like it might be more helpful.

To: Rainbow Dash

Ministry Mare

Ministry of Awesome

Operation Stolen Echo has concluded. As per your instructions, the recovered material is being transported to the coordinates you provided. I should warn you though: we're not equipped for this sort of thing. It will take nearly a dozen trips, and there is a high degree of probability that we'll draw attention to ourselves. Zebra agents are always looking for opportunities to disrupt our supply lines. This front has thus far avoided being a target because we are such a low profile freight company that makes infrequent trips. To meet your deadline is going to require a level of activity we've never displayed before.

Also, I have spoken with the MoI agent that we were attached to for this operation, a Miss Sassy Saddles. She is under the impression that she is here to assist us, and not the other way around. I would appreciate some clarification: is this an MoA project, or an MoI one? Given the nature of what we're dealing with, I thought it made sense that Image was the lead on this; but Miss Saddles insists that she was asked to be here to help us as a favor.

I look forward to receiving a prompt response.

Regards,

Wind Rider

COO, MoA Neighvada

Closer all right. Some big ministry op that required a dozen trips with those freight wagons we saw outside. Those things had looked rather large, so the size of this shipment must have been massive. The zebras were interested in it too, from the sound of things. If I could just find out where they sent those supplies to...

To: Rainbow Dash

Ministry Mare

Ministry of Awesome

Follow-up Report:

Sassy Saddles has been killed. A zebra wet team ambushed her while she was on her way home from overseeing our transport operations. One of my own agents was severely wounded in the attack and remains in critical condition; but the doctors believe that she will eventually recover.

We believe that this attack was a result of the increased activity that I mentioned in my initial report.

Will the MoI be sending another agent to oversee the operation?

Also, can either you or the MoI please brief me on what was so important about those toys? Ponies died over this, Miss Dash.

As COO, and the MoA agent in charge of Operation Stolen Echo, I am drafting a notification to the MoI. I am told that Miss Saddles was a close personal friend of Miss Rarity. I will be sending Miss Saddles' personal effects along to her to be forwarded to next-of-kin.
I hope this was worth it.

Wind Rider

COO, MoA Neighvada

Damn it. 'Toys'? Really? I was with Wind Rider on this one. What was a ministry doing fucking around with crates of toys? Was the war going so bad that they'd run out of guns or something? I growled in frustration at having come so close to a big score and yet have nothing worthwhile to show for it. Quickly checking a few other directories, I did managed to stumble onto something else that caught my eye though. Nestled among some personal looking correspondence was an option to open an electronically locked safe. Safes were always good, especially when they were still locked after two hundred years.

There was a resounding metallic 'thunk' from somewhere nearby. Glancing around, I eventually located the source in one of the drawers of the large wooden desk. Sure enough, the door to the safe pulled open easily, revealing the contents within.

At least this trip had not been a total loss. A bag of old bits, which would at least be worth something to the right ponies in this valley, and there was even an energy pistol A nice one too; custom job with a few choice modifications. Wind Rider was a pony of taste, after all; no ordinary sidearm for him. This would definitely be worth some money. Maybe not the thousands that I had been hoping for, but a few hundred at least. Enough to get me back on my hooves when I found somewhere else to get settled.

There was one other item of note in the safe: a set of saddlebags. These, I presumed, had not belonged to Wind Rider actually. He dressed in stylish enough fashion in some of those photos, no doubt; but these would have been a bit much even for him. Slim, elegant, and studded with small precious stones. These saddlebags had belonged to a mare. Maybe that 'Miss Saddles' that had been mentioned in the letters. She was a pony who seemed to dress without regard to cost, if these bags were any indication, so maybe she had a few valuables as well.

Or not. The first two things I pulled out was a make-up compact and something that looked like a tiny little whistle. Honestly, it looked like it had very little place in the bag. While the bag and the compact were stylish and fancy, the whistle looked tacky and cheap. Glancing at the label on it, I learned that it was a 'Royal Roar!' Charming. Go figure some mares. The third object made me drop both it and the saddlebags.

It was a small statue of a pony.

Oh, for fuck's sake, not another one! How many of these things were there?! I groaned audibly and peered down at the little figurine. A white unicorn mare with a purple mane and a sultry expression. Not going to lie, if I'd known her when she was alive, I'd have fucked her right in half. That styled tail was just begging to be wrapped around a hoof to make sure she didn't bounce too far off the cock of a pony that was brutalizing her from behind. With a mane like that, she had to be a swallower too, else she was sure to get it all kinds of messy while she was going down on somepony.

I stared at the statue, considering. Every other time I had picked up one of these things, my psychosis had gone right ahead and generated a little pony in my head that looked just like them. Yellow Bitch and Orange Cunt had been rather scarce for the last week or so, but I was sure they'd pop up eventually at some point. Probably when it was most inconvenient.

Come to think of it, last night with Foxglove would have been exactly the sort of time I would have expected Yellow Bitch to try and sour a perfectly wonderful moment. Huh...

In any case, having a hot unicorn whore prancing around in my head would be a welcome change of pace. I could practice my fantasies on her in my head so that I'd have them all nice and properly planned out for my little fuck toy in the real world.

I scooped up the little statue and peered at the words inscribed on its base: Be Unwavering.

Hmm. I planned on doing quite a few things; and certainly wasn't intending to waver in the face of them. Speaking of things I'd be doing in the face, it was long past time I got with Foxglove. The pegasus was bound to return at some point.

Dumping the safe's contents into my own saddlebags, I left the office and returned to where I had left the unicorn mare fawning over the cache of tools that she'd found. Curiously enough, Foxglove was no longer anywhere near the toolbench that she had initially trotted over to. It also looked as though every piece of equipment was still in its proper place. Had she not elected to take a single thing? Odd. Glancing around, I soon found that Foxglove had discovered a working radio, and was sat in front of it, nodding her head along with the music that it was currently playing.

It was a tune by the Ink Plots, if I was any judge. Not hard to discern really, as all of their songs had extremely similar sounding melodies. It was like their instrumentalists only knew the one progression of notes and the vocalist had simply chosen to improvise different lyrics around the same tune for each song. I arrived next to her just as the last syllable finished fading away. A moment later, we were graced by the deep baritone of the jovial DJ from Manehattan.

“...and that was the Ink Plots with 'I'm feeling like a Million Bits'; and Wasteland? I'm feeling like a million bits myself, and it's all thanks to that wandering hero of ours: The Lone Ranger.

“Children, allow me to regale you with this steel sentinel's latest exploits: Remember how I was telling you all the other day about the bloat sprite hive that moved in near Arbu? Those poor ponies there nearly had to abandon everything that they had worked so hard to build; as all too many of us can relate to these days. Then, along comes our Lone Ranger with compassion in his heart, and a balefire egg in his launcher.

“Yes children, Arbu was saved, and we have The Lone Ranger to thank for it. A lot of us owe thanks to that pony for all that he's been doing for us. It isn't just monsters either, he's been bringing the Good Fight to Red Eye's doorstep as well.

“One pony children; that's all he is, and look at all that he's doing for us. So if you see that power-armored protector of the Wasteland, do a little something for him.

“And if you're listening Lone Ranger, I'm repeating my offer to drop on by Tenpony Tower so that the two of us can have a proper talk. We'll introduce my little Wasteland ponies to the real Ranger; so that they can see that you don't need to be anypony special to be a hero. All it takes is the conviction to do what you know needs to be done, and do it.

“This is DJ Pon3, asking all my loyal listeners out there to take that first step towards becoming my little rangers, and do what you know needs to be done.

“Next up, it's Daring Bobber with, Beyond the Everfree.”

The DJ was gone from the radio waves, and the aforementioned song replaced him. A slower beat than the number that had preceded it, but not nearly so somber a piece as one might have thought as a result. Foxglove started to hum along with the music until she finally noticed me out of the corner of her eye. The unicorn's mood instantly changed once she registered my proximity. The humming stopped, and I could feel her tense up significantly.

“What do you want?” she asked tersely.

A smirk touched my lips, “done browsing those workbenches already? Figured you's be all over those things.”

“They're fake,” was her short reply before turning back to the radio to continue listening to the music.

I blinked, “they're what?”

“Fake,” she repeated without glancing in my direction, “nothing but plastic and cheap wood.

“The wagons are fake too.”

That surprised me even more somehow. I looked in the direction of the four large wagons that were half taken apart. Those were fakes? They looked real enough to me, and I said as much to the violet unicorn.

She shrugged, “from a distance you'd never know; but those aren't any kind of real freight wagon. They're built out of particle board and plastic; just like the tools. I doubt they could carry more than a hundred pounds without snapping in two.”

“But what about all of those crates with metal and cloth?” I pointed out.

“Check again,” the mare nodded in their direction, “there's about one or two layers of actual material in those boxes. The rest is a false bottom.”

One of the crates in question was only a few paces away, and I could already see where somepony had shifted the contents. I stepped over and looked inside. Sure enough, a few inches down was the bottom of the crate. What would have looked like a box containing over a hundred heavy bolts of fabric might have had a half dozen in it. The containers with the metal ingots were no different. What would these ponies have been doing operating a fake shipping company? I had read the messages that suggested this place had been a part of the old ministry operations; but why make the company fake? If none of these wagons ever went anywhere, wouldn't that have drawn even more suspicion; especially during a time when transporting equipment and war material was so important?

No wonder the world ended with ponies like that calling the shots. I shook my head in resignation and wandered back over to Foxglove.

“Windfall's out,” I mentioned, stepping close behind the mare. She leaned away from me slightly, and I saw her ears flatten out slightly, “I figure we can get in a quickie before she gets back,” this managed to at least draw a glare from the unicorn, “I'm fine with doing the work this time, in the spirit of being fair,” my smile broadened, even as Foxglove's grew more dour, “just go on and lay down and we can get started,” I started to brush her tail aside with my hoof.

Instead of laying down though, the mare shot to her hooves and turned to face me. She favored me with a scowl, being very conscious about keeping her backside facing as away from me as she could manage. Now my own smile was gone as well. I didn't have time for the unicorn's stubborn games again. The pegasus was going to be returning any minute, and I wasn't sure how I'd be able to convince her to leave again for any significant amount of time.

“Foxy, we've been over this-”

“There've been some changes since then,” the unicorn informed me tersely.

My frown morphed into a genuine scowl now as well. Changes? Since last night? That was just over twelve hours ago. What sort of changes could possibly have happened in that short span of time?

Foxglove didn't wait for me to ask the question before delving into more detail, “Windfall and I had a nice long talk about her feelings for you while we were tracking down those bounty hunters,” I was already not liking where this was going, “we talked about appropriate ways for ponies like you two to show affection; as well as the impracticality of you two starting a romantic relationship.”

“Who said anything about romance,” I spat, “I'm just interested in fucking somepony today; and I refuse to believe that you've managed to change her mind about her letting me get under her tail in one evening,” there it was. That momentary crinkle in her determined expression. Foxglove probably wasn't outright lying; I did believe that she would have spoken to the pegasus in an effort to get out of our deal by removing Windfall from the equation. However, if the flier had been willing to let 'me' mount her at McMaren just a week ago, there was no way the unicorn had changed Windfall's desires anywhere near enough for her to outright turn me down.

Maybe I'd need to coax the pegasus more than I would have had to before; but I was sure I could make a few innocent enough sounding suggestions that would allow things to escalate. Fathers and daughters kissed, didn't they? Maybe not on the lips, but then again, I wasn't really her father; so a little peck on the lips was okay. In fact, why stop at a little peck? We'd been through too much for our relationship to be summed up by a quick peck. We deserved a real kiss together. Real kisses also involved an embrace; and didn't my hoof gently rubbing the back of your neck feel really nice? Something that feels this nice can last a little longer than some kisses. It will feel even nicer if I kiss your neck a little bit...

I wasn't saying I could get Windfall all the way to a good fucking or even a genuine hoof-job that first time; but a good groping was sure to be in the cards. The next time would only go further...

Foxglove hadn't made anywhere near the progress with Windfall that she'd have needed to stop the pegasus from soon submitting. She was trying to bluff me in an effort to weasel out of the deal; and after juts the one night too! That scheming bitch. Did she really think I was going to let her off the hook with one little half-assed bathtub suck? Fuck that! I was getting a piece of her tight purple flank, and I didn't have a lot of time to waste playing mind games with her.

“Stop acting like you're above this sort of thing,” I growled at the mare, “you already told us your little sob story about fucking for chems. Is that what you want? A little Dash or Med-X or something? Fuck, I can give you chems if that's what it'll take to get at your slit.”

“Fuck you!” the unicorn spat, taking another step back.

“Do we really have to go over all of this again?!” was my aggravated response, “you whine, I threaten to fuck Windfall instead, you give in because you have a mare-crush on her or some bullshit, the end; now we fuck!

“Is this seriously how it's going to be every time with you?”

“Never again, you asshole,” she snarled at me, “and you'll never get the Windfall either. Not while I'm around. You even try, and I'll make sure she sees what kind of monster you really are!”

That did it. I was mad now, “oh, you haven't seen the monster yet, you little cunt,” I said, seething through gritted teeth. I was so over this bullshit. My eyes locked on the mare, I started approaching her. Foxglove cowered away, her resolve noticeably shaking in the face of my obvious wrath, “I was going to be gentle before; but you're getting wrecked when I catch you now!”

That was enough to shatter whatever brave front Foxglove had been managing to prop up to this point. The mare outright turned and ran now, galloping for the exit. I vaulted after her. She might have been younger than I was; but I had the longer gait, and muscles that had been strengthened by decades of hard living in a Wasteland that killed any who were too weak to conquer its trials. Foxglove had grown up in a stable, and then lived in moderate comfort within the boundaries of New Reino until just recently. She had neither the speed, nor the stamina, to outrun me. A powerful leap soon put me over the mare, and planted firmly between her and the door to the outside.

The unicorn scrambled madly in an effort to turn about and get to safety. However, she was as nimble as she was fast, which meant that she was far too slow to come about to hope to escape me. I wasn't very inclined to go for the quick resolution right now though. Foxglove had pissed me off. I was owed recompense. So instead of tackling her to the ground and pinning her like I could have, I instead opted to throw my weight behind a vicious headbutt aimed at her ribs. The mare grunted and went sprawling to the ground a dozen feet away.

Foxglove groaned with pain as she struggled to get back up. I was still in no particular hurry to cut her suffering short. Windfall's blip was still nowhere to be seen on my Eyes Forward Sparkle. There was time enough yet for me to play with this mare a little bit longer before I plowed her. I walked towards her, my hooves clopping noisily on the ancient cement floor of the warehouse. The sounds drew the violet mare's attention, her head whipping in my direction. The sight of the overwhelming fear in her eyes brought a grin to my face.

That's right, bitch; you done fucked up and now you're going to pay the price!

The unicorn's stance was unsteady when she finally got up. It was taking her some noticeable effort to breath as a result of the blow that I had delivered. She reverted to backing away with her attention focused on me instead of trying to run away. I guess she hadn't really thought that I would actually hurt her until just now.

Her horn began to glow, and a nearby piece of one of the wagons hovered over in front of her, acting as a makeshift barrier between the two of us. I whirled around and struck out with my hind legs, delivering a fierce double buck. I will admit that I was a little surprised at how much destruction the strike wrought on the wooden panel. Instead of snapping into a few large pieces like I had anticipated that it would, the section of bulkhead exploded into a shower of sawdust and debris. These wagons were unbelievably flimsy, just as Foxglove had said.

Once more I was facing the unicorn, bearing down on her. My eyes raked over her body, hungrily. A tasty younger version of Saffron that I was going to have all to myself in just another minute or two, “one last chance, bitch,” I was smiling, but there was no levity in my tone, “give me what I want, and maybe I won't even kill you when I'm done.”

That ultimatum had a profound effect on the unicorn. Any semblance of composure that she had managed to cling to vanished in an instant. Hers was now a state that I knew all too well. I had seen it on the faces of hundreds of ponies that I had slaughtered in my youth. This mare was staring down a White Hoof, and she had no hope of escape.

“What is wrong with you?” she quailed, continuing to back away. The mare was moving into a corner though. I wasn't certain that she even realized how little time she had before she was finally caught and all of this ended for her, “why are you doing this?!”

“Because I'm sick and tired of traipsing around this Wasteland next to two delicious pieces of flank and not getting any of it,” I snarled back at the unicorn. What a stupid question. I'd told her exactly why I was doing this.

“I don't understand,” Foxglove insisted, her tone still trembling. I thought I had stated things rather plainly. No matter, I intended to arrange a demonstration for the unicorn in the next few seconds, “just a couple weeks ago you were trying to convince me to look after Windfall because you didn't think you deserved to be around her. What changed?”

I did remember the talk that the two of us had had that night, just after Windfall had been severely injured by her tussle with the hell hound. Looking back, it hardly even felt like a real memory though. I knew that I'd said the words; but the whole reason that had prompted me to was...absent from my mind. I couldn't conceive of any sequence of events that would have prompted me to just walk away from the pegasus at that time. Windfall had not yet learned the truth about me, and still worshiped the ground that I walked on. She would have sucked my cock if I asked her to without a second though; and then probably thanked me for gagging her while I held her head down when I came.

“That was just a lapse in judgment,” I snorted, slowly guiding the unicorn's steps deeper into the corner of the warehouse.

“And then when you were about to let Windfall kill you, because you thought that was what you deserved?” the violet mare insisted.

I hesitated, a frown spreading across my face. I recalled that moment too, actually. Admittedly, this one puzzled me a little more than the last. What would have possessed me to come close to allowing something like that? What had I cared that the little pegasus' feelings had been hurt?

There was a brief mental flash of something black that made me wince, but I was able to quickly shake it away. My focus returned to the unicorn mare in front of me, “stop stalling!” I snarled.

“You cared about her,” Foxglove continued, despite my warning. A little note of renewed defiance had found its way into her words; as though the mare thought that she was making some sort of progress that would benefit her. How wrong she was.

In one swift motion, I crossed the remaining distance between us with a leap that caught the unicorn by her shoulders and pinned her up against the wall. My knife was in my mouth now as well, held fast against the flesh of her throat. The mare gasped in surprise, not expecting the sudden surge of motion. I applied enough pressure with the blade to make Foxglove aware of the weapon, and the threat that it posed to her life if she struggled too much.

“One more word, and I'll cut out your tongue,” I seethed around the hilt clutched in my mouth. I craned my neck and brought my nostrils closer to her mane, taking in her scent. Unicorns always smelled so good!

Both of us were standing on our hind legs now, Foxglove's backside propped up against the wall of the warehouse. It would be awkward to fuck her in this stance, but I was hesitant to let her down lest she try and break free. Before I could really work out the mechanics that would be involved trying to take the mare like we were, I was distracted by a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. A glimpse of silver and green that was moving very quickly in my direction. It was then that I noticed the green aura surrounding Foxglove's horn.

Fuck! I whipped around, lashing out with a hoof. My strike succeeded in deflecting away the unicorn's eldrich lance. The Old World cutting tool struck the nearby wall instead, and then proceeded to pass clean through it, spitting out a short burst of sparks and flecks of molten steel. The lance had been powered on. I turned back quickly to the unicorn, and saw that she was already taking advantage of my momentary distraction and trying to escape once more.

“I'm going to break off that horn and fuck you up the ass with it!” I raged at the mare as I gave chase. When I was done with this bitch, I'd probably just go ahead and cut her head off with the lance. It'd serve her right!

As before, the mare's speed proved far inferior to my own and I was back on her in seconds. Foxglove screamed and flailed, but her strikes were frantic and uncoordinated. There was no technique to speak of behind them, and so it was a trifle to bat them aside and deliver the occasional, calculated, blow of my own. She cried out with every solid hit that I landed, but her horn continued to glow. I aimed my next strike at the base of her skull; but never got the chance to land it.

The sound of rending metal drew my attention just in time to see the unicorn's eldrich lance slicing its way back into the building and once more rocketing directly for me. I was forced to abandon my position over the mare and jump away as the weapon sailed past. Foxglove clambered back onto her feet, but she didn't try and run again. She was smart enough to recognize the futility in that. I just wondered if she was smart enough to give up now and make this a painless process.

Not that I had any inclination to make this painless for her, or even let her live after what she'd just put me through. I didn't have to tell her any of that though, “one last chance,” I growled at the mare.

The lance floated over and positioned itself in front of me. The cutting end was sputtering with its bead of magical energy; though I did notice that it was a far sight dimmer than I recalled it being in the past. This device, like most arcane tech of the Old World, was powered off of spark-batteries; which meant it had a limited lifespan. I didn't have all of the time in the world to stall though. A quick glance around suggested that Windfall wasn't going to be back in the next minute; but we were fast approaching when she was going to finish her sweep of the surrounding area. I probably didn't have the time to wait out Foxglove's lance.

I did have the skills to deal with it though. Magical cutting torch or not, it was still very much like most melee weapons in that, as long as you avoided getting caught by the dangerous end, you had little to fear from it even at close range.

“Don't make me kill you,” Foxglove begged.

I actually laughed out loud, “as if you could,” I charged the mare.

She swung the lance with her telekinetic field, aiming for a deep slice across my shoulder. The mare could have opted for a cut to my throat in an effort to put me down for good, and her reluctance was going to cost her dearly. With a jerk of my head, I brought the knife clutched in my teeth to meet the metal shaft of the lance. The striking of metal on metal echoed through the warehouse. Another flick of my neck sent the lance up into the air with enough force to break it free from the unicorn's magical grasp.

Foxglove was disarmed now, helpless before me. The fear in her eyes confirmed that she knew it too. I let the momentum of my charge carry me into the unicorn's chest, pitching her over and onto her back where I landed on top of her. Now this was a position that I could work with. My knife was once more at her throat. This time I allowed the honed edge to draw blood. I wasn't going to open up her neck in any sort of lethal fashion just yet; as fucking a corpse had no appeal for me. However, Foxglove needed to know how badly she had fucked up.

“You're mine now, bitch,” I said in her ear around the hilt of the knife. My hips worked quickly to get into a good position. Windfall was going to be back any minute...

“Ghrk!” the unicorn grunted. Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes. That was right, you unicorn cunt, cry for me!

“get...off!” there was a green flash, and then I was suddenly airborne.

The powerful telekinetic blast was not something that I had anticipated. To be honest, I didn't know that unicorns were capable of moving whole ponies with their magic. Not that Foxglove was actively manipulating me in the same manner that she had been waving around her lance a few seconds ago. This was more like the magical equivalent of a shove; albeit with a lot more power behind it.

I must have arced over thirty feet through the air before crashing back down into one of the piecemeal wagons. I was suddenly very thankful for the cheap construction, as it acted to help cushion my fall as the roof and walls of the wagon gave way with only token resistance. I lay still for a moment, still processing what had just happened. My knife was gone, that much I knew. No matter, I didn't need it to kill the mare. I was actually looking forward to doing it with my bare hooves now.

If I fucked her corpse right after I killed her, it should still be warm enough to feel like she was alive, right?

My fur felt wet and matted for some reason. I glanced around and noticed that there had been something in this wagon. Hard to know exactly what it had been before I landed directly on top of it, but there had been a lot of them and they had been filled with yellow-colored goo. Yuck. I was not looking forward to having to wash that out later. Though I might as well take care of it at the same time I was going to be washing Foxglove's blood out of my coat too. There wasn't any blood now of course; but there was going to be a lot of it when I'd finished with that unicorn cunt.

I rolled onto my hooves and got a better look at what I had landed in. Some sort of nest, it looked like. All of the eggs that it had contained were broken now as a result of my impact. A few carcasses were visible too. Radscorpions. Awesome. It looked like that one earlier had been a mommy. Glad I wiped these things out while they were all still contained in their little eggs. Judging by how well developed the squished creatures were, they had not been far from hatching; which would have caused us all sorts of troubles if we'd still been here when they did it.

I extracted myself from the wagon's interior and face the unicorn once more. She was on her hooves again, and had managed to recover my knife and her lance. Both were hovering before her, poised to fend me off if I attacked again. Rather, I should say, when I attacked again. This mare was so far below my league that I was not at all concerned about her armed status when compared to my lack of weapons. I mean, I had Full Stop and my 9mm; but those would deprive me of the fun of beating her to death with my own two hooves. You couldn't feel bones breaking when you shot somepony. Nor could you strangle the life out of them with bullets while you were thrusting inside them.

A grin spread across my face as I once more began approaching the unicorn mare, “that one's going to cost you,” I informed her.

“Stay away from me,” her words trembled in her mouth as Foxglove backed away once more.

“You're not a fighter, and you know it,” I said, not the least bit swayed by the weapons she possessed, “your a fuck-toy. So lay down fuck-toy. Remember your place.”

“Stay away,” her lance lurched at me in an effort to intimidate; but I could see that its tip barely glowed at all now. It was little more the a stick that could barely cause a wound more serious than a cigar burn, “don't make me kill you!”

“Kill me, and you'll have to explain to Windfall why you did it,” I pointed out, “and I have to wonder if she'd even believe you. She loves me, remember?

“Not that you have the balls to kill me anyway,” my grin faded. I tired of this game. I'd already won it, and I wanted my prize, “just lay down and I'll-ahshit!”

I reeled and bucked as I felt something sharp pinch my backside. What the fuck?! Something flew off and landed nearby. I glanced down at the partially mangled corpse of a tiny little radscorpion. It had been rather severely crushed by my earlier landing, but it was still twitching a good deal. With a disgusted snort, I used my hoof to finish it off. For something so tiny, it sure packed a punch! My backside felt like I'd been bucked by a mule...

I shook off my hoof and returned my attention to the mare once more, “like I was saying,” I began once more, “just lay down, lift your tail, and I won't have to hurt you any more,” I was still going to kill you when I was finished though. You've earned that much.

Man, that sting was starting to burn a little bit now. Did we have any Med-X left?

“I swear I'll kill you, you bastard,” the unicorn insisted, even as she continued to back away, “I can make Windfall understand.”

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, hiding a wince as the movement of my hip started to aggravate the site where the radscorpion had gotten me, “what if she flies away and leaves you out here alone? How long will you survive out here, hm?” wow, that was really starting to burn, like, a lot!

“She won't abandon me,” the unicorn insisted, still keeping her distance.

I grunted, trying to work through the pain that only seemed to be growing exponentially. Where was...I needed something for this. What did I have in my saddlebags for stings? “she might though,” I managed in a distracted tone as I shrugged my saddlebags off my back and started pawing through them, “are you a betting pony?” did I not have any healing potions left? I didn't even have any Dash, what gives? I always kept a couple ampules around.

My gaze flashed to the unicorn, “did you hock my stuff?!”

The unicorn hesitated at the abrupt change in topic, but eventually answered, “you left us with a lot of things to pay for in New Reino,” she pointed out, “the room, the food, the damage; we had to sell most of our gear to cover it all.”

Damn it, “give me a healing potion,” I demanded, “I know you still have a couple somewhere,” it was getting harder to concentrate, and I knew that my demeanor was starting to show the pain that I was in. I'd even had to stop walking because my joints felt like they were all on fire. I glared at the unicorn, who had not moved in response to my demand, “I said give me a healing potion!”

I shouldn't have yelled. That had been a mistake. Not because it had put Foxglove off any more than she already had been. After what I'd just put her through, it's not like she could have had a lower opinion of me. However, yelling was apparently something that aggravated my injury. The pain was now so much that I couldn't even remain standing and slumped to the floor. I hissed as the burning sensation continued to spread. I felt like I had a fever and could feel myself sweating even as I lay on the cold cement of the warehouse.

“Potion,” I gasped through clenched teeth, glaring at the unicorn through bleary eyes, “now!”

Foxglove looked down at me with a detached expression that I found more than a little unsettling. She actually ventured a little closer to me for the first time since I'd confronted her. Her eyes looked over my body, still a little hesitant to get too close at first. Then she decided that I wasn't much of a threat to her anymore. Damn that unicorn if she wasn't right too. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't have hurt her if I tried. It actually hurt just to breath.

The unicorn mare bent down and glanced at the screen of my pipbuck. Then she stood back up and looked at me, “no.”

“What?” I gasped. The act of talking hurt too.

“No. No potion,” the violet pony informed me, “it wouldn't help anyway. You need antivenom; and we don't have any. You're dying.”

A spasm wracked my body, as though it had needed to actually hear her say the words before the poison knew what it would ultimately do to me. I gasped and cried out as a result of the spasm, despite myself, “fuck...that!”

Foxglove sighed, becoming visibly more relaxed, “thank Celestia...”

I could understand why she felt so relieved. I'd been removed as an immediate threat, and would soon no longer be able to pose a threat to her ever again; and the best part—from her point of view—was that she would have the perfect alibi when the pegasus showed back up. There was nothing that could be done to save my life. I would die, the pegasus would be upset, but the unicorn would be there to comfort her, and be seen as blameless in what had happened.

Fucking bullshit! This was such fucking bullshit! After everything I'd been through, I was going to be killed by a half dead baby radscorpion?! No! I refuse!

My body did not seem to really care very much what my mind was insisting though. There were more spasms, and a lot more pain. My vision blurred, and my hearing became muffled. I didn't even know if I was making audible sounds anymore as I continued to curse the unicorn and rail against my impending death.

Oh, sure now you cling to life, a familiar, and wholly unwanted voice drifted in, nothing like a little foiled rape to get the blood boiling.

Oh, horseapples. What do you want? Where are you, anyway? I can usually see you when your speaking.

Right here, dumbass.

I glanced around behind me, where it had sounded like the voice had come from. Only to jump as I found myself facing a grinning horror clad in a shiny black shell with pale blue eyes. I reflexively flinched away, and when I looked back, there was nothing there at all. I'd always been crazy, as far as I knew; but I had never managed to actually scare myself before. What was going on?

You're dying, remember? For Celestia's sake, it's only been a minute.

If dying means that you'll finally shut up, then maybe it won't be so bad.

“Jackboot!”

The word was distant and soft. I almost didn't hear it at all. Looking around, I tried to find the source, only to once more glimpse only something with translucent wings that screeched as it darted past me and vanished into the void surrounding me. I turned around in a full circle, staring off into the darkness that existed all around. What was that thing? Whiplash?

Miss me?

Again the words sounded like they had come from directly behind me. Slowly, I turned my head. Jagged rows of black fangs dripping with green tinged bile filled my vision. Without meaning to, I screamed and jumped away. The sight vanished from sight, but I didn't feel like it was really gone.

Who are you?

I'm who I've always been, came the response in Whiplash's voice, the pony you knew you really were.

I took a deep breath and let it out. Whiplash had fucked with me before. Should it really surprise me that she had found a whole new way to do it? Who knew what that poison was doing to my brain while it was killing me. This was all just because of that.

Is it?

The words were once more coming from directly behind me. I didn't turn around this time though. I wasn't going to give Whiplash the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. I was going to die with dignity, damn it!

Are you so sure you're going to die? Whiplash asked, because I think you're about to wake up...

My eyes snapped open.

The darkness was gone, as was the sound of Whiplash's voice. I was laying on the cement floor of the warehouse. My joints didn't burn any more, and breathing came easy once again. I glanced at the screen of my pipbuck. All indications were that I was a healthy pony again. The answer to the question of how lay nearby, in the form of an empty syringe. Where had that come from? Foxglove had said that none of our group had any medicine that could help me...

Somepony was sobbing nearby. Testing the extent of my recovery, I slowly rose up to my hooves. There was no pain, and only a mild discomfort that could be attributed to my earlier tussle with the unicorn. Speaking of the violet mare, it turned out that she was the one who was crying. The reason was immediately evident as well. Clutched in her hooves, was Windfall.

The white pegasus was in rough shape. Blood matted the fur of half her body, soaking through the bandages that she had been wrapped it. Her wings hung limply at her side, and the young flier seemed completely oblivious to the unicorn mare that was weeping over her. She wasn't dead though. Two blips hovered in front of my eyes.

Foxglove was rocking slowly, holding the pegasus tight in her hooves. All around her were other bandages that must have at one time been white in color; but were now so stained with blood that one could be forgiven for thinking some company had been distributing scarlet rolls of gauze. The flier's weapons lay nearby on the ground, but I could see no sign of her barding or saddlebags.

“What happened to her?”

The unicorn flinched at my question, her sobs catching in her throat. She didn't immediately look at me though, “I hate you so much,” she said in a trembling voice. It was not fear that colored her words this time though, it was grief, “why couldn't you have died quicker?”

My lip curled in a sneer, and I was about to bark something rather unkind at the unicorn, but she continued on, oblivious to my irritation, “she came back just after you collapsed,” Foxglove explained, “before I could stop her, she flew away promising to be back with some antivenom.

“I thought about killing you so many times while she was gone,” the mare half-glanced over her shoulder, her lips curling back in a sneer of her own. Then she looked back at Windfall, “but that wouldn't bring her back any faster.

“I don't even know how she made it,” the mare nuzzled the pegasus' blood-soaked neck, “she was barely conscious when she stumbled in the door, the antivenom in her mouth. There was...so much blood...”

“Aren't the healing potions doing anything?” I asked, rolling my eyes. Windfall was just a little shot up. Enough potions would set her right.

“We only had one,” the unicorn spat, “and it only closed a couple of the wounds,” she shook her head slowly, “I did what I could with some bandages, but she's still bleeding internally, and I can't stop it...” her head whipped around now, her eyes were full of tears; and her face was a mask of rage, “and you don't even care!”

I glanced back at the empty syringe that had been laying next to me when I'd woken up, “she did her job,” I pointed out. The whole reason that I'd kept the pegasus around was to keep me alive one way or the other, after all. Foxglove didn't seem to particularly care for that answer. Whatever. The two of us had unfinished business anyway. I focused my gaze on the violet unicorn and started walking towards her...

...then stopped short when a pair of submachine guns swooped down in front of me. They were enveloped in an emerald haze, and I saw and heard their cocking levers leap back and then release, chambering fresh rounds. Foxglove was still glaring at me. I frowned at the mare, “if you're just going to shoot me anyway, then why'd you even give me the antivenom?” it certainly hadn't been the pegasus that had treated me, I reasoned.

“I gave you the medicine because Windy...” the mare's voice caught for a moment as she tried to get out the words, “Windy made me promise,” the floating automatic weapons stayed where they were, both barrels trained clearly on my head, “but she didn't make me promise not to kill you afterwards.”

For several tense moments, neither of us moved on spoke. I was half-expecting the unicorn to put me down right then and there. The look in her eyes suggested that she strongly desired to do just that, “so. Now what?”

“Leave,” Foxglove finally said, “just leave, and never come near me again. If I ever see you, I'll fucking kill you, you worthless piece of shit!”

Well, now that was just unkind; but I was in no position to fight the mare, armed as she was. Honestly, there was nothing to gain by sticking around anyway. Windfall was clearly going to be dead in a few hours, if even that long; and with the flier's death, my prior hold on the unicorn disappeared as well. This was the nail in the coffin of what constituted my gains in the Neighvada valley. No caps, no place to stay, and no loyal stooge. It was like the clock had been turned back eight years.

Oh, well.

I smirked at the unicorn. She probably wasn't going to last much longer either. She wasn't a Wasteland survive like Windfall and I had been, and she was deep in the wilderness now. I gave good odds that she'd die before making it back to New Reino from here. Which, in a roundabout way, was sort of a victory for me, I guess. It didn't get me anything tangible; but I enjoyed the thought that I'd outlive her all the same.

“Fine by me,” I nodded at Foxglove one last time and set about collecting my things; careful not to move any closer to the unicorn and her hovering arsenal. When I had my barding and saddlebags all strapped together and was ready to go, I headed for the exit, “try to die all slow and painful like!”

As I trotted out into the Wasteland, I heard the sound of one of the submachine guns opening up. My body tensed for a brief second until I heard the accompanying sound of wood being splintered. The smirk returned, as I realized that the unicorn was venting her frustrations on one of the wagons. She had very much wanted to shoot me dead, and I know that I would have in her place; but her sentiment for the flier's last wishes had won out in the end. Foxglove had let me live, and she was going to hate herself for the rest of her life for doing it.

I shook my head, smiling to myself as I envisioned her furious expression and renewed sobbing over the dying Windfall. Sentiment...worthless.

When my head rose again, it was to take in a deep breath and look about my surroundings. Here we were again: nothing to my name that wasn't on my back, and a dwindling list of places that I was still welcome. What had I narrowed my options down to again? Oh, right: south. My eyes tracked the compass that hovered in my field of vision until the little 'S' was centered.

Zebrica, here I come...

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 17: SOMETHING'S GOTTA GIVE

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“Fall to your knees and beg for mercy... Or give me a sandwich, I'm pretty hungry.”

I continued walking for only about half an hour, long enough to put Wind Rider's Wagon and Freight out of sight, before I stopped and took a long look at the map stored on my pipbuck. 'South' was a very general direction, after all; and I really didn't have that great of an idea what sort of distance that I was going to need to cross in order to be out of the Neighvade Valley. I'd never gone very far in this direction before. Weapons and ammunition I had in what I hoped would be sufficient quantities to make the journey. Food, water, and medicine on the other hoof...

So, I found myself faced with a rather daunting choice before me. Old Reino and all of its horrors lay before me; but nothing would stop me from simply skirting the edge and avoiding the ruins as I made my way towards Zebrica. There was every possibility that I would come across smaller hamlets and way stations from the Old World that I could scavenge supplies from. Of course, since those options were the much easier pickings, there was also every possibility that they had previously been searched by numerous prospectors looking for valuables. Old Reino was more likely to have what I'd need to make the trip successfully; and the reason for that was the very same reason that I was hesitant to venture in.

This debate I was having with myself was largely academic, of course. I had too little in the way of provisions to risk a detour through parts of the Wasteland that were likely to have been stripped of supplies in the past. If I was careful and quick, I didn't even necessarily have to cross the whole way through the old city anyway. Go a few blocks in, find a stash, and then go back out the way that I had come. After that, I could take whatever scenic route south that I desired.

I took a preparatory breath, and then I downed half a bottle of Rad-X. My pipbuck had a rad detector, so I should be able to avoid the worst of the radiation. A couple dozen rounds for Full Stop were tucked away in the pockets of my barding, and I had at least three full magazines for my other pistol in addition to the one that was currently loaded into it. Foxglove hadn't returned my knife, but I might find another somewhere along the way. In any case, I was as prepared for this little expedition as I was going to be.

One of the first places that I came to in the city was a hardware store. Unsurprisingly, there was little food, water, or medicine to be had within. There was actually rather little in the way of tools to be found as well. There was evidence that other ponies had been there in at least the last few months. It looked like I was going to need to go a little deeper than I had hoped. Great.

Unlike most other ruins that I had walked through in my time, Old Reino was rather intact. Sure, there had been a collapse here and there where a building had fallen due simply to centuries of rot and neglect; but there was little evidence of the sort of devastating balefire blasts that one found in most of the Wasteland. It made things all the more unsettling really. I passed a couple of blocks along the deserted street that looked like ponies could still have lived there. Nopony did, of course; not for over two hundred years. It was almost easy to wonder why the ponies that had once lived here would have left.

Then my ears started twitching as a ticking sound began intruding on my thoughts. In the corner of my eye, my pipbuck informed me that I had wandered into a pocket of ambient radiation. I didn't go more than a couple of steps further before the moderate rate of exposure climbed exponentially. Quickly, I backpedaled the way that I had come until the pipbuck calmed down once more. My skin still itched from the radiation, and I wasted little time pulling out a bag of RadAway and slurping down the contents.

I grimaced. The stuff tasted like somepony had taken a piss in a bottle of Sparkle Cola and then left it sitting open in a well-used outhouse. My skin stopped itching at least. Frowning in the direction of the invisible obstruction, I noted its location on my map and started probing for its edge until I had managed to skirt around it. A block and a half in either direction. At least it was one of the smaller pockets of radiation that tended to crop up here.

My next likely target for what I was after came in the form of a cafe whose sign designated it as: 'The Feed Sack'. A smaller placard leaning up near the door invited potential customers to ask the proprietors about their soy smoothies. I was doubtful that I would find anypony within who'd be able to help me as the slate tablet suggested, but maybe there would still be something left in the cupboards.

I drew up short just before stepping inside though. A frown creased my features as I studied the information that the little relic of Stable-Tec technology on my leg was feeding me. Two blips existed within the cafe. One of them was red, which was what I fully expected any blip I came across in this place to be. However, it had a companion, and that other blip was yellow. What was even more curious was that I could hear no signs of any sort of scuffle going on within.

So, there was something in there that intended to do me harm, and something else that wasn't a threat at all; and both of them were rather close together. Slaver and a slave? Possible, but I wasn't completely satisfied with that answer. What would a lone slaver be doing in this place with their property? Monster and a friendly robot, maybe? Or an even less likely robot paired with a friendly monster...

Speculating wasn't going to get me anywhere, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to take the sort of risk that could be involved here. Whatever might be in there, it suggested that any food which may have been in there was now the property of somepony, or perhaps even something else. Best to move along since I was unsure that I could beat whatever it was.

I was just about to turn away and resume my search elsewhere when my ear twitched again. Somepony was saying something in very hushed tones to somepony else. And they were getting a response. A stallion and a mare. Well, actually, judging from the pitches involved, I was inclined to lean more towards a colt and a filly; or at least ponies not much older than that. What ponies that young would be doing all the way out in a place like this was beyond me; but that information did alter my plan of action a fair deal.

A pair of children I could definitely take on. The best part was that I could then strip them of whatever provision they had as well. All I needed to do was think best about how to approach this. One of them was a red blip, after all. I still wasn't exactly a hundred percent on how the pipbuck determined which ponies were and were not immediate threats to myself; but one of the criteria that I had picked up on was that in order for a pony or monster to show up as red, they had to intend you harm, regardless of their ability to actually inflict it. So, if I were to walk in there, somepony was going to attack me, but that didn't necessarily mean that I was actually in any genuine danger of being hurt.

I didn't know what weapon they were going to be using, which would make simply walking in a rather risky proposition. My barding would provide decent protection against smaller caliber pistol rounds; but if one of them had a rifle, or even an energy weapon, I would be in trouble. On the other hoof, we were talking about younger ponies in the middle of some deserted ruins. The reality of them having high-end ordinance was slim.

If nothing else, I could always rely on SATS to get me out of trouble.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I took a breath and leaned my head down to loosen my pistol from its holster for a speedier draw if the need arose. A hit of Dash would have been nice to have right now for that little extra edge, but those other two mares had sold off all of my good stuff.

I stepped through the open doorway into the dim interior of the cafe. My head drifted from one side to the other, taking in my surroundings just like anypony would who was delving into some ruins, completely unaware of ponies waiting in ambush. Yet, all the while, my attention remained acutely fixed on the counter where the cashier would have been standing when this place had been open for business those long centuries ago. As this was where both of the blips seemed to be hiding away at. The attack was going to come from there whenever they felt the opportune time had arrived.

If I was going to get this all over with, I was going to have to provide them with that opportune time. So, I headed over to the counter, and placed my hoof on the register, as though I were about to open it and search through its contents in the hopes for strays caps and bits. This was the moment when I would have launched an attack if I was in their place.

Credit where it was due, the young stallion had a good head for timing. His combat prowess, however, was severely lacking. Mortally so.

With a yell that was partially muffled by the rusted piece of rebar clutched in his teeth, a gray stallion wearing a worn blue jumpsuit vaulted over the counter and lunged for my head. If I had not been expecting the attack, and had not known the exact direction that it was coming from, I could very possibly have been significantly injured by the attack. I would not go so far as to say that he would have won the fight; but it would not have been an easy one for me if he'd managed to land that first blow right to my head. That initial strike would definitely have left me rather dazed, and slowed me throughout the rest of the exchange.

As it was though, I was not at any such disadvantage. On the contrary, I had the young earth pony exactly where I wanted him. SATS engaged and froze time for me to properly take in my attacker fully and plan out my next actions. He was a mangy little stallion. A few years younger than Windfall, but probably fully grown. He wasn't a raider or bandit though. Indeed, I found myself quirking a surprised eyebrow as I took in the familiar Stable-Tec jumpsuit that was commonly associated with the shelter-born ponies. It didn't fit him perfectly, as it seemed looser in some places that it was intended to be. At the same time, I doubted he had either found or stolen it; as his sunken cheeks suggested that this pony had lost a bit of weight recently.

The conclusion I drew was that he was a genuine Stable pony, or rather, he had been a Stable pony not so very long ago. He was obviously not having a very good go at surviving in the Wasteland, and probably would have starved to death in another week or so at the rate he looked to be going. In a way, I suppose then that it could be looked at as a mercy that he was going to die by my hoof here and now rather than suffering for days as he slowly wasted away.

My hoof slid behind the cash register, and I willed the pipbuck to line up a blow directly across the young stallion's face with the ancient machine. Given the size and unfamiliarity of the improvised weapon I was opting to use, the device seemed to only have the magical energy for a single strike; but that was fine. I wouldn't need a second.

The attacked keyed in, I mentally commanded SATS to execute.

Time once more resumed at its normal pace. The gray Stable pony's cry became audible once more and he continued his arc over the counter, only to have both his yell and his progress simultaneously interrupted by a register smashing across his jaw. The segment of rebar that he had been holding flew from his mouth and clattered against the nearby wall. The force of the impact dented the old register, and propelled the stallion into a wild tumbled, landing him rather painfully on the back of his neck when he hit the floor at my feet on my side of the counter.

He wasn't dead though. His jaw was broken, and it didn't look like he was too keen on getting back up any time soon, but he was most certainly still alive. My ear swiveled in the direction of the counter once more as I picked up the sound of a fearful gasp coming from what sounded to be the filly. I momentarily debated jumping over and taking her down, but she was still showing up as a yellow blip on my Eyes Forward Sparkle. She wasn't going to do anything I would find objectionable any time soon. I intended to keep an eye on her blip though in case it did ever flip over to a crimson hue. At that time I would have to dispatch her too; but in the meantime, I had a crippled stallion at my hooves, and a lot of frustrations to work out.

This poor Stable pony was going to die today, but unfortunately for him, it was not going to be a quick or painless thing.

Pulling back my lips in a sneer, I snorted down at the lame pony, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” I spat at the young stallion. I lifted my right hoof and brought it down had on his left shoulder. I both heard and felt the scapula give way beneath me as it was ground into the floor. The pony screamed and writhed with pain, finally looking up at me with frantic eyes that were filled with terror, “you don't have the faintest idea who I am, do you?” I leaned my head down until I was almost touching the pony's face.

At the angle he was at, he couldn't draw away from me, as much as I saw he desperately wanted to, “p-pwease,” he sputtered through a jaw that only barely worked, wincing with the effort, “don kul m-”

My hoof ground down on his shoulder, transforming his barely coherent words into wails of pain, “I'm sorry,” I seethed through gritted teeth, “were you about to ask me not to kill you?! You attacked me, asshole! I have every right to gut you like a fucking bloatsprite!” again I heard that gasp from the other side of the counter. Still a yellow blip. My eyes remained fixed on the stallion beneath me.

“You fucked up, kid,” I informed the young stallion who was whimpering in front of me, “you tried to kill the wrong pony; because, you see, I'm not just anypony, I'm Jackboot,” I lifted my hoof off of the stallion's shoulder, and watched him sigh with bated relief for a fraction of a second before I lashed out with that same hoof at his rib cage. His chest depressed when I struck him, and fresh screams suggested I had at the very least cracked a few ribs, “do you know what that means?!”

Of course he didn't. That was why I was going to have to spell it out for him, “it means that I'm the baddest pony to ever walk the Wasteland, that's what! I am the only begotten colt of Steel Bit, the fiercest pony to lead the glorious White Hooves! His mighty blood flows through my veins!” I delivered another kick to the quivering stallion and reveled in his screaming, “My birthright is to rule the White Hooves, and bathe the Neighvada Valley in the blood of all who do not bow before us!”

Again I leaned towards the earth pony, “so bow, mongrel,” I sneered at the Stable-pony. When he didn't immediately move in response to my command, I lashed out with my right forehoof and slammed his head into the floor, “I said BOW!”

I kept his head pinned, but I could see that the pony was making an effort to comply. He was in obvious pain, and his movements were far slower that I liked. However, he did finally managed to approximate a reasonable 'bow' by raising his hind quarters into the air and tucking his forelimbs in close to his chest. It was an awkward looking affair, but the effort finally brought an amused smile to my face. It was a cold smile, and one that would have likely filled the stallion with even more fear if he had been able to see it, but it was the first smile I had had cause to wear in quite some time.

This was my right, I acknowledged. Ponies bowing to me in submission because they recognized that I was their better. This is what my life should have been. It is what I should have insisted that Windfall and Foxglove do in my presence since the beginning. Only then would I have continued to enjoy the successes that I had so richly deserved!

“Good,” I nodded approvingly at the still-humbled gray pony. Then my smile reformed into something far crueler, “now you can die like the worthless shit you are!”

I reared up onto my hind legs and prepared to descend with both of my front hooves in a strike that would have surely caved in the stallion's skull and ended this exchange in the only fashion that it could have. This is what would have happened, if not for an interruption in the form of a little yellow unicorn filly.

“No!”

Unlike her companion, this little pony had not been able to clear the counter in a single leap, and had first needed to clamber onto its surface before leaping to the floor and interposing herself in between us. Her horn glowed with a pale blue light, which had wrapped itself around the same length of ribbed steel that the earth pony had been gripping with his mouth earlier. The piece of metal hovered in the air just above her, warding me away.

I could have continued to deliver my blow and end the stallion's life, but I was rather intrigued by how the situation had altered. It's not that it was particularly surprising the filly had come out to lend a hoof to her companion. That much was to be expected. What had me interested was that, even standing there with the obvious intent to fight me off in order to save her fellow Stable-pony, this little unicorn filly's blip still registered as yellow.

It was the insistence of the Old World technology strapped to my fetlock that this little pony was not going to actually strike me with the rebar club she was wielding. Yet, there she stood, looking as though she could not possibly have any other plan of action. This was fascinating, and worth drawing things out a little longer to get to the bottom of. The unicorn was even younger than the earth pony. She was hardly any sort of threat at all, so I felt confident that I could take a few liberties.

Like the earth pony stallion still quivering behind her, this little yellow filly wore the blue and yellow coveralls of a Stable-pony. Hers were just as worn and filthy as his were, but this younger pony filled them out much better. Presumably he had been deferring much of the food that they managed to find her way. A poor choice on his part, as the hunger had made him much weaker than he should have been. I'm not saying that he could have hoped to beat me even if he had been well nourished; but how did he think he was going to keep this filly fed when he was eventually too weak to forage for the two of them any longer?

Sentiment had gotten him killed. It was going to get this little filly killed too, it turned out. Running away while I played with the stallion would have been her best course of action. I would have still run her down and killed her eventually, but she didn't know that. She should have run away and tried to survive, instead of sticking around to watch her companion die.

“We're sorry,” the filly swallowed, standing her ground, “I tried to tell him not to do it, but we're...it was wrong, and we're sorry.”

I snickered at the little filly, keeping note of her blip's color as I spoke, “sorry, huh? What was the plan? Kill me and loot my corpse?” the filly winced, but made no effort to deny the allegation. My smile returned, “so you're technically raiders then. Why should I let you live?”

The filly looked up at me with wide, desperate, blue eyes. Her horn ceased to glow and the rebar pipe was permitted to fall to the floor, “please! We're not raiders! We made a mistake, we're sorry!,” a renewed blue aura formed around a pair of bags on her back, “here, take everything we have! Just please don't kill my brother.

“Please...”

The bags floated over and set down in front of me. Idly, I flipped them open and glanced at the contents. I snorted in disgust. Magazines—the kind you read—a stuffed bear, and a half-eaten Fancy Buck Snack Cake. My eyes fell back on the filly, “is this a joke?”

She shook her head fiercely, swallowing hard to fight back her fear, “it's all we have, I swear!”

I believed her, of course. Her fear was totally and completely genuine. She probably couldn't have come up with any sort of lie even if she'd wanted to. All that mattered to her now was placating me enough to convince me to spare her stallion friend. Frankly, I was very tempted to simply kill them both and put this headache of a scuffle behind me for good.

However, I eyed the filly and my mind formulated a much more entertaining proposal.

Deftly slipping the little pony's bags into my own, as though accepting her offer, I then nodded at the yellow unicorn, “it's a start,” I lied, “but you're not telling the whole truth.”

“I am, I swear,” the filly's voice cracked, “we have nothing else!”

“You have your stable barding,” I noted, pointing at the jumpsuit that she was wearing, “those things are worth a lot in town,” they weren't, but I was wagering that this pony had no concept of what was worthless and what wasn't in the Wasteland, “yours even looks to be in good shape.

“So take it off and give it here.”

The unicorn filly nodded her head vigorously and her stable clothing started glowing around it's zippers and cuffs as she used her magic to quickly remove the garment. She floated it up in front of me, and I glanced briefly at the '137' embroidered into the collar and back of the jumpsuit before snatching it out of the air and stuffing it into my own bags. Then my eyes went to the filly once more. Small. Weak. Terrified. Didn't even have her cutie mark.

A dark shape whispered into my ear, I bet she'd cry...

It hadn't been Whiplash, but I suspected very much that the little voice was right. I could go for a little crying right about now.

“Now turn around,” I instructed the small unicorn.

“What?” the filly swallowed, lifting her hoof as though she was mentally debating to run away.

“Turn around,” I repeated, “and look at your friend there,” I insisted, “or I can just kill him...”

“No!” the little filly quailed. She hesitantly turned herself around to face the crumpled heap of a stallion that was laying nearby.

My eyes locked onto the wispy little auburn tail that was dangling in front of me now. As a measure on insurance, drew my pistol and kept it held firm in my mouth. Speaking around the grip, I gave the filly some additional commands, “now, you're going to keep still, and you're going to let this happen. Or I'm going to shoot your friend in the head. Then I'm going to finish with you anyway, and shoot you in the head too.

“Understand?”

“Wha-?” the filly tensed and glanced over her shoulder. Her ears flattened out to the sides of her head in terror, her tail snaking down between her hind legs as she saw me approach with the drawn weapon. She nearly bolted away, but a deft hop placed me over top of her; the smaller size of the filly meaning that she fit snugly beneath my body. I allowed her to see the pistol held firm in my mouth, and directed the barrel at the stallion.

“You try to run, he dies,” I reiterated around the weapon's grip.

For a brief moment, it looked like the little filly was about to try and make a break for it anyway. However, her eyes locked on the gray stallion and she seemed to rethink her action. Instead, she simply swallowed and closed her eyes tight. To me, a clear sign of resignation. Her companion voiced his own objections though.

“No, stahp,” he managed to mumble through a jaw that would barely move, “pwease, don!

“Mehwybell!” the crippled earth pony wailed, desperately trying to paw his way over to us in a pathetic attempt to stop what I was about to do.

I turned the gun on him now, grinning at his obvious physical and emotional pain, “I can kill you now so you don't have to watch?” I offered.

The filly spoke up once more, though her words were now marred by barely contained sobs, “no!” her teary eyes were focused on her friend, “stay there, Diamond Plate. It'll be okay,” it sounded like she was trying to convince herself of this more than him, "...it'll be okay."

How wrong she was.

I didn't bother to hide my derisive chuckle, keeping the weapon trained on the earth pony stallion, who had obediently ceased trying to come nearer at the unicorn's insistence. It was clear that he was still greatly upset by what he was seeing though. He hadn't seen anything yet.

Confident that I had little to fear from the pair, and that my point had been made, I placed the weapon into its holster and secured the retention strap—lest the filly get brave with her magic. Then I settled down to the task at hoof. I subtly positioned myself more comfortably over the filly, craning my head down to look at her, “now you be a good little filly and cry for Daddy,” I punctuated the statement by dragging my tongue across her cheek, relishing the bitter, salty, taste of the tears that were starting to soak her face. The unicorn cringed in an effort to escape the contact, but she was very much contained between my legs.

The lick was just the preamble though, as I opened my jaws and firmly clamped down on the filly's clavicle. Not enough to really hurt the little unicorn—though I was pleased to hear her hiss in discomfort as my teeth dug into her flesh. I just didn't want her moving too much. She was very young, and very small after all. This was going to be very painful for her. She would likely even bleed a fair bit. While making her bleed in that way wasn't something that got me going as much as her terror was, I was willing to put up with it in this instance.

I'd missed my chance with Windfall long ago, that same dark figure pointed out to me. I was going to make up for that right now.

The unicorn's eyes went wide as she felt me brush up against her, and I heard her gasp again. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks now. Faintly, I could hear her mumbling a mantra over and over to herself, “it'll be alright, it'll be over soon...It'll be alright...”

You keep telling yourself that, you fucking yellow cunt.

If she'd thought that she was prepared for what was about to happen to her, she was so very wrong. Those whimpered words were cut off by an agonizing scream the moment I entered her. Instinctively, she tried to get away in order to escape the very painful process; but my grip held her down. Upon seeing her distress, the earth pony renew his futile efforts to interdict.

I released my hold of the filly with my teeth, letting my legs and weight keep her in position while I went about my business. My eyes focused on the stallion now though, “you see this?! This is your fault!” I snarled at the mangled earth pony.

It was necessary for me to yell near the top of my lungs in order to ensure that I was heard over the pained cries of the filly suffering beneath me, but I hardly cared at all about that. My adrenaline was already pumping from the sex with the wailing little yellow unicorn, that I doubt I could have kept my words at a respectable volume under any circumstances, “so look at it, you little bastard,” I screamed at the stallion, “look at what you did to her!”

In my mind, something dark and sinister was peering over my shoulder, grinning along with me.

“Pwease stahp,” the gray pony was crying now in sympathy for the unicorn, but I was hardly at all inclined to submit to his pleas. Indeed, seeing how much my actions were affecting him merely spurred me on to thrust harder, which redoubled the little filly's screams and tears.

“I'm not doing anything,” I insisted, “this was all you! You did this to her, with all your coddling and charity,” there was no longer any mirth in my yelled words now. My tone was colored with naught but contempt and disgust for the stallion in front of me and his pathetic nature. There was a gruffness and ire that rarely colored my own words, but surely would have made my father swell with pride.

Pale blue eyes glistened, watching me intently from a distant corner of my mind. They stared in concert with a pair of red ones beside them. Both sets looked...sad. Disappointed. I ignored them.

“The Wasteland is a fuckpit of death and despair! Trying to protect her from it will just make her weak and pathetic,” I seethed at the stallion, “look at what all you've done for her is letting me do to her now! Look at it!”

I couldn't even be sure that the stallion was listening to me anymore. His attention was focused on the filly beneath me as he uttered a string of slurred apologies and assurances that everything would be alright. Jagged black teeth flashed in the back of my mind, dripping with thick green spittle. I barely paid those words any heed, continuing with my own tirade that would not be swayed, “did you honestly think you were helping her? You weren't, you little shit! All you did was turn her into my little fuck toy. I tried to stop her mother from doing this to you by throwing her in the pit. I thought I made you understand that; but I guess I was wrong,” I snarled at the gray stallion, who still wasn't looking at me, “so now I have to do this! Do you understand now, Jackboot?! Do you?!

“Sentiment will just get you killed! So I want you to remember, every night when you hear your sister screaming, that's it's all your fault; and that it's for your own good! Do you hear me, Jackboot?!”

My vision filled with the image of a massive black form, borne on translucent gossamer wings. It was cackling with abject glee as it mounted a poor little golden filly who could do nothing but wail and cry. The filly's tear-filled red eyes begged for help from anypony that she could find, but no such aid was to be found for her. I watched, recognizing the little yellow earth pony mare. Whiplash was suffering, and I was the cause. I was being taught a lesson for my own good. Steel Bit would continue to rape her until I finally learned that lesson. Then he would continue so that I never forgot.

The shape forcing itself on Whiplash wasn't eclipsed in shadow any longer. It was clearly visible now. Rust-color fur. Brown eyes. An earth pony with a jet black mane and tail. A black spiked horseshoe on his flank. He looked at me and grinned. I'd always want to be the one doing that to my little sister, right?

No...that was wrong. I hadn't wanted that. I'd wanted to stop it. It wasn't my fault that my father was so much stronger. I couldn't stop it. A pegasus mare was standing beside me, looking at me with her normal sad expression. I expected her to say what she always did, but I didn't hear anything from her. I didn't need to.

Whiplash wasn't there anymore. The pony I saw myself mounting had a white coat and wings. I winced away. I'd never do that. That wasn't the sort of pony I was. That had been Steel Bit. Not me.

A black shape was standing next to me again. I was my father's colt, wasn't I? I was destined to follow in his hoofsteps, in every way. See?

I was mounting a little yellow unicorn filly. She was crying. She was Whiplash again. Then Windfall. All the while, I was laughing. I was enjoying it. I wanted more.

No...no, I didn't. I swear I didn't.

Prove it.

I balked at the sudden command from Whiplash, be your own pony, you pathetic piece of shit. Be a fucking stallion for once in you life.

Everything around me shattered. I was gone, the fillies were gone. Only the black shape remained. It offered me everything I wanted: bits, mares, sex. The price was a simple one: keep doing what I was doing. After all, what had sentiment ever gotten me?

For a moment, I didn't have an answer. It was hard to come up with one. Acting for the sake of something I felt for another pony had never gotten me money, or comfort. Only cold-blooded and calculated killing had done that. So what was the point in feeling things for other ponies? All that had gotten me was...well, Windfall. A pegasus who had once respected me. Who had cared about me. A pony that had been my companion, and...my friend.

Did I need friends? Of course I didn't.

...it had felt nice to have one though.

No longer a distant thing, I could hear clearly the tearful assurances of the gray earth pony stallion as he tried to comfort the filly that was suffering beneath me. I could feel the trembling yellow form as the unicorn was wracked by waves of pain. The dampness of my groin, and the sensation that my inner thigh had become matted with something that felt a great deal like blood. The desperate sobs of the little filly, as she bawled unreservedly.

Surrounded by all of this, I froze.

Wha...what had I just been screaming? The voice had been mine, but the words...

A familiar old stallion cackled gleefully in my head.

No...I...

My head craned down, and I recoiled at the sight, pulling myself out of and away from the filly, who dropped quivering to the ground. Her flank and hindquarters were stained crimson. She had been far too young for what I had done to her. The gray stallion crawled towards her, heedless of both his own injuries and my previous threats. I watched as he gathered up the shaking filly in his arms and started to gently stroke her mane as she wept.

I watched the scene, my mouth moving as though to speak, but with not a single word coming out. In my mind, I saw not a gray stallion, but one of rusty brown with a black mane. The filly was not a unicorn, but an earth pony with red eyes. She had just been released from my father's clutches for the night...

I...couldn't be here any longer.

Without a word, I cantered out the door past the pair of ponies. Not paying the least bit of attention to where I was going, I fled into the ruined streets of Old Reino and simply kept on running.

What was I thinking?! Why would I have done that?

I wasn't a good pony; and I had never claimed to be. However, I had still held fast to one basic tenant all of my life: I would not become my father. I would not become the sort of pony that was cruel just for the sake of it. Killing was something that happened in the Wasteland, and I'd made peace with that. Stealing was hardly any sort of crime at all if you got away clean.

But raping a filly? There was no call for that. I could never justify that to myself.

So why was that exactly what I had been doing? More than that, why had I been screaming at that stallion I'd fucked up as though he were me?

Blackness, punctuated by two cyan orbs filled my vision. I screamed in surprise and stumbled, tumbling to the street and rolling at least twice as the moment from my run carried me over the pavement. With a groan, I righted myself and shook my head. What the fuck was that?

Unsteadily, I rose back up onto my hooves. My stance was still a little shaky, but it had a lot less to do with the recent fall, and a lot more to do with my attempts to reconcile what I had just done. The stallion I didn't feel so bad about. He'd attacked me and had gotten beaten for his trouble. Hardly anything to feel bad about there. Even somepony like Windfall or Foxglove would have felt justified in that instance. He wasn't the issue.

The filly was.

What I had done to her...

Why? Why had I done that?

I winced again as darkness once more dominated my sight. It passed much more quickly this time though. Again I shook my head clear. Was the madness finally winning? Was that it? The thought that I might be turning into Steel Bit was...terrifying. Genuinely so.

Wasn't there supposed to be some part of me fighting back against that darkness though? There had been in the past. Grumbling, I plunged into my saddlebags and rooted around, finally coming up with the little yellow figurine that I had found all those years ago. Yellow Bitch.

“Where were you, huh?” I demanded of the yellow pegasus mare, as though I half expected her to answer me, “where have you been?! Be kind, right? Isn't that what you're always whispering in my ear every time it looks like I'm about to cross the line? Well where the fuck were you five minutes ago when I was raping a fucking filly?!

“Where was your 'kindness' then, huh?!”

I hurled the statuette at the pavement, expecting to see the delicate looking figurine shatter into a million pink and yellow pieces. Instead, it merely bounced a couple of times and rolled around until those soft blue eyes were looking up at me. This only served to stoke my newfound rage.

“Did you see what I did to her?” I demanded of the tiny pegasus at the top of my lungs, “did you see what I tried to do to Foxglove?! What did you have to say? Nothing! Not one single word from you, you useless little bitch!” I raised up my hoof and brought it down on the statue, intending to crush it beneath my hoof as I had done to so many pony's skulls in my life.

A half dozen times I slammed my hoof upon the figurine, envisioning the warped a disfigured face that never wavered with its gentle little smile. When I peered down to revel in my destruction, I found myself taken aback. There was not the slightest little mark upon the flier's visage. It had not been for a lack of effort on my part though, as the figure had been partially embedded into the ancient asphalt by my blows. How had this little bauble managed to fair better than the street had?!

Celestia and this statue were just fucking with me now, weren't they? I growled low in my throat at the thought of the pair laughing at my futile efforts to destroy this piece of Old World garbage. This useless little piece of shit that had let me turn my back on Windfall when she needed my most.

“You let me leave her!” I screamed at the statue, “she's bleeding to death in Foxglove's arms, and you let me leave her behind like she was fucking nothing! Do you even realize how many times that pegasus has saved my life? How much I owe her? And you just let me walk away!”

I was done playing around with Yellow Bitch now. Full Stop was out and in my mouth. I trained the revolver on the little figurine and depressed the trigger. Rot in hell you piece of shit. The hammer inched back, and then fell down hard against the weapon's firing pin. The weapon bucked in my mouth as the revolver discharged one of its heavy caliber lead slugs. My aim proved true, and the statue exploded.

Gleefully, I tracked what had to have been the largest of the debris as it arced skyward and then fell back to the street a block and a half away. That had felt wonderfully cathartic, and I was moved to do it again against that surviving chunk. I trotted further down the street to where it had fallen in the middle of an intersection.

“Let's see you smile now, bitch,” I cackled around the grip, “after what you let me do to those mares and that filly, you deserve this. I'll reduce you to little...tiny...pieces...”

The gun dropped out of my mouth and clattered to the pavement. It wasn't possible, was the thought the danced around my head. Yet, the only other possibility was that my eyes were playing a grievous trick on me.

The object I had tracked was not a fragment, but the completely whole—and absolutely unmarred—statuette. Not a single sliver of the sculpted mane or tail was the least bit out of place, and he soft blue eyes and warm smile stared up at me unabashed.

My hindquarters slumped tot he ground as I stared at the figurine. Not a scratch, for all of my efforts. A pretty on the nose allegory for my life right now, frankly. Decades of work and effort, and what did I have to show for it? Barely any more than I'd had the day I left the White Hooves. The barding on my back, a little bit of food, and a couple weapons. So...nothing. I'd accomplished nothing in my life.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, I guess. I'd left a wake of misery and death. Some of those ponies had deserved it; raiders and bandits were by far the most common sorts that I'd put down in my years. There were those who had not really deserved to die though. I wasn't even talking about the merchants I'd robbed and murdered. They'd known what the risks were when they'd gone out into the Wasteland. The nature of their jobs was a defacto implicit acceptance that they could be killed by somepony like me looking to take their possessions.

It was that short list of ponies that couldn't be put in that group that bothered me. Golden Vision, who had taken her own life rather than be subjected to years of sexual exploitation by a corrupt politician. All that I'd had to do to save her from that fate had been to tell a guard that she was staying with me. I wouldn't have actually even have had to really let her stay with me; just feed a short little lie to those soldiers. Instead I had turned my back on her simply to spite my own conscience.

Then there was that little colt. He'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I hadn't even meant to kill him at the time. Just a little colt, trying to be a good steward for the pony he'd been fostered to; and I'd snapped his neck during an argument with my own psyche.

Now I had just raped that little unicorn filly. She'd been a yellow blip the whole time; indicating that she had never once truly considered hurting me even when I was threatening her and her companion. A naive soul, no doubt, for being so reluctant to act when violence was a prudent option; but certainly not one who had deserved what I'd done.

Foxglove too. That mare had done nothing but help Windfall and I, to include saving my own life on multiple occasions. What had I done to thank her for that? Extorted sex, and then attacked and tried to rape her. There had been no call for that; and not even any sort of long or short term benefit that I could see looking back on it now. Had I really been so hard up for a little head that I had been willing to jeopardize everything I had going for me? Somewhere in New Reino was a mare who would have fucked me for the right number of caps and not breathed a word about my brand.

And Windfall...oh, Celestia, Windfall...

I'd raised that damn filly. I'd taught her everything she knew. Even when I couldn't have blamed her for putting me down, she had ultimately spared me, and given me a second chance. I'd even been giving a good go of things, I'd thought. Then I went and threw it all away. Again, for what? Sex with her? The thought of even kissing her like I'd ever kissed Saffron made me feel sick. I couldn't do that to her!

Sex with Windfall would be like...like fucking my daughter.

She wasn't, of course. At first, it had just been a convenient little story to explain why we were always together. An older stallion like me with a younger filly like her? What else could we be without raising the wrong sorts of questions from other ponies? Just a story.

I guess the thing with lies that you tell yourself over and over again though, is that eventually, you start to believe them. Never had the pegasus ever referred to me as 'Dad' in anything but a joking tone. Nor had I ever genuinely referred to her as being my daughter. Yet...how I'd started to feel for the flier...it had drifted in that direction after a time. I assume, at least.

It's not like I had ever actually been a parent, so I couldn't know what that sort of relationship felt like. Not really. All I knew was that what happened to the pegasus mattered to me; and that I felt guilty any time the thought of taking her to bed presented itself.

Or, rather, I had felt guilty. I snorted in disgust as I recalled having used the threat of abusing Windfall as a means to coerce Foxglove. There had been no hesitant thoughts then, for some reason. I had genuinely been interested in fucking the flier, and treating her like a Stable 69 whore, or worse. The thought of such a thing now made me cringe at least. Why my mind had undergone that little hiatus of thought, I doubted that I'd ever know.

What I did know was that all of that didn't matter anymore. Windfall would be dead in hours—assuming that she hadn't passed already—and there was nothing that I could do about it. Foxglove was likely to kill me on sight. Bounty hunters were prowling the Wasteland for me. All I could do was keep on running.

Right?

It does solve all your problems every time.

Does it? Has running away ever actually solved any of my problems? I didn't need Whiplash's snide remarks to know the answer to that question. I'd answered it before I'd even asked. After all, here I was with nothing to show for twenty years of running away whenever things got tough. Sister's organizing a coup? Run! Finders upset? Run! Republic knows I'm a White Hoof? Run! Bounty hunters after me again? Run! Windfall's dying? Run...

Run, run, run. It's gotten me nowhere, and nothing...

...and nopony.

Frankly, I was just so damned tired of running anymore. The bitch of it was, I didn't really have a choice though, did I? What was the alternative, realistically? Go back to the warehouse and let Foxglove mow me down? That hardly seemed like it would work out for me. Going back to New Reino without hardly any caps to my name short of what meager gear I'd collected over the last few hours wasn't likely to work out either. With bounty hunters doing the Republic's bidding in the area, I'd need the protection of some powerful ponies to stay off their radar.

A powerful griffon would do in a pinch, of course; but after our last exchange, I could see little reason why Scratch would lift a claw to help me out. I'd need to have something to offer him. A crack team of skilled ponies that could handle themselves in the Wasteland would have fit the bill; but I'd tried to rape one of them and left the other for dead, so...

...Zebrica it was.

“Unless you have any better ideas?” I posed to the little yellow statue laying in the crumbling intersection. Strangely enough, I didn't hear Yellow Bitch...er, Fluttershy make any sort of comment on the matter. What a surprise. She was probably going to be giving me the silent treatment for a while after all of the decidedly 'unkind' things I'd done recently.

I scooped up the little pegasus figurine and dropped her into my saddlebags. I looked back up in an effort to get my bearings and find the road that would take me south, when my eyes fell upon a curious sight: a rather large depiction of the same dead yellow pegasus, whose likeness I had just pocketed. The weathered billboard's rendering still possessed the same warm smile that the statuette did, and the delicate mane draped over half of her face. However, unlike the sculpture, the mare in the picture was wearing a pink and yellow striped dress, and one of her hooves was raised as though it were pointing at something just off to the billboard's side.

Flowing words framed the mare, stating, 'Have an Ouchie, or Know Somepony Who Does?'

My eyes drifted to the left, following her hoof. Two blocks down the street sat a large structure, its yellow paint having nearly faded completely to white. A trio of pink butterflies were carved into the masonry above the front door. Though many of the letters had fallen from above the array of glass doors that served as the front entrance to the pavement below, it was clear that the words they comprised had declared the building to be one 'Ministry of Peace Medical Center'.

A hospital from the Old World.

If there was anywhere in the ruins of Old Reino that still had any viable medical supplies left, it was probably here. Within that old, crumbling, building, could be the very thing that would save Windfall's life. All I had to do was go in and get it.

Of course, there was every chance that the pegasus was already dead; or at least would be by the time I returned to the warehouse. Even if the little white flier was still alive, Foxglove's would undoubtedly shoot me dead the moment I returned. Fuck, there were all sorts of ways for me to die just looking through that hospital. Monsters, ghouls, robots, automated defenses. High-value structures of the Old World were death traps more often than not.

Nothing justified the risks of heading in there. Windfall would probably die even if I went.

She's certainly going to die if you don't.

I found myself nodding in dour ascent with my sister's assessment. It looked like my father had been right: sentiment was just going to end up getting me killed.

You could just leave. Turn and walk away. Nopony would know.

You're wrong there, Whiplash. There was somepony who'd know; and that somepony was already walking towards the hospital.

It took me all of thirty seconds looking at the front doors of the MoP medical facility to recognize that this was a bad place. My eyes darted towards the bottom of my field of vision where the pipbuck's Eyes Forward Sparkle displayed hostile targets just to make certain that nothing new had appeared in the last two seconds since the last time I had looked. The Stable-Tec device insisted that nothing dangerous was nearby, and even the little radiation detector clicked only occasionally; but that didn't shake loose the feeling of dread that I was feeling.

The doors were locked and barricaded. Again, this was not something unheard of. There had been a war going on, after all. Perhaps the fighting had gotten close enough to warrant fortifying the area. There was even the possibility that this place had been altered in the centuries after the Great War by some group or other that had once tried to make a go of a settlement or stronghold here. Either of those theories could easily account for why huge chains had been wrapped around the door handles, and massive beams of wood propped up against them to keep the entrance from being easily forced.

However, what neither of those two scenarios addressed were any of the reasons why ponies might have erected those barricades on the outside.

They weren't there to keep threats out; their purpose was to keep something in.

It was a hospital, so the possibilities that opened were none too optimistic. A disease that had gotten out of hoof, the release of a dangerous chemical, maybe even some fearsome monster that a daring band had trapped after the war. I was not prepared for any of those things.

This was a bad idea.

I should turn around right now and leave. I should...but I can't. Not while she might still need me.

A pair of cyan eyes framed in white regarded me approvingly from the shadow's of my mind. All I could do was frown, not recognizing them as belonging to any of the other manifestations that I'd been aware of. My insanity was getting crowded.

With a resigned sigh, I looked around the entrance, taking in the extent of the barricade that had been set up. It really wasn't anything robust enough to thwart a group of ponies who were determined to force their way inside, but for a single earth pony stallion that was nominally operating on a presumably tight time table; it was more than I could deal with as quickly as I'd like if I went about things in a orderly and deliberate fashion. So, messy and haphazard it was. I retrieved a grenade from my saddlebags, one of the three that I had salvaged from the deserted caravan earlier that morning, and tucked it in between a doors and one of the beams bracing it. I pulled the pin and quickly scrambled back to the other side of the street, diving behind an old mailbox.

Half a second later, my teeth rattled as the explosion thunderer through the deserted streets. Bits of debris and dust floated down around me as I peaked around the side of the ancient metal bin to observe the results of my efforts. One of the thick wooden braces lay now in two pieces in the street. Two others were canted rather significantly. The chain which had been tying the doors together in order to keep them from being opened lay limply to either side of the door frame that had borne the brunt of the detonation. The door itself had been blasted backwards, into the dark interior of the hospital, leaving me with a rather clear point of entry.

I remained still for a good half a minute all the same, my eyes trained on that opening. If there were ghouls or something in there, they should be attracted to the sound of the explosion that I had just set off. I would much rather face those sorts of threats in the open at a distance than in the cramped confines of that building. When nothing showed up on my EFS, I took a deep breath and resolved to poke my head inside. If it was monsters, then maybe they were already long dead.

That would hopefully hold true for any loose diseases too.

Honestly, things didn't look nearly as bad as I had expected them to, given the efforts that had been taken to seal up the place. It looked to be the reception area where patients waited to be seen by the doctors that had worked here once upon a time, with a desk at the far end of the room where the pony checking visitors in would have sat. Scattered papers and clipboards mingled with overturned chairs spoke to a hasty exit by a significant number of ponies; but that was honestly a fairly common feature of most ruins in these old cities. Nothing that was particularly alarming. Maybe whatever had scared off the ponies that boarded this place up really wasn't a threat any longer.

It was very dark though, so I reached down and tapped on the light mounted in my pipbuck. A soft cone of white light spread out in front of me. Stepping carefully in case any traps or mines had been left behind by those who had barricaded the hospital were still present, I made my way over to the large steel door that was located next to the reception desk. It looked to be the only way to go deeper into the facility, save for an ajar wooden door off to the side. However, all I could glimpse through that in the dim pipbuck lamp was a stairwell. My eyes locked onto the panel set into the wall off to the side of the door, and I reached out to tap the button that should have opened it.

A rather harsh sounding double-warble informed me that I had done something improper and that the door wasn't going to be opening for me any time soon. With a frown, I tried the button once more, in case it had just been a matter of a two-centuries old electronic device being difficult. A repeated alert suggested that the door really was secured somehow, and that a procedure more invasive than simply pushing a button was going to be required to open it. I sighed in frustration and glanced around more intently at my surroundings.

I could try the stairwell and see if I would have better luck accessing the other floors, but I was doubtful. Then I spied a couple of computer terminals at the nearby desk. One of them looked to be intact, and perhaps was even operational. With few more appealing options before me, I stepped over and booted the terminal up. I was treated to a flickering screen that welcomed me to the Ministry of Peace Medical System Network, and then it asked me if I would like to resume my most recent session. With a shrug, I let the computer obligingly take me to where the previous user had left off; saving me the trouble of trying to use my lackluster hacking skills to break into the system.

It looked like the MoP wasn't much for secret keeping.

A list of directories appeared on the screen. Here I saw that some of my earlier theories were confirmed; as it looked like these directories had clearly been created by two different ponies at very different times. The dates associated with the earlier files suggested that they had been created during the days and weeks leading up to the cataclysmic end of the Great War. Meanwhile, a group of files had later been added only about thirty years ago with headings that suggested they had little at all to do with patients and medical care.

Sick ponies two hundred years long dead was of no interest to me. Records left behind by the ponies that had sealed this place up were. So I started browsing the notes that they had made. I quirked a lip as I discovered that these were not simply passing logs made sporadically by some random group of scavengers looking to make a big haul. The ponies that had come here had been a dedicated expedition launched by the Republic—or, rather, by the Commonwealth that they had once been. This was decades before Luna had returned, when the fledgling nation that had risen in the Neighvada Valley was still working on becoming a legitimate power that could rival the Enclave and the Steel Rangers. Honestly, the hadn't been all that much more significant than the White Hooves in terms of population, resources, and raw military strength at that time. Today...well, I had yet to really get a chance to appraise how well my old tribe was thriving under Whiplash's rule. She clearly had some impressive reach with her spy network, and they were still talked about with due caution by ponies that traveled the waste; but I hadn't heard of any significantly savage settlement raids in the last decade of the sort I remembered my father organizing.

In any case, I recognized that I wasn't reading some inane pony's account of things. These were detailed military logs about the progress of their mission. I wasn't about to hang around and read every dry line of all eighty-three days worth of reports, but I did skip around a skim through phrases that caught my attention. Twenty pony party of soldiers...secure medical cache rumored to be on site—that was encouraging...futility of predicting radiation spikes—less encouraging...working to bring the hospital's systems back online in order to open up basement stores...

...and that was it. The last report that was recorded on this terminal said that their technical experts had managed to get everything working again up to a reasonable standard and that all they had to do now was reactivate the system from the Administrator's Office. No other mention of what they had found had been made. Nor had anything been said of what might have gone wrong if that had been the case. There were no corpses, so it didn't look as though the team had been wiped out in some sort of surprise attack or anything.

A faint ticking from my pipbuck drew my attention to the device and I glanced at it. Trace levels of radiation seemed to be drifting into the area that had not been there a few minutes ago. One of the radiation hot zones looked to be moving into the area. It occurred to me that a particularly bad one might have been enough to chase the team away before they could finish the job. Though I didn't see why they would have boarded the place up and then never come back as a result. The counter that hovered before my eyes indicated that the levels of ambient radiation were climbing steadily. Which wasn't ideal.

I whipped out a bottle of Rad-X and downed a double dose, watching intently as the pipbuck accounted for the drug and readjusted my exposure level. It was still climbing, but at a much slower rate. That wouldn't hold if the levels kept rising though. Without knowing how powerful the pocket of radiation was going to be, and which way it was going or how long it would be hanging around, the smart thing to do was to get away from here as quickly as possible. Of course, this place could end up becoming unapproachable for days if I left; and there was no guarantee that I'd find a better location that offered a chance of finding the medical supplies that Windfall needed.

Staying here could get me killed.

Leaving would almost certainly get Windfall killed.

I took a deep breath, wincing beneath the mental image of two pairs of blue eyes watching me intently. It was my fault that the pegasus was in that state that she was; and as much as she had done for me over the years, I owed her more than a few. The least I could do was look around a little longer. This was a hospital after all, this place should be crazy with healing potions! I'd hardly need to comb the whole place.

One thing that I did not find on the computer was a way to open the sealed metal door that blocked progress further into the bowels of the facility. What I did find was a nearby directory mounted to the wall that informed me the 'Administrator's Office' was located on the third floor. That was where the ponies that had come before me had indicated a way to gain access to the whole hospital was; so I decided that I'd finish what they started and reap the rewards that they had left behind.

My eyes periodically dipped to the region of my Eyes Forward Sparkle that alerted me to nearby threats, ensuring that it continued to remain clear of any wayward red blips. I had yet to truly pin down a specific range that it was capable of detecting targets at, but I knew enough that it would show me anything that could be generously considered 'close'. So long as I remained vigilant, nothing should be able to sneak up on me. I headed for the nearby stairwell.

Though I had seen from the outside that the hospital was comprised of three floors, and discovered from the terminal that there was a basement level as well, I was a little surprised to find that there were three flights of stairs that were leading up, and none that would take me down. Not that I really believed that getting to the basement was going to be nearly as simple as going down some stairs. My life was rarely quite so convenient as that. The extra set of ascending steps did intrigue me though. Roof access? It was something to keep in mind, I suppose.

When I reached the second floor, my confidence dwindled significantly. Where on the first floor there had been a simple wooden door that was left open, the portal connecting these stairs to the second floor was of the same type that had barred my access deeper into the hospital on the ground level. A sturdy steel barrier that likewise ignored my efforts to use the associated control panel. This building looked to be locked up rather tight. Was I going to find the same hurdle on the third floor as well?

I found that the answer was a technical 'yes', though with a noticeable caveat. It seemed as though the Commonwealth team that had been here thirty years ago had encountered a very similar lock-down situation, and had improvised themselves a solution...with high explosives. Two attempts looked to have been made. The thick metal door that barred passage from the stairwell on the third floor was severely warped and scorched, but otherwise remained as an impassible obstacle to entry. Somepony had obviously tried to blast their way through it. A testament to the solid construction techniques of the ponies of the long dead Equestria which had yielded so many devices which had endured for the centuries since the culmination of the Great War, the door had resisted the detonation with great impunity.

So the ponies had next tried their luck at breaching the nearby wall itself.

I surveyed the pony-sized hole in the wall and deduced that one could not fault the builders of this place for allowing such a bypass to occur. The wall was nearly a foot thick and jagged protrusions of the thick rebar webbing that was woven through the concrete framed the hole. Creating this opening, even with explosives, had not been any small matter. At first, I found myself rather suspicious that such sturdy construction had been lent to a mere medical facility; but then I thought about it for a little bit. In the event of a sustained assault, there would be a great number of wounded among both the military forces protecting the city and the civilian population that lived here. This would be the logical gathering point for those wounded, and so would need to be easily fortified. It would also need to be one of the structures able to best resist being outright destroyed in an attack; otherwise, where would you send injured ponies to?

Through the improvised entrance, I glimpsed what had once been some sort of patient ward. Given the flowery and colorful patterns that still remained along the walls, and the scattered bassinets, I reasoned that it had once been designed for foaling. Along one wall was an array of windows that extended nearly the entire length. All of the glass lay in shattered fragments below them on the floor. Whether a consequence of the Great War, or the breaching explosion thirty years ago, I couldn't say. In any case, between them and the open doors, it looked as though I wasn't going to find myself with many serious barriers on the interior of the hospital...

...or not. I didn't make it more then twenty feet down the hall before I spied additional reinforced doors that refused to open. The panels were lit up, and they all responded with those same sour notes that denoted a refusal to enter, so they were obviously receiving sufficient power to function, I assumed. There was just something that I was either doing, or hadn't yet done, that wasn't allowing me to get past them. Fortunately, they weren't restricting me from doing anything more than getting into the central core of the hospital. I still looked to have run of the outer offices and wards. Eventually I stumbled across a faded map of my surroundings, which I immediately scoured for clues as to my next destination.

The outer perimeter consisted of maternity wards and staff offices. The interior sections to which I had no access at the moment looked to possess specialized evaluation and treatment rooms. There was also a smaller room that bore the label, 'supply room' which I found to be encouraging. If I could reach it, then I might find what I was looking for.

Reaching it was certainly going to be the hard part. I wandered around the whole floor and found that no fewer than six of those thick steel doors barred my way deeper into the facility. Though I was confident that the interior walls were not nearly as robust as those which the Commonwealth team had needed to blast through, I was severely lacking in the explosives department. The few grenades that I had left were unlikely to fair as well against a solid, purposefully built, concrete wall as they had against piled rubble and rusted chains. I wasn't going to be bypassing these doors through any violent means.

Which meant trying to do so the same way that my predecessors had. I found my way to the Administrator's Office and peered inside. A desk stacked high with rotting folders and papers, and an active terminal. That was a good sign. I stepped around to access the computer and browse through the options that it offered. Unlike the computer in the lobby, it did not look as though the previous expedition had spent a lot of time using this terminal. It possessed a few old records that I largely ignored; my attention was primarily focused on the directory heading that read, 'Disengage Facility Lock-Down'.

I selected the option, and the screen filled with a short list of dates that seemed to be associated with when the protocol had been turned on and off. Sure enough, things lined up fairly well with what I had expected to see. For the most part anyway. There were three entries. One was dated just over two hundred years ago, during the final days of the Great War. Then was a note just about thirty years ago when the Commonwealth team opened everything back up. Lastly was when that same team must have sealed the hospital up again. What was curious was that the elapsed time between those last two entries was less than an hour.

So, the team had arrived, opened up the facility, and then closed it again within the hour. That was curious. I had thought that days would have had to have passed, at the least, before those ponies had abandoned the expedition. Once more, my mind set to wondering what it could have been that would have sent them away in such a rush. My eyes went the the still-ticking dial on my pipbuck that reminded me of the looming radioactive threat approaching the area. The level was climbing, slowly but steadily. It was best that I make my own trip into the bowels of the hospital a quick one as well. Perhaps even shorter than the hour that they had taken.

I confirmed my desire of open up all of the sealed doors in the hospital, and was almost immediately rewarded with the distant sounds of scraping metal echoing through the corridors. A few seconds later, the terminal informed me that every door was now open.

Leaving the office behind, I headed immediately for the nearest blocked hallway that I had noticed just to confirm that everything had worked out. Sure enough, where previously there had been a thick steel barrier, was now a clear hallway. Things were going well so far. I didn't blindly start prowling through the interior workings of the old hospital though. I was on a time table, and wanted to get what I was after and leave as quickly as possible before the radiation could get suddenly much worse. My efforts would be of little use to anypony if I melted in a radiation spike, or whatever it was that happened to ponies exposed to intense quantities of the magical pollution in these ruins.

Instead, I sought out the map I had found that laid out the floor plan of this level and found out where the storage room I had noticed earlier was. Even better, it was located near an interior stairwell, so I wouldn't even have to backtrack in order to get down to the ground floor and leave. This was going very well so far.

Which was probably why Celestia saw fit to throw me my first little hiccup.

I had assumed that a room in a medical facility that was labeled as holding 'supplies' suggested that it was filled with healing potions and other medicines. It turned out that such an assumption had been made in error. In point of fact, the little room was full of brooms, mops, and cleaner. Well...horseapples. So then where had they kept their healing potions? I really didn't want to have to wander through every room in this place hoping to get lucky. A place like this had to have some sort of central location where they dispensed everything from; or at least stored what they didn't yet need. It occurred to me that such a place probably wouldn't be on the top floor though. It would be either on the ground floor, or perhaps even in the basement that had been mentioned earlier.

A snort escaped my nostrils as I realized that I had forgotten once more that I should really be following in the hoofsteps of the Commonwealth team. They'd been here looking for medicine too, right? An organized group like that that had been studying this place for weeks would certainly have known a lot more about what they were after than I did. I needed to get back down to the ground floor and find the basement like they had. That was where I was going to find the medicine that Windfall needed.

I turned the corner and found the stairs leading back down. Descending two flights, I arrived at the bottom and cantered back out into the corridor. Now I just needed to find another map that would show me where the base...ment...was...

Oh. Horseapples.

There are certain things that you start to take for granted when you spend long enough wandering through the Wasteland. One of those things is bodies. You're going to find bodies, that's just an accepted fact. Not necessarily fresh corpses, I was referring to the desiccated and bleached skeletons of ponies that had died two hundred years ago when the world ended. Some of these dead ponies had clearly been caught by complete surprise while going about their normal daily routines. Others had obviously seen some hint that the end was coming and had made every futile effort to protect themselves from the impending balefire. In either case, the odd skeleton here and there was nothing to balk at.

It wasn't until this very moment that I realized how devoid of skeletons this hospital had been. Given the nature of the disaster that had befallen this city, I could understand the reasons for that. Radiation rarely killed in an instant, and was easy to detect and treat with the proper equipment. The ponies in this hospital would have been especially able to handle themselves in the face of such a disaster. An orderly evacuation could conceivably have been organized and executed with a minimal loss of life. Hence the lack of centuries old corpses.

None of that explained the three mangled bodies that I saw now though.

It was a shame really. It looked they had become trapped inside the hospital during some sort of frantic evacuation; as their remains were located where the massive steel door that had barred my entrance from the lobby had been. Just beyond them I could see the reception area and the improvised barricade beyond.

A few things stood out about them immediately. First, these bodies were not two hundred years old. Given what I knew about the history of this place, I was going to put their time of death at around thirty years ago. The brown barding that they were wearing suggested heavily that they were soldiers of the now defunct Commonwealth. I had seen that barding many times in my younger days after all.

Secondly, these were not the bodies of ponies that had been killed by radiation or in some other slow manner such as that. Their deaths had been quick, and exceptionally violent. Limbs and heads lay strewn about mangled torsos, suggesting that something had very literally ripped them to pieces. The scored and bullet-ridden nature of the surrounding walls testified that these ponies had not died without putting up the best fight that they could either.

My first though was ghouls. Those feral monstrosities that had once been ponies were known to rip apart those that wear unfortunate enough to be caught by them. Though, if that were the case, there should certainly have been a pile of ghoul corpses mingled in with the three bodies of the Commonwealth soldiers. There was no way that they hadn't killed a good deal of the creatures with all of the ordinance I saw evidence of. That implied something that was just as savage as a typical ghoul, but a lot tougher.

A hell hound? Perhaps, though I still felt some doubt about that. The massive canines certainly fit the bill as the sort to leave ponies in pieces, and they were a lot tougher than half-rotted undead equines. Honestly, they were powerful enough to have done this, and tough enough to have not taken many losses, if any; but that theory didn't sit perfectly with me either. If anything, a hell hound was too powerful to have done this. Those massive claws of theirs were known to completely shred just about any material that they came into contact with; and while I did spy a couple errant scratches in the surrounding walls, there was none of them that were of the quality expected from a hell hound. For that matter, I doubted that those steel doors would legitimately stopped a hell hound for very long. Those dogs would have ripped right through them and kept chasing after the remaining Commonwealth soldiers.

The barrier outside definitely wouldn't have stopped them.

Not ghoul ponies, not hell hounds. So then what?

Did I really want to know?

Probably not. My EFS insisted that nothing was nearby though. Thirty years was a long time. Maybe whatever had killed these ponies was long gone. I certainly hoped that was the case, since I wasn't sure what I'd be able to do to stop something that three armed and trained soldiers hadn't been able to in a confined space like this.

Get the medicine, and get out. Fast.

What I needed right now were those directions to the basement. For that I would need to find another layout of the floor somewhere. So I started wandering deeper into the interior. I poked my head into the odd examination room, hoping to find signs of medicine that had been left in there; but my luck was not holding out to quite that extent. What I did find was the occasional Commonwealth soldier that had been torn to shreds like the first three. It was hardly encouraging. There also seemed to be a very specific trail of blood and body parts winding its way through the corridor.

Please don't be leading to the basement...

I knew it would, but a pony could hope.

With a resigned sigh, I pulled out Full Stop and started following the bodies. My pipbuck insisted that there wasn't anything around, and maybe it was correct. Holding the revolver made me feel a little better all the same. I finally reached a stairway that was leading down. At the upper landing were two more bodies. All told, that was at least nine dead soldiers so far. Exactly how many of them had made it out alive? Enough to build that barricade I suppose, but I was starting to get an idea of why they hadn't immediately returned. These sort of casualties had probably made them reconsider how worthwhile a recovery expedition really was.

I was starting to feel the same way, in spite of what the Eyes Forward Sparkle was telling me.

One thing did stand out on one of the bodies here though: there was a pipbuck. It had been pretty severely damaged, which was itself surprising given what the devices had a reputation for surviving. In fact, it was damaged enough that it was no longer functional. However, upon closer examination, I did notice that there was still a holotape lodged in it. The little disks weren't very common, and I'd maybe only seen them a couple times before in my life. I was curious to learn what was on it. Perhaps a log of what the ponies had found down here?

I picked up the cassette and popped it into my own pipbuck. The device beeped as it detected the inserted media, and promptly started playing it back. Instantly, I heard the gruff voice of a middle-aged mare who sounded like she had spent her fair share of time in the Wasteland.

“Beginning recording. This is Captain Abatis of the Commonwealth's Old Reino Expedition. My team has just gained entrance into the hospital's interior. I am leading second squad inside to secure the lab,” her voice suddenly became slightly more distant, as though she were speaking to somepony else, “sergeant, move 'em out.”

Then another pony, a younger sounding stallion could be heard on the recording, “you heard the commander! Hawkeye, you're on point. Bayonet, you take rear guard. Everypony else, stay sharp!”

I continued to let the recording play, listening to the sounds of a dozen or more sets of hooves clopping down the tiled halls of the hospital, as I descended down the dark set of stairs. My eyes scanned the much narrower hallway of the basement level. A lab, huh? Was this supposed to be the sort of lab where ponies tested things, or the type that created them? If the latter, then I wondered what they would have made.

My thoughts seemed to be mirroring those of a soldier from three decades earlier, “what do you think's down there?” the voice that belonged to the sergeant asked.

“Hopefully some of that elixir the Administrator's files talked about,” came the mare, Abatis', response, “along with the notes of how to create more.”

There was an amused snort, and then the sergeant spoke again, “sounds too good to be true, you ask me. 'Better than a dozen healing potions taken at once'? Not buying it.”

“I don't know,” came the captain's thoughtful response, “those old Equestirans weren't stupid. You've heard about the sorts of things they built during the war.”

“Propaganda,” the sergeant said, dismissively, “to scare the stripes. No doubt. I mean, come on? Ships the size of Stables? Clouds that could level cities?” he was clearly unimpressed by what he'd heard of such things, “I mean, I even read a report about a robopony the size of an apartment building roaming Hoofington. Bullshit.

“I ain't never seen nothin' like any of that!”

“Just because you haven't seen it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist, Fourragere,” was his commander's bored reply.

“You mean like those 'moving branches' the ponies here said they used to make those 'healing elixirs'? I ain't buying it, Cap'n.”

“You don't have to 'buy it',” was her reply, “you just have to help us look,” there was a pause, then, “we're here. Take a team left, I'll take the others right.”

I glanced around, noticing that I was standing in between two open doorways myself. Had I already managed to catch myself up to the recording? With a shrug, I stepped through the opening to my right and shined the pipbuck light around the room. In what was certainly eerie fashion, I listened to a thirty years since dead mare comment on exactly what I was seeing with my own eyes.

“Well, it looks like we found the main laboratory,” my light scanned over tables containing dozens of glass beakers and vials. Clipboards containing copiously amounts of diagrams and notes were scattered about, “looks like the ponies here left in a hurry too,” there was an obvious truth to that statement. There were still traces of liquid in some of the glassware, which suggested that the experiments had not been deliberately terminated. My light finally fell upon a cabinet, “this might be what we're looking for over here.

“Sergeant, have you found anything?” I was walking towards the cabinet, conscious that the mare I was listening to had made it just as far as I had. Which was why I was slightly concerned that the cabinet's door's were closed. I was just a few feet away, which meant that she must have been as well. So then what would have prevented her from opening it?

There was a sound much like shattering glass that crackled over the speaker's of the pipbuck. The sudden noise and its seeming proximity made me jump just before I could reach for the cabinet's doors and look back towards the doorway that I'd entered through. Which was a patently silly thing to do, since the noise that I was hearing had happened decades ago. There certainly wasn't anything happening now; the clear EFS testified to that.

“Sergeant, are you all right?” the captain asked through the recording, “what was that sound?” if she received a reply, it was too faint for her pipbuck to have picked up, “Sergeant Fourragere?

“Report!” still there was silence. I found myself looking in the direction of the open doorway still, as though I might somehow be able to see what had transpired thirty years ago. Realizing how stupid that was, I shook my head and took a deep breath; only now realizing that I had become rather tense as the recording continued to play. I knew that it wasn't going to end well for most of them. I'd seen their bodies. There was no reason for me to feel the sort of apprehension that I was about it. My Eyes Forward Sparkle had been clear ever since I entered the hospital. Whatever had killed them wasn't here anymore.

“Sweet, merciful, Celestia,” I heard the mare who had made this recording say in an almost breathless tone, “they're...gone. I can't see their blips! You two,” she directed at some of the other soldiers with her, “go see what happened,” then I heard a burst of static as the captain must have activated her radio, “Lieutenant, I've lost contact with Sergeant Fourragere and his team. Send third squad to my location, now!”

“Roger that, Ma'am,” another mare's voice responded, sounded grainy and distorted as it was filtered through several tandem electronic devices, “you heard the Commander, Third; move out! On the double!”

Once again I found myself stopping just shy of the cabinet's door and looking back the way that I'd come. The mare that I was listening to had been wearing a pipbuck. That meant that she would have been using the same EFS system that I was. She should have easily been able to keep track of the other ponies in her group using their positions on her visual overlay.

As I watched the door, I heard the sound of gunfire crackling from the recording, as well as the faint sounds of other ponies yelling. Their words were distant, and the noise from their weapons rendered what they were saying incomprehensible. All that I was able to hear clearly was the repeated demands from Captain Abatis as she asked for information about the targets that her soldiers were engaging.

“What's going on?! I have no red blips on my EFS; repeat: no red blips. What are you firing at?!”

That got my attention. She couldn't see any blips? How was that possible? I didn't pretend to know how a pipbuck's Eyes Forward Sparkle worked—I wasn't the technical sort—but I had been using it for years now; and it had never once failed to show ponies, monsters, or robots whenever they were near. For fuck's sake, it knew about their very nature! My pipbuck had been able to tell that Bivouac and her group weren't even real ponies before I'd had even an inkling that something was wrong. How could there be something that was killing Abatis' soldiers and she not be able to see it?

...what if I still wasn't seeing it?

My eyes went wide. There was a precedent. I hadn't seen that zebra bounty hunter in New Reino either!

While I didn't for a moment think that there was some zebra warrior still lurking around down here after being sealed away for thirty years, that didn't mean that there wasn't something like an invisible robot that could still be shambling around and not showing up on my EFS.

I needed to leave. Now!

“What in Celestia's name-!” the captain's words were cut off by a sudden howl that sounded nothing like the sort of noise that could have been created by a pony. What was more, I was hearing that sound in stereo. There was the fuzzy version that was coming from the direction of my left hoof, clearly being modulated by the electronic device as a reduced volume; but it was not alone. It had brought along a companion in the form of a clear, ear-piercing wail that echoed through the room and pinned my ears to the sides of my head.

My eyes were riveted to the entrance to the small laboratory, and the looming shadowy figure that I saw there, bathed in the faint light of my pipbuck. It was...like nothing that I had ever seen before. A shambling mass of jagged edges and jigsaw pieces that formed some form of quadrupedal beast. It's head was long and angular, ending in a long, pointed snout. Protrusions that looked like ears were perked up and angled directly towards me. It took several deliberate steps into the room, a steady growl rumbling from its throat. The creature's legs reminded me of those that were found on a hell hound, though I'd never seen those things lumbering around on all fours before. This thing also distinctly lacked the massive raking claws that so defined the bipedal tunnelers.

Most alarming was an impossible fact that my mind was focusing on: there was no blip.

I was looking at something that was very real, and standing only a few yards away from me; yet there was nothing registering on my EFS.

“What...is that?” the words were mine, but I heard them also echoed nearly simultaneously by Captain Abatis. There was gunfire as well. This two was of a dual nature as the clattering of assault rifles from three decades ago was joined by the high-caliber rounds of my own Full Stop in the present.

Three of the heavy slugs spat forth at that creature, and each of them struck true. Frankly, there was no way that I could possibly have missed. It was more than twice my size and standing barely ten feet away! With each strike, I saw huge chunks of the monster get blasted off; exploding outward in clouds of debris. The first round caught the thing in it's left shoulder, severing the entire leg, which disintegrated into a hundred pieces. The second round caught it in the chest, throwing dozens of chunks outwards. The last removed half of the right side of its face.

There was a pained grunt, and then the thing collapsed to the floor. I stood there, breathing heavily as I looked down at the never-before-seen beast. The recording was still playing on my hoof. There too the gunfire had died away, “cease fire! Cease fire!” the mare was screaming, “secure the area. Keep your eyes open for more of these things,” there was a horrifying thought. I gulped, as my eyes went immediately to the doorway, as though another one might leap through at that exact moment, “somepony find Sergeant Fourra-”

“Ma'am, it's getting back up!”

“What the-?!” again, Abatis and I were of the same mind as I found myself looking at almost exactly what those ponies must have been seeing. The pieces of the monster were trembling all around it. In fact, they were doing a lot more than merely trembling. The fragment that I had blasted away were sliding along the floor and reconstituting themselves back into the original shape that had had stepped through the door. Some of them floated right up off the floor and resumed their previous location on the monster's face and chest. It's leg pieced itself back together and rejoined with its shoulder.

Then it stood back up and turned its head towards me once more. Two points of amber light flared to life, staring directly into my very soul.

Oh, horseapples...

“Engage!” Abatis commanded; and I obeyed. That mare had a good head on her shoulders. Or rather, she had once had a good head on her shoulders. I was pretty sure that I hadn't seen it with the rest of her body when I'd found the pipbuck...

Full Stop bucked in my mouth three more times as I emptied the remainder of the primed chambers in its cylinder into the immortal thing standing in my way. As before, pieces flew off in all directions and it howled in what I was hoping was genuine pain and not mere annoyance. My last round caught it in the neck and popped the head right off the rest of its body. The whole form melted into a pile of debris this time. I didn't wait around to see if I had managed to actually and truly kill it though. I wasn't going to take that sort of chance when I couldn't even be sure there weren't more of these things nearby.

“Fall back!”

Way ahead of you, lady!

I leaped over the already quivering fragments and clambered into the hallway. Just as I feared, I could hear additional howls coming from the room across the corridor that I hadn't gone into, “there's more of them!” somepony else declared in the recording. No shit, genius!

Reloading my revolver on the run was going to be problematic, so I swapped out the heavier weapon for my other pistol with its deeper magazine. It wasn't like bullets really seemed to do more than slow these things down anyway. The rounds took pieces off of the creatures for a short while, but then they just seemed to pull themselves back together after a few seconds. I'd need to try using something with a little more stopping power than lead slugs.

“Covering fire! Pull back to the lobby!” Captain Abatis was yelling over the sporadic gunfire and screaming on the recording that was still continuing to play on my pipbuck. I didn't have the time to stop it right now, “Lieutenant, have third squad form a defensive perimeter and meet us near the ICU! We're coming in hot!”

“Roger that, Ma'am,” came the static infused response from her subordinate, “we'll be ready!”

I scrambled up the stairs, trying not to think to much about the sounds of those monsters on my heels. What could I hope to do against those things that a couple dozen soldiers hadn't been able to manage?! They didn't even seem to care about bullets all that much really.

They might care about grenades though...

As quickly as I could manage, I tucked away my pistol and drew out one of my two remaining fragmentation grenades. I ripped off the retaining pin and kicked the metal apple down the stairwell in my wake. That should take care of the bastards!

“Grenade out!” somepony warned in the recording.

Wait. They'd tried grenades too? Fuck.

Mirrored explosions assaulted my ears from both behind me and next to me as my grenade and the other soldier's detonated in unison. I heard the sound of aggrieved yowls from the basement and reasoned that at the very least I had bought myself a little more time to get away.

“Covering fire!” the order was repeated by the mare leading the Commonwealth forces, “Corporal, with me! The rest of you, fall back to the intersection!”

You should have run, you idiot. I certainly was! My hooves couldn't move fast enough as far as I was concerned as I cantered down the hallway heading for the exit. A cascade of gunfire and screaming continued to issue from my pipbuck as I ran. Most of it was unintelligible as a dozen ponies yelled over one another in the chaos of battle.

Then a blood-curdling scream pierced through the din, causing my gut to grow cold. Immediately following the words was a mare screaming, “more of them! From behi-!” her distant words suddenly morphed into a agonizing cry.

This only barely registered in my mind, as I found myself rather soundly occupied by a shambling monstrosity leaping out from an intersecting corridor and planting itself directly in front of me. My hooves skidded along the tiles floor as I forced myself into a screeching halt. What, in Celestia's name, were these things?!

Down in the pitch black basement laboratory, I hadn't been able to get a very clear look at what these monsters really were. My pipbuck's lamp wasn't particularly powerful, or have a very impressive range. I had only been able to make out vague shapes and forms. Not details. Now, in the much more abundant light that flooded the hallways of the ground floor of the medical facility, I found myself getting a much better look at what I was up against. Not that it did a lot to help me make sense of what they were.

Sticks.

I was fighting sticks. Sticks, twigs, branches, maybe even a log or two thrown in there somewhere. There was no other way to describe these things that I could think of. At this moment, I was just a scant couple of feet away from one of them, and I could make out what were very clearly pieces of broken trees and bushes which had—through some arcane sorcery—pieced themselves together into the shape of some great beast; and now that beast was growling at me! There was no sign of any true biological substance that I could perceive. No flesh, or organs, or anything like that. In point of fact, being this close allowed me to see straight through a few small gaps that existed in the creature's composition and right out the other side.

...Was I seriously nearly pissing myself because of a few piles of tinder?

Yes. Yes I was. If for no other reason that because I had been privy to several very vivid murals that had been composed of blood and viscera from nearly a dozen heavily armed ponies that had faced down these same creatures. Heck, I was currently playing audience to that exact encounter right now in the form of gunfire and screaming.

“Fight through them and get to the exit!” was Captain Abatis' suggestion.

Fuck that! I'd seen exactly how that plan had worked out, thank you very much!

In a refreshing break from the play-by-play that had been paralleling my own actions to an absurd degree, I turned about and launched myself away from the murderous kindling blocking my path, issuing a parting buck to the underside of its chin as I departed.

“We need t—ahhhh!” whatever the captain had been about to say was lost in her own pained cry. Then there was the sound of somepony else talking, “Captain! The captain's down! Somepony hel—GGRK!”

The rest of the recording was a few more seconds of distant yelling. The last sound I heard from the pipbuck was a satisfied roar from one of those monsters, and then the device issued a sharp 'click' which announced that the end of the recorded material had been reached.

Given how I had come across the disk, it wasn't as though I had expected there to be any other ending to it. All I was concerned about right now was making certain that I didn't meet a similar fate. Frankly, that was something that felt as though it was going to be a bit of a long shot at this precise moment. There were at least three of those things in this place; and obviously not all of them had confined themselves to the basement.

They didn't show up on the EFS either. Which meant there was no way of knowing if I was about to turn a corner and run right into them.

It didn't help that I was heading in the exact opposite direction that I needed to be going in order to escape, either. My only saving grace was that while these stick monsters seemed to be immortal; they could at least be delayed for short periods of time. I desperately needed a moment to organize my thoughts and come up with a way to use that to my advantage in order to get out of here!

A piercing howl from behind me served as a reminder that this was not that moment. The thundering sound of heavy beings racing along the tiled floors of the hospital announced that they were also capable of moving at speeds a good deal faster than I was capable of on top of that. I turned my head back, my semi-automatic pistol gripped tightly in my mouth. Two of the creatures were sprinting around the corner after me. The slide kicked back several times as I sprayed the corridor with rounds. The strikes that I landed with the smaller caliber weapon didn't rend loose the massive chunks that Full Stop had, but I could see some bits going flying all the same. It was at least causing the stick monsters to flinch. One of my rounds even managed to catch the nearer one in the elbow, blowing off the lower half of its leg and sending it crashing to the ground.

I mentally cheered at the small victory. Even though I knew it would only be a matter of a few seconds before the amputated leg reattached itself and the creature resumed its pursuit, I was desperate to seize onto every advantage that I could get my hooves on...

...I was suddenly tumbling through the air. I wasn't alone either. A gurney had joined me in my impromptu gyrations. It seemed that in my revelry, I had forgotten to keep my attention on exactly where I was going and had managed to collide with the discarded piece of equipment. I landed hard on the other side of it, grunting more from my own frustration with myself that with any actual pain. This was going to cost me dearly.

I rolled over onto my back, and my eyes went wide. The second branch monster had overtaken its fallen comrade and was charging me. It was going to catch me for certain in my current situation too. My eyes looked onto the gurney that I had tumbled over, which was somehow still upright, and I coked back my hind legs. With a powerful double buck born of desperation, I launched the flimsy wheeled cart at the creature, and was relieved to see it catch the beast square in its chest and propel it back the way that it had come. The gurney's wheels soon became caught up in several of the scattered timber from the fallen stick monster and flipped over. The creature that it had been carrying was sent careening into its compatriot, and the momentum sent the now tangled pair slamming into the wall where they both shattered into a pile of lumber.

“Huh,” my lip cocked in a surprised little smirk as I surveyed the results of my hasty efforts. I'd managed to take the both of them out. That should by me a little time.

I got back up onto my hooves and continued running down the hall, watchful for some route that would help me get somewhere safe. My ear twitched as I heard what sounded like dozens of pieces of wood dragging along the floor. With grim curiosity, I glanced back over my shoulder at what I expected would be the sight of the two creatures pulling themselves back together again.

It turned out that I was only half correct.

As I had seen before in the basement laboratory, the pile of sticks was inexplicably reorganizing itself into cohesive shapes once more. Only, instead of creating the two canine-looking creatures that I had just been fighting, a singular—much larger—beast grew from the pile. This monster barely fit within the confines of the hallway now, and its legs were so massive that I saw little chance of my 9mm rounds having any sort of decent chance of amputating them as I'd managed before.

This wasn't fair. It was bad enough that they weren't killable as it was; but now they could merge together to become even bigger and more dangerous?!

Fuck you, Celestia!

The reconstituted creature shook itself from its head down to its tail, smoothing out the sticks and twigs that comprised its body. Then it fixed its topaz gaze upon me and roared. I watched in horror as it coiled and then sprang forward. Its loping gate caused it to scrape along the hospital's drop-ceiling, dislodging and destroying nearly all of the lights and tiles hanging above as it careened towards me.

Fuuuuck...

I dove through the smallest door I could find, hoping that I'd manage to get through to somewhere that the now much larger creature would be unable to follow. Only it looked as though my selection may not have been wholly ideal. While the entrance into the room was considerably smaller than the stick monster that was chasing me, the room that I had selected wasn't particularly large either. Frankly, I was fairly convinced that one of the creature's legs would have sufficient reach to maul me no matter where I was in this tiny little examination room. All the same, I plastered myself against the far corner and hoped for the best.

All I needed was a little time to come up with a plan...maybe.

Before I could even start to get my thoughts in order, a massive paw composed of tightly bound branches burst into the room and slammed into the floor. Fragments of ceramic tile flew into the air, pelting my face, as the floor was shattered by the impact. I winced, and pressed myself as far back into the corner as I could. My hope that I was out of the monster's reach was very quickly dwindling. The pistol still clutched in my mouth would be the next best thing to useless against the living amalgamation of lumber, but it was all I had to fend it off with.

The limb swept to the right, devastating a set of cabinets that had been built into the wall there and destroying all that they contained. A cutting concoction of smells assaulted my nose as the contents of all of the bottles that had been contained within spread out across the floor. Iodine, turpentine, alcohol, and the odors of several other chemicals that I couldn't name saturated the small room almost instantly. Those same fluids were splattered across my face as the paw swiped across to the other side of the room and crushed a small desk that had been there. It was reduced to little more than a cloud of splinters, as was the simple lamp that had been sitting on top of it.

A pinpoint of light flashed briefly as the live wires of the lamp briefly touched and completed the circuit. It would only be a brief affair before the short tripped whatever safety features had been designed into the building's electrical system. Though a couple of sparks landed upon the limb that had wrought the destruction before that happened. I recoiled in surprise as the paw very suddenly burst into flames. There was a pained howl from outside the room, and the limb was swiftly withdrawn, tearing out a doorjamb in its reckless haste.

Not at all keen to let this opportunity to escape from the confines of the small room pass me by, I darted out of the door just behind the flaming paw. Without even sparing a curious glance, I sprinted further into the hospital in an effort to put enough space between myself and the creature so that I could find a proper hiding place. The sounds of snarling and crashing suggested that I was no longer th focus of its attention, which boded well. I took every turn that presented itself to me. Left, then right, another right, a quick left—that was a dead end, oops! Backtrack and take the right instead—no, wait, that would just take me back the way I came! Fuck! Um...in here!

I dove through a set of double doors and closed them behind me. My ear remained pressed to the door in an effort to listen for any signs that I had been immediately pursued. All that I heard was the not-nearly-distant-enough howls of that wooden beast and the sound of tiles being powdered by repeated slams of its limb. In all likelihood, it hadn't seen me run in here. Which meant that I had at least a few brief moments to ponder on my situation.

It sucked. I was trapped in the middle of the facility with no clear idea of exactly which way I needed to go to get back out, and a massive living wood pile that refused to stay dead no matter how many times I dismantled it. Sweet Celestia, those things had torn apart at least two squads of Commonwealth soldiers, who themselves hadn't been able to stop them. Oh, and on top of all that: I had somehow managed to get them to create an even bigger and more dangerous version!

At least it was flammable.

My eyes widened. It was flammable, wasn't it? The thing was made out of wood, for fuck's sake; it sure as shit better be able to catch fire. Shooting it hadn't done much more the break some the the branches, which had just magically reformed into some other arrangement that created the same original shape. But, if those sticks and limbs and whatever were burned to ash, then there wouldn't be anything left to reform, right?

It was certainly worth a shot...

First things first then: gather together as many accelerants as possible. This was a hospital, so there shouldn't be any shortage of alcohol and such to use. I just needed to get a whole bunch of it together, douse the thing, and then set it on fire and watch it go up in flames. As long as the whole facility didn't burn down around my ears as well, this was a rather sound plan in my opinion. So, I just needed to find some alco...oh, for fuck's sake. Seriously?!

Only now did I actually take a look at where I was, and my heart sank. The room was effectively empty. At one time, it had clearly been some sort of ward that was capable of holding a couple dozen patients. At regular intervals along the walls were panels containing all manner of outlets and hose connections that would have supported machinery needed to keep critically injured patients alive. However, all of that machinery was gone now. As were the bed that the patients using them would have lain upon. I spied a few cabinets, but even from where I was, I could see that they had already been thoroughly looted. In fact, the only things that looked to have been left behind were a half dozen or so large green pressurized cylinders. Presumably because they must have weighed hundreds of pounds and would have been the next best thing to worthless anyway.

For a brief moment, I entertained the notion of slipping out of the room and finding somewhere else to look for the materials that I needed for my plan. However, a brief listen at the door informed me that the creature had since dealt with the small flames on its leg and was once more on the prowl. I could hear it working its way down the hallway, destroying the occasional door. It wouldn't be all that long before it made it here; yet all the same I didn't have any burning desire to announce my exact location by making a mad dash through the corridor.

There had to be something in here that would help me!

Even as I had the thought, I knew that it was very unlikely that I'd discover anything useful. How could I have chosen what must have been the only abandoned room in this place? Once more, my eyes flashed over every corner of the room, hoping to find something that I might have missed in my initial panicked scan. Unsurprisingly, nothing materialized during my second sweep. Though I did notice that a desk was nestled in a corner just to my left, and it contained an active terminal. Maybe there was some way to seal this room or reinstate the lookdown from here? Something to buy me just a little more time.

Quietly, I slipped behind the desk and tapped at the keyboard. The computer had been left in a standby mode similar to that of the others that I'd tried using thus far. My lips quirked in a mild frown. I wasn't complaining or anything, but I did find it odd that nothing had really been secured as so many of these things tended to be. Though I was starting to get a few hints as to why from some of the directory titles that I was seeing. Something about promising research going on down in the basement—had the doctors here created those monsters?! A chain of messages asking what the code to get into the storage room was—an idle glance over my shoulder confirmed that there was a nearby door that was secured by a keypad. If there was anything useful in there, I wasn't going to be getting my hooves on it anytime soon. The latest entry pertained to the culmination of the Great War. It seemed that New Reino had indeed avoided a direct balefire bombardment, but deadly pockets of magical radiation had nonetheless popped up throughout the city, and so they were executing an evacuation of all patients and staff.

It seemed that the plan had been to return to collect the research and anything else that had been left behind at a later time.

Obviously, that plan had not been followed through with.

None of this directly helped me out though. I was still trapped in this room with no mean by which to lock it down, and an immortal stick monster coming my way. Knowing about how 'promising the initial elixir trials were' was not something that was going to help me out here. With a disgusted snort, I pushed myself away from the terminal and brought my arm up to look at my pipbuck's screen. It looked like the only resources that I was going to have access to were whatever was on me right now; which meant that I needed to take stock.

My guns just seemed to make the thing angry, so they weren't going to be much help. The energy pistol that I'd taken from Wind Rider's desk would probably be more effective, but I didn't have any spark packs for it; so it was little more than a plastic brick at the moment. I only had the single fragmentation grenade left, and I was dubious about it performing much better than the previous one I'd thrown. Two flares, which would have been an ideal way to ignite any sufficiently volatile liquid that I might have soaked that creature with; but which I doubted was going to do a whole lot on their own. Some food, which probably wasn't going to be a lot of help either. Anti-radiation medicines. Half a bottle of bad whiskey. Those damnable little statues...

I turned my attention from the little fetlock mounted computer and dug through my saddlebags, pulling out the bottle of spirits. This would burn. There wasn't a whole lot of it, but it was something. All it really had to do was keep the thing distracted long enough for me to make an escape and get far out of its sight.

The scraping claws being dragged over the tiled floor outside was growing louder. That thing would be here in moments. I grimaced and dashed for the far side of the room. The bottle of whiskey was in my mouth, ready to be thrown, and a flare was nestled in one of the little carriers sewn into my barding. Not an ideal confrontation, to be sure, but very little about this little trip had gone the way I'd envisioned up to this point anyway. Even if this little exchange didn't completely kill that wooden abomination, it should at least be enough to distract it and let me dash past it.

My thoughts very quickly focused as I saw the double doors open inward slightly. Only a timber snout poked through at first, but it was followed shortly by the rest of the beast's head. Its amber eyes glanced around briefly, and quickly spotted me on the far side of the room. It's not like it would have been hard to pick out the lone pony standing out in the open like I was. I cocked my hoof back, waiting for it to finally get close enough so that I could be confident of a good hit.

Having spotted me, the wooden creature wasted little time in dragging the rest of itself into the empty ward, managing to rip one of the double doors off of its hinges in the process. It now took up nearly a full third of the large room. I sent the glass bottle arcing towards it, confident I'd be unlikely to miss. The tinted container shattered on its left shoulder, splattering its contents all over the joint and limb, leaving some noticeable dampness on the left side of its jaw as well. Not as much of the wooden beast had been coated as I would have preferred, but I was committed now. I pulled out the flare and struck the butt end of it on the wall behind me. The both of us were bathed in crimson flickering light.

The bottle had been largely ignored by the lumber demon. It wasn't as though much that I had done to it up to this point had been truly threatening after all. The flare though, that it took a keen interest in. I felt my lips pull back in a satisfied smirk as I held the sputtering torch in my mouth. Fire looked to be the correct course of action. The larger canine monstrosity had ceased it advance, and seemed now to be contemplating its actions with a little more care than it had before. This hesitation was the opportunity I needed though, and I had to seize on it before this creature thought up some way to counter it.

I burst forward and sent the flare hurling towards where the bottle had impacted only moments before with a flick of my head. The monster tried to avoid the scarlet flare, but this was where its great size proved more of a liability than an asset. There simply wasn't enough room for it to effectively dodge out of the way, and so the flare struck true and I was rewarded with an eruption of brilliant blue flames, which quickly adopted an orange tint.

A cheer actually escaped my lips as I saw the fire catch, a sound that was drowned out almost instantly by a pained and frightful roar of the monster before me. However, my revelry was short lived, just like the fire. A few seconds was all that it had burned for, nothing more. In its wake were tendrils of blueish-gray smoke and the faint scent of singed wood. Aside from some blackened portions of its face and shoulder, there wasn't very much visible damage. A scattering of orange beads yet remained, testifying to embers that were yet clinging to life; but they were unlikely to rekindle into anything significant.

Those embers were stubborn though. The creature shook itself in an effort to put an end to those last vestiges of fire, but the rapid motion only made them glow defiantly brighter for a few brief seconds. In the end, the beast seemed to accept that they would have to be allowed to finally die out completely in their own good time. If anything, they seemed to be a mild annoyance anyway. Those glowing eyes locked onto me once more.

Horseapples. That whiskey must have been more watered down than I thought...

The pistol was already in my mouth once more. Not that I really expected it to do all that much. It was really more the principal of the thing now: I wasn't going to die just standing there unarmed. This thing was going to have to earn its kill.

I didn't fire quickly or wildly. My shots were deliberate and aimed as I took careful steps back towards the wall behind me. Splinters of wood broke away where the smaller caliber lead slugs struck their target. The timber beast largely ignored my effort, growling low in its throat as it slowly crept towards me. While most of the debris that I shot away eventually twitched and floated back into place, the smaller bits of splintered wood simply remained inert on the floor. This suggested that with enough rounds it would have been possible to eventually mulch this thing; but I had neither those ammunition or the time to perform such an act with this little pistol.

With my attention fixed firmly ahead on the advancing monster, I didn't notice the small bit of refuse that my hind leg slipped on. It wasn't much of a falter, and I recovered as quickly, but it was enough to send one of my rounds wildly off target. The errant slug caught the regulator of one of those large green tanks. Sparks flew as the bullet ripped away the valve that would have kept the gases inside contained. A loud hiss filled the room as a white gush of the highly pressurized gas erupted forth, catching the monster before me in the face. More out of surprise than anything, the creature recoiled away, glaring at the offending tank and its contents.

Seeing the momentary shift in attention, I was about to charge forward and take my chances trying to pass by it on my way towards the exit. However, before I could even take my first step, my eyes went wide in surprise. The creature was on fire again! Those tiny moats of orange light that had refused to be snuffed out initially were now being stoked by the gas being spewed from the green tank and had rekindled into a respectable flame.

The monster howled in pain and rage and backed as far away from the tank as it could. The flames died down a little, but this time the fire would not go out completely. The creature set to shaking once more in an effort o put them out. My eyes locked onto another of the tanks that had been mounted to the opposite wall, and now was sitting just a few feet away from where it was trying to put itself out. I trained the sights of my pistol on the regulator of that tank and fired. Two round later, that tank was gushing forth its contents as well.

Just as before, the flames roared larger and hotter, and they began to spread as they were fueled by the gasses of the two tanks. Again, the beast tried to shy away from the new source of accelerant. However, I was not about to let this chance slip away from me. I ejected the nearly spent magazine and injected a fresh one into the pistol and started using the weapon to open up every tank that I could see. The flames continued to grow, spreading along the monster's back and sides even as it thrashed about in an effort to put them out.

I glanced back and found a nearby tank strapped into a mount in the wall. The aging restraints didn't put up all that much resistance as I pulled the cylinder out of its recess and let it fall to the floor with a reverberating 'thud'. I charged the burning monster now, rolling the tank as I advanced. I was going to put an end to this thing for good! As I ran past, I kicked the tumbling tank towards it. The creature didn't even seemed to notice me, having its attention being consumed with far more pressing matters. I spun to a stop near the desk and leveled my pistol at the tank that I had deposited at its feet.

“Let's see you put yourself back together after this!” I dared the wooden beast from around the grip of my pistol. Then I depressed the trigger.

In hindsight, that had all been a mistake. Sort of. I briefly recalled seeing where the round had struck the side of canister. Then there was just a massive wall of flame that was thundering towards me. I felt my hooves lift off the ground, and then I was tumbling backwards through the air. My back suddenly hurt, and I was faintly aware of more crashing sounds. Then things were very dark and fuzzy for a while.

I doubted that I'd been out for more than a minute or two, but it was hard to be certain. What was immediately clear was that I was no longer still in that same ward where the monster had been. My cramped surroundings suggested that I was in a smaller closet of sorts, and the warped and unhinged door nearby led me to conclude that I had not needed to use a key code to open up that door after all. My back and high velocities had seemed to suffice. Though I made a solemn vow to not use this specific technique again so long as I lived.

There was a brief moment of concern as to the condition of that wooden monster that had been nearby not so long ago, but a glance through the doorway prompted a sigh of relief. Scattered throughout the ward were ash and thoroughly charred sticks. A few of the thinker limbs still burned. None of them were moving or trembling. It was dead. Very. Very dead. With a relieved sigh, I rolled back onto my soar back side and allowed myself a few moments to relax and calm down. My eyes traced their way through the room, lingering on the shelves lined with gauze and bandages, as well as a dented cabinet door that seemed to have served as a backstop for my hasty entrance. Within I was able to see a half dozen familiar looking purple vials, as well as a few potions that I did not recognize.

With a grunt, I pushed myself up onto my hooves and examined those other potions. The bottled were similar to those that contained typical healing potions, and they even had the same purple coloring; except that there were also thin golden bands woven into the mixture. I quirked an eye as my pipbuck applied the label: 'Healing Elixir' to the bottles. Wait, was this the same 'elixir' that the Commonwealth ponies had been after? I pocketed them, as well as their vanilla counterparts. I also packed away a respectable stock of bandages and Med-X as well.

Then I noticed a disk that had been sitting on the shelf near the elixirs. Curious, I picked it up and popped it into the pipbuck; storing Abatis' log in my saddlebags. The pipbuck beeped as it recognized the media device and then began its playback.

“Finally, success,” an older sounding stallion's voice crackled over the little computer's speaker, “we've long know about the Tmberwolve's regenerative abilities. In a way, they rival even a hydra's, as they can completely rebuild themselves, provided that there is enough remaining material nearby.”

My eyes widened. He was talking about those things! So, the ponies here hadn't created them, they'd just been using them to do research. Timberwolves, huh?

“It seems that our earlier setbacks were due to our initial approaches: we were treating the wolves like animals, when that was wrong. It's so obvious now, but...they're not animals. They're plants. Sort of. Looking at the problem from one of working with floral samples instead of fauna finally allowed us to make real progress.

“Healing Elixirs won't let us put ponies back together again, but when the extracted material is infused into traditional healing potions, it nearly triples their effectiveness. This research represents a new era in battlefield medicine for all of pony kind.

“We'll have our notes finalized and shipped out to the Ministry of Peace within the week.”

The recording clicked and ended. Then the display hovering in front of my eyes flashed, informing me that an additional file entitled: 'elixirrecipe.txt' had been extracted and stored on the device. Ooh...I bet that was going to be worth a lot to the right pony.

It might also be exactly what Windfall was going to need too.

As long as I wasn't too late...

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 18: AC-CENT-TCHU-ATE THE POSITIVE

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“Now what the Uncle Sam-hell do you think you're doing here?”

A steady stream of clicks issued forth from my pipbuck. I'd already doubled up on anti-radiation medicines and choked back a second does of RadAway, and still the little fetlock-mounted device was letting me know that I was being subjected to a bit more of the damaging magical energy than I was comfortable taking. What was worse was that those levels were climbing steadily. I entertained the notion of turning around and going back to the hospital to wait out the radiation; but I couldn't know for certain that more of those timberwolf things weren't still lurking around. I'd only ever had eyes on two of them, but the recording made by those Commonwealth soldiers suggested that there may have been more.

I was eager to get back to Wind Rider's Wagons and Freight as quickly as possible. However, I was starting to think that my return was going to be inevitably delayed. Staying out in the open and exposed to these potentially lethal conditions without knowing for certain if I was going to leave its boundaries in the next couple minutes or if it would take me half an hour to get to safety was too much of a risk. Not that I knew of any suitable places to seek refuge in these ruins.

My eyes almost immediately locked onto a brightly colored sign. It depicted the standard equestrian symbol that was used to denote the presence of magical radiation, but below it was the word 'shelter' and an arrow. Good enough for me! I took the indicated turn and galloped down the street at an increased speed, scanning for any additional signs. In just over a block, I spied another nearly identical sign, but this one had an arrow that pointed downward. Just below the sign was a hatch built into the base of a sturdy brick building.

Shelter from the radiation, perfect! I reached down and pulled at the hatch. It proved stubborn at first, but it was more a result of a lack of use and age, and eventually I heard the hinges issue forth a loud protest even as the sturdy metal door finally began to move. I positioned myself to get some better leverage and prepared to pull once more; only to pause.

There were two yellow blips visible on my pipbuck's Eyes Forward Sparkle.

I glanced around, noting only now that my surroundings were rather familiar. To include a slate sign and a cafe that I recognized. My lips curled in a grimace. Unless this abandoned Old World city had suddenly gotten very crowded in the last few hours, it had to be those two stable ponies from earlier. It'd been well over an hour since I'd left them, and it looked like they hadn't gone anywhere since. Not that the gray stallion had been in any sort of shape to go anywhere when I'd left them. The filly should have been able to walk for the most part, but given how I remembered her previous choices where her partner were concerned, I very much doubted that she was going to leave him even to save her own hide from certain death.

The stallion had been wearing a pipbuck of his own, as I recalled. It should be telling the both of them the same thing that mine was: unprepared ponies weren't long for this world if swift measures weren't taken. I had the benefit of specialized drugs, and even my skin was tingling. Those two had to be feeling a lot worse than I was, and I knew for a fact that neither of them had anything to mitigate or treat magical radiation exposure. Frankly, even if the filly did try to clear the radiation pocket that had moved in, she'd probably die in a few days anyway from the severe poisoning she'd acquired.

With a shake of my head, I returned my attention to the metal hatch and heaved it open. At the apex, gravity finally started working with me rather than against me and the door fell of to the side with a loud 'clang!'. I peered down into the dark interior beyond. No red blips. As long as there weren't any other monsters around here that could hide from my pipbuck, I should be safe down there until the storm passed.

I looked back over my shoulder at the pair of yellow dots on my EFS. Given the radiation levels and their lack of medications to resist it, those two would be dead in minutes. They were probably on their way out already.

My mind went to a little yellow statuette nestled in my saddlebag. I didn't hear her chiding me in my head like I was used to, but I had a fair idea of what she'd want me to do.

It was what Windfall would want me to do too.

With a sigh, I trotted away from the open shelter and headed for the cafe where I had encountered the two young ponies earlier. This was going to be awkward.

As I neared the entrance, I could hear somepony talking. It was the older stallion, “you haf to gow, pwease,” he wasn't sounding too good. Aside from the slurred speech that had been brought on by what I had done to his jaw, I could hear his labored breathing and strained words. The radiation was getting to him, “juss weave me...”

“I won't,” the filly insisted vehemently. She wasn't in the best condition either from the sound of things, “we go together, or not at all! Now come on and get up!”

When I rounded the corner, I found the little yellow filly grunting as she pushed her shoulder up against the elder earth pony's side in an effort to help him to his hooves. A cyan glow was wrapped around both her horn and the other pony as she used her levitation magic to assists. The field was fading in and out as she strained to maintain it. Whether her magic was being affected by the radiation or she was simply too exhausted to focus properly, it was impossible to know. To his credit, the stallion looked like he was putting forth an honest effort to stand as well, but the tears and quivering legs suggested that the pain he was feeling just wasn't something that he was going to be able to overcome. Frankly, I doubted that his broken ribs and limbs were going to allow him to stay on his hooves even if he did somehow make it up. Willpower didn't come into it; I'd done a real number on that pony's body.

After several seconds of groaning and gasping, the pair of young ponies collapsed to the floor. The earth pony tried to contain a pained yell behind gritted teeth, and the filly was panting with the effort that she had put into the attempt. She slumped into an awkward sitting position, wincing from her own aches.

“I...I can't,” the young stallion shook his head in resignation, “pwease go, Mehwybell. Pwease...” he turned his head to look at the little yellow unicorn filly. He was the first of the pair to notice me, and I saw his brown teary eyes grow wide with terror as he recognized me, “no...run!” he pawed at the ground, trying to drag himself in between me and the other pony. It was pathetic to watch.

Only then did the little unicorn turn around and see me as well. Her own face was a mask of frightful resignation. She flung herself upon her brother and buried her face in his side. Given the state of his ribs, it must have hurt the stallion tremendously, but I could see no sign of that pain on his face. His only thoughts right now were of the filly, and doing all that he could to protect her from me. No matter how miserably token that effort might truly be.

The Big Brother, protecting his little sister from the Big Bad Pony come to hurt her. You're a better pony that I was at your age, I thought at the gray stallion.

Without a word, since I doubted very much that I'd be able to trust myself to say anything that either of them would take to be reassuring, I simply approached until I was standing nearly over top of them. All the while, the stallion was shifting between pleas for me to leave and urging the younger filly to run away while he bought her time to escape. For her part, the filly was quietly praying to Princess Celestia to keep her and her brother safe.

Long dead Princesses had nothing to do with what was about to happen. Nope; this was all just on the shoulders of a crazy old earth pony who was bending to the will of the tiny little pegasus mare in his head that only he could see. No Goddesses, just psychoses.

Ignoring the both of them, I stuck my head into my saddlebag and withdrew one of the syringes of Med-X in my mouth and frowned down at the stallion. Then I bent down and jabbed the earth pony in his shoulder with the hypodermic medication. His string of pleas were monetarily interrupted by the wince this caused, and then I heard him let out a slow, relieved, breath. He glanced up at me in confusion, silent in the face of the incomprehensible.

Without an explanation, as I had little reason to believe that these two were inclined to trust anything that I told them anyway and arguing with them was just going to take time that neither of these two had, I bent down and shoved myself under the prone stallion. The unicorn filly was knocked aside as her prayers turned into demands for me to stop what I was doing and leave them alone. The gray earth pony protested too, but between limbs that could not effectively move and a body that wasn't feeling very much any more, it wasn't hard to keep him centered on my back.

I looked over at the younger filly, “can you walk?” at first she didn't respond to my question. Probably because she hadn't heard it over her desperate cries for mercy, so I repeated the question more loudly. The yellow unicorn balked. Then my question finally seemed to get processed through her head. Her bewildered response was little more than a vague nod as she tried to grasp what was going on. The stereo ticking on both mine and the younger stallion's pipbucks prompted me to frown. I didn't have time to let her get her minds sorted if I was going to be taking anything but a pair of corpses to that shelter.

I bent down and grabbed up the little unicorn filly by scruff behind her neck with my teeth. The yellow pony issued forth a surprised little 'eep!' as I picked her up off of the ground. After she reallized what was happening, she began to protest and struggle, pleading rather adamantly for me to put her down. Her older brother, likewise, started trying to bargain for her safety from my backside.

My response to him was to grumble around the yellow tuft of hide gripped in my teeth, “the only way you'll be able to save her is by not struggling so much. If you fall off, I'll just leave you behind,” I then turned around and started walking out of the ancient cafe.

The little filly continued to struggle, craning her head around in an attempt to get a view of her brother; though that was only so that she could beg him to actually dislodge himself and run away from the two of us, rather than make any attempt to rescue her. I rolled my eyes and simply continued making my way across the street towards the open metal hatch that would hopefully lead the three of us to some measure of sanctuary from this radiation.

I felt something rather clumsily hit my hindquarters. Arching a brow, I turned my head and saw that the gray stallion was making a woefully hilarious effort to try and beat me into submission with kicks and hoof strikes that were obviously causing him far more pain than they were ever going to cause me. If the sight wasn't so pitiful, I'd be tempted to laugh my head off. As if was, I just took it as a sign that he probably wasn't as close to death's door as he looked. He might live to see tomorrow yet. The filly would be thrilled.

Once at the hatch, I carefully deposited the filly on the ground, ignoring the repeated strikes from her brother all the while. Then I nudged the little unicorn, “let's go, get down in there out of this damn radiation,” then I glanced at the struggling earth pony, “you're going to want to hold still while I close the hatch, or you're just going to end up falling down the stairs.”

Only at this moment did the two of them take the time to really examine what was going on. The earth pony finally seemed to register what his pipbuck had been frantically screaming at him this whole time and exchanged a look with the unicorn filly. The pair glanced at me, perplexed, and then back at each other. Still, neither of them really seemed to acknowledge what I'd said.

I let out an exasperated groan, “oh, for fuck's-!” I reached into my saddlebags and pulled out a bottle of Rad-X and a bag of RadAway. I made certain that both of them could see the medicine, and them I tossed them down into the shelter, “there! Go get it!” I yelled at the filly.

Another brief exchange of glances, but then the pair seemed to conclude that while they couldn't understand why the psychopath that had assaulted them earlier was suddenly trying to help them out; perhaps it was at least a mystery that was best solved while they were somewhere safe rather than out in the open surrounded by deadly magical radiation. Though she kept cautious eyes on me, the filly finally descended into the shelter. I let myself sigh with relief and backed down the shelter's stairs, carefully keeping the stallion balanced on my spine, and pulled the hatch closed behind us.

Almost instantly, my pipbuck's radiation detector died down from a steady stream of ticks to an intermittent tock every few seconds. I turned on my pipbuck's light to help fight back the darkness that consumed me and made my way down the rest of the stairs. Finally inside the shelter, I took a few moments to appraise my surroundings and see what was left to work with in this place.

It looked like it was a single open bay for the most part. A row of bunk beds lined each wall with small trunks in front of them. Nearby were a few shelves with scattered food and basic supplies like spark batteries and lamps. Many of the bunks looked to have been used, though certainly not recently. Likewise, most of the cans of food had been opened and lay discarded on the floor. It seemed that this shelter had seen some use in the past. Nopony looked to be living here now though.

I made my way over to the nearest of those bunks. Between the two of us working in concert, the gray stallion managed to not get dropped onto the floor while he slid onto the mattress. I rooted through my saddlebags once more and took out a healing potion. Initially, I just set it on the floor while I looked over the extent of the other earth pony's injuries, “which of your legs did I break?”

The stallion glowered at me, but he glanced down at his right foreleg. I carefully ran a hoof over the limb, frowning when the gray pony instinctively withdrew it from my grasp. He yelped at the pain the sudden movement induced. It took a few seconds of light tugging and frowns before he allowed me to coax the limb out again. After gently palpating the leg, I determined that it wasn't so much broken as it was just badly fractured. So I turned my attention to his jaw. I prompted him to look directly at me so that I could judge how deformed his mandible had become. The right side of his jawbone hung perceptibly lower than the left. I winced in sympathy; that had to hurt.

“You're not going to like this,” I warned him. Before explaining any further, I placed both of my hooves on his jaw and pushed the offending side outward and up in a single, smooth, motion. As predicted, the stallion screamed and recoiled with pain. Even through his anguished string of expletives, I could hear that his ability to articulate had been much improved. For somepony so young, this stallion was rather creative with his swearing.

Only now did I pick up the healing potion that I'd retrieved earlier and place it near him on the bed, “drink up,” I also fished out a bag of RadAway for him to wash the potion down with. The earth pony glared at me, massaging his sore jaw with his left hoof, but he drank the potion. I heard a few muffled snaps and pops as bones were knitted back together; all the while the stallion cringed and winced as he felt his insides mend themselves with the aid of the magical tincture. When it was all over, he sighed with obvious relief and picked up the bag of orange fluid.

It was now that I directed my attention elsewhere, seeking out the little unicorn filly. She was nowhere in sight, and neither was the medicine that I had tossed down. I frowned and rolled my eyes once more. I didn't really blame her for being skittish, but I at least wish she had decided to stay nearby until I was able to make sure that at was really safe down here. Besides, it's not like she could really hide from me down here. I glanced to my left, at the single yellow dot on the visual overlay that my pipbuck provided.

“I don't suppose you want your stuff back?” I asked the the filly, looking in her direction even though I couldn't actually see her through the darkness despite the soft glow of my pipbuck's light. I dug through my saddlebags and pulled out the gear and coveralls that the filly had given me earlier. I placed them on the floor in front of me and kicked them anemically in her direction. The unicorn didn't seem inclined to make a move to retrieve them. Which was fine.

I was going to have to give her another little scare though. The shelter wasn't all that wide, and there wasn't a lot of room to maneuver between the bunks either. I rummaged through the nearby shelves, taking a few intact cans and boxes of food. Cram, Sugar Apple Bombs, the usual fair; I also went ahead and turned on one of the lamps. It provided a lot more illumination than my pipbuck did, but I left the little device's light on all the same. I was going to need it as I ventured deeper into the shelter. The lamp I left near the stallion, who had nearly finished draining the bag of radiation treatment and was still watching me with intense suspicion.

Those two would probably feel a lot better about their situation if I wasn't standing between them and the only way out, I noted as I momentarily glance at the door behind me. So I walked calmly between the rows of bunks towards the far end. I heard the filly before I saw her as she clambered beneath the bunk that she'd been cowering behind and out the other side. At nearly the same moment, I heard the stallion stumble off the mattress and fall to the floor as he unsuccessfully tried to move too quickly on aching limbs in an effort to 'save his sister' from me. I came to a stop and looked between the pair. The stallion managed to get to his feet, and though they were a little unsteady, he certainly looked to be moving a lot better than he had been on the way here. The filly's steps were still a little stiff though where her hindquarters were concerned. I winced at the memory and withdrew another healing potion.

Placing the purple liquid on the mattress of the bed that she'd just scrambled under, I looked at the yellow unicorn, “this should help with the...you know...” the filly looked away and I noticed her subtly slide her hind legs closer together.

Then I cleared my throat and continued walking, “I'm not going to force you two to stay here; but you should at least wait for the radiation to go away before you leave,” it was only about twenty bunks from one end to the other. I wondered if all of the shelters in this town were so small. Either the ponies hadn't counted on a lot of survivors, or they might have a lot of these refuges scattered throughout the city. In either case, I sought out a clean-ish looking bed near the far end of the shelter and climbed into it. It was nice to finally lay down after a day like this one. With a grunt, I rolled over onto my back and let my legs hang loosely to the side, relishing the weight being taken off my limbs. My spine appreciated the comfort as well. It had taken a fair beating today, between Foxglove and the hospital.

Ooh...there was a reunion I wasn't looking forward to. I idly wondered what the odds were that the purple unicorn would let me say even a single word before she tried to lop my head off with that eldrich lance of hers. Probably a lot less in my favor if she had managed to find some way to recharge it back up to a more optimal energy level. That reminded me: I needed to keep my eyes peeled for some energy packs for that beam pistol I'd found in Wind Rider's desk. I didn't have much experience with such weapons, but there was no denying that it would have been useful against those timberwolves.

I closed my eyes and started going over possible scenarios for when I got back to the freight depot. If Windfall was already dead, then it was a no-brianer: turn around and leave as fast as possible. If the pegasus was still alive though, I'd need some way to let the unicorn know that I wasn't there to cause any more trouble before she killed me. Perhaps if I strolled up without any weapons or even my barding, carrying an elixir in my mouth? Hopefully Foxglove wasn't feeling particularly vindictive...

Speaking of...

I frowned. Even with my eyes closed, the pipbuck's EFS overlay endured, which meant that I could clearly see the single red blip that was moving closer to me. That and the sound of the hoofsteps trying to be very quiet on the concrete floor of the shelter. From the weight that the sounds suggested, it was the stallion. It looked like he had regained a fair bit of his courage. I was a little curious about what he had chosen as a weapon, since I didn't recall him being armed before.

With a sigh, I willed the pipbuck to engage SATS, and opened my eyes. The gray stallion was creeping towards me, a length of pipe clutched in his mouth. Hardly much of a threat there. Curious, I glanced in the filly's direction as well. The little yellow unicorn was standing on the far side of the shelter looking rather uncertain about the whole thing. Something told me that she had not been on board with this plan. My eyes went back to the creeping earth pony. He had some balls on him, especially considering how this had all gone for him the first time. Perhaps he supposed that he would have a much better chance if he caught me napping?

Let's find out. I closed my eyes and allowed time to flow at its normal pace, “the little unicorn insisted that the two of you weren't raiders,” I said, listening with a measure of delight as I heard the stallion stumbled slightly and come to a halt, “so I know you're not about to attack the pony helping you while he's sleeping, right?”

There was no immediate verbal response, nor did I hear any additional hoof-steps. I opened my eyes and craned my head up in the bed, glancing at the stallion. The gray earth pony was standing in the narrow passage between the bunks, regarding me with uncertain eyes, the pipe still held in his mouth. I stared at him in silence, really hoping that I wasn't going to have to cripple him again after having given him a healing potion.

Seeming to suspect that things were unlikely to go very well for her elder sibling, the unicorn filly cantered up behind him, “I told you it was a stupid idea, Plate! Just drop the pipe,” now she looked at me with pleading eyes, “we're sorry! We're really sorry, I swear!

“Tell him you're sorry,” she said to her elder brother, sounding almost desperate, “now!”

The stallion dropped the pipe and opened his mouth, but before he could offer up whatever forced apology he was going to come up with I was already waving them away with a dismissive hoof as I lay my head back down, “I really don't care. I'm not interested in hurting either of you,” any more than I already have, at least, “so let's just wait out the radiation, huh?”

At least the stallion's red blip went yellow again. We'd see how long that was going to last before he got another wild hair up his ass and tried to do something that I was going to be forced to make him regret. The sooner the radiation passed and we could part ways, the better.

I noticed that neither of the blips on my EFS had moved, so I opened up my eyes again and regarded the pair of ponies. The larger gray earth pony was trying to encourage the smaller unicorn to come with him as far away from me as the shelter would allow them to, but for some reason the filly was reluctant to leave at that precise moment. She finally pushed herself away from her older brother and took a step towards me over the earth pony's hushed objections. I frowned at the little filly, but said nothing. This would be novel.

Her tail was plastered to her backside, and her hind legs were still awkwardly close together. Flecks of dried blood were still visible on the back of her calves. Being this close to me was obviously making her uncomfortable. I couldn't understand why somepony like her wasn't doing exactly what her older brother was suggested and getting as far from me as possible. I was the pony that had hurt her, while threatening to end the life of her brother in order to keep her pliable. She should hate me. She should fear me. I should be the image that haunted her nightmares for years to come.

“Thank you for the medicine.”

And that was it. Once she'd said her piece, she turned around and started walking away; much to her brother's obvious relief.

I snorted and rolled my eyes, preparing to roll over and get back to my well-deserved nap before something else came along and interrupted things. Which is exactly what I would have done, had a pair of blue eyes shadowed by a pink mane not been peering at me from deep within my subconscious. With a frustrated grunt, I turned my head to the pair of retreating ponies.

“You're welcome,” which wasn't all that Yellow Bitch wanted me to say, as it turned out, “and I'm sorry...about...you know,” I immediately rolled over and found the nearby wall of concrete blocks incredibly fascinating. I'd said what the statue wanted, and that was that. Nothing more needed to be commented on. The matter could be dropped. Forever.

My ear twitched, picking up something that the stallion had mumbled under his breath. I didn't catch all of it, but I doubted that it was intended to be particularly flattering. Which was fine, and I could hardly fault the earth pony for feeling that way. It wasn't any matter that I was inclined to press either. So I remained silent and kept my attention away from either of the other ponies. From the sound of things, that unicorn filly didn't feel the same way though, and I heard her making some hushed and frantic demands of her older sibling.

“No, I will not 'shut up',” the stallion insisted far more loudly. I really wished he would though. There was no way that any of this was going to go 'well' for anypony concerned, “it's not 'alright' just because he apologizes or gives us medicine or brought us into this shelter,” was he going somewhere with this? Honestly, I felt like it was going to be hard for him to paint me as the villain at this point, “he raped you!” well, there was that, I suppose, “how can you be okay with that?!”

If the filly was going to supply an answer of her own, I didn't give her the chance. I wanted this conversation over with as quickly and painlessly as possible; and it wasn't like I didn't have any insight into these matters, “she's not,” I responded, loud enough for the both of them to hear me, even though I wasn't looking in their direction, “she just wants to forget it ever happened so that, maybe, some day in the distant future, she can pretend that something like that never happened to her and she can get on with her life.

“Because, otherwise, the memory of it could end up consuming her; filling her with emotions that she doesn't understand, can't rationalize, and ultimately won't know how to deal with,” I went on, speaking in an even tone so as not to betray the many memories that were sifting through my mind, “until, one day, she finally snaps. Maybe it'll be a little thing, where she just descends into an all-consuming depression that leads to suicide. Maybe it'll be worse, and she'll decide that every stallion needs to die so that nothing like that ever happens again.

“Maybe she'll even start with you. Who knows? The point is: she doesn't either. She just wants to put it behind her, and forget.

“Maybe you should let her.”

If I thought that would be enough to deter the stallion, it seemed that I was wrong. A shame, “I'm not about to let you get away with what you did to her!”

I sighed and rolled off the bed. The gray earth pony took a hesitant half step back, but otherwise held his ground. That took some measure of guts, given what he knew I could do to him, and the fact that I was obviously armed while he was not. I didn't bear right down on the pair of them. A fight wasn't what I was after, not right now. Not against a pair of ponies like these, whose deaths weren't going to help me in the slightest.

My eyes bored into the stallion's, “and what are you going to do? Fight me again? That went so well that last time, as I recall,” the earth pony seemed a little less convinced of his current plan, which was good. I might well diffuse this whole thing yet without having to kill anypony. Flutter Bitch should appreciate that, “if I end up killing you this time, who's going to look out for...” I craned my head down towards the filly, “ Mehwybell?”

“Merrybell,” the unicorn corrected softly, shuffling a little further behind her brother under my gaze. Her tail was tucked tight down between her hind legs.

“Right,” I looked back at the stallion, “I'm not saying that an apology makes everything all square between us. Nothing ever will, and I won't pretend otherwise. But right here and now is not when you want to make an issue of this.

“You want to defend your sister's honor? Fine. That's all good and noble of you. I suggest you get your hooves on some weapons, assemble a team, and hunt me down all proper like,” a smirk crept its way onto my face, “there's even a five thousand bit bounty in it for you if you manage to bring me back to the New Lunar Republic alive. It's only a thousand bits if I'm dead, but I doubt that it's really money that would satisfy you, am I right?

“In either case, this is not the best time to try and balance the scales,” I glared at the stallion, daring him to make a move against me. As was expected, he did nothing, though he kept a defiant gaze fixed in my direction, “so I suggest you and your sister go and get a little rest while you can.”

With that, I turned back around and returned to my bed. I was ready to put all of this behind me and wait for the radiation to pass in silence.

The filly, however, was not; for reasons that I couldn't fathom, “can I at least know why?”

Was she serious? As though there was a reason for things like that. The Wasteland was a cruel place where bad things happened to ponies for no rational reason. But if she needed a reason, then I'd provide her with one, “I've been wanting to rut a unicorn for a while now.”

Her brother didn't care for that answer one bit. However, it looked like he was still taking my earlier advance to heart and kept himself from physically lashing out in response. The younger filly winced, but did not remain silent, “I meant: why are you helping us now?” she corrected.

Oh. Well...that was a question that seemed to make a lot more sense, in hindsight. It was also one that I was a little more hesitant to provide an answer for. Not because I didn't know that answer, per say; but rather because these two were ill enough at ease in my presence without my divulging that I was helping them because a statue of a two hundred year dead pegasus mare told me to. Something suggested to me that I wasn't going to get away with an answer akin to, 'because I felt like it' either.

Then the image of another pegasus flashed through my mind. This one was white with a teal streaked mane that had been cropped short and deep blue eyes that glinted with a mirth a pony rarely saw in the Wasteland. Helping these two ponies was exactly the sort of thing that she'd have insisted that we do, had she been here.

There was my answer, “I'm not doing this for you,” a sad smile found its way onto my face before I could get my expression back under control; and it prompted a frown as I recognized my momentary loss of control. My eyes went back to the filly, “anything else you want to know?” the sooner I got this conversation over with, the sooner I could put all of this behind me.

The gray stallion came up and tried to usher the younger filly away from me, but it seemed that the brazen little unicorn wasn't satisfied yet. Of the two of them, I was inclined to consider her to be the stupider of the two. I was the pony that had raped her while threatening to murder her brother in front of her. Her stature suggested that she was actually still very understandably nervous about being so close to me. Pestering me with questions should not have been something that she was this eager to do. Yet, she persisted, “where's the nearest settlement?”

Okay, credit where it was due: that was a very prudent question. It demonstrated a respectable amount of forethought too. The two of them couldn't just stay in this place, after all, “that'd be New Reino. About a day's travel east of here,” then I thought for another moment. Frankly, that place wouldn't be the best place for a couple of stable ponies like them. Unarmed and underfunded as they were, the stallion would probably end up dead within a week, and the filly...well, suffice it to say that what she experience today would soon be buried beneath a hundred far more traumatic encounters. Ponies as young and naive as them didn't last long in a place like that town.

I recalled Foxglove's own tale of her first days in New Reino; and didn't see any reason why these two stable ponies should fair any better. A place like Shady Saddles or even Seaddle would be better for them. Not by much though. Finding work would be hard, and it wasn't like younger ponies weren't exploited in the NLR either. Honestly, unless you had somepony decent watching out for you, it was hard to get a decent start out in the Wasteland. Not that I knew a lot of decent ponies that would be open to taking on a pair of former stable dwellers. These two might have received a fairly decent education where they'd grown up, but that hardly equated to any sort of practical experience.

In fact, other than a few select locations around Seaddle, the only place I knew of where anypony's education might be appreciated was...

“Either of you any good with Old World machinery or electronics?” I asked of the two young ponies.

They exchanged looks, and then the filly answered, pointing towards her older brother, “Diamond Plate's a welder.”

“In that case, you'll want to go to McMaren. It's a bit further east—about a week's hike—but it'd be better for the two of you. Ask for a mare named, Homily, and tell her that Jackboot sent you. She'll take care of you,” a mare as idealistic as that one would surely see to it that these two were well cared for and protected. Especially if the older stallion might be able to help her and her companions rebuild and improve the transmission equipment there.

“As though we could trust your friends,” the stallion said, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Homily ain't one of my friends, pal,” I glowered at the earth pony, “and you shouldn't trust anypony out in the Wastes; least of all me,” I allowed myself a little chuckle as I saw the gray stallion's dumbfounded expression, “I'm just giving you some options. Take 'em, leave 'em; it's your hides on the line,” my eyes went back to the filly, prompting her for any additional inquiries.

“Thanks,” was her response, “we'll think about it,” the little unicorn tugged on her brother's sleeve and the two of them withdrew to the far side of the shelter.

Finally. Once again, I allowed myself to assume a comfortable position on the bed and prepare for a few hours of peace. The unicorn filly finally approached her saddlebags, which I had left on the floor near the entrance. The first item that she withdrew was her set of blue and yellow stable coveralls. She held them up with her magic, turning them in the air as though to ensure that they had not suffered too seriously in the scant two hours since she had given them to me. The '137' emblazoned upon the back flashed briefly before leaving my field of view. I was hit with a mild sensation of deja vu. I felt like I recognized that number, but I couldn't quite place where.

Windfall and I had seen plenty of stable uniforms in our time wandering the Neighvada Valley. It was possible that we'd seen somepony else sporting that particular number. Perhaps it had even been painted upon the large gear-shaped door of an abandoned Stable that we'd explored. Hard to say really. I brought my left hoof up to scratch an itch on my nose, and promptly paused. My eyes were fixed on the pipbuck on my leg.

Wait a minute...

I sat up in the bed and stared down at the screen. My right hoof immediately began tapping at the buttons on the device as I navigated my way through several screens that I typically had very little cause to view. I'd sort of accidentally found them while stumbling around in the pipbuck's menus while bored. Eventually I managed to accident my way back onto the screen that I had been seeking. A listing of the pipbuck's specifications and identifying information. It had proved useful a time or two before when trying to download information from Old World terminals onto my pipbuck for later distribution to an interested client.

This was also the screen that displayed the pipbuck's unique identification number; which contained the number indicating the specific Stable to which the device had initially been issued.

Stable 137.

It had been over eight years since I'd stumbled upon the putrefying corpse of Ten Penny, the last member of a doomed team to die in their mission to locate talisman's necessary for the survival of their Stable. I looked back at the pair of young ponies. There was no way that the two of them had spent eight years in the Wasteland; and the engineer's recordings had indicated that their mission was rather time-sensitive. He clearly hadn't succeeded at his task; perhaps other teams had been sent out?

Part of me was honestly a little curious, “did your Stable ever find that talisman they were looking for?”

Both ponies startled and turned to look at me. The filly had gotten her coveralls halfway on, but had paused as she turned to stare at me with an expression of pure confusion. The stallion was initially a little perplexed too, but his state lasted for only a few seconds, and then he was regarding me with suspicion, “how'd you know about that?”

Now his sister was looking at him to. Noticing this, he leaned closer to the filly and explained, “it was before you were born. The air talismans were failing. The Overmare sent some ponies out to try and find more,” now he was focused on me once more, “but that was years ago. How could you know about that?!”

I cracked a wry smirk and held up my pipbuck, “found one of those ponies y'all sent out,” immediately, both of the stable ponies regarded me with furious glares. I waved their ire aside, “relax, he was already dead when I found him. Somepony else shot him long before I got there,” neither pony was particularly assuaged by my assurances. Fair enough, “I take it you guys figured something out?”

At first my question was met with silence as the two exchanged looks. The appeared to be deciding how much they were willing to share with me. After a few hushed exchanges, they must had decided that whatever information they were able to offer wasn't exactly going to be anythign devastating to their old home, “not really,” the gray earth pony supplied, “the air purification system failed a few months later. We were forced to open up the Stable and rig up a vent system to keep us from suffocating.

“That was when things started going bad,” he added with a pained expression.

“Something tells me things didn't collapse immediately,” I glanced at the filly, “you're what? Six? Seven?”

The little yellow unicorn shuffled behind her brother and nodded, “seven.”

Dear Old Daddy first had his fun with me around that age...

I patently ignored Whiplash's voice in my head and focused back on the older brother, “so you survived the first few years at least.”

“It wasn't easy,” the stallion glared at me, “ponies like you found us pretty soon. You attacked us just about every other week for years.”

I ignored the pointed jab, as he was mostly correct. I was exactly the sort of pony that might have organized a raid on an intact Stable; back in my youth, at least. That certainly wasn't something that Windfall would approve of though; and frankly it was a very short-sighted way to get ahead.

A more mature and enlightened Jackboot would have befriended the inhabitants; offering them goods and information on local settlements and resources in exchange for a night's rest, and maybe even a brief tour of such a wonderful paradise such as theirs. Then, after I'd traded for a few choice pieces of valuable tech, I'd have left and sought out a raider band with the intention of selling them the location of the Stable and all the information on their numbers, defenses, tactics, and armaments that I'd collected while I was there.

“Stables have a lot of valuable tech,” I acknowledged. My response did little to dampen the stallion's glower. I inclined my head, “I'm genuinely impressed you managed to hold out for so long.

“Who finally kicked you out? White Hooves? I think a band calling themselves, 'The Mountain Mares' operates in this area too. Ponies with rifles that wear rock necklaces?”

The stallion sneered at me initially, but then finally shook his head. He frowned and glanced at the floor, “it wasn't raiders. Not like any we'd ever seen before anyway,” there was a hollow expression on the filly's face now as she too recalled the ponies that had destroyed her life in the Stable she'd been born in, “they were stable ponies too. At least, they dressed like they were from a Stable.”

I quirked an eyebrow. Now that was something I had not expected to hear. I wasn't aware of any Stable raider groups in the valley. This must have all happened to the pair rather recently of course, so maybe this was a new arrival on the raider scene? I was spurred to press the two ponies for further information now. If I could get this information to the right ponies before it became common knowledge...

...maybe it would even be enough to buy me protection from bounty hunters in New Reino. Scratch might have those sorts of connections, and he was exactly the sort that would appreciate having the inside track on this development.

“What Stable?”

Diamond Plate shook his head, “I don't know. I never got a clear look at their uniforms. Only a couple of them ever came into the Stable that first time.”

“First time?” they'd made multiple raids?

“We didn't know they were raiders,” the stallion shrugged, “they were just like us, and they said they wanted to trade. They offered food and water and medicine for some information,” he thought hard for a moment, “I think all they wanted were some history files or something like that. I heard one of the nurses talking about 'medical histories',” he frowned and looked back up at me, “the amount of stuff they gave us...it didn't make sense at first; because they hardly asked for anything really valuable in return.”

I was confused at first too. Information had value like any physical piece of tech; it all depended on the pony doing the buying and what that information was. But for ponies from one Stable to just want some history files from another Stable? That didn't make much sense to me either, until I thought about it a little more, “you said they were walking around the inside of your Stable?” the gray earth pony nodded, and I smiled, “they were scouting you out.”

He nodded in agreement, “I guess.”

“Do you remember what types of weapons they used in the attack?” the more details I could squeeze out these two, the more leverage I would have with Scratch or any other potential benefactor when I got back.

Unfortunately, the pair shook their heads. The stallion cringed, “we...weren't there,” oh? I asked them to elaborate, “we'd never been outside of the Stable before,” he explained, “but our uncle would tell us about it. He said there were these gross looking bugs that floated in the air. We'd never seen anything that floated before; so we...snuck out one day,” he swallowed and reached down to comfort the little filly whose eyes had begun to tear up now, “when we got back...”

The unicorn burst into tears now, and buried her face into her brother's side. The older pony wrapped his hooves around her and drew the filly in close, gently placing a kiss on the top of her head. He then looked back up at me and sneered, “they were monsters. Our friends weren't even fighting back anymore by the time we got back. Those ponies had...done something to them. They were all unconscious.

“We watched as they dragged out every pony in the the Stable and lined them up in neat little rows,” the filly continued to sob into his chest as he related the grisly tale. Admittedly, even I was growing a little uncomfortable hearing him tell it, “then a group of them started walking down the line. Some of them they picked out and a team would load them into a cart. The rest...they stabbed in the head and left them out in the open, like garbage!”

Woah. That was pretty dark, even for most of the raider bands that I knew about. It was also...very strange behavior for any raider. If you had an entire population incapacitated, then why only take some of them? I mean, I guess not every pony made for a suitable slave; but even if you're going to be that picky, why kill everypony you leave behind? Especially if beating them that first time was as easy as the stallion was making it sound. Keep them around as a long-term source of chattle. Cull the worthwhile ponies to make them slaves every few years, leave the rest to breed replacements. You could fund your tribe for generations with that sort of system.

If you wiped out the local population entirely, then all you'd ever get are those few ponies from that raid. It didn't make any sense from the point of view of ponies operating in the long term; which these ponies obviously were, to an extent. Instead of just attacking upon first making contact, they orchestrated a ruse to get them in and have a look around to make a proper assault later. That suggested long-term planning of a dedicated raiding/slaving outfit. The later genocide...that was out of place.

I looked back at the stallion, still pondering the motives of these strange Stable raiders, “and you don't know where they were from?”

“I never got a clear look at they're barding,” the gray pony repeated, “but they were weird looking,” I cocked my head and waited for him to explain. If they had a distinctive style of dress or marking themselves, maybe I could scout around and find them myself later, “the unicorns had two horns.”

I blinked, my prior train of thought derailed. Had he just said, “two...horns?”

Wasn't that sort of impossible? Not merely from a technical standpoint—as a pony with two horns couldn't really be a 'unicorn'—but also from a biological one. Ponies—unicorn ponies—didn't have two horns. Maybe they hadn't been ponies after all? Did he mean a Minotaur?

I asked him as much, but he vigorously shook his head, “no. These were ponies, I'm sure of it. But they did have two horns,” he insisted as he elaborated further, “they had a horn like a regular unicorn, but then, just in front of it was a second, smaller, horn. It was like a filly's horn or something.”

Hmm. So, it could still be something cosmetic. Unicorns that wore the horns of victims as a sign of...something? It wasn't unheard of for White Hoof warriors to wear trophies from kills or conquered ponies. Maybe these weird raiders from a Stable did something similar? It was certainly something that would make them stand out if somepony saw them.

Ponies from a Stable somewhere out there, whose unicorns wore a second horn on their heads, engaging in selective slavery, killed anypony they didn't enslave, had large enough stockpiles of food, water, and medicine to entice a Stable into letting them come inside...it was a heck of a list of attributes. Frankly, it made this group pretty unique in a lot of ways. They should be easy enough to find and track. When I had a positive location, I'd sell it to Scratch in exchange for protection.

“You two are lucky to be alive,” I nodded. The stallion didn't seem to think that I was being particularly sincere, and the filly was still sniffling into her brother, “you've got a lot to learn about the Wasteland though. You'll want to get to McMaren as quick as you can.”

My ear twitched. Not because I heard something curious; but rather because I was now very aware of a sound that I wasn't hearing anymore. I glanced at the radiation detector on my pipbuck. It wasn't so much as twitching anymore, and was completely silent. Curious, I let myself off of the bed and slowly made my way to the side of the shelter that had the hatch. The two younger ponies shrunk away at my approach.

“Just checking outside for a bit,” I assured them, making a show of staying as far from the two of them as the narrow walkway would allow. It really was for show, as the cramped confines meant that I inevitably passed close enough that I could easily have reached out and touched the pair. The stallion tucked his younger sister behind him, who had ceased her crying now and was regarding me with frightened eyes as I walked by.

I climbed the stairs and paused just beneath the heavy metal hatch. I lifted the pipbuck up until it was touching the door, and still heard no chatter from the Old World device. I pushed the hatch open a crack. Now there was a clicking sound, but it was sparse, and intermittent. The rads that it registered me as being exposed to would be easily combated with just a mild dose of Rad-X. Traveling wouldn't be particularly dangerous for me. The two other ponies might want to wait a bit longer though.

A week of traveling though the brutal deathtrap that was the Wasteland wasn't going to be easy for them. Especially without weapons, or barding, or healing potions. They'd be lucky to survive another day or two. I may have saved them from dying of radiation poisoning, but ultimately, I had just momentarily delayed the inevitable. Those two didn't have a real chance of making it out here. Not equipped as they were. The older gray stallion had the heart and the will, in some respects. It was just a question of tools. Rebar and pipes weren't going to keep him and his sister safe.

Yellow Bitch was of a mind to take them with me. As if. Ignoring that there was no conceivable way that I would ever be able to convince them to come with me; the last thing I needed was for either of these two to be there when I got back to the freight depot. As pissed off as Foxglove was going to be to see me as things stood now, my odds of survival were bound to drop dramatically when I introduced her to the filly that I'd raped this morning. That certainly wasn't the sort of thing that was going to stay a secret for any length of time.

There was a momentary flash of sapphire eyes framed in white, and a mare's voice, Be Generous...

Windfall would help these two if she was here. I couldn't guarantee their survival no matter what I did; but I could give them a fighting chance. Ultimately, they would have to earn their arrival at McMaren or wherever they decided to go, but I could set them up with better odds than they had right now. It would cost me a bit, but...

Let's face it: I was about to walk myself into a situation where being struck down on sight by a justifiably irate violet unicorn was pretty even odds. If that happened, it wasn't like everything I was carrying was going to do me a whole heap of good anyway.

I sighed and stepped back down the stairs. My eyes went to the pair of young ponies that had migrated a couple bunks down in the time I'd been up there. Both were regarding me intently. With a wry smile, I drew my pistol. It was mildly satisfying to see the two of them tense up and cower away slightly as they saw the weapon in my mouth.

Ooh, you can scare a couple of stable ponies, Whiplash jeered, aren't we just the 'Terror of the Wasteland'?

My expression instantly soured and I placed the weapon on the nearby mattress. Three additional magazines full of ammunition and a box of four dozen loose 9mm rounds soon followed. If that stallion couldn't keep the two of them alive with this, they didn't deserve to make it. I turned to leave.

Be Generous...

I grunted and faced the mattress again. Dipping my head into my saddlebags once more, I emerged with two bottles of healing potion and deposited them next to the pistol and ammunition. That would leave me with only a pair of the traditional healing potions for myself and the others when I returned. I hesitated now, daring that new voice to say anything more. When all that greeted me was a contented silence, I let out a derisive snort and whirled around towards the exit and stalked towards it.

“I suggest stocking up on all the food you can carry,” I said in a frustrated tone that must have seemed rather oddly misdirected to the two ponies I was speaking to. I motioned towards the shelves that were mounted nearby, “travel at night, and watch your EFS.

“If you go through New Reino, don't stay long,” I stressed, “nopony there's your friend, and slavery's legal.”

With those final pearls of wisdom and advice, I threw open the shelter's hatch and emerged once more into the deserted city of Old Reino. My pipbuck popped infrequently as it detected traces of magical radiation in the surrounding air. I glanced around to confirm that nothing menacing was nearby, then closed the door on the other two ponies and oriented myself onto a northerly course. I glanced at the time noted on my pipbuck.

Windfall wasn't likely to have survived this long without medical treatment. Odds were good that the flier was dead and gone and that going back wouldn't accomplish anything. All it would do was put my own life in danger. I'd given away my pistol, leaving me only with Full Stop and the few spare rounds that I had for it. I was low on food and medical supplies, and going back would just put me in danger of being killed by Foxglove.

I had nothing to gain by going back.

A wan smile tugged at my cheek. I wasn't doing it for me, though; was I?

My head shook from side to side in resignation as I broke out into a canter, heading north out of the ruins.

It felt almost like it took me as much time to work up the courage to got into the large warehouse as it had to get all the way back here from the ruins of Old Reino. I'd slowed to a trot when Foxglove's blip appeared on my EFS. Least-ways, I presumed it to be the unicorn's blip. It was a solid red bar that lay in close proximity to a yellow one. The friendly reading surely had to be Windfall, who was somehow still holding on to life. Either that or Foxglove was fighting some monster and bore me no additional ill will. If that yellow dot was Windfall, there was no way that the nearby threat could be anything other than Foxglove; I couldn't see the unicorn leaving the flier's side for any reason until Windfall was well and truly dead.

Abiding by the plan that I had settled on, I shucked off my worn barding and folded into a neat pile. Hopefully I'd be able to come back for it later. Full Stop and my saddlebags were added to the stack of my possessions. The only think I brought with me was one of the precious purple and golden elixirs that I'd found in the old hospital. Now I was walking slowly towards the large front door of the depot, my gaze locked on the pair of blips my pipbuck indicated.

From the doorway, I could see that Foxglove hadn't remained completely idle in my absence. She'd dragged out a mattress from the bunk room and laid the dying pegasus upon it in an effort to make her more comfortable and stop the cold concrete floor from sucking away Windfall's precious remaining body heat. Sheets had been torn apart and re-purposed into bandages to bind all of the flier's wounds. Nearby was a small pill of used strips that were completely saturated with blood. The violet unicorn was laying nearby her terminal patient, her head resting on the mattress as she gently stroked Windfall's blood-crusted mane.

My eyes rested on the alabaster pegasus for several long seconds. I'd barely even acknowledged her when I'd come to earlier. It hadn't seemed important at the time, how much the young mare had suffered for my sake. Looking at her now though...it was a miracle that she had somehow even made it back to us at all. Most of her wounds were clearly bullet holes, of which the shear number were staggering. However, I saw singed feathers and raking tracks of shrapnel wounds that suggested the pegasus had been in the proximity of at least one explosion as well. Whoever she'd run into, they'd had some pretty heavy ordinance.

I reached up and rapped my hoof on the doorjamb.

Foxglove's head jerked up with a start and she looked over her shoulder in the direction of the unexpected sound. For a brief moment, the unicorn didn't seem to know what to make of me. Clearly, she hadn't anticipated that she'd actually ever see me again; or, if she had, certainly not nearly quite so soon after driving me away. Her inaction did not last though. Once the violet mare recovered from her surprise, she was very quickly on her hooves, standing protectively between myself and her patient. A pair of familiar submachine gun flew up off the ground and took up positions just in front of her, their barrels bearing down on me.

“You...!” the unicorn's single word was filled with so much hatred and malice that it could have been formal anethema from Princess Celestia Herself. It actually made me wince beneath the quantity of vileness the mare had somehow managed to attach to it.

I had very little time to make my case before my body's flesh-to-lead ratio suddenly reached a pointedly 'unhealthy' concentration. I threw myself to the ground, making myself as narrow of a target as I could, taking the elixir in my hooves and holding it up above my head, “don't!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, cringing in anticipation of an imminent and violent death, “medicine! Windfall!”

Sentences, Jackboot, try to create sentences.

A couple of heartbeats passed in which I wasn't killed, so I seized upon whatever grace had kept the unicorn's magic from emptying those two automatic weapons into my hide and uttered a slightly more coherent explanation for my presence in this place which Foxglove had so recently banished me from.

“I've got some potions that will help Windfall,” I placed the bottle that I was holding on the ground and gave it a tiny shove further into the depot's interior. My eyes regarded Foxglove cautiously, searching for any sign that she might dismiss my efforts and I might be forced to beat a hasty retreat. I would not describe the unicorn's reception to my presence as anything short of 'icy', but I wasn't dead yet!

“I'm unarmed,” I assured her, gesturing to my obvious lack of any weapons or other equipment, “I'm not here to hurt anypony,” which I'm sure was something that she was completely ready to believe without hesitation, “just...please. Take that,” I motioned to the elixir, “and help Windfall.”

“I told you,” Foxglove snarled in a trembling voice, “that if I ever saw you again, I would end you!” it sounded clear from the bitter rage dripping off her every word that that was exactly what she wanted to do.

I cringed, half expecting her to do it right then and there; but something was making her hesitate, and I had to take full advantage of that sliver of reluctance that was staying her hoof, “save Windfall now; and you can deal with me later. I have more potions hidden outside. They're all yours.

“Just help her,” I looked over at the flier, who looked like she could already be dead. The only indication I had that she wasn't yet was the yellow bar overlaying my vision.

A moment of silence and inaction from the unicorn. Then the bottle in front of me bean to glow with a soft green light and floated away. It drifted in front of Foxglove and the mare scrutinized the contents. She glanced back at me, “what is this stuff? It's not a healing potion.”

“I found it in an Old World hospital,” I explained, encouraged by the fact that she was actually conversing with me and not shooting, “it's a healing elixir. It's supposed to be a lot better than regular potions. I have another one outside if it's not enough.”

Foxglove still appeared a little dubious of my claims and didn't make any moves to administer the draught to the ailing flier, “what, do you think I really came all the way back here just to poison her?” the unicorn's expression now suggested that she, in fact, did not believe that was likely to have been the purpose of my return here. Which was encouraging, “it'll make her better, I swear,” presuming Windfall wasn't too far gone far even the pinnacles of Old World medicine to heal, at least.

The unicorn glared at me for another brief moment, weighing my claim. Then she delivered her ultimatum, “if she dies, you die.”

I vigorously nodded my head, “absolutely!”

The proposal at least suggested that there was a clear chance that Foxglove wasn't going to just gun me down out of spite even if the elixir worked as advertised. One of the submachine guns maintained a steady bead on me while the violet mare stepped closer to the unconscious pegasus. The bottle drifted down to the flier's lips. I found myself watching with bated breath as Foxglove very slowly and carefully dribbled the multicolored contents of the vial into Windfall's mouth. It was a tedious process that felt like it took hours, though it was probably less than a full minute in reality.

Celestia, I've never asked you for much. Mostly because I'm sure that you'd sooner piss down my throat than glance in my direction; but I'm asking now. Don't do it for me, because I know you never would. Do it for that little pegasus that wants to save the whole fucking Wasteland and make sure no filly ever has to go through what she did.

Let her live. Please.

It was hard to tell if it was even working at all beneath all of the bandages that the pegasus was wrapped in. I couldn't see her wounds closing, and she was so pale anyway that it'd be hard to tell if her color was getting any better from this distance. Foxglove had her hoof resting lightly on the younger mare's throat, feeling her pulse.

Suddenly the pegasus stirred. It was so small a thing. Just the tiniest twitch of her wingtip; but it was the most movement that I'd seen out of the flier. Foxglove noticed it too, and I heard her issue a little gasp that was soon choked up into a barely contained sob. Blue eyes slowly fluttered open and looked up at the unicorn, which only prompted a less successful little hiccup of a sob from the older mare.

I saw the young pegasus' lips begin to move, and my ear twitched as it picked up Windfall's first breathless words, “did I make it in time? Is Jackboot okay?”

I didn't even notice that I'd gotten back up onto my hooves. I guess I'd been a little more anxious than I'd thought. With her focus so intently directed at Windfall's recovery, Foxglove had allowed the weapon trained upon me to drop away. Wagering that the unicorn was probably not going to straight up murder me in front of the flier at a moment like this, I risked closing the distance between us just enough so that the pegasus could get a good look at me.

“You silly little filly,” I said with a wry smile, “like some piss-ant radroach larvae was going to kill me,” I glanced over her bandaged body. The relief at seeing her dramatic improvement allowed me to maintain a playfully annoyed expression even when looking at all of the bloody bindings that still covered so much of her, “and what did you do with your barding? Do you know how expensive that stuff is? It's coming right out of your next cut.”

The pegasus made it half way through a weak laugh before her expression warped into a cringe. She might well be recovering, but the flier was obviously still a long way from healthy. She momentarily struggled to get up off the mattress, but Foxglove was quick to put a stop to that, “oh, no you don't,” the unicorn admonished as she gently pushed the pegasus back down, “you just go right on back to sleep. You don't get up until I say you can, got it?” the pegasus smiled and nodded. It looked like even that small movement had been all the evidence that Windfall needed to convince her that she wasn't quite ready to be out an about quite yet.

“Let's go and get you cleaned up,” Foxglove smiled. Her horn's glow brightened significantly as both Windfall and the mattress took on a matching aura. The unicorn lifted her charged a couple feet off the floor and escorted her towards the bunk room. She glanced over her shoulder, and behind the deceptively warm expression on her face were a pair of green eyes that stood the hairs on the back of my neck straight up, “I'll be back to deal with you in a bit,” then she and the pegasus vanished down the hall.

Was...that a subtle indication that it would best serve my continued health if I was anywhere else when she returned? Probably. It seemed that my retrieval of the tincture that brought Windfall back from death's door had bought me a reprieve from the execution that the unicorn so eagerly desired to deliver. Prudence dictated that I would be wise to accept the offered charity and make myself scarce, promptly.

That's what any sane pony would probably do in my situation. However, as has long since been evidenced: I am not a sane pony.

That wasn't to say that I simply stood my ground, of course. I did indeed take my leave of the freight depot, but only for so long as it took me to retrieve my equipment from where I had left it. If I was going to die, I wasn't going to do it naked and weaponless. That would have broken my late father's heart.

Foxglove was still away, attending to Windfall, by the time I returned. I took the opportunity afforded me by her absence to unpack a light supper. It wasn't quite evening yet, but the overcast sky would be getting darker in the near future. I really missed Seaddle at times like this. New Reino didn't have the developed agricultural infrastructure of the Republic, and while caravans capitalized on this fact in order to reap substantial profits by trading in those fresh foodstuffs, it meant that the prices for such things were exorbitant. I splurged every so often, sure; but when we lived in Seaddle, apple chips and leek soup were daily staples. Now they were rare treats.

I sighed and pulled out some Cram and a box of Sugar Apple Bombs. Damn. I'd used the last of my whiskey on the timberwolf. Did I have any Sparkle Colas...no such luck. Water it was, then. I lay down on the floor and folded my hooves in front of me, my attention on the hallway leading to the bunk room. A minute later, Foxglove stepped into view. The unicorn paused when she caught sight of me, clearly a little surprised to see that I was still around. I guess her parting comment really had been a veiled command for me to leave. Sorry to disappoint.

I smiled at the violet unicorn and waved at her.

If looks could kill, that mare wouldn't have needed the gun that still hovered at her side.

She took a sharp breath, the air hissing through her clenched jaw, which opened as she prepared to deliver what I could only presume were going to be some pointedly unkind words. Somehow the unicorn caught herself, her gaze darting briefly back the way that she had come. Rethinking her approach, Foxglove trotted gingerly towards me. Her borrowed submachine gun and fiery gaze were both locked on me. All the meanwhile, I remained perfectly still and non-threatening. I'd opted to replace the antagonizing smile I had greeted her with, and instead regarded her with some due difference to her ire.

The violet mare bent down, growling through her teeth, “what are you still doing here? Leave! I'll come up with something to tell Windfall so she won't come after you.

“Because if you're still here when she wakes up,” Foxglove's tone shifted sharply, “I'll tell her what you tried to do to me.”

Somehow, I managed to keep my expression rather even and cool. She was angry, and rightly so. I didn't want this going violently, but I did intend to remain. Running...I was here to make it no longer my 'thing' that I did whenever things got a little rough. Granted, confronting a righteously angry unicorn with a loaded gun who was threatening to divulge my past crimes to a pegasus who had once delivered the ultimatum that she would put me down herself if I ever stepped a hoof out of line again was perhaps stretching what constituted 'little', with regards to how rough the this situation was.

“No, you won't,” my response probably stunned the mare just as much as my own serenity did me. I cracked a wan smile and continued on before Foxglove could interpret my words as some sort of veiled threat, “because I'm going to do it,” the unicorn blinked, but remained silent, “and then I'm going to hope she gives me one more chance.”

“She gives you a chance?!” the mare sputtered through her consternation, “I haven't decided if you get a chance!” The levitating weapon was no longer floating beside her. With frightening speed that genuinely took me off guard, the firearm swooped in and lodged itself beneath my throat with enough force to pitch my head upwards and keep it there, allowing me only to look at the ceiling, “you tried to kill me, you asshole! Or did you forget?”

My initial response was lost in a gurgling sound that was all that would escape my mouth at first. I slowly rose up onto my hooves in an effort to reduce the pressure and allow myself to form coherent words. Foxglove levitated the gun up with me and ensured that, even standing, I wasn't able to look directly at her. At least I could finally speak though, “nope, didn't forget,” I choked out, “Lost my mind. Sorry. For all of it.”

She was going to shoot me now. I could just feel it. Fortunately, Foxglove was a little new to the whole 'guns' thing, and was making a few novice mistakes. A couple of them were that the submachine gun was with reach, and I could feel exactly where it was. It might be a little risky, but when I considered the alternative...

“You don't get to be sor-”

My head went one way, and my left hoof went another. The sound of metal striking metal cracked through the air as the hardened casing of my pipbuck sent the weapon sailing up into the air. The sudden impact broke the unicorn's magical hold upon it. A look of shock and fear crossed the mare's face as she realized that I had disarmed her. Before she could do anything to counter my attack, I coiled up and sprang into the air after the firearm.

I caught the weapon in my teeth and deftly manipulated it around until the grip was held fast in my mouth with a dexterity born from decades of experience and practice. By the time I was on the ground again, The submachine gun was set firmly between my teeth with my tongue resting on the trigger mechanism. I stared down the sights at the violet unicorn, who had only now managed to grasp enough of what had just happened to take a trepid step back.

Once the initial shock wore off, Foxglove managed to gather about her enough of her composure to put on a defiant expression and square up her posture, “I knew it. I knew this was all a load of bullshit,” I saw her hind legs tense, and the weight shift in her shoulders and hips. She was getting ready to leap at me, “you're not going to lay a hoof on her!”

The mare flung herself at me in a desperate bid to tackle me to the ground. I'd seen it coming though, and she was hardly a master of close combat. Meanwhile, I'd survived many a bout to the death before I was even fully grown. It was hardly any effort at all to step out of the way and catch her with my hooves. Applying carefully coordinated pressure, I flipped the stunned unicorn and pinned her to the ground. The air was forced from her lungs by the impact, sending the mare into a wheezing fit.

Her eyes were wide with terror as she beheld me standing over her with the weapon pointed at her face. Unable to catch her breath, she couldn't focus enough to summon even a wisp of her magic. I had her dead to rights, and she knew it. If I had managed to do this earlier this morning, the day would have gone very differently for the both of us. Judging by the expression on Foxglove's face, she was very much aware of this as well.

She summoned up a few dregs of defiance though. Her features were set, as though daring me to do it. Foxglove wanted me to prove that she had been right about me.

Ain't I the one to always disappoint the ponies in my life?

I stepped back off the mare, and was pleased to see her shocked expression. It very nearly doubled in intensity when I brought my hoof up and manipulated the various releases for the several magazines of differing ammunition and send them clattering to the floor. For good measure, I pulled back on the charging nub and sent the chambered round flipping through the air. A smack of my hoof sent the errant round clattering across the floor, and a follow-up kick scattered the nearby magazines as well.

Once the weapon was thoroughly cleared, I took several generous steps back from the prostrate unicorn and dropped the firearm entirely. If Foxglove had been surprised before, the mare was completely flabergasted now. I kicked the now impotent submachine gun back in the mare's direction, "I know I fucked up," I acknowledged, "and I get that there's no way to ever reallly apologize. I'm not even really asking you to forgive me. I just want you to give me the chance to tell Windfall what I did.

"After that," I snorted and shook my head. Yeah, what exactly was going to happen after that? I mean, I had a pretty good idea, but...

I drew Full Stop from its holster ad tossed it on the ground next to the stunned unicorn, "you can blow my brains out yourself if you want," would Windfall try to stop her? After my admission, the two mares might just as well fight for the previlidge of putting me in the ground.

While Foxglove's expression suggested that she was still quite dubious of my claims, she very quickly used her magic to secure possession of the offered weapon. It floated up between us and remained squarely pointed directly at my head. Unlike before, she kept the revolver a respectable distance from me as she very carefully got back up onto her hooves. The unicorn at least appeared to be a little bit less agitated than she had been earlier.

Hopefully I had managed to demonstrate that I wasn't possessed of malicious intent. To further evidence that point, I went ahead and lay down on the floor near the food that I had pulled out minutes before, "hungry?"

Foxglove didn't respond at first. She simply stood back, keeping the revolver trained on me as though I might attack her at a moment's notice. So I shrugged and opened up the faded box of Old World breakfast cereal, pouring out a generous mouthful. A little stale, and whatever apples before the Great War might have tasted like, the contents of this box tasted nothing like what grew on Republic farms, but it still hit the spot after a long day like the one I'd had. I continued to munch along contentedly at gunpoint while Foxglove glared on.

"When Windfall finds out what you did, she's going to kill you. You know that, right?" the mare finally said.

"Probably," I acknowledged before tossing back another hooful of cereal. The loud crunching sound it made while I chewed, combined with my blasse response, made the unicorn scowl even more deeply; which I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy seeing. While I may be genuinely contrite with regards to how I'd assaulted her earlier, I still found annoying the violet mare to be entertaining. I was likely to die when Windfall recovered; why not have a little fun while I could?

"I'm certainly hoping she won't, but I did kind of promise her I'd behave," I cracked a wan smile, "that might have been the first promise I really meant to keep, too. A shame," I shrugged and ate some more sugary orbs.

"I know I'm not a good pony," I went on, rolling some of the cereal around between my hooves, idly, "I've killed. I've stolen. I've even raided and sacked towns," I nodded my head back towards the brand on my back, "you don't get this mark by playing nice."

The unicrorn mare glared at me and was about to comment, but I cut her off, "I'm telling you this, because, believe it or not, there is—or was," I frowned, "a line that even I wouldn't cross that most White Hooves had no problem with: I wouldn't force a mare. It was the the one thing I swore I'd never do, so long as I lived."

Foxglove was understandably skeptical of my assertion, "right..."

"It's true...or, it was, anyway," I sighed, "I couldn't even stand the thought of doing that to a mare."

"I guess you got over you inhibitions then," she scoffed. Her tone suggested that she was quickly losing what little patience she may have had left where I was concerned. The revolver hovering near her didn't waver from its mark on my forehead.

"I'm going to tell you a story," I said, changing tacks in the conversation before Foxglove decided that she'd rather explain a corpse to Windfall than discuss my recent crimes, "it's about a colt that loved his little sister, and a father that would do anything for his son," I ignored the rolling of the violet mare's eyes and began my tale.

"Growing up a White Hoof isn't easy, even when you're the chief's son. In some ways, that only makes it harder. Traditionally, it's understood that the chief's oldest foal will one day take over leadership of the tribe. It doesn't always happen, but that's only when the heir is viewed by the other warriors of the tribe as being too weak to be a good leader.

"My father was the chief, and I was his oldest, so I was the defacto heir. My father spent a lot of time grooming me for that role. I was made to fight, and train, and kill from a very early age. The warriors of the tribe respected me, even as young as I was. They saw me as a good future chief.

"So as not to risk me developing any weakness, my father even had my mother executed after I was fully weened, so that she wouldn't coddle me. Steel Bit didn't want me feeling sympathetic for anypony, 'setniment will get you killed', he'd always say," this revelation finally drew a shocked expression from the unicorn. There was even a look of...not quite empathy, but perhaps a glimmer of pity. Probably more for the mare that had birthed me, than the young Jackboot who's lost his mother. She probably found it difficult to conceive of me as anything but the moster that she'd gotten to know she we'd met.

"Of course, my father was a stallion of needs, so he took another mare. She wasn't my mother, so he felt there wasn't any risk of us forming a bond. He was mostly right. Initially. As mares are want to do when they're bedded by stallions over a long period of time, she became with foal, and eventually my sister, Whiplash, was born.

"Whiplash may have been a chief's foal too, but she wasn't his first born, and thus not the heir. She was just leverage, destined to be given to one of my father's rivals to keep them in line. As such, Whiplash didn't get the same attention I did when it came to matters of fighting and bravado. So, unlike myself, my sister often found herself getting bullied by other young ponies.

"Believe it or not, I fancied myself a nobel warrior back in those days. I fought for honor and pride and all that. Very little of the killing I did was out of real malice. I was just trying to prove myself, and gain the approaval of my peers, after all. So, fighting to protect my sister, well, that felt only natural too. I was the great warrior that would one day protect the whole tribe, wasn't I? Surely, doing it for one little filly was just the first step on that path. Whiplash appreciated it, and so did her mother.

"Steel Bit, though...

"He killed her mother first. Fed her to radscorpions. He said it was because she'd turned him down for sex, but I knew better. My father suspected that she'd asked me to look after her daughter. That maybe she was even...'compensating' me for the task,” the expression on Foxglove's face suggested that she wouldn't have been surprised if it had turned out that I had entered into an arrangement similar to the one I had established with the unicorn. I chose to ignore the mare, “he didn't take another lover after he had her killed. Sort of.

"I didn't quite learn my lesson about helping Whiplash though. I got into a pretty bad fight one day with a group of ponies that were giving her a hard time. She wasn't dealing with the loss of her mother very well, and White Hooves abhore weakness, so...

“I won the fight, but you wouldn't think it to look at me,” I cracked a private smile as I recalled limping back home along side my younger sibling. "I'd barely been able to walk, so Whiplash had needed to help support me most of the way. At first, my father was thrilled. His son had beaten off a half dozen opponents with his bare hooves? When the other warriors heard about that, there'd be no question that I was fit to lead our tribe.

"Then he found out why I'd gotten in the fight in the first place. That I'd risked my life to keep my sister from being picked on, because she was too weak to help herself. That I'd gotten myself hurt for sentimental reasons, and not to deal with potential rivals to my position.

"He was furious. Instead of lashing out directly though, he figured he'd teach me a lesson in a way I'd never forget: he raped my sister."

Foxglove had no words for this. My tale began to take on a hard tone as I recalled the event, "he told me that the reason he was able to rape her, was because my protecting her had made her weak, and now there was nothing she could do to stop him from doing it. He convinced me that it was all my fault. That if I hadn't helped her, then he wouldn't have been able to do it.

"I believed him, too. Why shouldn't I have? He was my father. He'd spent his whole life making sure I grew up to be somepony strong, and that the other members of the tribe wouldn't question when the time came that I was the pony telling them what to do. I loved my father. I trusted him.

"I hated him. I hated him from that moment on, because despite everything he may have done to make certain that I wouldn't feel anything but contempt for anypony else, I had cared about Whiplash. I had cared about the little filly that needed her big brother to help her; but after that...there was nothing I could do for her. Stopping Steel Bit was...out of the question. If I confronted him in private, then he'd have just made it worse for Whiplash somehow. Doing it in public was out of the question too. If the rest of the tribe saw the friction between us, it would embolden our rivals. The both of us would be dead in weeks. Whiplash would probably be killed too, in order to take out our whole bloodline just in case.

"So I listened to her crying every night for years, and I couldn't do anything about it. Except make a promise to myself that nothing would ever push me to where I could do what my father was doing.

"I would never force myself on a mare. I would never be my father.

"None of this excuses what I did to you," the story was over, and I returned my gaze to the stunned unicorn mare whose weapon had dipped subtly towards the floor now, "and I can't explain what I was thinking when I did it. But, even if you don't believe me: I honestly hate myself for it," for that, and so much more.

"Whoever that pony was, I don't want to be them," I cast my eyes at the floor, "and if that's the kind of pony I'm turning into...I'd rather be dead anyway."

That all felt...surprisingly good, actually. A huge relief, as a matter of fact. I'd never told anypony about my upbringing before, not in full at any rate. It sure wasn't a story that I was inclined to tell Windfall. That wasn't to say that Foxglove would have been my first choice as a confidant either. But, if I was going to die soon, I was glad that I'd shared it with somepony.

"Is any of that true?"

"Every word," I couldn't keep the smirk off my face. Go figure, I'm at my most honest, and the pony I've bared myself to doesn't believe a word of it. Celestia, you are one whiley bitch.

"So why tell me all that?"

“Because I do want you to understand that I do feel bad about what I did to you,” I said, and was glad to see that this time the unicorn mare didn't look quite as dubious about the claim as she had the previous time I'd made it, “I did care about my sister, and I learned to hate my father for what he did to her. The last thing I ever want is to become somepony like him.”

Foxglove frowned, but it was a much less malicious thing this time around, “fine. I acknowledge that you're a fucked up stallion with questionable moral standards,” she took a deep breath and released it slowly, “so maybe I won't kill you. For that, at least,” the pistol lowered a bit more and she stepped aside, “now that you've 'apologized',” it was clear she hadn't truly accepted the apology; but that would be far too much to hope for anyway, “you should probably leave. I'll explain to Windfall why you're not here.”

“I'm not doing that either,” I shook my head and made no effort to get back up.

This was something that Foxglove didn't seem to appreciate very much. I noticed the revolver cant slightly back upward, “so, what? You really expect me to believe that you're going to just hang around here and wait for Windfall to put you down like the mongrel you are?

“What are you really up to?”

I rolled my eyes and finsished off another mouthful of apple bombs. There wasn't much left by now, “ain't up to anything. Just tired of running," I replied, "from my past, from my problems, from myself," I sighed, "I'm too old to keep doing it anymore. Besides, it's never made things better for me. It just creates more problems.”

"You don't think Windfall shooting you in the face when she finds out what you did to me is going to be a problem?"

I snorted, "on the contrary, it'd be the ultimate solution!" I allowed myself a hallow little laugh, though I was honestly no all that thrilled by the prospect. To throw off the shadow that was falling over my thoughts, I glanced up at the unicorn, "you think she'll really do it in my face?

"Can you talk her into doing it in the back of the head," I inquired, sounding almost sincere as I reached up and tapped the base of my skull "I don't want to see it coming."

I felt like Foxglove issued that amused little snort despite herself. She certainly got herself back under control fast enough and recomposed her features. Full Stop wasn't pointing at me anymore, floating harmlessly next to the unicorn. The mare studied me for a long while, considering something. Finally, she said, "can you at least tell me why?"

I blinked, and hesitated with my answer as my brain processed the erie parallel to a question I had been asked by another pony that I had wronged recently. Then, hesitantly, I ventured, "why did I come back and help?"

Foxglove frowned, "no," then she grimaced, "well, yeah, that too, I guess; but what I really meant was: why'd you do it? If you hated the idea of it, then why blackmail me into oral sex and then attack me?" it was clear from her tone that the question was a serious one, and that she would only tolerate a serious answer. Not one of the little trite ones that I had been providing her with throughout this interrogation so far.

That meant I needed to discover what that answer was for myself as well, "it's hard to say," I admitted, knowing full well that was not the sort of response that the unicorn would be satisfied with, even without looking at her dour expression. She was going to get a little bit unhappier with me before things got better though, "I mean, I think about sex. Like, a lot. I'm a stallion, and I've been going through a pretty long dry spell. I've been rubbing one off twice a watch every night for months," from the look or revulsion on Foxglove's face, and the equally disgusted reaction from Orange Cunt, I supposed I was being a little too honest at the moment.

Steering the explanaition in a direction that hopefully wouldn't get me gelded, I continued, "and sometimes I think about doing it..." realizing what I was about to say, I found myself faultering over the words a little and shying away from the armed unicorn mare, "...with you," oh, yep; that's a pissed off looking unicorn with a gun right there, yes it is. Talking faster now before the shooting and yelling starts, "but only for a second and then I remember how much you hate my guts and that there isn't enough whiskey in the whole valley to make you loose enough, and the thought goes away because I know the only way the two of us would happen is...well, you know...through force.

"So the thought gets pushed out of my head just about the same moment I have it," I finished, grateful to have not been shot by the violet mare that was looking to be calming down a little bit now, "only...after McMaren...those thoughts just sort of, hung around. I didn't feel that sense of aversion like I normally do. I...I didn't care."

There was silence as the mare, and myself, processed this information. At least she was looking a little less murderous now, "so what made you start caring again? Since I assume you do now."

Several images of what had transpired in the Old Reino cafe flashed through my head. I, and it seemed the green-eyed orange earth pony in my head, decided that perhaps discression, in this case, was better than blatant honesty, "I rememebered why I used to," was all the answer I gave. Fortunately, it seemed to satisfy, "so I found some medicine, and got back here as quickly as I could."

Again, Foxglove took a moment to think things over. As she did so, she examined the revolver that she still possessed, "I don't like you," she stated tersely. No big surprise there, "I don't really trust you either," this was going to go poorly, "but," there was a 'but'? "in this case, I believe you."

"You do?" my genuinely shocked tone prompted a frown from the unicorn.

"You brought back medicine for Windfall, you didn't hurt me when you had the chance, and you gave me your gun while we talked," the mare pointed out, "either you're telling me the truth, or you are playing a really long con game here. Which would be stupid to try with a pony who hates you as much as I do right now."

Foxglove retained the revolver and walked over to where her own bags lay. They began to glow, and a bottle of glowing red soda floated out. There was a pop, and then a fizzing sound, as the cap was magically twisted off. The unicorn tipped the bottle up against her lips and took a couple generous gulps of the liquid. Then she lowered it and favored the container with a wry smile, "it's been so long since I had one of these, I must have forgotten what they really tasted like. Still good though," she walked back over to where I was laying and settled down across from me. The can of Cram started glowing and then slid along the floor towards her.

"So," she began as the can in front of her was magically pried apart to reveal it contents, "you're father. He was a real bastard, huh?"

"In his own way," were the two of us having a civil conversation? It felt strange. Refreshing, but strange, "his methods weren't anything to brag about; but, I do think his heart was in the right place. Sort of," I finished with a grimace.

"You're not serious," the unicorn glared at me. A glob of the food paste that was the wonderous Cram was flaoting in front of her, "after what you said he did to his wives and daughter?"

"They weren't really his wives," I corrected, knowing that was hardly the root of the issue. But I did feel it made his crimes a scoshe less heinous. Maybe, "they were just slaves he wanted to fu..." my words trailed off as I noticed Foxglove's expression. The unicorn who had once been a sex slave, after a fashion. I shifted the direction of the conversation. I was really bad at this whole talking candidly with other ponies thing, "point is, he wasn't doing it for himself. He was doing it for my sake."

"And that makes it better?" The mare was skeptical. So was I, a bit.

I cringed, "a little? Isn't a father supposed to sacrifice for his foal?"

"Not in the sense of sacrificing mares to pits full of radscorpions," Foxglove deadpanned.

Okay, point taken, "what I mean is: he wasn't doing any of it just for the sake of being a sadistic asshole," not that I couldn't be sure he hadn't enjoyed it because he was a sadistic asshole, "he was doing it to help me and make sure I was safe. I'm not defending the guy," I don't think, "but I can appreciate what we're willing to do for...others," I found my gaze wandering towards the hall entrance.

Foxglove noticed where my attention had gone, and her scowl lessened slightly, "I'll grant you that much," she acknowledged, "but there's a line, even then. When does being cruel because you want to help somepony turn into being cruel just because you want to be cruel?"

"I thought I'd managed to draw that line," I shook my head, "but I was wrong. So, don't worry; even for Windfall, I won't go feeding you to any radscorpions," it was a bad attempt at a joke, I know; but I felt like something needed to be done to lighten the mood. It had been a very rough day, and I'd give most anything to feel good right about now.

I wasn't sure if it surprised Foxglove more, or myself, but the mare did crack a smile, "I appreciate that. In return, I won't throw you out a window and then stab you to death," and the point for that round goes to the unicorn mare who proved that she can indeed hold a grudge.

My eyes ended up on my pipbuck, and then went to the unicorn, "what was your father like, back in your Stable?"

The mare tapped her chin with her hoof, considering the question. She munched on some of her Cram while she thought about how she'd respond. Finally, "I never really knew him all that well. He died in an accident before I even got my cutie mark. My mother always told me he was a good pony though," she took another swig of her drink and smiled, "I remember how he smelled though. He was a fabricator too, so he spent a lot of time in the workshops. He'd come home just reeking of smoke and oil and grease.

"I loved it," her smile broadened into a grin, "my mother hated it. She'd have a bath waiting for him the moment he got home so that he didn't get the rest of us all dirty. Almost never worked though; I'd always run up to him and throw myself into his hooves the moment he stepped through the door," the unicorn rolled over onto her back and took in a deep breath, sniffing idly at the air, "he'd hug me so tight. All I could smell was the fumes from where he'd been welding all day. Smokey, and bitter, and..." her words trailed off as she started to sniff with more purpose. Her nose started arcing in my direction.

She looked at me with an arched brow, "...were you in a fire?"

"There may have been an explosion, yes," I responded. Experimentally, I took a whiff of my shoulder. It wasn't that bad, was it? I barely noticed anything at all.

"Anyway," the uncicorn shook her head and continued with her own story, "I think that's why I became a fabricator after he died. Being in the shop, it reminded me of how I felt every time he came home," she took another sip from the cola bottle, and her lips spread into a mischevious smile, "it's how it smelled the first time I made love."

My eyes widened slightly. Oh, this was going to be one of those stories. Alright then, I could stand to listen to something a little steamy, "you and the Overmare, right?"

She waved away my remark with a hoof, "this was before I knew I liked mares better than stallions. He was one of my instructors. Older stallion. I forget his name," she rolled over onto her back and wriggled around as she giggled, "but I wasn't thinking about his name at the time," she sighed, "my mother would killed me if she ever knew. I found out later that they used to date," she informed me. Did Foxglove realize how close she had gotten to me during her telling of the story?

“We only did it the one time,” the bottle of cola hovered up to her lips and she finsihed off the last remaining sips. Staring forlornly at the now empty glass container, she tossed it aside and stretched herself out with a contented sigh, “that tasted great,” she smiled, “anyway, things got...awkward between us.”

I glanced at my side, where Foxglove's hooves were idly kneeding my ribs. It didn't look as though the unicorn was even aware of what she was doing. I cleared my throat, “you mean with your mother?”

“Hmm?” the unicorn looked my way. Noticing what she was doing with her hooves, she very quickly pulled them back in close to her body and coughed, suddenly finding her mane very interesting, “uh...no. Well, actually yes; but not because of that. Things got awkward between me and my instructor. He got really drunk one night, asked to marry me, and...well,” she winced, “I had to say no.

“He was sweet and all, but with the age thing...eh,” Foxglove shrugged, “it's not that I have anything against older ponies,” she added as an afterthought, “he was just...easily tired; if you know what I mean,” she glanced back my way, looking for comprehension as she arched a brow.

Were the two of us really talking about her sex life? It was nice to see the unicorn was no longer in a state of mind where she was entertaining the notion of killing me, don't get me wrong; but I hadn't thought that the two of us had moved on to quite that point in our relationship. I hadn't moved on to that point in any relationship I'd ever had with anypony, frankly, “couldn't go the distance?” I ventured, hoping that the mare wasn't going to suddenly find my commenting on her prior lovers to be out of line.

“Not more than once,” Foxglove frowned as she nodded her confirmation, “that's the thing about doing it with other mares,” she continued, “they almost never fall asleep after just the first round,” a warm smile touched her lips, and the unicorn started nibbling on her bottom lip, “they also know exactly what to do with a mare,” she sighed.

Okay, things were getting really out of hoof now. Why was the violet pony lying nearby suddenly possessed to share this information with me? I needed to steer things to a much saner topic, “so, I learned something interesting about a nearby Stable while I was in Old Reino,” not that I was going to go into specifics about how I had come by the information, “I think we might want to check it out. Maybe we'll even learn something we can bargain with in New Reino. Plus,” I added with a nod of my head, “we're low on funds, and Stables always have valuable salvage.”

“Uh huh,” Foxglove's detached comment could not have more clearly conveyed her complete lack of interest in anything that I had just said.

Frowning, I looked over at the unicorn and was about to repeat myself in case the mare had simply not heard what I had said. The words caught in my throat and instead came out as, “didyou-a-wah?”

She was...occupying herself. Not as deliberately or with the sort of attention that a budding colt might when his hormones were starting to stir. Or even a young mare for that matter. Her hoof was just sort of...massaging the inside of her thighs. The mare continued to nibble on her lower lip, leeting slip a quiet sigh with every deep breath.

I coughed and looked away. Was this a set up? Given the confrontation that the two of us had had when I'd returned, and the topic of conversation involved, it was inconceivable that Foxglove was really chosing now to reliev a little tension in herself. Recoutings of steamy workshop encounters aside. The only reasonable conclusion was that Foxglove was trying to temp me into doing or saying something that would give her the justification that she needed to kill me and have a plausable set of circumstances to pass on to Windfall. It was the only rational possibility.

Not that I marked Foxglove as the sort of mare to try a stunt like that. All she'd had to do was gun me down the moment I came back if that was what she was after. In fact, she never had to let me go in the furst place when she'd finally gotten the upper hoof. There was no reason for her to be deliberately luring me into doing anything to give herself a justifiable cause to end my life after everything she'd gone through to not kill me for Windfall's sake.

Which left the only slightly less preposterous conclusion that Foxglove was, in fact, pleasuring herself only a couple of feet away from me, the stallion whose presence should only have been bringing on the exact opposite of those sorts of feelings and desires in the mare.

Could she simply just be fucking with me, then? I had just confessed that I thought about her in privately sensentual situations. Maybe this was a little try at some sort of revenge by deliberately provoking an arousal in myself when I knew that notion was going to come of it.

Though, Foxglove struck me as the sort of mare that had far too much self respect to expose herself like this if there was even a chance that I would enjoy watching what she was doing. Sexually frustrating a stallion that had only that morning tried to rape her didn't seem like the sort of dumbass thing a pony with Foxglove's history would do either.

When all was said and done: I didn't have a clue what was going on. None of it made any damned sense.

“I'm...just going to go lay down...anywhere else,” I grunted as I stood up, very carefully not watching the mare. It was enough that I was starting to smell a very familiar and rather tantilizing musk coming from the unicorn. Stirrings of my frequent trists with Saffron started to surface in my head. I was probably going to need some 'attention' before much longer too. Definitely wanted to be out of Foxglove's sight if it came to that...

A quick survey of the surrounding warehouse suggested that, other than the hallway with all the offices and the bunk room, the only locations out of sight of Foxglove were on the other side of the wagons. The very real looking freight haulers which Foxglove had dubbed to be fabrications. Shying away from the ill-fated wagon that had contained the radscorpion nest, I found myself a comfortable little seat out of sight fo the mare. Though, unfortunately, not out of earshot.

Whatever her appraisals of her former workplace romance might have been, Foxglove proved that she, at least, had a considerable amount of stamina. One hundred and fifty seven minutes. Sweet Celestia, that mare went on moaning and groaning for one hundred and fifty seven minutes! I knew this because I was left with little else to do than to stare at my pipbuck, which very considerately kept track of the time. Initially, I thought to distract myself from the unicorn’s unintelligible orations by perusing the contents of the Old World device. There really wasn’t all that much to sift through though, and after about twenty minutes, I’d been through every menu that there was. Twice. Of course, by that time Foxglove was still going at it, and I guess she either forgot, or stopped caring, that I was nearby, and became a great deal more vocal; even throwing in the occasional verbal accolade with regards to her own performance.

I was almost positive that it was going to wake Windfall and bring her out here. Wouldn’t that have been a lovely sight to half to explain to the Pegasus? Foxglove writhing on the floor with her hoof tucked down between her thighs; and myself hunched over behind a wagon rubbing one off. Which I found myself forced to do when I realized that the violet unicorn wasn’t going to be quick about this. A few minutes I could have taken and been okay. However, listening to a mare making those sorts of sounds for as long as she was going on put me into a very particular condition. When I realized that she wasn’t going to stop any time soon either, I eventually decided that I had to take care of matters myself.

It helped for a while. My advancing age had made itself known in a few areas over the years that I had noticed. My joints tended to bother me early in the morning after sleeping on the ground; or just when it was cold and wet out. I found myself feeling a lot more tired towards the end of the day than I used to. At times I was even forced to admit to myself that my eyesight was going, as I occasionally found myself holding the pipbuck at specific distances when looking at the display. It did seem though, that one area that had not lost a lot of its youthful vigor was my libido. Every time I took care of things, I would find myself right back where I started within another twenty minutes or so.

What was that damn unicorn trying to do to me?! Things started to get pretty raw around the two hour mark, that was for sure.

Of course, it did eventually have to end. Foxglove may have been a lot younger than I was; and obviously had a great deal more stamina; but she was still just a damn pony. Finally, she stopped her caterwauling, and contented herself with a few minutes of loud panting. Even when it was over though, I stayed put. Foxglove had gone from being murderous, to conversational, to amorous; all in the span of thirty minutes. I couldn’t even guess what her disposition was going to be towards me right now.

I waited until another ten minutes had passed before I made any movement to leave my little wagon refuge and face the violet unicorn. When I did so, it was with some marked trepidation. Which flavor of Foxglove was I going to find out there? I was hoping for ‘pleasant’, personally.

The mare was sitting up, straightening out her mane and tail, which were looking a little bedraggled at the moment. A little damp from sweat as well, it seemed. If she noticed my slow approach, the unicorn didn’t do anything to acknowledge it. I returned to where I had been laying down when all of this started and took a seat near the empty box of Sugar Apple Bombs that I had left. Then I sat and waited quietly and patiently for Foxglove to make the next move and set the tone for how the rest of this evening was going to; as it was indeed evening now.

I couldn’t speak for Foxglove, but I knew that I was going to sleep like a damn foal tonight after all of that tension relief. Though, I could feel some of that tension beginning to mount again the longer the mare in front of me went without saying anything.

“So, you are staying then?” the unicorn said suddenly, as though she were continuing a conversation that I didn’t exactly remember us having together. At least, not one that had gone as calmly as her tone suggested that it might have.

It took a couple of seconds for me to answer it, as my mind had to maneuver around the whole list of things that we probably should have talked about first. But, okay, “uh…yeah, I am. I still need to tell Windfall what I did. See if she’ll give me another chance.”

Foxglove was quiet for several seconds. Then, “it’d be better if you didn’t.”

I shook my head, “I don’t care if Windfall follows through with her promise,” I assured the mare, “I’d deserve it, and I think I can accept that. But I’m not running anymore. It’s time I finally bucked up and faced some damn consequences.”

The unicorn finally looked at me, a wan smile on her face, “that’s not what I meant,” she said, “you can stay and all, I guess,” she didn’t sound precisely thrilled about that prospect, “but I don’t think you should tell Windfall about what happened.”

That actually surprised me to no small degree, “what? Why?”

Foxglove sighed, “because…I think I believe you,” the unicorn went on to elaborate when she saw me cock my brow, “about your dad and sister. I can see how that would affect a pony; and, frankly,” it sounded like she was a little reluctant to say what came next, “I have to admit that you have been acting…different, since McMaren.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Foxglove quickly amended when she saw my genuinely surprised expression at her admission, “I’ve never liked you, and I still think you’re a bastard, and if you die I sure as shit won’t shed any tears,” I was getting the distinct impression that the unicorn was not my biggest fan, “but,” I was almost surprised that there was one, after that glowing review of my character, “you have always cared about Windfall, if only in your own little way. You even looked out for me a time or two when you didn’t have to.

“That wasn’t the pony who was here this morning, or the pony that was coercing me in the hotel,” her tone suggested that the mare was trying not to hold a grudge; but the look in her eyes was far less forgiving. I doubted that I was ever really going to be able to balance the books on that little bit of karma where the unicorn was concerned, “so…you can stay, and I won’t say anything to Windfall.

“You don’t have to either.”

That was very noble of her, but it still didn’t quite answer the question as to, “why?”

Another sigh, “because, at the end of the day, you’re a positive influence on Windfall’s life,” I was surprised that it didn’t cause Foxglove physical pain to have to say something about me that bordered on nice, “mostly because of how much of a piece of shit you are,” ah, there it was, “trying to make you a better pony is giving Windfall hope; and that helps her.

“If she finds out that you fucked up like you did, she’s going to think it was because she failed, and that it was her fault. I don’t want that for her.

“Trust me; I’m not doing this for you.”

“You never are,” I responded with a wan smile. The unicorn frowned at me, but let the comment slide. With that pressing matter out of the way, it did still leave one point that I wanted to receive clarification on though, “so, about what just happened then,” I saw Foxglove visibly tense as I raised the subject. Tread carefully, Jackboot, “are we ever going to talk ab—”

Foxglove’s hoof was firmly planted against my lips, pinning my mouth closed and cutting off the rest of my question. The mare’s emerald eyes were boring into mine with a severity that sent a chill down my spine. This was a feeling that was made a little confusing as it conflicted with a very different reaction being triggered by the placement of the mare’s hoof. The scent wafting through my nostrils suggested that this was the same hoof that Foxglove had been attending to herself with, and with the duration that she had persisted, the…odor, was quite pungent. Its nature was a little arousing as well.

The unicorn seemed to realize what was going on about a second later, and very swiftly removed her hoof, tucking the limb in close to her. She glared at me for another moment, as though the oversight had been my fault somehow; or perhaps even because she was actually a little upset at herself for it. Finally, she said, “nothing. Happened.”

I held the mare’s gaze for another long moment, and then nodded, “right. My mistke,” the mare issued a confirming nod of her own.

Foxglove then composed herself and turned to head for the warehouse’s office corridor, “I’m going to get some sleep. You’re sleeping out here. You understand,” it was not phrased as a question, and there was indeed no reason to take it as such. Fair enough.

“Can you at least drag a mattress out for me?”

“Nope.”

Foxglove disappeared from sight and a moment later I heard a door open, then close, and then lock. Okay, so I probably deserved at least that much animosity from the unicorn. She hadn’t actually said that she’d forgiven me for anything that I’d done to her, only that she wasn’t going to directly kill me or sell me out to Windfall for her to do it. I’ll be honest; I actually came out of this a lot better off than I had any right to.

What I couldn’t figure out was whether this was Celestia finally passing a little good will my way; or if this was all just some elaborate scheme that the Goddess was cooking up in order to lull me into a false sense of security for some later, even grander, punishment.

On that pleasant note, I cleared up a little patch of dusty floor, and curled up to get some sleep of my own.

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CHAPTER 19: WE THREE

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“Simple. Find out who's doing it, and tell me. Or take 'em out. It makes no damn difference to me.”

The next morning brought with it a number of things. Foremost among them was a much recovered and energetic Windfall. The healing elixir had done the pegasus a world of good, that was for sure. She was bouncing around the warehouse with so much energy that she hardly ever touched the ground, she was so excited. Excited that I seemed to be perfectly fine, excited that her heroic effort to fly to New Reino and back in record time while evading—mostly—a hail of gunfire from a band of raiders had succeeded—we were apparently going to take a detour to deal with those ponies at some point; and, most of all, excited that the three of us were going out on an adventure to investigate an old Stable together.

Foxglove had seemed a little reserved about the notion of venturing deeper into the Wasteland to do a little prospecting, but she certainly couldn’t argue any points against it. We were lacking in food, ammunition and weapons, barding—in Windfall’s case, and pretty much anything of real value that we could use to get our hooves on the sorts of goods and services that could only be acquired in a town. Doctors weren’t free, or even cheap, and despite how Windfall was acting, I would feel a lot better about her recovery if we got a professional opinion. That Pegasus got shot up far more often than was healthy. So, Stable 137 was our next destination.

I did not reveal to either of the mares anything about what I knew regarding the old shelter’s recent fate. So long as I remained as surprised by what we found as they did, neither pony should be able to tell that I had any foreknowledge anyway.

One other thing that the dawn heralded was a new age of awkwardness between myself and the violet unicorn. Windfall was far too preoccupied with her harrowing tale of gallantry to notice, it seemed. I noticed though. It was hard not to. Foxglove continued to be very mindful of her hooves, and how she was oriented towards me. I was sure that part of that was because of my recent treatment of her, and she got a little more tense whenever Windfall asked about what happened after she got back to the warehouse and passed out.

Both of us were stingy with the details of that recounting. Foxglove gave me the anti-venom. I went out and found medicine to treat Windfall. I came back. Medicine worked. The end.

Then one of us would ask her about how she had—somewhat—managed to evade the ambush sprung by the raiders she’d encountered. To which we were treated to an aerobatic reenactment, complete with sound effects, of the engagement. With each telling, both the number of her attackers, and her confirmed kills, grew significantly. I was sure that by the time this story made it back to New Reino, some poor bar patron was going to have to hear about how Windfall had managed to wither down an entire army of bandits out on the Wastes using only her wits and a pebble.

Our return to that town was going to have to wait until we managed to complete our current detour though. We packed our things, checked our weapons—Foxglove was going to hold onto my knife until she found some way to replace the energy pack in her lance, and we made ready to head in the direction of Stable 137.

We made it approximately three steps before Windfall and I realized that the unicorn had become distracted by a nearby wall.

“What is it?” I asked, noting that there was nothing registering on my EFS. Though, I had recently learned that not everything that was deadly showed up on this device. Radscorpions that weren’t hatched yet, invisible zebras, and timberwolves among them.

“It’s just…” the mare frowned, “this whole place is basically fake, right?”

My crash through one of the wagons had confirmed that their construction was certainly lackluster, to say the least; and I had taken some time as well to look over the tools that Foxglove had pointed out, and they were indeed constructed of cheap wood and plastic. They looked real enough from a distance, but nothing on those benches could possibly have actually been used to conduct repairs of any sort. Everything pointed to this place never have been used to haul any amount of freight—other than the goods that Wind Rider and his team smuggled on behalf of the MoA, of course; which I took to have been smaller cargo.

“Yeah. So?” This was information that we knew, so I was at a loss as to why Foxglove felt a need to bring it up again. Windfall's expression suggested that she was having similar thoughts.

“So then why is there a four hundred amp feed line going into that breaker box over there?” she pointed at a small metal box mounted on the wall near one of the work benches.

I shrugged, “this place still has lights and computers.”

The unicorn shook her head, “those don’t take anywhere near that sort of power. You’d only need a quarter of that. Four hundred amps is the sort of power you'd need if you were running heavy machinery, and there isn’t any here. It’s all fake!”

“I doubt this place was built fake,” I suggested, “it probably used to be real, and they converted it later.”

“Oh, they certainly did,” the unicorn pointed out, walking over to the offending box that appeared to be the source of her consternation, “look at this,” she waved the two of us over. The chances were slim that I was going to understand what she was going to point out to us, but this was obviously something that Foxglove wasn’t going to be able to let go of until she’d found some sort of plausible explanation, “see here?” I didn’t, but I nodded anyway so that she’d get to her point. Windfall walked over to hear what the unicorn had to say as well, “these brackets used to hold hundred amp conduit. Two lines, it looks like. That’s what makes sense, given what I see here. Realistically, a warehouse wouldn't need much more than that in most cases.

“But then somepony came in, ripped out those lines, and ran bigger ones,” her hoof moved from the bent metal loops that she had been pointing at before, and now traced a thick length of cable that was coming out of the floor, “assuming that this place did used to be a real warehouse, why would somepony take out the conduit that used to be here, and then go through the trouble of reinforcing the power grid when they were just going to make this place a fake freight company?”

I frowned at the mare, “that’s rhetorical, right?”

Foxglove rolled her eyes and glared at the breaker box. Her horn glowed, and the door swung open. What was inside made her frown deepen further. I peered over her shoulder and saw that there was a large switch and a pair of buttons. Each button had an arrow on it, one pointing up and the other pointing down. A small blue light was glowing in a corner of the box.

The violet mare peered at the contents, studying them for a brief couple of seconds, and then she reached in and flipped the large switch which sparked briefly. The moment she did so, the lower button with the downward facing arrow began to glow green.

I glanced at the mare, “are you sure this is a good—”

She pushed the button.

The floor instantly heaved. Well, not the entire floor, and not a whole lot. I definitely felt the floor give a significantly large initial tremble before it settled into a constant vibration. The air filled with the sounds of muffled rumblings and the squealing of ancient machinery which had not been attended to in quite some time. It was behind us that most of the action happened. One of the many concrete slabs which were what comprised the expansive floor of the warehouse had started tilting downward, revealing a cavernous lower level. After nearly a minute of the atrophied gears struggling to move after all this time, the floor’s movement finally came to a stop and there was silence in the warehouse once again.

The three of us were now staring down a ramp. It wasn’t particularly foreboding though. The floor of the recently revealed lower level was comprised of smooth, if very dusty, white tile. Although dirty from a couple centuries of absent sweeping, there wasn’t any sign of actual garbage or debris anywhere within view. It seemed to be remarkably well lit as well, as row upon row of florescent lighting fixtures flickered to life.

“Awesome,” was all that the Pegasus had to say before she hopped up into the air and swooped down before either of us could stop her.

I was immediately concerned. Windfall had not seen the emails that suggested Wind Rider was involved with the Old Equestrian Ministries. If this was truly one of their facilities, then there was every chance that there existed some sort of defense system that could be active. The last thing that I wanted was for the flier to get herself vaporized just hours after I managed to save her life.

So I charged down after her. Not the most brilliant move, perhaps; but I was short on time to come up with any sort of truly brilliant plan of action. Foxglove wasn’t far behind us, though she would have been just as unaware of the nature of the potential dangers as the Pegasus was.

It turned out that my concerns were validated…after a fashion. Clearly, at one point, there had been security measures in place that were designed to deal with unauthorized guests such as ourselves. However, it looked like those measures had already been dealt with. I also found myself pondering just when it was that the robots in the Wasteland had started losing their minds and gunning down everypony they saw. Because the scene before me suggested that it had started happening long before I would have guessed.

The ramp dropped us off in the middle of a wide corridor that extended to either side. In each direction, the corridor turned, out of sight, back in the direction that we had come in such a way that it seemed the majority of this lower level was contained below the warehouse that hid this place from the world. To our lefts was a bare corridor. To our rights, was a war zone.

A quartet of half-blasted roboponies littered the floor. Mingled in with those twisted and charred remains were the withered corpses of at least six pegasi dressed in black and purple power armor. A few thick piles of ash suggested that there may have been even more combatants involved on either side of the fight. I had Full Stop out and at the ready in case there were other robots around, though my pipbuck had been rather reliable about picking those threats up, and my EFS still showed that the coast was clear.

Windfall was picking over the bodies already, very intently scrutinizing the armor that they were wearing, “power armor made for pegasi? I gotta get me some of that,” she purred, “and look at that wicked scorpion tail!”

I was struck by how much the barding of those ponies resembled what I’d seen Enclave soldiers wearing on the few occasions when I’d seen them back in Hoofington. I guess it did make sense though. There wouldn’t be a whole lot of reason or need for the pegasi nation to completely reinvent a working design that they already had on hoof. These fliers had clearly been part of the Old World’s Ministry of Awesome though. Their barding was emblazoned with the lightning bolt and Pegasus wings of the ancient organization.

The robots had been there’s too, it seemed; as they bore identical markings. Whatever had gone wrong, it had gone wrong in a big way. Cautiously, I stepped around the scene and peered down the hall where it turned. My eyes widened as I took in the massive array of computer terminals and large diameter displays. This was a computer station on a magnitude that I had never seen before. There were stations enough for a dozen ponies to be working simultaneously. Some of them were even still active. Those that weren’t looked like they had been caught by stray fire from the fight that had occurred just outside.

I glanced over at Foxglove, “can you take a look here and see if you can find out anything on these computers?”

The unicorn peered at the setup and whistled, “I bet I could find a lot,” she glanced at me, “anything specific I should be looking for?”

“What happened here would be nice,” I glanced back at the carnage nearby, and then added, “but I’d settle for cache locations, Stable locations, schematics, anything valuable that can be put on my pipbuck,” there was the chance that we could come into a lot of wealth if we managed to get the right information out of this place. The mare nodded and sat herself down in front of one of the undamaged terminals.

Meanwhile, I took Windfall to go and check out the other side of the complex. Not that it turned out to be all that much to this place after all. Though, what there was of it was certainly worth finding. The remaining wing of the facility was where the ponies that worked here must have actually stored their equipment. The bunk room upstairs had been notably bare, and now I knew why. Rows of lockers existed in this room, which ended in a pair of double doors at the far end.

The pair of us quickly began sifting through the contents of the lockers, which I was initially gratified to learn had been designed specifically not to house personal effects, but were intended for equipment like barding, battlesaddles, and ammunition. Unfortunately, it looked like everypony had been present and on deck during those final moments of the war. Out of two dozen searched lockers, all we managed to come up with were four half-depleted spark packs, an energy pistol, a green-banded grenade, and a power-hoof. Not a terrible haul in and of itself, but very disappointing when one considered what we’d seen when we first descended. I made a note to go back and strip what was useful from the corpses before we left.

First we needed to finish combing through the rest of this place though. We pocketed what little we’d found and headed for the doorway. Beyond, we found what must have been the real bunk room. The cots here looked well used, and the personal lockers were adorned with posters and slogans and personal effects. So, this was where everypony had actually lived.

There were a couple of tables and some chairs in the middle of the dormitory. It looked like they served multiple purposes, as there were the remnants of an unfinished poker game on one, and some plates with desiccated vegetables on the other. Curious, I examined the hands of the ponies that had been playing cards. The game had been Pegasus Hold’em. The river showed a three of hearts, princess of hearts, and a five of hearts. Of what looked to have been the last three players in the game, two had folded. Judging from the displayed cards in front of their seats, one of them had given up on his hope of a full house with his princess of spades and three of diamonds. The other must have just been out-bluffed, because he was showing a pair of fives. The remaining two cards for the third player were still face down, so I flipped them over. The first was a four of hearts. The second was a prince of clubs. Nothing; they'd had nothing. All of the bits had been gathered into their little corner of the table though.

Well played, whoever you were. You had everypony at the table suckered. The only clue as to the pony's identity was a polished silver flask sitting on the table near the massive pile of bits. Money was money, so I quickly swept the winnings into my saddlebags. The flask, which bore the initials, ‘FF’ went into one of the pockets sewn into my barding. Something was even still sloshing around in there.

Windfall’s search through the lockers was about just as fruitful. Alcohol, food, bits. Nothing that was going to get us a slew of weapons and ammunition; to say nothing of the need to get the alabaster flier some new barding. If I ever found the pony that cheated her out of her armor in exchange for a single dose of anti-venom, I would probably end up killing them. At the very least I was going to beat them senseless and taken back that armor.

There was one more little section for us to search left. A smaller room that was attached to this larger communal barracks. I cracked a smile when I noticed that there was a nameplate on the door that read, ‘Cmd. Wind Rider’. I guess the pony that ran this place was entitled to their own quarters. Rank did have its privileges, after all. Knowing what I had found in his office upstairs, there had to be something of value in here.

The door was locked, naturally, but a solid double-buck solved that problem. It wasn’t designed to be any sort of door that kept determined ponies out; just something to make sure his subordinates couldn’t just wander in whenever they felt like it. Inside was pretty much what I had expected. A large bed with ornately carved head and hoof boards. Thick quilted covers. Posters of himself on the walls wearing his uniform. This pony had sure had a very impressive image of himself. I wagered that he’d been nearly intolerable in life.

There were also a number of framed articles in here as well.

Windfall’s eyes moved from one article to the next, studying the headline and the image of the uniformed ponies that frequently accompanied it. She stepped closer to one in order to better read the narrative, mumbling aloud as she went, “Wonderbolts strike force foils zebra-dragon raid over Manehattan,” the flier read, “in the pre-dawn hours of last Tuesday, what could have been a terrible tragedy was averted when a flight of dragons and their striped masters were intercepted over the Cudson Bay by Equestria’s elite air defense force. Though they took heavy losses during the fight, the Wonderbolts managed to turn back the enemy before any damage could be done to the city,” the Pegasus leaned in closer and squinted at the faded words of the news clipping, “while Defeatist minorities are critical of the casualty rates suffered by our Heroic Pegasi Forces, more Loyal elements are quick to point out the climbing success rates of the Wonderbolts since Rainbow Dash formed the Ministry of Awesome and assumed direct leadership of the nation's premiere fliers…”

The Pegasus trailed off, glancing at several other nearby news reports that had been isolated and framed by the stallion that had once inhabited this room. Wind Rider had clearly been a rather staunch supporter of the exploits of the flying team that he had once been a part of. Windfall whistled, “now those were some awesome ponies,” she commented, “fighting monsters, protecting ponies; it’s too bad there isn’t a group like them out there today,” a slight frown creased her features, “maybe the Wasteland would actually be a nice place if there was.”

“Maybe,” I replied, a bit distracted; my mind was more focused on searching for useful salvage than news about ponies two centuries dead. Unless that news directly related to where the ponies that had worked here had stashed away any valuables.

The pegasus soon came to a vanity in one corner of the room, stacked with all manner of glass bottles and vials. Windfall wandered over and took a whiff of the contents of a few. A couple made her curl her nose instantly, but I noticed her inhale a little more deeply from a few of the others.

“Pack up all of those,” I told her, “there’ll be plenty of ponies in New Reino who’ll pay a lot of bits for them,” and there would be. The ponies that ran those casinos cared quite a bit about their image; and were known to shell out the bits for luxuries from the Old World like perfumes for their mares and colognes for themselves, “check the closet too,” I nodded at the small set of slatted doors. If he had any particularly nice clothing, that would fetch a decent price as well. Meanwhile, I went pawing through his dresser and nightstand. Compared to what the conditions were like for the other ponies that worked here, this Wind Rider guy sure liked his comforts.

Clothing, some of it nice enough that I stuffed it into my saddlebags. Mostly just the nicer looking scarves and accessories though, nothing too big and bulky. I’d want to make room for anything of value that we found in the Stable when we got there. Cigars, which I was pretty sure I knew a griffin who’d buy them. There was even a bottle of Wild Pegasus Special Reserve. Of course a pony like this would have a bottle of only the best whiskey those fliers could make. I very carefully hid the bottle away from Windfall, lest she steal it off me and drink the valuable contents herself.

When I’d collected everything of notable value, I looked up to check on Windfall’s progress, “find anything yet,” I didn’t need her to answer my question, as I could plainly see that she had. I’d thought she was being rather quiet.

The Pegasus was holding up a set of barding. Not just any barding though. I very clearly recognized the style from the literally dozens of pictures I’d seen around this place of the previous owner wearing it. The brilliant blue and gold pattern was unmistakable. Windfall had found a uniform worn by a member of the Wonderbolts; and her eyes were the size of bloatsprites as she gazed at it.

Upon a closer inspection, the barding wasn’t a complete match for what showed up in those older pictures. Those suits looked like they were little more than elastic one-pieces that were just meant to be flashy and distinctive while providing no real military functionality at all. No ceramic reinforcement, no Kevlar linings, no pockets, nothing that any sane pony heading into combat would find remotely useful in any way.

The barding that Windfall was looking at had seen some modification. While still possessed of a garish color scheme that offered little in the way of camouflage, and looked almost as though it were designed to draw the enemy's attention, this set did possess some of those desirable elements that I'd mentioned. Not to the degree that it should have, but it was still a marked improvement. The chest and back had been reinforced by sturdy material—thin steel bands from the looks of things. The leggings were composed of dyed leather, as was the collar. There were ever several clasps and d-rings sewn into the sides and flanks where battlesaddles and other equipment could be securely mounted.

“Wow,” Windfall remarked of the barding that she was holding in her hooves.

I was suitably less impressed with it, “we might be able to find a buyer.”

The flier protectively clutched the armor to her chest, “what?! We can’t sell this! This is a Wonderbolt uniform; they were the greatest pegasi in Equestria,” she held it lovingly in her hooves, “I’m’a wear it!”

“You’re going to fly into battle wearing bright blue barding?” I didn’t even try to veil my incredulous tone, “it’s bad enough you’re a white pony with green hair; you will absolutely not be wearing anything that’s going to draw as much attention as this thing does,” I reached over and snatched away the barding, “we are selling this and buying you something practical.”

“Awe, but, Jackboot…” the Pegasus began, her tone climbing into a genuine whine as she watched the armor vanish into my saddlebags.

“Over my dead body,” I said, favoring Windfall with a hard look until the flier finally relented and gave an exasperated sigh.

“Fine…”

I looked around the room one more time. We’d pretty much stripped it of anything useful to us, or valuable to anypony else. Hopefully Foxglove had come up with something worthwhile as well. The two of us headed over to meet with the unicorn mare, stripping the dead Ministry soldiers of what gear was salvageable in the process. Spark packs and magical energy rifles, and little else.

“Anything good?” I asked once the mare was in sight.

Foxglove glanced back over her shoulder at us and pushed herself away from the screen, “you’re not going to like it,” was how she started her answer. Immediately, I grimaced, “but pretty much everything here has been wiped clean.”

“You’re kidding,” I deadpanned.

The violet unicorn shook her head, “I couldn’t come up with any files that dated back more than two weeks before the end of the war. The stuff after that is mostly correspondence and some itineraries, but without the older stuff most of it doesn’t even make sense.

“I did manage to learn a few things though,” she went on, “but nothing ‘valuable’ to other ponies, I bet.”

“Let’s hear it anyway,” might as well. Maybe it could at least lead us to something more useful later down the line.

“So, as you probably guessed,” she pointed at the bodies in the corridor, “this is an MoA outpost. Not a real hub or anything like that. More of a staging ground for their operations in the valley. Mostly what they do—or did, anyway—was get agents from one place to another without anypony being the wiser. Or, anyzebra, I guess,” she corrected, “they did that by using those freight wagons upstairs.”

“I thought you said those were fakes?”

“They certainly wouldn’t carry any freight,” Foxglove corrected, “but they’ll transport a pony, or at least their equipment for some sort of secret mission. I’m pretty sure they dressed their agents up at freight haulers and had them fly to wherever they were supposed to do a mission. Nopony really looks twice at a delivery pony doing their thing, after all. This way, they could go anywhere, and no pony or zebra watching them would think anything was really going on. Certainly nothing MoA related.”

I thought this over and nodded. I was pretty sure there were other ways to do what this place did, but it did offer them some other options as well, “did you find out what happened, at least?” I nodded back at the dead pegasi.

She nodded, “I did, in fact. It was an inside job.”

A smirk found its way onto my face, “you mean the spies had a spy?”

“Sort of. It was an MoA spy.”

I frowned now, “okay, you lost me. They were spying on themselves?”

“Looks that way,” Foxglove confirmed, “I can’t find out the details, because all of the old messages are gone, but I did come by a few messages from the pony that I think was responsible for what happened here. They tried to delete those too, but something must have come up, or they were discovered, or whatever; because they didn’t do as good a job as they did the first time,” the unicorn turned back to the computer she was sitting at and tapped at the keyboard.

“These are partial messages from an ‘Agent Fleet Foot’ addressed directly to Rainbow Dash, the head of the MoA. From what I can tell, Fleet Foot is the one that deleted all the files in the system, on orders from Rainbow Dash.”

“Why would the Ministry Mare target her own ministry?” Windfall asked the question before I could.

“I’m not positive,” Foxglove admitted, “but it sounds like the pony overseeing this place was starting to ask a lot of questions about a recent operation,” I recalled the messages that I had come across in Wind Rider’s office. It had to be the one dealing with those toys. I was starting to think that ‘toys’ had to have been a metaphor or code word or something. Nopony went through this sort of trouble to cover up transporting a foal’s actual playthings, “when he kept asking about it even after Dash told him to drop it, she ordered Fleet Foot to purge all the records.

“It sounds like that wasn’t enough though,” the violet mare read on, skimming the screen, “when word reached Dash that the boss here, Wind Rider, was trying to go behind her back to get answers, she ordered the whole facility ‘muzzled’,” she looked once more to the dead bodies, “which I guess is a spy way of saying ‘killed’.

“Whatever that operation was, Dash didn’t want anypony to know about it,” she glanced back to the screen, “it sounds like she was already having ponies killed to keep things quiet before all of that happened,” she waved her hoof in the direction of the dead power armored agents, “one of the messages mentions something about a Ministry of Image pony,” My brow quirked as I recognized the event Foxglove must have been talking about. Wind Rider had been trying to arrange for that pony's effects to be passed on to her family, “at least Dash sounds like she felt bad about that one,” the unicorn went on, “but she was not a fan of this Wind Rider guy.”

I found myself snorting as I recalled the letter in which the Pegasus stallion who was in charge of this facility was frantically warning his boss about their probable discovery by zebra agents; whom he suspected of killing Sassy Saddles, the liaison he’d been working with while shipping the toys. Little had Wind Rider known he was conversing with the very mare that had ordered her killed. It hadn’t been zebras at all, but other MoA agents. It couldn’t have been toys, it just couldn’t have. That meant I needed to find out what had happened to that shipment. If it was worth killing so many ponies over, it had to be valuable.

“Does it say anything about a shipment anywhere in those messages you found,” I asked, bending low so I could see the screen more clearly, “or an ‘Operation Silent Echo’?”

“An operation what?” Windfall asked, confused by my sudden interest.

Foxglove, on the other hoof, narrowed her eyes at me, “…yeah, I did find something talking about that. Why?”

“Because that’s what all of this was about,” I explained, “I found some messages on Wind Rider’s terminal upstairs, and this all started when he was told to smuggle out a bunch of what he called ‘toys’. When he asked Rainbow Dash about them, he got the cold shoulder. Does it say where he delivered them to?”

“Toys?” Foxglove was understandably skeptical.

“It has to be a code word or something,” I said, “but whatever they really are, they have to be important. Do you know where they went?”

The unicorn paused for a moment, and then turned to the terminal and brought up a very distorted looking file, “this is one of the freight itineraries I found. Well, most of it,” some of it, more like, I thought as I looked at the jumbled nightmare of solid bars and odd characters, “but these two lines are legible,” she pointed her hoof at the portions she was talking about, “and they’re interesting because they have the same ‘To’ and ‘From’ locations, but very different timetables.

“See here, on the trip at the top, the earlier one? Reino to Seaddle, in nine hours. Then we go down to this one. Same locations, but this time it’s only five hours.”

“They didn’t go all the way to Seaddle,” I concluded.

Foxglove nodded, “nope. Nine hours honestly sounds about right for a pair of pegasi hauling a wagon all the way to Seaddle. I did a little rough math and—can I see your pipbuck?” I passed her my arm with the Old World device on it. She brought up the map and traced a line on it, “five hours puts them somewhere along this arc,” I was frowning again as I watched the mare draw out a line that must have been two hundred miles long. Seeing my expression, she clarified, “well, they obviously didn’t actually go to Seaddle, so I have no idea what direction they would actually have gone. But five hours would only get a Pegasus to about that far,” she hesitated again, “give or take fifty miles depending on wind conditions.”

Fucking. Horseapples.

None of that information helped me out in the slightest. There was no reasonable way to comb through more than twenty thousand square miles of Wasteland and expect to find a two hundred year old drop-off site when I didn’t even have a clue how that site had been marked. Never mind not knowing where anything that had been dropped off there might have been taken to afterward.

“…but,” there was a ‘but’ in here somewhere? I was listening, “I did find out where all of those holo-rigs went that the MoA bought off of that MWT facility we found a couple months back. It turns out that Fleet Foot mare was the pony Rainbow Dash tapped to oversee that job.”

“And she says where she went to?”

“No,” Foxglove answered, and my expression soured again. Before I could say anything more though, the unicorn held up her hoof and continued, “but I did find another itinerary. Fleet Foot’s name is on it, listed as taking three trips. Reino to Seaddle, then Seaddle to Wounded Flank, and then Wounded Flank back to Reino.

“The thing is, the times don’t add up,” she took hold of my pipbuck again and started tapping on the map, “Reino-Seaddle is nine hours; we know that. Wounded Flank—today known just as ‘Flak’, is over here,” she pointed to a blank area of the map on my pipbuck. I’d heard of the place, but had never been there. It was somewhere in the northern part of the Republic in the mountains. The White Hooves hadn’t yet made it that far when I was still a part of them, “but this is where the times get sketchy. The itinerary says it took four hours,” she shook her head, “it would take a Pegasus two, at the most,” she drew out another long arc on the map, “so four hours puts them somewhere along this line.”

“We can’t search through thousands of miles of mountains,” I pointed out, “that’d take years.”

“It would,” the unicorn conceded, “but that’s where the third leg of the trip comes in. Flak to Reino should just be eleven hours. It’s listed here as being ten. Somewhere in this arc,” she took her other hoof and moved it along a second path. Then her hooves came together. She glanced up, a smile on her face, “there. That’s where those rigs went.

“It might even be where the MoA stored a whole bunch of other things too.”

I let out a deep breath. She’d done very well, as it turned out. There was just one problem, “that’s in the middle of Republic territory,” I noticed, “I’m not very welcome there.”

“In the major settlements, no,” Foxglove acknowledged, “I’m sure they have pictures and bounty posters up all over the place,” the other night suggested that was at least the case, yes, “I’m not very high on their ‘friends’ list either anymore, remember? We could still make it if we’re careful,” she dropped my pipback and the arm it was attached to, “hey, you just asked me to find places of interest to the MoA. You never told me they weren’t allowed to be in the Republic.”

Fair enough.

The location of that Ministry of Awesome cache would be…problematic to get at, I had no doubt about that; but it wouldn’t be impossible. Given what I’d been through in the last couple of days, I guess it realistically wasn’t all that much safer for me outside of the Republic’s borders anyway. Perhaps, in a way, it might even be a little less likely for me to be accosted by bounty hunters up north. Only an idiot would hang around the Seaddle area when there was a five thousand bit bounty on his head, right? In any case, that was something that was going to have to wait.

“Did you find out anything else useful?”

The unicorn shook her head, “not really,” she said, “this Fleet Foot might not have done a good job of getting rid of the recent files; but there is almost nothing left of whatever was on these computers before that. Even the itineraries I found were only as intact as they were because they were uploaded from a back-up drive that the pony running this place had.”

“He’d thought zebras were behind it,” I recalled the messages from Wind Rider that I’d seen. I idly wondered where he’d been when all of this went down. There were a few piles of ash out there in the corridor. His own corpse might be among them. Did he even suspect that this had all been arranged by his boss? His letters suggested that he thought of his superior as being incompetent. It appeared as though he had been quite wrong in that regard.

Foxglove smirked, “nope. This was strictly an internal matter.”

Windfall approached us, “looks like it was a pretty brutal fight,” she nodded in the direction of the bodies, “not a whole lot left that was worth taking,” the Pegasus flipped out a wing and showed us a few spark packs and a magical energy rifle. A few hundred caps worth of equipment. Maybe as much as a full thousand if we took into account everything that we’d found in this warehouse, both on the main floor and this little underground facility. Enough for a set of barding for Windfall—and we were going to need to finally get a set for Foxglove too—and some additional weaponry.

“Alright, I guess we’re good here,” I looked around once more, confirming that no rooms had been missed. I looked at the map on my pipbuck, “Stable 137 looks like it’ll just be a couple days northwest.”

Windfall frowned and thought for a brief moment before finally shaking her head, “maybe some other time.”

Excuse me? I somehow managed not to simply blurt out my initial indignant reaction to the flier’s dismissal of my plan. When had the Pegasus ever countermanded my stated course of action for the three of us? I may have started to take a more passive approach to things since leaving the Seaddle area, but thus far Windfall had always bent to my commands whenever I did issue them.

I regarded the Pegasus evenly, “…you have a better idea?”

“We need to get back to New Reino,” Windfall told me, “we’re not equipped to be out in the Wasteland for a few days.”

"We weren't equipped for it an hour ago, but you seemed okay with the idea then," I pointed out.

"We also didn't have anything we could use to pay for supplies," the pegasus jostled her saddlebags, "and now we do. We can head back, sell this stuff off, buy what we need, and then go to the stable.

"It's not like it's going anywhere."

The winged mare was not necessarily wrong in her assessment. Foxglove’s lance was effectively just a metal stick at the moment, I was down to just Full Stop and the couple dozen remaining rounds I had for the revolver, and only one of us had any barding. Windfall was still effectively at her peak fighting strength in terms of weaponry; though it probably wouldn't be a good idea to push her too hard in a fight given that she had just recovered from some rather severe wounds.

So, in that respect, I couldn’t really argue the flier’s point. Still, I was confident that the three of us could get there and back without much trouble. Besides, a lot of time had passed since those two ponies had been evicted from their stable as it was. If I was going to learn anything about those mysterious ponies that had attacked them, the sooner I got there the better. Whatever information I found would be worthless if I wasn’t the first pony to get it. Nopony paid out to learn something they already knew.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite think of a way to explain why time was a factor here. All I’d told Foxglove was that I learned about the stable’s location from a computer in Old Reino. That information would be centuries old in her mind. What difference could a few days possibly make? I couldn’t just change my story and say I’d met a wandering stable-dweller or prospector or something. The unicorn mare was suspicious of me as it was. If she found out that I was already lying to the both of them…

I’d just have to hope that we made it to the stable and found out what happened before the ponies that attacked it made themselves known to anypony else, “alright, you have a point,” I conceded reluctantly.

Foxglove approved of the plan as well, and nodded her assent. There was one other issue that Windfall noted though, “but what are we going to do about you?” she said, looking at me, “there’s still a bounty out on you.”

That was no trivial matter. While New Reino’s ruling elite didn’t care anything for the laws and policies of the New Lunar Republic, nor did they take any specific interest in keeping track of the criminals fleeing the nearby nation; they didn’t do anything to curb bounty hunting either. So I had to either constantly stay on my toes in order to keep from being taken again, or I needed to find somepony willing to protect me. Allies in New Reino, I had none of.

Old business partners, on the other hoof…

“I might be able to work something out with Scratch,” I received puzzled looks from the two mares. Damn, I hadn’t told them about the griffon either. I was still getting the hang of this whole, ‘working with a team’ thing, I guess, “he’s the griffin that gave us the McMaren job,” I informed them. Then I went on further to say, “he also happens to be someone I knew from Hoofington. We have a lot of history. Good history,” I added when I saw the briefly concerned expression on Foxglove’s face.

“How can he help?” Windfall asked, though her tone was optimistic.

“He has a lot of connections. He’ll know when hunters are in the area, and can pass on the word to me to lay low. At the same time, he’ll be able to spread rumors about me being other places to anypony who asks,” Scratch would get even better at the manipulation game once Homily started making his planted broadcasts. I briefly entertained the notion of letting these two in on that little scheme, but thought better of it. Both mares were exactly the type of pony who’d probably try to undermine the griffin’s plans because they weren’t as altruistic as they had first seemed.

“That might actually work,” Foxglove didn’t sound dismissive of the notion at least, if she wasn’t quite as hopeful as Windfall seemed to be.

“That’s great! You should have said you knew who he was earlier. We probably could have gotten a better deal on the pay…”

“You were the one that got us that job, remember?” I point out to the Pegasus, “I didn’t find out he was the one behind it until I went to collect. I would have told you later, but…” I let my voice trail off, trying not to look at Foxglove for too long, “…things happened.”

“Right,” Windfall nodded, “well, that still sounds like a good plan to me. We’ll head back to New Reino, work something out with Scritch-”

“Scratch,” I corrected.

“-Scratch, and then we’ll go hunt down those raiders that shot me up,” the young mare’s expression hardened visibly, “before they can hurt somepony else.”

Foxglove and I exchanged a look. Windfall was still recovering from her injuries. Going looking for a fight wasn’t the best idea. The unicorn approached the white flier, “we’ll figure something out,” she began, but the Pegasus flashed the violet mare a fierce glare.

“What’s to ‘figure out’?” she growled at the unicorn, “they’re raiders. They need to be killed before they can hurt anypony else.”

“And we’ll do something about them,” Foxglove acknowledged, keeping her own voice soft and level. Though, from my perspective, her tone might have sounded a little more condescending than it could have been; like a mother addressing her filly. I could even see Windfall starting to bristle a little, “but you’ve only just recovered from some pretty bad injuries. Potions aren’t a substitute for real rest and giving your body time to heal itself.”

“I can rest when they’re dead,” Windfall’s proclamation suggested that the discussion was over with, and she changed the subject, “are we done here?” she glanced between the two of us. The place had been thoroughly searched, Foxglove had learned all she could from the computers, and we had a plan of action for the future, so I nodded. The Pegasus turned around and marched towards the exit, “then let’s go.”

Foxglove and I both hung back a few paces. The unicorn leaned in close, “we’re not actually going to let her go through with this, are we?”

I frowned at the unicorn, “I don’t like it any more than you do,” mostly because I was simply averse to the whole ‘looking for armed threats just because’ concept as a general rule, “but I promised I’d always follow her lead, remember? The whole ‘Jackboot redemption’ scheme you cooked up with her?

“If anypony’s going to talk her down, it’s going to have to be you.”

The unicorn didn’t seem to care for that notion very much, “and how am I supposed to do that?”

I shrugged, “as I figure it, you have until tomorrow morning to figure that out. It’ll take us the better part of the day to get back to New Reino. It’ll be easy to talk her into waiting for morning; but after that…”

The violet mare’s frown deepened into a bitter scowl, “great, now I’ve got to find a way to advocate on behalf of a bunch of raiders.”

“You could always just drug her,” I pointed out, mostly joking, “you have any of the sleeping potion left?”

The scowl briefly converted into a smirk at my suggestion, but then came back, “I’ll try talking with her again,” she sighed, “get her to at least hold off for a couple days,” she looked me over, “you look like you could use some rest too, actually.”

No argument here. I’d barely had any chance to recover from our little McMaren expedition before being whisked away by those hunters; only to get poisoned nearly to the point of death by radscorpions before fighting twig monsters in that hospital. Between being drugged, poisoned, blown up, and irradiated—all in a single day, by the way!—I was very much of the mind that a few days of bed rest was a good idea when we returned to New Reino.

Maybe we’d get lucky and Windfall would be made to see the merit in that when she lay down tonight. The Pegasus couldn’t be feeling all that much better than I did, given what she’d been through recently as well.

We split up when the three of us returned to New Reino. It was only late afternoon, so most of the shops were still open. There was every indication that Scratch would still be in his office as well. Foxglove was given the task of selling off the salvage we’d collected. A lot of it was pretty technical in nature, and the merchants that dealt in those sorts of items that would give us the best prices would know what those things were worth, depending on their condition. Which meant that we needed a pony negotiating with them that could effectively evaluate what that condition was. She was also the least likely of the three of us to wind up getting scammed by somepony looking to sell broken or defective crap.

Meanwhile, Windfall and I would talk things over with Scratch. The griffin appreciated having talented ponies working for him; and despite the occasional impulsive action, the Pegasus was a very capable sort. Exactly the type of pony that Scratch would be able to find a use for. On the other side of things, Scratch was also sophisticated enough that Windfall wasn’t going to see him as just a thug that hired on gunhooves and goons. He’d make the Pegasus feel like he wanted her around for more than just because she was good at shooting things.

The Lucky Bit was as busy as always, with its usual throng of ponies trying their hooves at the various games. I never touched the things. Mostly because I never thought of myself as anywhere near lucky enough to win big and partially because I knew they were all slanted in the house’s favor to begin with. I tried to avoid taking on anything that required me to always be at a disadvantage.

Neither of us was here for the entertainment though. We were headed for the bar, and the secluded little booth where it was understood that anypony looking to do business with the Lucky Bit’s owner would meet their contact. At the moment, the suited unicorn looked to be busy talking things over with another hired gun. A gruff looking green unicorn mare with a pair of swords crossed across her back. Wasn’t she the flashy sort? Not much of a looker though. Her face looked like she’d fought a brick wall, and lost. Repeatedly.

Windfall and I took up a pair of stools at the bar while we waited for our chance at a few words with Scratch’s representative. Both of us ordered shots of Wild Pegasus, which we nursed rather slowly in silence. During the trek back here, she and Foxglove had engaged in a few conversations. While I had not gotten involved in any of them myself, I did catch a few of the flier’s more exasperated outbursts which clued me in to some of their topics.

For the most part, it had sounded like the unicorn was extoling all of the many good reasons why the three of us should linger in New Reino for at least a few days before charging out into the Wasteland in an effort to lower the local raider population. Windfall hadn’t been very receptive to these arguments though. After a few failed dialogues, the unicorn had shifted to the idea of at least asking around town to see if anypony had reported troubles with other groups as well. Then, at least, we could go out on a more prolonged campaign that swept up additional troublemakers. While I wasn’t fully on board with that plan, it was at least a way for Foxglove to argue the need to remain in the town for longer than a single evening.

She also offered to modify the flier’s weapons some more to make them marginally more effective, as well as alter whatever barding they obtained. Windfall hadn’t gone for that, either.

Perhaps Foxglove could think up some additional rationales when she got back from getting supplies.

The song currently playing on the bar’s radio ended, and there was a burst of brief static which announced the next broadcast of Manehattan’s distant DJ-PON3. This at least got Windfall’s full attention.

“Hello, Wasteland! It is I, DJ-PON3, with…the news,” my ear twitched slightly as I detected something…off about the announcer’s tone. He sounded…hesitant? Hard to think of anything that could fluster the radio personality, as happy and energetic as he normally sounded, “I’m going to start off this time by saying that, as of yet, nothing about this next story has been confirmed. I’m going to repeat that: right now, these are mostly just rumors.

“If anypony listening can shed any light, I’d like you to contact my assistant, Homage, with details,” the stallion took a deep breath, steeling himself, “now…there are reports,” he stressed the word with a tone that clearly suggested his doubt regarding their validity, “that a pony wearing Steel Ranger barding is targeting caravans and merchants.

“Some of the survivors have claimed that the pony that attacked them was the Lone Ranger,” I heard Windfall gasp from beside me. DJ-PON3 went on to hurriedly add, “again, these are just the stories that some very distressed, and understandably shaken ponies are telling. I’m not saying that anypony out there is deliberately lying, but we all know that an intense fight can leave details rather muddied. There are a lot of Steel Rangers out there, and they can go raider just like anypony else, I’m sure.

“Again,” he kept using that word. Not a good sign, honestly, “I’m asking for anypony with any evidence of who is really behind these attacks to please contact Homage, so that we can get to the bottom of this,” it was clear that the disc jockey didn’t believe for a moment that the newest hero of the Manehattan Wasteland could be responsible. In fairness, it wasn’t too far outside the realm of possibility that some other ranger had snapped and gone the raider route. Though, if that were the case, this new power-armored threat should be exactly the type that the Lone Ranger would be tracking down and taking out, right?

“And now, here’s Nat King Colt with, Buck Up and Fly Right,” there was another short burst of static, and then a piano started to play, with a young stallion’s voice singing over it.

“Do you think it's really him?”

The question caught me off guard, and it took a couple of seconds for me to realize that Windfall was asking whether or not I was of the mind that her hero would turn raider, “I’ve told you before: killing is killing,” I replied, “some folks…the line between needing to kill and wanting to kill can blur after a time.”

Windfall thought about this for a moment, “…it could be some other pony wearing power armor,” she reasoned, “it doesn’t have to be the Lone Ranger,” it didn’t sound like she was as convinced of that possibility as she would have liked to be.

All the same, “no, it doesn't,” I nodded.

“After all,” the Pegasus went on with her rationalizing, “he’s been protecting caravans all this time; why start attacking them? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Not to you or me.”

Windfall didn’t seem to appreciate that qualification very much, and flashed me a sour look. Her eyes went to the booth with the unicorn stallion we were supposed to talk with. He was no longer occupied, and was actually now looking at the pair of us expectantly, “let’s go,” she tossed back the rest of her drink and wiped the few drops that didn’t quite make it in from her mouth. I took a final sip of the diluted alcohol and pushed the glass and it remaining contents away.

The pair of us took up seats across the table from our liaison; myself nearer the wall. I started off the conversation, “I need a meeting with Scratch,” there wasn’t much point in being subtle about any of this. New Reino was a dangerous place for me without the sort of protection that my old griffin acquaintance could provide. I was in no position to waste time with conversational etiquette.

The unicorn cringed slightly at my blunt statement, and he glanced around at nearby ponies as though to gauge their reaction to my use of the griffin’s name out loud. Was Scratch’s existence really supposed to be some sort of secret or something? Griffin’s were hardly a common sight in this town, or even the valley as a whole. Somepony must have noticed him by now, even if nopony knew explicitly that he was also in charge of the Lucky Bit. Though, if Itchy was really supposed to be the ‘face’ of the casino, nopony that met the strung out stallion would ever believe that he was actually in charge of anything. Somepony was pulling his strings.

Finally, the suited stallion seemed satisfied that nopony had taken notice of our exchange and turned back to respond, “I’m afraid my employer’s time is valuable, and limited. I’ll be sure to pass on your request and see when you can be accommodated,” a pad of paper and a pencil floated into view, “if you’ll just tell me where you can be reached?”

I saw Windfall glance questioningly towards me. She knew how dangerous staying in the place was, and we hadn’t made any arrangements for rooms yet. Frankly, we couldn’t afford any at the moment until Foxglove was done selling what we’d collected in the warehouse. I tapped the table impatiently with my hoof, “his schedule was open enough for me last time,” I pointed out, “and what I have for him now can’t wait.”

Now I did lower my voice and lean in across the table, “I know where there’s a new gang moving into the area. Lot’s of weapons, lot’s of advanced tech. Pretty sure they’re Stable stock too,” maybe I was embellishing a bit and taking some liberties with information I didn’t have yet, but I could refine the details later. In any case, I had my contact’s attention, “now, way I figure it, the first pony in this town that knows about them gets the upper hoof. Either they can know how to avoid them, or get first crack at hiring them for merc contracts.

“Now, I’m bringing this to Scratch first out of respect for the history him and I got,” I put a wry smirk on my face and leaned back, “but if he’s too busy, I’m happy to shop around for anypony else that’d like this information…”

The unicorn stallion frowned, but he wasn’t quite as sure about his tactics as he had been a minute ago. His gaze darted for the stairway leading to the upper floors. He knew that if what I had was as valuable as I claimed, and that if I did go somewhere else and Scratch got wind that he could have been the one ahead of the curve instead of one of his competitors…it would reflect poorly on the unicorn that had turned me away. On the other hoof, if I was lying through my teeth; well, then it was hardly his fault, wasn’t it?

“Perhaps some things can be moved around,” he finally said.

“We’ll wait,” I assured him with a smile, “but not for long,” I put my hoof to my chin and feigned thinking for a short moment, “though, some drinks would keep us here a while longer…some good drinks” I amended.

The suit-wearing go-between rolled his eyes, but I saw him motion to the pony working the bar. In short order, a pair of glasses and a bottle of what I presumed was mostly pure Wild Pegasus appeared in front of Windfall and I. Our contact excused himself and vanished into the upper levels of the casino. Windfall was quick to pour herself a generous glass of the liquid and throw it down her throat. For my part, I was content to sip.

The pegasus looked over at me, “so how much of what you said was true?”

The flier sounded as though she was quite doubtful that any of it had been. I smiled into my drink, “most of it, probably,” I informed her. She still looked a little dubious. I held up my pipbuck, “I was going over some more of the logs that were left on this thing. The stable pony that this came from was from around here,” it was easiest to sell a lie when some of it was true. Not that lying to her was making me feel very good about myself right now. The dour frown from the orange earth pony mare in my head wasn't helping matters, “I compared those records with what I learned in Old Reino.

“Besides, something hit that caravan we found, right?”

That all seemed to satisfy Windfall, and she poured herself another drink from the bottle. I promptly stowed the rest of the whiskey away after that though. She’d been hitting the booze pretty hard recently, and I wanted her at least moderately sober for our meeting with Scratch. I needed the griffin to see how capable the flier was, and showing up with her drunk off her ass wasn’t how that was going to happen. The disappearance of the bottle didn’t stop her from throwing back her second helping just as quickly as she had the first.

I was actually about to comment on her style of drinking, letting her know that sipping was actually a viable option, when I caught sight of the unicorn stallion we’d been waiting on standing at the base of the stairs. He nodded towards us and waived his hoof. I nudged Windfall to get her attention and pointed out our contact. She hopped out of the booth and alit clumsily onto the floor. With a frown, I followed her out a bit more gracefully. Together we approached the stairway.

“He has a few minutes to hear you out,” his tone suggested that it would be in our best interests not to be wasting any of Scratch’s time. Which was fine, as I had no intention of doing so.

We headed up.

Itchy was standing near the door leading to what I knew to be Scratch’s office. Upon seeing us approach, the fidgety earth pony waved a hoof at us, “h-hey, Jackie!” he greeted nervously. I guess his boss must have yelled at him recently for something. Itchy wasn’t exactly the most capable sort; I often wondered why the griffin kept him around, “Scratch is i-i-inside, waitin’ for ya.”

“Thanks, Itch,” I nodded at the scrawny stallion. I noticed that the other earth pony’s eyes were focused intently on Windfall now, so I made introductions, “this is Windfall, my partner.”

“Oh, r-right!” recognition bloomed on his face, “the pony we gave the radio job to,” he stepped past me and extended his hoof towards the pegasus, “any friend of Jackie’s is a friend of mine!” Windfall judiciously took the offered hoof, smiling politely.

“Take care of yourself, Itch,” I nodded for Windfall to follow me, and we went through the door into the open air office beyond.

This time the griffin wasn’t going for theatrics. The two of us found him leaning back in the chair behind his desk, taking a drag of a cigar. He watched the two of us walk in and waited for the door to close behind us before speaking. He studied me for a brief moment, “I heard there was a fair bit of ruckus a couple days back,” he began, “at the casino you were staying at, if I’m remembering right.”

Given the complete lack of subtlety involved when the bounty hunters had assaulted my room, I doubted that there was anypony in this town that didn’t know something violent had happened there. Only a few would have known that it involved me though, “pissed off somepony with a lot of money. You know how it is.”

The griffin smiled, “old hat, for you, as I recall.”

I rolled my eyes at the reference to my Finder troubles back in Hoofington, “I just bring it out in ponies.”

“Here to announce your departure again?”

“Figure I’d change things up this time,” I shook my head, “I’m going to stick around, but I’ll need you're help to do it.”

It was immediately clear that the griffin was not liking my proposal, “Jackboot-“

“Hear me out,” I began. Scratch sat back and waited politely, “I just need you to stir up the rumor mill whenever I’m in town. Let it slip I’m in Shady Saddles, or heading back east; things like that. I’ll rarely be in New Reino anyway.

“Where I’ll actually be is helping you get the details on the new players moving into the valley before anypony else.”

This got the griffin’s attention, “it was mentioned that you had information for me,” now Scratch’s expression grew a little more severe, “though the implication was that you already had the details...”

“I know where to get them,” I assured the griffin quickly, “and I’m going to be on my way there in the morning," while sticking around for a few days would have been nice, I was treading a thin line with Scratch. He wasn't the type to let himself be played with, even by an 'old acquaintance' like me. The sooner her was satisfied, the better off I'd be, "what I can tell you now, for certain, is that they’re powerful, and they’re smart.”

The scowl on the griffin’s face deepened, “so they’re dangerous.”

“If they’re your enemy,” I acknowledged, “but if we can find some way to make them an ally…” I let the implication hang in the air for a few seconds so it could sink in. Scratch looked doubtful, if not a little hopeful regarding that prospect. Now was when I chose to make Windfall’s introduction, “and speaking of ally’s, this is Windfall.”

Scratch cast his gaze on the Pegasus standing next to me and nodded, “charmed,” the flier nodded. The griffin glanced at me, “your little helper?”

Before Windfall could say some brash, I chimed in, “more like I help her, these days,” I corrected. The pegasus mare calmed noticeably, “a skilled flier and an excellent shot,” Windfall stood a little straighter at my praise, while managing not to grin like a filly, “she’s the pony that rescued Homily and her team,” Scratch was obviously impressed by that, “and we’re a package deal,” I added, pleased to see Windfall nod her own agreement, “just want you to keep that in mind if you decide you can’t guarantee my safety in New Reino.”

The griffin smirked, taking a long puff of his cigar, “ain’t no pony or griffin I ever met who could guarantee safety in the Wasteland, Jackie-boy,” he chuckled to himself, “but I’ll put some words in the right ears and we’ll see what happens.

“In the meantime,” his clawed fingers tapped off the ashen tip of his cigar into a nearby ashtray, “if y’all need a place to stay the night, I think I can spare a room for two for the night.”

“A couple rooms, if it’s no extra trouble,” I ventured cautiously. I was getting off extremely well here, and I didn’t want to risk pissing off my benefactor, “we have a third member of our team out getting supplies.”

Scratch nodded, “no worries there,” he assured us, “I have a suite that’s not being used tonight. Should be enough for all of you. Just for the one night, you understand,” he regarded us with a hard stare. I issued a stiff nod. Message received.

He wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t just passing him a load of bullshit in a desperate effort to buy my way out of a bind. Truth be told, I sort of was. However, I was confident that I really did know where to get some valuable information on a group of ponies that both New Reino and the NLR didn’t know about yet. Getting some specific intel on them would be invaluable to the first enterprising being to get their hooves and/or claws on it. I was aiming to get that information, though with great caution. If Merrybell’s story was to be believed, this group had wiped out an entire stable, and nopony knew why they’d done it. That made them dangerous, that mysterious motivation of theirs.

It didn’t bother me so much that they were killers. I knew plenty of killers, and groups that exterminated populations. I also understood why they did it, and who their likely targets would be. This made them predictable, and it was possible to negotiate with them. These weird two-horned ponies that were described to me? They were an unknown quantity. That worried me.

“We’ll head out first thing in the morning,” I assured the griffin, “and be back in a few days with everything you need to know about these ponies and what they’re up to.”

“I know you, Jackboot,” the griffin nodded, “you’ve always gotten the job done for me. You won’t let me down,” he glanced at Windfall, “it was nice to have met you.

“Itchy!” the wiry stallion scrambled through the door, “show these two to the High Roller Suite; get them settled in.”

“Yes, s-s-sir,” the griffin’s aide nodded and made way for Windfall and I to leave. The door closed behind us and the smaller stallion slipped around in front of us, “th-this way.”

Scratch knew how to treat his more important guests, that was for sure. The High Roller Suite came equipped with all the amenities that one could have hoped to find in a pre-war Equestira. Crystalline chandeliers had been pain-stakingly reformed from the intact gems of what had probably been several dozen other fixtures in order to make the three in this room look whole and new. They bathed the room is soft, white light.

The first room was a parlor, with a ring of couches and futons surrounding a polished wooden table that already contained a spread of diced fruits and a couple pitchers of clean water. Off to either side was a door leading to a pair of bedrooms. Within each of those rooms was a king-sized bed with some of the cleanest linens that I had ever seen.

The quality of this setup put the suite that I had splurged for in the Flash in the Pan to shame.

Windfall was equally impressed, as she let out a long, awed, whistle.

“If you n-n-need anything,” Itchy offered, “it’ll cost ya,” upon seeing my frown, he hastily added, “I’m j-just sayin’, th-th-this ain’t f-full service, ya know?”

“Right, got it,” I waved the stallion away, “not a free ride. See you in the morning, Itch,” I closed the door behind the brown earth pony and then turned my attention back to the room.

Windfall was flitting about, pocking her head into the bedrooms, “only two beds,” she noted, “Foxglove can take this room,” she darted to the other side of the longue and slipped through the doorway leading to the other bedroom, “and we’ll be over here.”

I glanced towards the empty doorway, “I wouldn’t settle on the sleeping arrangements just yet,” I was pretty sure that the unicorn mare was going to have a thing or two to say about Windfall and I sharing a bed.

“Why not?” the pegasus mare said, poking her head back out, “somepony’s going to be sharing. Might as well be us. We’ve been sleeping together for years,” I quirked a brow, and saw the flier’s face flush as she realized how that had sounded, “you know what I mean!”

“I think Foxglove would prefer I have my own room,” I took my saddlebags off my back and carried them over to the room that Windfall hadn’t claimed. I stepped inside and threw them on the bed. A second later, I saw that they were joined by another familiar pair of bags that landed beside them. Glancing behind me, I saw that Windfall was standing in the doorway, glaring at me defiantly. I sighed, “Windfall…”

“I know that you’ve been putting Foxglove up to all those ‘talks’ with me,” the pegasus began, sounding far more firm in her tone than I was used to her addressing me with. I didn’t get an immediate chance to correct her either as she quickly continued, “and I get why.

“Maybe it’s my fault. I was upset, and I said a lot of things that I regret now,” the pegasus winced and bowed her head as she recalled memories that were painful for her. When she looked back up at me, her eyes were starting to glisten with the portents of tears that she was holding back, “but I didn’t really mean them.

“You’re the pony that raised me. You kept me safe, and taught me how to take care of myself,” she cracked a sad smile, “you were there when I got my cutie mark.

Her expression darkened once more, “when I found out that you were a White Hoof…had been a White Hoof the whole time,” she corrected herself, “I just…reacted. You know that I hate them, and you know why,” she took in a deep ragged breath and let it out, “it took me a while, but I finally accepted that the pony you used to be doesn't matter. Whatever you were like back then, that's not the pony you are now. I still wish you had told me but…I don’t know if there was ever going to be a time when I’d be ready to hear something like that.

“But I want to put all of that behind us,” she asserted with a nod of her head, and a confidence in her voice that hardly sounded at all like she was trying to convince herself of it, “and pick things up where we left off.

“I want to be us again, like we used to be. Talking together, eating together, and sleeping in the same room together; like we did when I was a filly.”

It was my turn to crack a smile, now that Windfall had left enough of a pause for me to enter the conversation, “you want to sleep on a pillow in the corner of the room?”

The pegasus chuckled, “maybe not quite like when I was a filly,” then she sobered a bit and regarded me hopefully, “but what do you say? Can we go back to the way things were?”

That sounded nice, actually. There wasn’t a whole lot in my life that I remembered ‘fondly’. Most of my time with Windfall did fall into that category though. We’d had a rough spot or two, what group of ponies didn’t? At the end of it all though, the good time far outweighed the bad. Being able to slide back into the routine that the two of us had once enjoyed was very tempting.

Did that mean that it was a good idea, though? What did the peanut gallery have to say about all of this?

Whiplash was her same snide self, deriding me for just wanting to get the Pegasus into my bed ‘like I’d always wanted’. Steel Bit wasn’t much different. I chose to ignore the two of them and looked to the other figments of my imagination which had proven to have a slightly less antagonistic view up to this point.

Yellow Bitch seemed quite amenable to the idea, surprisingly; given how many of my thoughts with regards to the filly’s future with me while growing up had fallen well short of the ‘kind’ threshold. Orange Cunt seemed pleased that being honest with the filly about the sort of pony I’d once been was finally paying off; though she was still none too happy that I’d kept my lips tight on the revelation until Windfall had found out for herself.

A fifth contender had entered the debate as well. An additional shard of my ever further fracturing psyche, this white unicorn mare with the exquisitely styled mane and sapphire eyes was modeled suspiciously like that last statue I’d come across in Wind Rider’s office. I was going to officially settle on White Whore for her, since the only mares I’d ever known who put that much effort into their looks were trying to attract clients. She was casting a vote too: I needed to make up for my past, and helping Windfall was a start.

Three votes to two in favor of letting Windfall get close to me again. Who was I to argue with the majority of my delusions?

I smiled warmly at the hopeful pegasus, “yeah. We can give it another shot.”

Windfall’s face instantly lit up. The leaped across the distance between us and threw her hooves around my neck with such force that I found myself having to take a step back, lest I fall over, “oh, thank you!” her words came out a little muffled, as her face was mostly buried in my neck. I craned my head down to look at the smaller flier, and gave her a reassuring pat on the back.

I felt a tiny bead of dampness wet my coat around where the alabaster mare’s eyes were. In a much softer tone, she said, “I was so scared when I came back and saw that you’d been poisoned. Foxglove didn’t even know what to do, she was just standing there looking at you,” I felt myself tensing at the memory, dreading what would happen if Windfall ever found out exactly why the unicorn might not have been inclined to act to save my life right then. I wondered what Orange Cunt would have to say about being honest about that right now?

“I didn’t think I was going to make it in time,” she went on, pulling away slightly and looking up at me. I could see very obvious tears in her eyes now, and her words were starting to crack, “I thought you were going to die thinking I hated you,” she sniffed, and then her lips spread in a relieved smile that was marred by a sob that managed to escape, “that I’d never get to tell you I forgave you.”

I hugged the flier to my chest once more, “it all worked out,” I assured her, feeling the quivering in her body start to subside as the Pegasus began to regain control over her emotions. Or, at least, I thought she was regaining control. The sobbing had quickly subsided, but then I felt her doing something very different.

At first, I didn’t even recognize it for what it was, and she was doing it so subtly that I barely noticed it. Her head just seemed to be slowly rubbing against my chest and neck, but I soon discovered that this was not the case. Not entirely. By the time Windfall got to my jaw, I realized that she was kissing me. This realization spawned several competing thoughts and impulses, especially where those little ponies in my head were concerned.

Steel Bit was encouraging me to just go ahead and bend the pegasus over the bed right now and take her like I should have years ago. I pushed that thought aside as forcefully as I could. Whiplash was noting how cute it was to see Windfall’s first attempt at foreplay; and that she seemed good enough at it that I should seriously wonder if it was actually her first time. The other three…well, it was hard to tell what they were thinking, as none of them seemed to know what to make of this. Well, fat lot of help you’ve all been!

Just before Windfall could reach my lips, which was clearly her intended destination, I managed to push her back; though I was very careful about the amount of force that I used. The pegasus was clearly a little emotionally fragile right now, and I didn’t need her reacting to my rebuke in any sort of rash manner. As it was, even this subtle hint to stop brought a confused and pained look to her blue eyes.

“We shouldn’t,” was all I could think to say at this moment. It was all I could trust myself to say.

“Why not?”

Yeah, Jackboot, ‘why not’?

Oh, you are so not helping...

There was little need for Whiplash to point out that my list of objective reasons why I couldn’t let Windfall pursue this little meeting to its inevitable conclusion was generously described as ‘sparse’. Nor did she need to point out that there was a whole big section of my brain that was hopped up on a cocktail of hormones that was basically begging me to let this happen. Having had Foxglove so recently tease me with whatever the fuck had been going on with her in the warehouse wasn’t helping things. Keeping a lid on certain physiological reactions wasn’t going to be an option if things progressed any further either.

Physically? I wanted this. Oh, how I wanted this! A young, fresh, nubile, mare who wanted nothing more than to please me in the bedroom? If I didn’t know any better, I’d have sworn that I’d died at some point and this was my wildest fantasy come true as part of my eternal reward in the afterlife. I did know better, of course; and while I did want this, and while it was clear that Windfall at least thought that she wanted it too, what Windfall needed was a lot more important.

And what the pegasus needed was for me to tell her, “because you're my daughter,” wow, didn’t that sound weird to say, and mean it?

Windfall drew back slightly, looking at me dubiously, “um…no? That’s just what we tell everypony,” she leaned back in close once more to resume her kissing, “we’re not related, so it’s okay…”

Again I had to deflect the pegasus, who was starting to look annoyed, “it’s not about blood,” I said, going so far as to take a full step back from the flier, “it’s about…feelings. You said it yourself: I’m the pony that raised you. Now maybe you don’t think of me as your father,” Whiplash had herself a nice little chuckle about Windfall’s probable ‘daddy issues’ at this point, but I ignored it, “but when I look at you, I see a daughter; and so I can't do what you’re asking.”

There was a still clearly hurt in the flier’s eyes. I softened my tone and stepped closer to her once more, “that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do,” I cautiously wrapped an arm around the pegasus and leaned in to give her a chaste peck on the forehead, “and I always will.”

When I pulled back once more, I gauged how Windfall was going to react to all of this. It was obvious that this little meeting hadn’t gone the way that she had planned out in her head, but I didn’t see any indications that there were going to be waterfalls of tears or fits of screaming. She was heartbroken, after a fashion, but that was okay. She was young, and beautiful, and would have plenty of opportunities to get over this someday.

“We good?” I asked her, favoring the flier with a warm smile.

Windfall sighed heavily, but she offered up a little nod of her head and a sad smile, “we’re good,” then she rolled her eyes and her smile grew a little more playful and warm, “Pa.”

Well played, “perfect. Now how about you find Foxglove and let her know where we’ll be staying.”

“Will do,” the Pegasus turned to leave the room, but I tugged on her tail before she could exit. When she looked back for an explanation, I was holding up her saddlebags for her to take to the other bedroom. With a roll of her eyes, she collected the bags and left.

When she finally left the suite entirely, I let out a very exasperated and quite frustrated scream. What was with these mares?! First Foxglove goes to town on herself while I’m inches away from her, and now Windfall was throwing herself at me! I couldn’t take this sort of treatment for very long. As it was, I could still smell the pegasus on me, and despite everything I had said to her, there was a part of me that very much wanted to recant what I’d just said and take her up on her offer.

That wasn’t to say that I’d been lying about anything I told her though. She did feel like a daughter to me. Or, rather, I felt about her the same way that I imagined a father would feel about his daughter. A father that wasn’t mine, at least. Which was a much bigger reason for my refusal: I didn’t want to have the sort of relationship with my ‘daughter’ that my father had had with his. Right now, that was a growing concern that I was having, especially in light of how I’d behaved in Old Reino. There was a much thinner line between me and my sire than I had thought.

It was a shame to waste the luxuries that came with a place like this, but right now, I was going to have to forgo the available heated water option and take a long, cold, shower…

There was a knock at the door as we were packing up to leave the next morning. All three of us looked at the door. I drew my revolver as I did, and Windfall quickly followed suit with her compact .45. The last time somepony had come to the door of our hotel room, things had gotten…exciting. None of us spoke or made any move to open it. After what seemed like a full minute, a familiar voice was heard.

“J-j-jackboot? You in th-th-there?”

I released the breath I didn’t notice that I was holding and slid Full Stop back into its holster, “hold on a sec, Itchy,” I walked over to the door and unlocked it. Windfall and Foxglove resumed packing our bags as I let the scraggly stallion into the room, “what brings you by…”

My attention was grabbed away from the smaller brown stallion by the larger earth pony standing next to him. The two ponies could not possibly have looked more different. Where Itchy was a mangy quivering wreck of a pony, his companion was very much the idyllic image of a Wasteland-weathered earth pony. His coat was darker than my own, but still held the barest crimson sheen in the right light. His steel-gray mane was braided down the back of his neck, decorated with rings of silver and copper.

What struck me most about him, and immediately put me on alert were his eyes though. Ruby rings around dark pupils that brought to mind a very specific pony from my past. Not that I hadn’t seen the occasional pony walking around the Wasteland that also had red eyes, but seeing them this close…
He wore barding, but you might have almost through it to just be clothing with how subdued and thin it was. Armor that was designed not to encumber somepony during long periods of travel, and offer protection only in those areas that were most vital. Over it he wore a brown tattered duster to protect him from the elements. I couldn’t immediately spot a weapon, but most anything could have been hidden beneath his long coat.

I just about drew Full Stop again, but Itchy spoke up before I did, “this is, Cestus,” the scraggly stallion said by way of introduction, “Scratch h-hired him on to h-h-help you.”

I blinked at the pair, and then comprehension dawned on me and I smiled wryly at the younger earth pony, “he’s here to make sure we come through on the job,” I concluded. Itchy shrugged and offered an apologetic smile of his own. So be it. I looked back at Cestus and gave the pony another appraising once over. He certainly looked like the type who could handle himself in a fight. Not a bad choice for a chaperone, I guess, “you’re bringing your own provisions, right?”

The larger stallion smiled, “you won’t find me to be a burden,” he responded.

I found myself refining a few of my initial assessments when I heard him speak that first time. By his size and appearance, I had judged him to be a world-weary pony not more than a decade younger than myself. However, that had not been the voice of an old stallion, but of a young one. He was probably not even quite half my age. Looking like that though, I’d be wrong to assume he was inexperienced. It might be possible that he was even as capable as I was at his age. Time would tell. I still wasn’t entirely comfortable about Scratch sending along a pair of eyes to keep tabs on us. I could hardly blame him, but it still limited some options that we might have needed to take if things didn’t go the way that I was hoping.

“Hey, Jackboot, who’s at the door-whoa.”

I turned to see that Windfall had come up behind me to get a better look at our visitors.

Cestus didn’t even seem to notice the pegasus mare though. His gaze remained fixed on me, “it’s nice being able to put a face to the name,” he said, “I’ve heard a lot a lot of stories about you.”

“Scratch talks about me?” that actually surprised me a good bit. The griffin and I had had a long a productive relationship back in Hoofington, sure, but I’d just been one of many ponies that he dealt with. I hadn’t thought that I’d really done anything that would leave that sort of impression on him.

The young stallion just smiled and finally peered around me to get a look at the others inside the room, “and it’s only these other two with you?”

I nodded, “yeah, this is…” I turned to introduce the flier next to me, and found myself faltering slightly as I noticed Windfall’s expression. Her mouth was slightly agape, and her wide blue eyes weren’t fixed on the new arrival’s face. I loudly cleared my throat, which seemed to get the mare’s attention and she composed herself, “…Windfall,” I continued, frowning. Then I motioned towards the violet unicorn who was just closing up the last of our saddlebags, “and that’s Foxglove,” the unicorn waved idly and levitated our bags over to us.

“So we’re ready to go then?” Cestus glanced around at the three of us, “Scratch wants this done quick, so we’ll need to cover as much ground as we can today.”

I took my saddlebags from Foxglove and slipped them over my back. Provisions, medicine, and a few grenades finally gave the packs some weight that they’d not had in a good while. It was nice having a new knife and an additional sidearm again too. The action of the 10mm that Foxglove had picked up for me was still a little stiff, and it was going to take several more cleanings before I was satisfied with it. Time would tell if the slightly larger caliber would grow on me. I’d initially been less than thrilled with the revelation that the unicorn hadn’t picked up another 9mm to replace the one that I’d ‘lost’ in Old Reino; but it was hard to fault her reasoning.

There was wisdom in having weapons that could share ammunition between them, as it meant that running out of bullets meant for one caliber didn’t diminish your volume of fire. It would be a bad day if we ran out of that common ammunition type, but 10mm was a genuinely more common size in Neighvada than the 9mm I’d been using. Plus, Foxglove was already manufacturing her ‘special’ rounds in that caliber for Windfall, which meant that I now had access to that same diversity of damage. While the unicorn had not made any of the sophisticated sorts of modifications to my weapon that she had made for Windfall, she had supplied me with a magazine each of her emerald tipped explosive rounds and the sapphire pulse rounds. I was advised to use them sparingly.

Windfall was tightening the last remaining straps of her new barding and adjusting the placement of her twin submachine guns. The flier’s armor had easily been the most expensive item that we’d bought with the funds made from the sale of our salvage. Foxglove had needed to put a little work into fitting it for the Pegasus, but it was otherwise serviceable. Not great barding, as it had obviously had a few prior owners and still retained clues to what might have caused their demise in the form of bullet-sized holes and a few mended tears that suggested prior deep rents in the leather. It would serve her for now until Foxglove came by the materials to improve upon it.

The unicorn had also acquired some gear of her own. Foremost on her list of priorities had been obtaining a replacement power source for her eldritch lance. The prolific cutting tool now glowed with a fierce intensity that encouraged anypony looking at its tip to have to shield their eyes slightly. New barding of her own had also been on her shopping list. Though, I suppose to file her attire under the heading of ‘armor’ might be stretching the definition to its limit. It contained hardly any reinforcements that would mitigate incoming rounds, settling instead for pockets and compartments to make her growing menagerie of tools more easily accessible.

At my urging, Foxglove had also bought herself a rifle. While her lance was decidedly very effective in a fight, even the unicorn’s telekinetic field had a limited range that fell well short of a firearm’s; and many was an encounter where volume of sustained fire would help to decide the outcome. I realized now that I should have been clearer on the specific style of weapon that I would have liked for her to get, as I had envisioned an automatic weapon to help supplement the firepower that Windfall could already bring to bear. The unicorn had instead opted for a bolt action. I couldn’t fault her choice of caliber in that regard at least, as few weapons fired rounds larger than the .308 she was going to be putting on her targets. However, I had to wonder at her choice to take lethality over rate of fire. She was not as experienced with firearms as either myself or Windfall, and so being able to send a lot of bullets towards her target would help to make up for her lack of skill with regards to consistent aim with a slow firing weapon.

When we got back from this trip, I’d discuss it with her. In the meantime, it was good that she at least had a rifle at all.

“We’re ready,” I assured the earth pony. To Itchy, I said, “you tell Scratch I’ll be wanting to use this room more often,” I flashed a grin at the gangly stallion, “it’s got some really comfortable beds.”

“Uhh…” the griffin’s aide looked a little worried and unsure of how to respond, and that was how I left him as our trio followed the stallion that Scratch had assigned to come with us on our expedition.

Cestus and I took up the lead as we headed out of the city, while Foxglove lagged behind. Windfall was circling overhead, as was her custom, in order to keep an eye out for any trouble coming our way. There were a few moments during the trip where I noticed that the Pegasus wasn’t paying quite as much attention to the Wasteland as she was to our guest. After the third time of having to prompt Windfall for a summary of what lay ahead, I dropped back to have a private word with Foxglove.

“I don’t suppose that you can talk to her?”

“Talk to who?” the unicorn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Windfall,” I nodded upwards towards the circling pegasus, “she’s letting herself get distracted,” even now it looked as though the young airborne mare was lingering in certain parts of her arc to get a better view of the dark stallion with us.

Foxglove looked between them for a moment, and then snorted as her face cracked a smile, “somepony’s jealous,” she glanced at me with a satisfied grin, “so she’s got her eye on somepony else. I don’t see the problem.”

“You’re not seriously okay with this? We don’t know anything about him.”

The unicorn retained her smile a bit longer, “yep, jealous,” and then let it fade away with a sigh as she ceased having her bit of fun at my expense and addressed my concern more seriously, “can’t blame her, he’s a good looking stallion,” upon seeing my shocked expression, she added, “well he is. If I didn’t favor the mares, I’d be ogling him too.”

“Great,” I said with a dour note.

“We do need her head in the game, though,” Foxglove admitted, “I’ll talk with her tonight.”

“I also want you to keep an eye on Cestus too,” I added, feeling a little better knowing that the Windfall situation was hopefully going to be sorted out.

“You mean the strange earth pony that was suddenly and mysteriously told to go with us, as we wandered out into the middle of nowhere, by the old friend from your past that I know nothing about?” the unicorn’s expression and tone suggested that she was intrigued by the notion, but they were both obviously being feigned for the sake of sarcasm, and her features quickly fell into a look that conveyed ‘duh’, “yeah, way ahead of you.

“At least it helps that he has a nice ass.”

I frowned, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“How could I not? I’m trudging through the Wasteland with my rapist and a stallion that looks like a younger version of my rapist. Oh, I know I’m going to sleep soundly tonight!” the unicorn said in a chipper sounding tone before reverting back into a more subdued one and sighing, “sorry. I’m just very stressed right now, because I don’t like anything about this.”

I suppose that I could understand that, given the context that Foxglove had already delivered to me; albeit in a less than straightforward manner. Though I did find my thoughts lingering on one point that she had made, “you think he looks like me?” I glanced at the other stallion.

She shrugged, “kind of. Though, a lot of you earth ponies look alike to me.”

“Thanks.”

“Glad to help.”

It made me feel a little better to know that I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t entirely comfortable about our guest. Not that I could really put a hoof on the source of a very deep sense of nervousness that I was having about him. Something was just…off. It wasn’t anything that he’d said or done though. So far, I hadn’t noticed any glaring red flags there. It was something else. Something…that I couldn’t quite explain.
Jealousy, was Whiplash’s deduction.

So Windfall was staring at the guy; big deal. She was allowed to look at other stallions. My opinion differed greatly on the subject of her acting on anything she might start to feel with all of that looking, don’t misunderstand. That wasn’t about being possessive or jealous either. It was just sound judgment. The last thing I needed was for the Pegasus to get herself laid up carrying somepony’s foal.

I kept my eye on Cestus more than on the surrounding landscape. Something I bitterly realized I had in common with the Pegasus, though I was fairly certain the two of us had different motives for doing so. To the dark stallion’s credit, I didn’t catch anything suspicious about him; and in fact he was behaving like any experienced Wastelander should. He recognized hazards and tracks and didn’t ever once push for an early break or meal. If anything, he seemed more determined than we did to make our distance goal for the day.

The jury was still out on whether or not he was going to be an asset on this trip, but he certainly wasn’t a liability. That was about as much as I could hope to ask from an unwanted addition that my benefactor tacked on at the last minute.

He certainly wasn’t the talkative sort. Not that I tried to engage him in any conversations. Windfall made the occasional invitation to chat by asking him questions about his work and family—the first question, I noted, was whether or not he was seeing anypony. Cestus responded with curt replies and simple answers that left little room to delve further into the topic. After a couple of hours of listening to the flier’s painful attempts to draw the stallion out, she finally seemed to give up, and instead chose to banter with myself and Foxglove when she felt the need.
We made camp in a shallow gully just as daylight was beginning to fade from the overcast sky. A rocky overhang provided shelter from the wind, and afforded us the added concealment that made building a fire a safe endeavor. The light would only be visible from a very specific direction, and so it hopefully wouldn’t end up drawing unwanted attention while we bedded down.

I glanced at the map on my pipbuck, “we should be there by tomorrow night,” assuming that nothing went wrong or course, “look around, spend the night there, maybe head back in the morning depending on what we find.”

Cestus was barely even paying attention to what I was saying, far more interested in his jerked Brahmin and Sparkle Cola. An odd meal choice, to be sure. Not that there weren’t ponies who ate Brahmin or other meats; it just wasn’t all that common around most towns, I’d noticed. A few of the local tribes partook, since they often had limited agricultural infrastructure when compared to places like Seaddle and weren’t as involved in scouring ruins for pre-war foodstuffs. He certainly looked like he could have been a tribal though, so that made sense in that light.

Windfall and Foxglove were a bit more interested in planning out the rest of the trip at least. The unicorn chimed in first, “do we know what happened to this stable?”

I nodded, and supplied what parts of the truth I was comfortable revealing that made sense for me to have learned through means other than primary witnesses, “the pony that owned this pipbuck said their air purification talisman was failing, and his group was supposed to find replacements. Since everypony on that expedition died, I figure they never got their ventilation fixed.”

The unicorn cringed, “that’s not good. Even keeping the door open wouldn’t be enough. A stable’s ventilation system isn’t really designed to circulate air in from the outside; they’d have to rebuild the entire vent network.”

Windfall was frowning, “but what does that have to do with this new group of ponies you found out about? What makes you think they’re connected with this stable?”

Oh, horseapples. I hadn’t quite thought this story through, had I?

Orange Cunt was wearing a very satisfied grin on her face as she watched me try and tie off the strands that were unraveling in this little web of lies that I was trying to weave, “um, well,” think, Jackboot, think, “there was…another file on the pipbuck,” I amended, “not an audio file though. It was a message from their stable,” I wasn’t even sure this was how pipbucks worked, but Windfall wouldn’t know that either, so I went with it. I just hoped that Foxglove wasn’t keen to jump on my fabrications.

The unicorn was very covertly glaring at me, but she wasn’t saying anything yet. That was…good? Whatever, “it must have been sent after the owner died, because it was still…encrypted,” I found myself glancing briefly at Foxglove as I used the technical word very carefully, hoping I had it in the right context. I received the barest of reluctant nods from the violet mare, “and I don’t know anything about that stuff,” there’s that kernel of truth that helps make a lie believable, “but, fortunately, one of the computers in the hospital where I went to find the medicine was able to help me uncrypt-”

“Decrypt,” Foxglove corrected flatly.

“-decrypt it, right,” I nodded my thanks towards the mare and continued with the story, “and it turned out it was a warning to stay away, saying that they’d been attacked. The message described the attackers as being ‘unicorns with two horns’, and said they were using advanced technology.”

“A unicorn can’t have two horns,” Foxglove pointed out, “that’s why we’re called unicorns,” she tapped the horn protruding from her forehead.

I glared at the mare. At least, of all the flaws in my story that she could have pointed out, she chose the one that was indeed hearsay, and was sort of the point of this trip, “that’s just what I heard…from the message,” I hastily amended, “we’ll hopefully learn more when we get there.”

“That sounds…pretty incredible,” Windfall said. She looked to Cestus, “what do you think?”

The stallion shrugged, “ain’t ever heard of any ponies like that,” he admitted, “but I don’t spend a lot of time this far south.”

“Oh, you from the north part of the valley?” Windfall fluttered over a little closer to the stallion, “me too! What area? Seaddle?”

I found myself rolling my eyes as the Pegasus tried once more to chat up our new companion. It sounded like she was going to get about just as far as she had the previous times as well. Before I could comment on any of that though, I felt Foxglove leaning in closer to me.

“What’s really in that stable?” then she thought for another moment, “is there even a stable?”

Such a doubter, this one, Whiplash purred in the back of my mind, it’s almost like she doesn’t trust anything you say anymore…

I sighed, “yes, there is a stable. Yes, it’s the stable that this pipbuck is from,” I held the device out to her and tabbed over to the screen that showed the list of the audio logs stored on it, “it even still has the recordings that prove it,” Foxglove relaxed a little bit, and assured me that she didn’t need to listen to any of the files, so I withdrew the device.

“As for what’s there,” I hesitated and looked to make sure that Windfall was still trying to futilely draw out the other stallion. She was, “I met a couple of survivors in Old Reino. They told me what happened.”

I had Foxglove’s full attention now. The mare’s eyes went wide, “survivors? What happened?”

“Like I said: they were attacked. You were right about what they had to do with their vents,” I mentioned, recalling the story that Merrybell had related to me, “but it sounds like it drew the wrong kind of attention. They said some ponies arrived, and that those ponies had two horns.

“According to them, the ponies came twice: the first time was to trade. When they came back, they killed nearly everypony, and hauled the rest away.”

“That’s horrible,” the unicorn was genuinely shocked by the tale, “why would they do that? Slavers?”

I shrugged, “maybe,” if I didn’t sound convinced, it’s because I wasn’t, “but it sounded to me like they were killing a lot of the ponies that would have made good slaves, so I don’t know. I’m hoping to learn more when we see it for ourselves.”

Foxglove nodded. She thought for a moment, and then frowned, “so why make up that crap about the file? Why not just tell Windfall about the survivors?”

“I didn’t want to tell you about the survivors,” I pointed out, “and I still don’t want to tell Windfall about them. So not a word.”

“Why?”

“Because she’d ask me a question that you haven’t,” upon seeing the unicorn’s perplexed expression, I said, “and that is: why didn’t you bring them back to the warehouse with you?”

Comprehension dawned on the unicorn, and was quickly followed by a look of growing horror as she remembered what I’d been like that morning, “are they…still alive?”

Well, isn’t that a resounding endorsement of my character?

“They’re fine,” I assured her. Foxglove looked a little more relieved, but there was still a slightly dubious aspect to her expression. Well, they’d been mostly healthy when I’d left them. Hard to say if that filly was ever going to be ‘fine’ again in her life; and only Celestia knew if they’d taken my advice and were on their way to McMaren. They could very well be dead by now, but that wouldn’t be my fault if it were the case “but Windfall would want to know why I’d left them in Old Reino.

“So, unless you want to change your mind about revealing my recent state of mind to Windfall…” I let the point hang in the air between us.

Finally, Foxglove nodded her assent, “…don’t mention that you heard about this from other ponies. Got it,” she flashed me another pointed look, “and you swear you didn’t hurt them?”

“I swear that they were alive when I left them.”

The unicorn held my gaze for a long moment, catching the meaning behind the words that I’d chosen to use in my response. If she had reservations, she kept herself from voicing them out loud, and instead nodded.

Both of us had our attention drawn to a loudly yawning pegasus who was walking in our direction, “not so good with the pillow talk,” she sighed, casting her gaze back at the other stallion and tilting her head, “but that ass…damn!”

My gaze shot immediately to Foxglove, who flashed me an ‘I told you’ expression before looking back at the flier, “how about the mane? I like the braided look.”

Windfall studied the oblivious Cestus as he settled on for the night, taking no interest in our conversation. The Pegasus considered his mane and then scrunched up her nose slightly, “eh, it doesn’t do anything for me. I think he’d look better if he let it down, you know? Then it could blow all around his face in the wind…”

The unicorn toyed with the idea in her mind, look contemplative, “I can see that,” she conceded, “in my experience, a long mane just gets in the way when they’re going down on—”

“I’m going to bed,” I announced a little more loudly than was perhaps necessary. I stood up and stepped closer to the fire, and just out of what would hopefully be hushed whisper range for the two mares, “Windfall, you have first watch. Wake me in a few hours,” after the pegasus gave a cursory acknowledgment of the watch rotation, I made myself comfortable and closed my eyes.

That wasn’t the same thing as going right to sleep though. And while I couldn’t hear exactly what either of the two mares was specifically saying, they continued talking among themselves for a long while before I finally nodded off. I had little reason to suppose that they would have changed topics of discussion, and I even picked up the sporadic fit of giggling too.

What was wrong with these mares?!

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 20: MY ECHO

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“It's obvious that kindness and good temper aren't part of this religion.”

The thing about spending a lot of time out in the Wasteland, is that it gives you a sixth sense about when things are…off. You become accustomed to certain background sounds and sensations. Like insects. Insects are a big one. They’re everywhere, and they’re always incredibly noisy. Except when there are all sorts of things moving around. That’s when they get all quiet on you, thinking you’re after them.

If you remain still for long enough, like when you’re sleeping, all of that noise comes back. It doesn’t wake you up though, because you’re used to it. You expect it to be there, in fact. When it’s not there, that’s when you notice it. The silence can even be enough to wake you up.

It did as much for me tonight, though I didn’t know at first that was what had woken me up. I’d half expected to find Windfall fetching me to take my shift on the watch. That wasn’t the case though. In fact, the Pegasus was actually fast asleep herself right next to me.

My features immediately settled into a frown, and I was about to wake the flier up and berate her. Then I noticed that Foxglove was laying nearby, watching the fire. She took notice of my recently awakened status and put up a reassuring hoof. It certainly made me feel a little more at ease to know that there was somepony on watch. I was still curious as to why it wasn’t Windfall or myself though.

Quietly, I stood up and walked over to stand by Foxglove, who herself stood up and took us a bit further away from the other sleeping ponies. Correction, actually, I noticed. There was only one sleeping pony, and that was the Pegasus. Our stallion friend was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Cestus?” I asked the unicorn.

She nodded her head behind the nearby rock face, “taking a piss.”

Once again I felt myself relax a little bit more. Not all the way though. There was still something that felt off to me. My instincts were telling me that it was still too quiet out here. I stared out across the Wasteland, watching my Eyes Forward Sparkle very carefully. There weren’t any blips out there that the pipbuck could detect. I’d seen it lie to me before though. Not that I believed that there was an army of invisible zebras out there at the moment.

“I thought I was going to be on the shift after Windfall,” I didn’t quite sound accusatory, but my tone still suggested I wanted to hear a good explanation for why my orders had been discounted in favor of an undisclosed change that I had slept through.

“I wasn’t tired,” the unicorn answered. She then immediately yawned. This drew a dubious look from me. The mare shrugged.

“You think I’ll do something,” there wasn’t an immediate denial of my theory from the mare. She just looked at me for a few seconds, and then cast her gaze back out on the Wasteland, “so, what, you’re just never going to sleep again?”

“I can sleep when Windfall’s on watch,” she replied.

I let out a deep sigh and nodded. I offered an apologetic smile to the mare, “I turned Windfall down for sex last night. If that helps.”

“She told me,” the unicorn nodded, and finally met my gaze, “and I’m grateful for that. Thank you.

“It doesn’t change a lot about you and I though,” again she averted her gaze. She was quiet for a moment, then, “I think about killing you. A lot,” that statement certainly grabbed my attention, and I favored the mare with a shocked look, which she either pretended not to notice, or simply didn’t care about as she went on, “almost did it tonight, in fact.

“Just poke you in the temple with my lance. Poke,” she illustrated the comment with a delicate tapping of her hoof on a nearby rock that was about the size of a pony’s head, “problem gone. I’ll come up with a story to tell Windfall later.”

Well. How did somepony respond to that?

“I’m…glad you decided not to.”

“Maybe tomorrow night,” Foxglove finished before turning around and heading back towards the fire. I sighed and bowed my head. Before I could come up with a response, I heard the unicorn say, “you can go back to bed. I’ll be fine for the rest of the night.”

As though I could sleep now after hearing that! I turned to face the mare, hoping that I could find some combination of words that would help to at least begin the process of smoothing things over between us. Getting her to the point where she wasn't coming up with ways to murder me and my sleep would be a nice start.

“Oh, horseapples…”

Those weren’t the words that I was planning to use to curtail Foxglove’s equicidal ideations. That was just my instinctive response to the half dozen red blips that I saw lining the bottom of my field of vision the moment I turned around. Monsters, robots, or raiders, I didn’t know and I wasn’t going to waste precious seconds trying to figure out. What mattered now was action.

“Ambush!”

I screamed the word at the top of my lungs as I charged for my weapons and gear. There was no way that I was going to get my barding on, but I could at least snatch up one of my guns. I repeated the word at least two more times before I gave up keeping count; I just continued to say it as loudly as I could in an effort to wake up the sleeping It took Foxglove precious seconds of paralyzing comprehension before she finally made a move to fetch her own weapons. Unlike me though, she didn’t have any indications about where the attack I was warning against was going to come from.

Her reaction was to back up against the vertical stone outcropping that bordered our camp site as a way to limit the avenues of potential hostile approach. Her attention was focused outward from there, in my direction, with her eldritch lance and newly acquired rifle hovering in front of her. I couldn’t fault her tactics. For somepony as new to this whole way of life as she was, they were remarkably sound and thought out. It just so happened to be that it was exactly the wrong thing to do for this specific situation.

It wasn’t monsters or robots, I soon discovered. Even as I tried frantically to warn the violet mare about the direction the impending attack was going to come from, a distinctly pony-shaped figure leaped down from the lip of the rocky outcropping and fell upon the unicorn. She screamed in shock and pain, and her lance swung about wildly in an effort to slice off the pony accosting her while at the same time not inadvertently carving up her own flesh with its indiscriminatory tip. I instantly deviated from my course to collect some weapons of my own and threw myself at Foxglove’s attacker. The collision sent both me and the hostile pony tumbling to the ground.

I got back onto my hooves as quickly as I could and squared off against my opponent. Then I froze.

The pony that stood up in front of me was of the earth pony persuasion, and a mare. That wasn’t what had propelled me to inaction though. It was the streaks of brilliant white paint that criss-crossed her rosy pink body and covered the lower portions of her legs. She was a White Hoof. We were being attacked by White Hooves!

“Horseapples!”

Though I had very loudly thought the epithet in my mind, it had not been me that said the word aloud. It had been uttered from somewhere above me on the stone protrusion that we had sought for shelter, and was quickly followed by, “go, go, attack!”

Other ponies were leaping down into the camp now, and I found myself giving up a lot of ground as the new arrivals tried to tackle me to the ground as they landed. Unfortunately, I was unable to maneuver my way to my weapons during my evasions. I did at least find myself back near Foxglove though. While the unicorn may want m dead in a very ambiguous and general sense, she was unlikely to try and kill me at this precise moment. Which was more than I imagine could be said for the tribal ponies attacking us right now. So, that was something.

“Kill the mares if you have to, but she wants the stallion alive!” somepony called out.

Oh, well, that was interesting. I decided to ignore the fierce glare I received from Foxglove as she too heard the orders that detailed the enemy’s disposition towards us, and the arguably more favorable circumstances that I was subject to. Presumably because I had once been a White Hoof. The unicorn had little need to worry; the only reason hat Whiplash would have ordered me to be taken alive was so that she could have the pleasure of killing me herself later. If we survived this but still ended up captured, Foxglove would eventually be rewarded with the opportunity to see my corpse. There was little doubt of that.

So, putting out of my mind the realization that the only pony near me who had overtly orated a desire to kill me was my ‘ally’ in this fight, I squared off against the four painted ponies that were surrounding us and slowly pushing us back towards the cliff face in order to deny us any avenues of escape. That did leave two blips unaccounted for though…

A white-streaked stallion went flailing through the air just beyond the ponies encircling us, landing squarely in the fire that was only barely still burning. An explosion of sparks and embers were thrown up into the air by the unfortunate stallion’s impact. The cause of his impromptu flight made itself apparent in the form of a flash of white darting in and delivering a very devastating looking double-buck straight down onto that same stallion. The cracking of ribs and bones joined the snapping of tinder and sticks as the White Hoof stallion’s chest was completely caved in by the force of the airborne dive.

His screaming stopped very abruptly.

“What the-? Nopony said anything about a pegasus!”

A unicorn mare who had been advancing on Foxglove and I whirled around, a shotgun levitating in the topaz grip of her magic. Blasts rang out as she fired shots off into the night sky in an effort to catch the darting pony with the dangerous spread of the pellets. Recognizing the very real and imminent threat to Windfall, and seeing an opening I might not get later, I seized upon the opportunity and charged the mare. Her companion next to her, a seafoam green unicorn stallion with a white mane, tried to intercede using his spear.

Those were weapons that I had been using since I was a foal, and I had been well drilled in the drills that were taught to White Hooves. It took little effort for me to avoid his thrusts and actually latch onto the weapon with my teeth. A fierce jerk shattered his magical field that had been holding the spear, and released it to my control. A quick toss and a rear up onto my hindquarters permitted me to grasp the weapon in my forelegs and spin around with it. The barbed blade of its tip connected with the shotgun and swatted it to the ground. Of course, the maneuver also ended up placing me directly in between the two ponies, who were quick to capitalize on their advantage. The mare I was able to briefly parry away, but the stallion managed to wrap his hooves around me and bring me to the ground.

One pony I could grapple with and confidently best in ground combat. However, it was only a moment before the mare joined in. They both rained blows down on me, focusing on my shoulders and hips. They weren’t trying to kill me, as per their orders. They wanted me unable to fight. I tried to writhe around as best I could, but to was hard to deny the both of them a clear shot at any one time.

There was a loud gunshot from nearby, and my ears tingled with the clap of air being parted by a bullet whipping past me. A rapid series of metallic clicks announced that the mechanical action of a rifle was being manipulated. Oh, sweet Celestia, tell me that Foxglove wasn’t trying to shoot them off me!

Some angry yells and the telltale clashing of steel on steel suggested that the unicorn may actually have been a little two preoccupied with the remaining two ponies that had been left squaring off against her to worry about what was happening to me. That didn’t mean that a poorly aimed shot couldn’t still be hazardous to my own health though.

“Death from above!”

Windfall’s battle cry was concurrent with the wing-powered right cross she used to dismount one of my attackers, so I suppose that the Pegasus wasn’t ‘calling’ her attacks so much as she was identifying them as they occurred. Strictly speaking, it could even be argued that she was attempting to confound her opponent, as that particular strike had come from their side. In any case, the stallion was rocked by the blow and fell off of me. Which was all the chance that I needed to turn the tables on the remaining unicorn mare.

I twisted my hips and threw my hind legs around her waist, clamping down tight around her midsection. The startle mare was still a little disoriented by the sudden flyby that had taken out her partner, and so she wasn’t ready for what was coming. With a sudden flex of my abdomen, I succeeding in bring the mare in close and hugged her head to my chest with my right hoof while I braced myself with my left. A quick twerk of my hips started to roll the roll the both of us to the right, as I pushed off with my free hoof to encourage the direction of travel. A second later, I was mounted atop the stunned mare, and I wasted little time before delivering three solid blows to the side of her head.

Those three were all that I had time for before my attention was drawn by a pained cry from Foxglove. I glanced up to see that the violet unicorn was not doing as well as she could have been. That wasn’t to say that the two White Hooves facing off against her were having an easy time of things. They both bore a few blackened cuts from where Foxglove had managed to land glancing slices with her lance. None of them had been a clean hit though, and her markmareship wasn’t fairing any better either.

At the moment, she was currently fighting what looked to be a magical battel with her unicorn attacker for control of her eldritch lance, and she seemed to be losing as her emerald grip was slowly replaced with pink. Meanwhile, the earth pony mare had wrestled away the rifle and while it was blessedly out of ammunition by now and the White Hoof had no additional round with which to load it, the sturdy weapon was making for a decent club with which to beat the violet unicorn into submission.

I jumped up onto my feet and immediately ran towards the fight in order to intercede on Foxglove’s behalf, only to be intercepted by the spear wielding unicorn that Windfall had only just knocked off of me a few second ago. Blood dribbled down his chin from a split lip, but he seemed otherwise no worse for wear from the blow he’d received. He didn’t have his spear this time, but he was a capable fighter even with just his bare hooves it seemed.

The unicorn lunged at me, throwing wide, arcing, swings at my head. I was forced to hop back several times in order to avoid and deflect the incoming blows. He wasn’t all that bad of a fighter, but he did seem to have a tendency to let himself lose track of others around him. For the second time, a blur of white struck the unicorn from the side while he was focused on me. Windfall went for his throat this time, lashing out with one of her hind legs as she streaked by and catching the horned stallion just below his jaw. As close as I was, I heard the sickening ‘CRUNCH!’ as his head twisted with too much force for his muscles to compensate for, and the base of his skull became detached from his spine. Without a word, the pony fell over dead as the Pegasus that had kill him continued to arc by on her way to regain altitude.

Once more I was allowed to continue my charge in an effort to come to Foxglove’s rescue. The violet unicorn had completely lost control of her lance by now. Fortunately for her, the pony that had stolen it from her didn’t seem to know how to operate its deadly cutting tip, and so was merely using it as an inert metal staff with which to beat the mare. Both White Hooves hammered mercilessly at Foxglove with the weapons that they had stolen away from her. All she could do was curl up and protect herself as best she could.

Unlike the unicorn that Windfall had just felled, the horned White Hoof warrior wielding Foxglove’s lance had much better situational awareness. She saw me coming out of the corner of her eye and turned to confront me. Foxglove’s weapon of choice was now turned against me. I was glad that this time it was not being wielded by somepony who fully understood its operation and capabilities. With wide arcs of my forelimbs, I swatted the steel shaft aside as I closed with her. The unicorn gave ground, keenly aware that their party’s numbers had dwindled significantly since the onset of their ambush. She was even casting the occasional glance skyward in an effort to spot the Pegasus that had been harassing them with her sudden, and deadly, appearances from the surrounding darkness.

While I wasn’t able to close to an effected distance with my opponent, it looked like the evening of the odds was all the aid that Foxglove needed to get back up onto her hooves and offer a more profound resistance to her own attacker. She wasn’t pushing the earth pony back, but neither was she getting pounded as she had been. Her horn was glowing again, and I noticed that the holsters of my folded barding near the fire had taken on an identical glow as Foxglove went for my weapons as a means to better defend herself.

The mare I was fighting seemed to take notice of this too, and saw the writing on the wall. If Foxglove got out some additional firearms, between herself, the darting Pegasus, and I, we would be able to make short work of these two remaining tribals. If they were going to have any hope of even surviving this encounter, they needed to thin out our numbers, and quickly. Which looked to be exactly what she had in mind.

“Screw this!” she snarled, and I saw something affixed to her withers begin to glow with the rosy hue of the White Hoof unicorn’s magic. It was hard to identify the object in the faint light of the glowing embers that were all that remained of our campfire as it went sailing overhead. Halfway through its arc though, I heard the rather easily recognizable ‘TING!’ as the spring-loaded spoon of a grenade detached itself from its explosive charge and flipped off into the night. The metal, apple-shaped, bomb itself bounced off the ground near a distracted Foxglove as she focused on the earth pony accosting her.

That earth pony took notice of the grenade though, and quickly backed away from the unicorn. Of course, since the violet had apparently not seen the orb land, or heard the arming mechanism detach, she had no idea why she was being given a reprieve, and made to attempt to get out of harm’s way either. She’d be dead in seconds, and never know why. Calling out a warning wouldn’t help much either, since Foxglove wouldn’t even know where the danger was coming from. She’d be as likely to run closer to the grenade as she was to get away from it.

Horseapples!

I pulled back from the White Hoof I was fighting and galloped towards Foxglove. It was a stupid thing to do, and I realized that. In order to get to the violet unicorn, I was going to have to practically run directly over the grenade. There wasn’t going to be any time for me to really get Foxglove to a safe distance to avoid the worst of the shrapnel. The best that I’d be able to do was tackle her to the ground. As close as the two were going to be to the explosion though, we’d be just as likely to die from the concussion wave alone.

“Get down!” if I’d hoped that the warning would do anything to motivate Foxglove to help me get her out of harm’s way, I was sorely disappointed. All the mare did was looked at me with a shocked expression as I threw myself onto her and rolled her to the ground. We came to a stop, face to face, with me on top of her. The unicorn still looked utterly surprised as I flattened myself out as best I could to lower our profile before the explosion.

Well, if I had to die, at least I’d be doing it on top of a mare. There were worse ways to go.

“No!”

I never did find out who yelled it. I thought that it had to be Windfall, given the circumstances that existed at the time. It didn’t sound anything like the flier though. The stress of combat had a way of doing things to a pony’s memories though, so it could just have been my own ears plating tricks on me as my heart raced in anticipation of the impending grenade blast.

The Pegasus was certainly close enough for me to have heard her yelling.

True to the form that she had demonstrated throughout this fight, the flier swooped in from above at a breakneck speed. I didn’t see her with my own eyes, as I currently had my head buried next to Foxglove’s as to not catch any fragments of semi-molten steel in my brain. My other senses allowed me to piece together what likely happened though.

I didn’t have much of a baseline by which to measure Windfall’s flight speed when it came to what a typical Pegasus was capable of. I’d only seen Enclave pegasi and the odd Dashite in passing, and rarely when they were doing much more than hovering or just lazily flitting from one place to another. I counted myself fortunate to have not witnessed their combat speeds, as I couldn’t envision too many scenarios in which I would be doing so as either a bystander or an ally of either category of Pegasus.

That being said, I was confident that Windfall’s top speed were best described as ‘very fast’.

In this specific instance, for example, the vortex formed in the air above as the young Pegasus mare arrived was enough to send my mane whipping around my ears; and she had to have been a good six feet or so overhead when she arrived. Her wings were obviously quite powerful too. A maelstrom of dirt and rocks erupted around Foxglove and I as the flier used a furious flurry of her wings to bring herself to a nearly instantaneous stop above our heads.

At first, I couldn’t conceive of what Windfall had been thinking. Of the three of us, she was the one who had the best chance of living through this fight. She couldn’t have been killed by the grenade blast from where she had been, and the White Hoof warriors that had attacked us were clearly ill-equipped to combat a flying threat in these low light conditions. She could have come at them from out of the darkness at any time and taken those two by complete and deadly surprise at her leisure. There was no need for her to die in the explosion with us; other than for solidarity’s safe, I suppose.

“Windwall!”

I also supposed, later, that I severely underestimated what a pegasi’s wings were capable of. The dust storm that she brought to life with her pinpoint stop and beating wings possessed an incredible amount of force, it seemed. Not only did it kick up a wall of dirt and rock, it threw back the grenade as well.

There had not been so much time left on the explosive’s fuse that the steel apple was sent hurtling back all the way to the ponies that had thrown it intact. The grenade detonated in midair, which was honestly the worst place that it could have gone off under normal circumstances. An airburst robbed Foxglove and I of the mitigating protection that the ground itself would have offered, by limiting the direction of a vast amount of the shrapnel the explosion would have produced. By all rights, the two of us should have been ripped to pieces; Windfall as well.

Of course, these were far from normal circumstances. Not only did the whirlwind that Windfall kicked up succeed in hurling the grenade away from us, but it also caught the superheated slivers of metal that were propelled in our direction and sent them shooting off harmlessly to either side. Even the pressure wave that would have played all sorts of havoc with our internal organs was mitigated down to a mild tremor.

None of this was the case for the two White Hooves who were not fortunate enough to find themselves shielded by Windfall’s conjured barrier. A pair of muffled screams made it through the chaotic swirl of the small sandstorm as the painted ponies were ravaged by shrapnel from their own grenade.

Windfall ceased the violent flapping of her wings and alit on the ground beside us. Within seconds, the maelstrom she’d created dissipated and the air cleared as the detritus that it had picked up settled back to the ground. I cautiously poked my head up to look around. I saw Windfall, her white feathers and coat glowing with a faint orange light from the nearby fire pit, as she looked out upon the devastation that she had wrought. The two White hooves were on the ground. The unicorn lay completely still, while the earth pony writhed and groaned from the pain of the many cuts that she had just received.

The Pegasus began to approach the survivor. Either to finish her off or interrogate her, I didn’t know. If delivering the killing blow had been what she was after though, the Pegasus was robbed of that chance. A dark blur of motion dashed into view as somepony else entered the fight. The new arrival grabbed up the moaning mare by her crude leather barding and cocked a hoof back.

“Huh, wha-? No, wait, what are y-”

The crippled White Hoof’s desperate plea was cut off by the sound of a hydraulic piston rapidly shifting position just as the new pony’s prepared punch connected with the side of the mare’s face. Bones shattered and the White Hoof’s body jerked and went limp. It was then released and allowed to slump to the ground. The pony then turned around, and I was finally able to make out the face of Cestus in the dim light. He’d certainly taken his sweet time getting here! Exactly how far had he felt he needed to go to take that piss of his?

“Jackboot?” I heard Foxglove say softly in my ear.

I turned my head to look at her, just about touching my nose to hers, “hm?”

The unicorn was glaring at me with her emerald eyes, and the next words out of her mouth came out in a near hiss, “get. Off. Me.”

“Huh?” then I remembered that I was basically straddling her, and that the unicorn was generally not fond of my being in proximity to her, “oh, right,” I gingerly got up onto my hooves and stepped off of the prone mare, who very promptly created as much distance between myself and her as possible while she went to retrieve her weapons. I glanced around, my eyes watching my EFS very carefully to see if there was any sign of other White Hooves nearby.

Nothing but yellow blips were visible. Though that didn’t mean that there weren’t still dangers nearby that were beyond the pipbuck’s range. I permitted myself to at least relax a little bit, now that the immediate danger was over. All the same, my next course of action was to get my barding and weapons on. Windfall and Foxglove both followed suit. Cestus was already completely dressed in all of his gear, I noticed. Prudent of him, even if he had just been going out to relieve himself.

He was walking among the other bodies, inspecting them to make sure that they were actually dead. I stepped up beside the earth pony, looking through the gear that these White Hooves had brought with them. Standard raiding fair, from the looks of things. Limited food and water; they weren’t planning on staying out in the Wasteland long. They were here to find a target, deal with it, and then get back home; no distractions. I recalled what had been said by one of them at the outset: they’d been here to get me, and ‘she’ had wanted me alive. There was no doubt in my mind that the ‘she’ to which they had referred was Whiplash.

This wasn’t the first time that she had sent somepony to deal with me. That White Hoof agent in Seaddle had been a lot more subtle about things when she’d revealed me to the city’s inhabitants as a member of the hated tribe. It looked like my sister had figured out that I hadn’t been executed after all, and was continuing to try to get at me. What was even more concerning was that it looked like she had access to a frightening amount of information about me. These ponies had been after me specifically, and I refused to believe that this little band just happened to run into us out in the middle of nowhere like this.

Had they been tracking me somehow? If Whiplash had agents in Seaddle, then she certainly had to have a set or two of eyes in New Reino. They could have gotten word back to my sister that I was operating in the area and arranged for me to be tailed. I was going to need to talk with Windfall about expanding her scouting sweeps during the day and to carefully investigate places somepony could be watching us from.

Hopefully these sorts of Wasteland run-ins weren’t going to become a recurring thing. Tonight had been far too close for my comfort. If I hadn’t woken up, Foxglove would have been taken completely by surprise, and the rest of us might have followed suit. The only one who might have survived would have been Cestus, and only because natured had called at the right time.

I glanced at the younger earth pony, “took you long enough to get back here, must have been one hell of a piss.”

The stallion glared at me as he kicked over one of the corpses and poked at it with the power-hoof strapped to his leg, “I was busy taking out their second wave. You’d have been fighting a full dozen if it weren’t for me,” he informed me, a smug smile spreading across his face, “you’re welcome.”

I frowned at Cestus, but didn’t say anything more. I hadn’t seen quite that many blips on my Eyes Forward Sparkle when the fight had started. There had only been the six crimson threats. My eyes wandered over the camp, and I counted the five painted corpses. That left one unaccounted for, but I couldn’t think of where I’d even seen the sixth during the fight; and I still had yet to nail down an exact range for the Old World device. Who could say that there weren’t a lot more White Hooves out there that I hadn’t been able to see?

So I simply grunted an acknowledgement and left him to look over the rest of the bodies while I checked on the mares.

Windfall was adjusting the last of the straps on her battle saddle as I approached, “good work out there,” I nodded at the carnage that the Pegasus had wrought upon our attackers. There was no doubt in my mind that things would have gone very differently for us if the flier had not been here to provide all of her timely airborne interventions, “the dust storm thing is new. What else are you hiding from me?” besides concealed .45 pistols, of course.

The young mare flashed a broad grin, “well, there is something I’m calling the ‘Mare Cross-Missile Massacre’,” she sat back on her haunches and immediately began using her hooves to demonstrate a series of aerial movements, “it’s where I come in at a really low angle and open up on the target with alternating bursts from my girls as I do a wide-angle barrel roll. If I use the green or blue bullets, it’ll look really cool!” then a thought occurred to her, “it might look even more awesome if I have each gun fire a different type…” the idea had obvious appeal to the flier.

I raised an eyebrow, “why are you calling it that? There aren’t any missiles involved,” I pointed out.

Windfall shrugged, “yeah, I know; but it sounds really neat to yell out,” then, by way of demonstration, the Pegasus struck up a dashing pose and yelled out, “Mare Cross-Missile Massacre!”

I winced in response; less so from the volume of her battle-cry than the fact that it existed at all. With a frown, I regard the mare, unimpressed, “yeah, about that: maybe don’t announce what you’re about to do when you’re going to do it? It just tips off the enemy and lets them react to it.”

“Which is why I use really awesome names,” the Pegasus insisted with a stubborn nod of her head, “how’s somepony supposed to stop an MCMM when they don’t even know what it is? Especially if they’re expecting missiles, and instead there are bullets.”

“Could you at least yell it out after you’re done doing it?” I asked her with a resigned sigh. First it was the one-liners, and now this. I knew that Windfall was capable of being serious when the time called for it. I just wished that she filed ‘life and death fights’ as those times which required the sort of grim serious that they deserved. I wasn’t even sure I could blame these developments on DJ PON3’s tales of the Lone Ranger, since I’d never heard any clips of the former Steel Ranger announcing what he was about to shoot raiders with.

“What's the point of yelling out how they’re about to die if they’re not alive to hear it?” Windfall demanded with a pout.

I pressed a hoof between my eyes in an effort to suppress a headache I could feel being brought on by the sheer volume of objects I wanted to raise with the mare, “Windy…”

“Fine! I’ll do it the lame way,” she relented with an aggravated groan.

“Thank you,” I massaged my temple and took advantage of the minor concession to change the subject, “now be so kind as to make sure we’re really alone out here, please.”

The Pegasus finally sobered up to the respectable degree and nodded, “on it,” she cracked her neck with a couple sharp twists of her head and shot up into the air, leaving behind a cloud of dust and grit. In less than a second, all I could see of the flier was the yellow blip sliding across my field of vision, and even it vanished not too long after.

My attention then went to Foxglove, who was scrutinizing her eldritch lance as it hovered in front of her, gripped in a viridian aura. She flicked the cutting tip on and then off again several time, scrutinizing it and grimacing when she noticed that it would briefly sputter when it was first engaged. The unicorn powered the lance down and laid it on the ground in front of her. A number of tools drifted out of saddlebag and she settled down to make the adjustments that she’d judged necessary.

“You doing all right?” I asked, craning my head as I ran my eyes over her back and flanks. She’d looked a little stiff as she settled herself down onto the ground, and I hadn’t seen her drink a healing potion. The mare had certainly taken a beating during the fight, but none of her obvious injuries looked to be all that serious. Some bruising, the odd cut or two. She was going to be sore for a while.

“I’m fine,” was the unicorn’s curt reply. She didn’t even look in my direction, her attention focused on the tiny screws that she was carefully removing from the tip of the lance. Once she had it apart, she brought each piece in close so that she could examine them. One of these pieces she gave a little extra attention in the form of a brisk cleaning with a rag.

When Foxglove noticed that I was still watching her, she shifted uncomfortably, “is there something you want,” she winced slightly and amended her question, “…to talk about?”

“Just making sure you didn’t get beat up too bad in that fight.”

“It’s nothing,” Foxglove insisted. Finally satisfied with her efforts to refurbish the pieces that were troubling her, she assembled the lance.

“You wouldn’t let that fly from Windfall,” I noted, “let me just check you over and make sure there’s nothing serious…”

I’d barely even taken a full step closer to the mare before I found myself staring nearly cross-eyed at the glowing bead of light that was the cutting tip of Foxglove’s lance as it darted to just half an inch from my forehead. It seemed that the unicorn had correctly diagnosed and dealt with the weapon’s deficiency, as there hadn’t been even the slightest flicker from the magical cutting tip as it burst to life.

I immediately took several steps back. Foxglove’s lance stayed close, drifting down until it was a few inches from my chest. My eyes continued to watch the lance’s proximity to my body with keen interest as its owner growled at me, “don’t…come near me.”

“Alright, alright,” I took another couple of steps back away from the unicorn and sat down. Then I frowned at her, “you’re welcome, by the way. You know, for saving your life.”

There was another brief glint of anger in the violet mare’s eyes at my comment, but her lance retreated back to her side and she powered it down once more. Laying it to rest on the ground, the unicorn picked up the rifle now and began to give it a thorough inspection as well. Her magic manipulated the bolt, ratcheting it back. I watched in silence as she then scrutinized the mechanism, though with a much more frustrated look than the one that she had worn while she had been dealing with her lance. While the action had not sounded as smooth as it could have been, to my ears it hadn’t been bad enough to warrant that sort of scowl.

Foxglove’s magical grip played around with the bolt a little bit more, moving it back and forth as she inspected it from various angles. Her brow began to furrow progressively deeper as she went about looking at the mechanism and how it moved within the weapon.

Eventually, I realized what she was trying to do and cleared my throat, “there’s a lever on the left side,” I said. The mare looked at me, raising her brow. I elaborated, “there’s a little lever…switch thing on the left side of the carrier. Flip it to the middle position to get the bolt assembly out.

“Make sure the safety’s in the middle position too,” I added hastily.

Foxglove stared at me for a couple more seconds. Then she looked back at the rifle. I heard two soft ‘clicks’ and then I saw the bolt slip cleanly out of the back of the weapon. The unicorn’s expression suggested that she had sort of hoped that I had given her incorrect information. I could hear the faintest of grumbled thanks from the mare.

“The bolt unscrews,” was my follow-up advisory.

There was another pause from the unicorn, and then I heard metal rubbing up against itself as her magic twisted the two components of the weapon’s firing mechanism. In a few seconds, the mare was holding the bolt and carrier in two separate telekinetic fields. Her rag floated back into view and she began running it over the two pieces.

I flashed the mare a wry smile, “I thought you knew everything there was about guns and such. You sure did a number on Windfall’s pieces.”

My reward was a scowl from the unicorn, “we had submachine guns in the stable armory. We didn’t have rifles like this.”

“So then why get it, if you didn’t know anything about it?” I frowned at the mare.

Another sharp glare, “it was all I could afford after getting everything else we needed,” that did make sense. Our finances weren’t in the greatest of conditions at the moment. Perhaps I should have dipped into my reserves back in New Reino to make sure we had quality gear. Not that I would enjoyed explaining where I’d come up with a few thousand extra caps.

“Since when do you know anything about rifles anyway?” Foxglove grumbled, “you just use pistols…”

“I was expected to know how to use a lot of different kinds of weapons growing up,” my father had needed his son to be one of the best warriors that the tribe had, and that meant being able to proficiently use just about any weapon that I was likely to come across. There were, of course, some things that I had taken to better than others, “I just prefer pistols. The ammo’s cheap, and they’re easy to hold. Not all of us can pick things up with our mind.”

“That’s not quite how it works,” the unicorn informed me, but she didn’t press the issue. Her gaze shifted to something just behind me.

My ear twitched at the sound of approaching hoofsteps. I looked over to see Cestus coming up. He was carrying a few pouches of rations and a box of shotgun shells in his mouth. The bounty from our attackers was deposited on the ground near me and the dark stallion glanced between us, “am I interrupting anything?” He noted the vast distance between the two of us.

Foxglove was suddenly a lot more concerned with her firearm maintenance, and I cleared my throat, “just checking our gear,” I told the younger earth pony as I reached down to paw through the gear he’d brought back, “anything particularly interesting?”

“Junk mostly,” he informed me, “looks like they were still on their way to raid something when they stumbled into us.”

“This wasn’t no stumble,” I informed the stallion, turning my attention away from the bags of dried fruit and jerked meats, “they’re after me,” it’s only fair that this pony knew what he’d gotten himself into by agreeing to come along with us. He’d know to keep his eye out for White Hoof scouts as well, and the more sets of eyes we had looking for that sort of thing, the better. The revelation seemed to surprise Cestus.

“How can you be sure?” he furrowed his brow at me.

“Heard one of them say as much,” I answered. None of us used a shotgun, and I supposed that the one that the White Hoof mare had tried employing against Windfall must have not been worth taking, or he’d have brought it with him too. We’d at least get a few caps for the shells, and they hardly weighed anything. I put them into my bags.

“Why would White Hooves be after you?”

I chuckled, “I’m sure I pissed them off somehow,” while Cestus needed to be ‘in the know’ to a degree, there was hardly any reason for him to be apprised of the whole story. There wasn’t any way to know how’d he react to the knowledge that I had once been a member of the uniquely painted tribe and that its current leader was my estranged half-sister, “you know how they can hold a grudge.”

“Yeah,” he nodded before looking around the camp once more, “so what now?”

“Hope you got all the sleep you needed tonight,” I sighed, not looking forward to what our best course of action was, “because it looks like we’re setting out early this morning.”

“Is that wise?” Cestus inquired, a cautionary note in his voice, “we might run into more of them in the dark.”

There was a chance of that, yes, but, “this wasn’t a random raiding party. They were looking for me, and they came right up on me. At the least, they have a scout trailing us. Right now, that scout is either keeping watch, or making their way back to Whiplash to report what happened. We want to be somewhere else as quickly as we can in either case.

“The more we keep the scout moving, the less chance they have of finding time to get a message off; and if they’re already gone, we might be able to lose them entirely if we’re as far away from here as possible when they come back looking for us.”

Cestus nodded, “I take your meaning,” he dipped his head beneath his duster and withdrew a second power-hoof that matched the one he was already wearing. He slipped it on and tightened the straps of the melee weapon before throwing out a test jab with the hoof. Right on cue, the hydraulic assist engaged and a steel block shot out a few inches beyond the tip of his hoof just as the jab reached its apex; then it began to slowly retract at the mechanism reset itself. Satisfied, the stallion looked back at the two of us, “so when do we leave?”

I glanced over at Foxglove, who was already sliding the reassembled bolt and carrier into the back of the rifle. She locked it forward and flipped the small levers back to their original positions. The unicorn then stood up and slung the weapon across her back. Her eldritch lance floated up off the ground and slid into its own carrier at her side. Then she regarded the two of us expectantly.

“Right now, I guess,” I said with a slight shrug of my shoulders. After a brief glance at the map on my pipbuck to get my bearings, I pointed in the direction of our travel, “that’a’way. Windfall will catch up soon enough,” the three of us started walking off into the darkness.

Had we kept to our original itinerary, we would have arrived at the stable which was our destination in the late afternoon to early evening hours. Thanks to our expedited departure that morning though, it was barely noon when we caught our first sight of the structure that had proven itself to be the very pinnacle of Old World engineering. The Stables had endured through balefire and time, and a few remained functional even to this day. There were a few that did not, of course. The reasons were varied, but not every Stable kept its occupants as safe and whole as their designers had intended.

It looked as though this was going to one of those very exceptions that had not performed to the hopes and expectations of those that had built the massive subterranean shelter. To say little for the desires of those poor souls that had once thought of it as their home. I had kept Merrybell’s description of what she and her brother had borne witness to in my mind as we got our first glimpses of the Stable’s location. The tale that she had told me of deception and murder at the hooves of strange looking ponies.

While I was no stranger to carnage and even the aftermaths of genocides enacted against settlements, I was surprisingly not quite as prepared as I had thought for the…scale involved. In my mind, I had envisioned a few dozen, maybe even as many as a hundred bodies scattered around the entrance. Defenders struck down during a valiant stand against their attackers, and a few fleeing inhabitants who had not fled quickly enough when their sanctuary had finally fallen. That I was prepared for.

But this…

Sweet Celestia, who could have been prepared for this?

Hundreds. Many hundreds of bodies. They were laid out in a half dozen neat little rows. It wasn’t until the four of us got closer that I realized that the rows had not been haphazardly arranged. The bodies had been organized into distinct classifications: blank flanked fillies, blank flanked colts, adult mares, adult stallions, old mares, and old stallions. Each row had further been split into two segments. One section was comprised exclusively of earth ponies, and the other one of unicorns.

Windfall was utterly outraged at the sight. She swore retribution at whatever group had perpetrated this heinous crime, and anypony that might be so vile as to offer them even the most tangential of assistance. Foxglove was horrified beyond the capacity to express herself. Easy to understand that. She’d been a stable pony herself once. The ponies here could just as easily have been the ponies from her own stable. A deeply troubled darkness that appeared in her eyes suggested that she was now very actively wondering exactly how her former home was holding up. I wondered if she was going to ask us to take a detour on our way back to New Reino.

Cestus was a little disturbed too by the sight. He’d surely seen a good deal of death in his time; but if I wasn’t prepared to handle this scale of wanton slaughter, then how could anypony else possibly be?

There would be time to be properly disgusted by all of this later though. Right now was about deriving as much meaning from these deaths as we could. I looked closely at a couple of the first bodies that we came to. Something began immediately clear to me: these ponies had not died during the fighting. They likely hadn’t even died while they were conscious. The only wound that I found on any of the corpses that I came across in these disturbingly exact rows was a single round puncture wound that had been delivered to the side of their necks, just behind and below the hinge of their jaw. It was a deep wound that descended all the way to the base of their skulls.

What was more: there was no deviation between the placements of this wound. It was in exactly the same relative position. There was no way that these ponies had been awake for these executions. Even if they had been bound and helpless—which, there was no evidence that this had been the case—some of them would certainly have at least been squirming or writhing around in some sort of desperate and futile attempt to escape their inevitable death. That was how ponies worked for the most part. Those that had put these stable ponies down had been given victims which were completely unaware that they were about to die.

This hardly lent any explanation as to the motive behind any of this. There had clearly been a very specific purpose though; there had to be. Between the clinically efficient method of execution and the eerie categorization of the bodies, nothing about this could have been done on a whimsy. These ponies had been killed for some specific reason. What was more, Merrybell had informed me that other inhabitants had been taken away from here. That suggested that something had set those ponies apart from the rest of their companions. Of course, without any examples of the ponies that had ‘made the cut’ to look out, there was no real way for me to figure out what that was.

Was there?

I look over at Foxglove, who was staring out over the field of neatly arranged ponies with distant and cloudy eyes, “Foxglvoe. Foxglove,” I grunted in frustration, “hey, Foxy!” that at least seemed to get the mare’s attention. She looked at me, though it was hard to say whether or not her mind had quite returned to wherever it had retreated to yet, “Stables have a roster or something of all the ponies that lived here, right?” I continued to receive the same blank look from the mare. Another irritated grunt escaped my throat, “Fox!”

This made the mare jerk, and she shook her head and swallowed, “huh, wha? Oh, right. Um…yeah, yeah there’d be census reports. Personnel files.”

“Good. Let’s go find them,” I started making my way towards the Stable’s entrance, “I want to know how many ponies they took, and why they took those ponies.”

My gaze then went to Windfall, “they had to have gone west,” I informed the Pegasus, “and there were a lot of them. They have to have left a trail. Don’t follow it too far,” I sternly cautioned the flier as I saw the hungry look in her eyes, “I just want an idea of where they came from,” I wasn’t about to tangle with a group that was capable of wiping out an entire stable like this. The alabaster Pegasus nodded and darted off.

Then I looked at Cestus, “you go ahead and see what you can find out that Scratch wants to know. I bet this proves that I wasn’t just spouting shit though, huh?”

“No. No, this is…something all right,” the earth pony nodded and began walking among the bodies, getting a closer look at one or another of them as he went.

I looked back at Foxglove, “let’s go,” I started for the entrance to the massive bunker. While she might have been the born and bred stable pony, I’d delved into enough of them to know the general layout. I wasn’t going to need her to guide me around in there. I’d just need her expertise to get the information I was looking for from their computers.

Assuming that she was going to move from that spot. It wasn’t the unburied ponies that seemed to be giving her pause this time though. Her gaze was specifically locked on me, and I could clearly see the reluctant look on her face. Foxglove didn’t want to follow me into the dark and cramped interior of the stable alone. Oh, for Celestia’s sake!

I pulled out Full Stop, my new 10mm, and my knife and tossed them all at the mare, “here, take ‘em! Congratulations, you’re armed and I’m not. Can we do this now?” My outburst earned me a reproachful look from the unicorn, but she finally picked up all of my weapons with her magic, placed them in her bag, and followed behind me at a respectable distance. It was the best that I was likely to get from the mare. So be it; at least she was coming.

We paused at the open entrance of the stable. The massive cog that was about as thick as a pony was long was rolled off to the side, leaving only the distinct opening of one of the sprawling structures. It was set apart from any other stable that I’d yet come across though, in that there had been additional alterations made to the entrance. A couple of large pieces of machinery had been constructed just outside, with several paths of duct work feeding from them into the stable beyond. I glanced questioningly at the unicorn.

“Ventilation system,” she informed me, “it circulates the air from deep inside the stable so that the carbon dioxide doesn’t build up on the lower levels. I told you that just opening the door wouldn’t be enough for something like this,” she reminded me.

I nodded and continued on my way. Foxglove only took a few more steps though before she came to another halt. Thinking that the unicorn had rekindled her reservations where traveling with me were concerned, I turned to reassure the mare of my innocent intent one more, when I caught her rather intently studying part of the machinery, “what’s up?”

She poked her hoof at a boxy section of metal that was protruding slightly from one of the machines, “this…isn’t part of the original construction,” she announced, “everything else is steel,” she traced her hoof over the rest of the exterior of the massive air circulation device before coming back to rest on the part that had caught her attention, “but this is aluminum.”

I frowned at the contraption. It all just looked like metal to me. I remained silent as Foxglove prodded the box with her hoof. Then her horn lit up and as screwdriver floated out of one of her pockets. She began to diligently pry at the edges of the protrusion. To my surprise, it popped off almost immediately, as though hardly anything had been holding it in place at all.

Almost instantly, I curled my nose as my senses were assaulted by a rather pronounced stench. It was sickly sweet, and yet had a very rancid aspect to it that seemed determine to linger in my nostrils no matter how fiercely I snorted out the offending smell. Foxglove was reacting in similar fashion. With a hoof clamped tightly over my nose, I leaned in to take a closer look at the contents of the box that the mare had dislodged, “did something crawl in there and die?!”

The unicorn was shaking her head, pointing at a pair of cylinders mounted inside the box, connected to one another by a small valve, “something was being pumped into the stable,” she explained, shifting her hoof to indicate the portion of the ventilation equipment that the box had been attached to. I saw now that it had been covering up a square piece of mesh, “that’s the intake,” she said, “this stuff would have been spread all over the stable.”

“They were gassed?” Foxglove nodded. I wondered how many of the ponies inside the stable had even been aware that they were in danger before falling unconscious. Speaking of which, “is this stuff still dangerous?” I took several steps back from the exposed containers even as I awaited a response.

Again Foxglove shook her head, “I doubt it. Two containers and a regulator means it had to be mixed while it was being released. I bet it breaks down pretty fast once it’s in the air,” her theory was supported by the fact that neither of us had passed out yet, even being as close as we were.

It made a certain amount of sense too, “they’d need it to go away pretty quick so they could go in and pull everypony out before they woke up again,” I surmised. Foxglove agreed with my rather grim assessment.

That level of forethought, the methodical nature displayed by the laid out bodies…I wasn’t so sure this was the first stable that these ponies had hit. Foxglove would come to the same conclusion soon too, if she hadn’t already. Her expression suggested that she was thinking about exactly that.

“The records are probably in the Overmare’s office, right?”

It took the unicorn a couple seconds for the question to register. Then she nodded, “yeah,” we continued inside.

I’d been in stables before, yeah; but I had to admit that I’d never been in one that felt quite so…alive; and yet was just as dead as any that I’d ever scoured. Every light fixture was on, and bathed the corridors in a soft white light that glistened off the polished metal walls. Signs announcing the locations of the various stable amenities shown brilliantly. The doors slid swiftly and smoothly open; most of them hardly making any of the squealing and grinding noises that I had come to associate with the portals, dying a slow neglected death after centuries without maintenance. Meanwhile, the machinery in this place had probably all been serviced within at least the last month.

Anypony could have been forgiven for thinking that the place would be deathly quiet, what with all the residents arranged outside. On the contrary, the whole places hummed and purred with activity in a way that I hadn’t considered as every piece of machinery worked to help keep the facility alive. Lights buzzed, climate control systems cycled on and off at the whims of the computers controlling them, the miles of power conduit buzzed with energy as it fed all of the hungry life support systems with power from the reactors located far below. Honestly, the noise was almost unbearable. For a moment, I couldn’t understand why anypony would have designed a place for ponies to live that was so damned noisy. Then I realized that it probably wasn’t actually all that noisy at all under normal circumstances.

A few hundred ponies talking, laughing, working; who would have heard any of the noises Foxglove and I were being bombarded with beneath all of that? The sounds of a thriving society would have stopped anypony from noticing any of it. That society was gone now. Only the stable remained. Given a few decades of wear and neglect, and it was surely start to quiet down as it died a death much slower and sadder than those its citizens had.

It didn’t take us long to reach the Overmare’s office. They were typically kept rather close to the entrance of stables. Whether it was so they could be the first one out the door if disaster struck, or to make sure that nopony left and jeopardized the stable’s location, I didn’t know. Like the rest of the stable, the office was tidy and clean. The desk was a little cluttered with reports and files that had probably been part of the mare’s daily workload. There were a couple of picture frames as well. One showing a handsome unicorn stallion posing with a mare in his arms as both of them smiled at the camera; he was dressed in a black suit, and she in a white dress and veil. The other photo showed an older couple.

Foxglove pointedly ignored the personal effects of the mare that had worked here as she sat down in the chair in front of the terminal and began tapping at the keyboard. She hadn’t even needed to enter a password, as the Overmare had not logged herself out. I kept a respectable distance from the unicorn, despite how much I wanted to be able to be up close in order to get a clear look at the files that she was accessing. Foxglove was at an emotional tipping point as it was. I didn’t need to make things worse, and her unusable to me, by triggering her with my proximity.

I watched from near the wall of monitors that dominated the back of ever stable Overmare’s office as Foxglove navigated her way through the myriad of directories and files that the terminal contained. After less than a minute, I saw several strings of characters scroll in front of my eyes every quickly. I caught a few key phrases that made sense to me though.

>>REMOTE LINK ESTABLISHED…

>>INCOMING TRANSMISSION!

>>UNPACKING DATA…

Then there was an incomprehensible list of things that flashed by in less than a second. I blinked several times, feeling a little disoriented by the wave of text, “what in the…?” Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it all stopped, and I heard my pipbuck beep.

>>TRANSMISSION COMPLETE.

I glanced down at the pipbuck’s screen and saw that there was a new file on it. I tapped the screen and opened up the directory. I was confronted with what purported itself to be a list of seven hundred and nineteen names. Presumably, this was the list of inhabitants that I had asked Foxglove to get me.

She confirmed as much, “there. That’s everypony that was alive as of three months ago when the records were last updated,” the unicorn informed me without taking her eyes off the screen. Even though she claimed to have finished doing what we were here to do, she continued to drum her hooves over the keyboard rather furiously. Before I could ask what she was doing, the unicorn spun around and glared at me.

No, not at me, I soon realized. She was looking past me. I turned my head and saw that the bank of monitors behind me were now alive and the dozen black and white screens each showed images of ponies wearing the distinctive barding of a stable dweller. In the upper left corner of each of the screens were a number and a short series of three letters which I presumed would identify the location of the camera. Of course, with no point of reference to go off of, it was hard for me to say where anypony was.

“What are we watching…oh,” my question was soon answered by some activity on the upper left most screen. The camera’s number was ‘7’, but the three letters were ‘ENT’. The entrance. A couple of ponies dressed in black and blue barding with the number ‘137’ and the word ‘SECURITY’ stenciled across their backs looked to be chatting idly with one another when one of them found their attention drawn to something off screen. Both of them looked at whatever it was for several seconds, not looking to be overly concerned at first. Then there was a sudden burst of action as each of the security ponies went for their weapons, only for several brilliant lances of light to dart across the screen, passing cleanly through their bodies. The two guards collapsed immediately, dead.

In a few other screens, I could see a pony of two looking suddenly off to the side at the same instant the bolts of energy had crossed in front of the camera. Most of ponies didn’t react at all, and those that had looked to soon dismiss whatever it was that had caught their attention in the first place. Somepony must have noticed the scene though. Thirty seconds later lights began to flash on all of the screens and ponies became obviously concerned as they started to frantically look around. More armored ponies galloped past the cameras, running through the corridors with their weapons either in their mouths or floating close by their sides. Soon there were more streaks of light on the upper left monitor, interposed with the occasional spark as a lead slug ricocheted off the metal floor of the stable.

The firefight went on for nearly five minutes on the monitor while the other screens showed ponies hurrying in throngs to other parts of the stable, ushered urgently by several more security ponies. Then something started to go wrong. It was subtle at first. Ponies were expected to stumble or trip when they were rushing in large groups like that; and I saw it happen a few times on this feed. However, the instance of such missteps started to climb rather sharply as time went on. Ponies started to sway on their hooves as they walked, or right out lean on the walls for support. Some just fell. Those that stopped to try and help them help were soon lying down next to them and making no effort to get back up themselves.

By the sixth minute since those two first security guards had been struck down, not a single pony could be seen moving in the entire stable. Everything on every monitor was still for ten minutes. At minute sixteen, there was movement on the camera watching the entrance again. Dozens of unicorns—at least, they looked like unicorns at first—started filing by in orderly pairs. They were dressed in what were obviously uniforms that bore a rather pointed resemblance to stable attire, though with some alterations that I’d never seen before.

They were big too. Easily a full head a shoulders above your average pony. Sure, I’d seen the odd earth pony who was built like a Brahmin during my time in the Wasteland; but they were the exception, not the rule. I was watching at least forty of the tallest and broadest unicorns that I’d ever seen march down the corridors of this stable. They strolled through the unconscious ponies, almost like they were ignoring them. Then, suddenly, just as the last of them had entered the stable and reach the first fallen ponies, they all levitated one of the unconscious ponies into the air, turned around sharply, and then started marching back for the entrance carrying their charge.

A great many trips were made like this as the invaders emptied the stable of its inhabitants. They moved without hesitation or misstep; as though they were already familiar with the layout of the stable. Indeed, I had been informed by Merrybell that this was not their first time. I wondered if the footage of their initial visit still existed…

Foxglove tapped a key on the terminal and the images all halted. A few more commands followed, and then suddenly we weren’t watching a dozen different parts of the stable, but a single enlarged scene that was being played out in concert across all the monitors. While a little grainy, the enlarged still did permit up to see a few details that had been unclear while the feeds were restricted to their own assigned screens. I immediately spotted the detail that had prompted Foxglove to single out this particular image though. One of the invaders took up nearly the entire view of the camera as the stallion walked at a slight angle towards it. His head was held up straight and erect as he approached. Clearly visible in the center of his forehead was his horn.

Or, rather, both of his horns.

I snorted in amazement. Even I’d had my doubts about what the little filly had told me about these ponies. After all, it had been crazy, right? But, sure enough, I could see the proof right here in black and white, “a second, smaller, horn right below the big one,” I said under my breath as I recalled her description.

“That’s not possible,” Foxglove insisted, despite the evidence that existed to the contrary. She turned back to the terminal and I saw the scene shift to another camera. The angle wasn’t quite as ideal as the last one had been, but it did offer a profile of another of the ponies. This one had an identical horn arrangement. A few more taps at the keyboard and another scene change. Four more followed, and each one showed the same thing: a unicorn stallion or mare with a dual horn.

“They’re all unicorns,” I noted. Not a single smooth forehead seemed to exist. It was an observation that was support by their unanimous use of magic as well.

“They’re not unicorns,” Foxglove insisted.

I rolled my eyes, “two-icorns, whatever. They’re boneheads that can use magic,” I earned myself an angry glare from the violet mare, but I waved it away, “I’m going to go and check the bodies; see who they took and maybe figure out what they were after,” I informed the unicorn, indicating my pipbuck, “you going to be alright here?”

“I’ll be fine,” was Foxglove’s terse reply as she continued to watch the screens.

This stable could have been her stable; that what she was thinking. How many years had she been gone now? This tragedy had happened mere weeks ago. For all the unicorn knew, her own former home had been cleared out long ago and everypony she’d ever known was dead or worse. That was going to mess with her until she found out for sure one way or the other.

“If you want,” I offered, “we can swing by your old stable. Make sure they’re alright.”

Foxglove finally tore her eyes from the array of grayscale monitors and looked at me. For the briefest of moments, as she processed what I had just said, I saw a very thankful, and significantly relieved expression on the violet mare’s face. Only for a moment though. Then she remembered who she was with, and that perpetual cool expression that she had reserved for me returned. She refused to let me see her in anything approaching a vulnerable state, “if I ever figure out where it was, sure.”

“You mean you don’t know?”

She showed me her bare fetlock, “sold my pipbuck, remember? It had all my map markers,” she returned her attention to the videos playing in the Overmare’s office, “if I ever recognize any terrain while we’re out here, I’ll let you know.”

“Right,” I headed for the door, “when Windfall gets back, I’ll send her and Cestus inside to start searching the place,” my gaze went briefly to the scenes of strange looking ponies still carrying out the unconscious stable residents, “it doesn’t look like they were concerned with looting. Might be some valuable salvage still left.”

Again, Foxglove looked at me, her expression suggesting that she was about to object. As though what I were proposing was some sort of grave trespass against this place. Then she seemed to realize that, like so many of the other old world shelters in the Wasteland: this was just another dead stable now. What were such places for it not to recover valuable Old World artifacts and tech to sell to the highest bidder? So, instead she said nothing and allowed me to leave without the rebuke she had wanted to make.

When I stepped outside again, I saw that the Pegasus had apparently returned from her scouting trip. She was speaking with Cestus in a rather animated fashion, much as she had been doing during our trip out here up to this point. What was different this time was that the young earth pony looked like he was actually talking back to her as well. He even looked interested in what the flier was saying.

Whatever Windfall was saying, if it had Cestus interested, I had to hear it. I also wanted to get her report on what she had found.

“-and, of course, stupid raiders like they were, they totally bought me whole, ‘poor lost little mare’ routine,” the Pegasus briefly took on a pouty and demure expression as she batted her blue eyes at the stallion listening to her story before her face broke out in a broad grin, “then I threw back my cloak and gave ‘em both barrels, wide open!” Windfall struck a pose and proceeded to make some sort of noise with her lips that I suppose might have sounded something vaguely like somepony’s loose interpretation of automatic weapons-fire. Sort of.

Cestus chuckled, something I had begun to doubt that he was capable of, “definitely sounds like those ponies didn’t know who they were messing with.”

“You have no idea,” Windfall beamed at her singular audience, “I haven’t even told you about the time I fought a hell hound! That bitch was as big as a barn!”

“Are you also going to tell him about the time you accidentally glued your wing to your forehead for three days?” I chimed in, drawing the attention of both ponies, as well as a wide-eyed stare with Windfall. I smiled at the two of them, and then regarded the earth pony stallion, “she looked like she was saluting everypony that walked by. We finally got some turpentine to dissolve it. Dissolved most of her fur and feathers too.

“Called her ‘my little ghoulie’, because she looked like a ghoulified Pegasus for weeks until her feathers grew back. Did you know she has a birth mark in the shape of a dick on her-”

“Shut up!” the flier snapped. My, it was impressive how much of her blush could make its way past her coat.

Windfall looked absolutely mortified. Interestingly enough, Cestus didn’t look as amused as I would have though by the story either. In any case, I had managed to break up their little conversation and create an opening for what I had to say. I looked at the Pegasus, “any luck?”

The young mare composed herself a little, flashing a small embarrassed look briefly at Cestus before looking once more at me, “hooftracks and wagon furrows, a lot of them,” she nodded, “they lead through the mountains for about fifteen miles, but then they reach a road and vanish. Can’t tell which way they went from there. It forks a few places in either direction too, so…”

“Dead end,” I nodded, not bothering to hide my disappointment. I had really been hoping to get a more solid lead on where those ponies had gone.

Something told me that they’d be showing up again though.

“You two go head inside and give the place a good look over,” I instructed the pair, “medicine, ammo, anything else that’s either useful or valuable,” I thought for a moment, “pick out some nice rooms to. We’ll be staying here tonight,” why camp out in the open when there was a perfectly viable stable to sleep in; and one that was hardly run down at all, to boot?

They nodded and headed for the entrance. As they began to leave earshot, I heard Windfall resume regaling Cestus with tales of her accomplishments. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the grim task that I had set for myself.

In their own macabre way, those double-unicorns—or two-icorns, or whatever I was supposed to call them—had made my task much easier than it might otherwise have been. With over seven hundred names and bodies to compare, it could have taken close to an hour just to confirm whether or not a single file matched any of the corpses present. As it was, I was able to instantly narrow the number bodies that I needed to search by heading over to the section that corresponded to the gender, pony type, and age of the record I was looking at. This left me with anywhere between thirty and sixty bodies, instead of hundreds.

Not that being able to sift through the roster more quickly made the task any less grim.

I’d made it through twenty names before I came upon my first missing pony. It was an older unicorn stallion that was listed as having been the stable’s chief surgeon. The next was an earth pony mare teacher. An earth pony stallion that had worked in the stable’s security department. A unicorn stallion botanist. A unicorn filly that hadn’t even gotten her cutie mark yet.

What the fuck? None of these ponies seemed to have anything in common with each other. Well, actually, that wasn’t entirely true, I realized. A few looked like they had been small family groups, but most of them had no relationship to the others, nor any related skills. Admittedly, it seemed like most of them had held highly regarded positions within the stable. If not for the odd colt, filly, or stay-at-home spouse, I might have figured that what they’d been after were highly skilled laborers. Those outliers had me wondering though.

I was also a little put off by another trend that I was noticing: gaps. There were narrow little gaps in between some of the bodies that she been laid out in their neat rows. Initially, I thought that perhaps additional subcategories had been arranged. As I progressed through the roster though, I decided that this was not the case. Instead, I concluded that these empty spots were where the missing ponies I was coming across on my pipbuck must have been lying before being singled out and loaded onto the wagons that Merrybell and her brother had seen.

This was further evidenced of cut up stable barding that could be found near each of the tiny gaps. It immediately struck me that this was not the first time I had come across missing ponies, discarded clothing, and abandoned valuables.

The ponies that had done this had been responsible for more than just this single stable after all. Though, why leave ponies behind here, and not at the caravans that they had hit?

When I had finally compiled my list of those that had been abducted rather than killed, I found myself left with a lot more questions than answers. I made a note to share my findings with Foxglove. She was a lot better at figuring out puzzles like this than I was, and she also knew more about stable life. There might be a connection here that I wasn’t seeing that she’d notice.

A quick glance at the sky related just how long I had spent picking through these corpses. It was time to go inside, take in a meal, and consider getting a good night’s sleep. Maybe all of this would make more sense with a clear head in the morning, rather than the tired mind that I was using now.

It looked like the others had taken note of the late hour as well. I found them already gathered in the common area eating. The food wasn’t from their rations though; they obviously had come across the stable’s pantry in their travels. Fruits, vegetables, nuts, and jugs of something that was certainly the color of beer, but possessed a much sweeter odor.

When she saw me walk in, Windfall shot up and fluttered over, offering me one of the large glass jugs, “you have to taste this stuff!”

Looking at the Pegasus a little dubiously, I took the offered drink and gave it a deep sniff. It was obviously alcohol of some sort, but there were other scents as well. There was a hint of some sort of spice, but beyond that was something more recognizable: apples. Or, rather, something that reminded me of the apples that the NLR grew. This smelled much sweeter though.

Experimentally, I took a sip of the caramel colored fluid. My eyes went wide and I stared at the container, “whoa.”

“I know, right?!” the Pegasus darted back to where she had been sitting before I’d walked in and picked up what I presumed to be her own helping of the liquid, “it’s amazing!”

“It’s called ‘cider’,” Foxglove said by way of explanation.

I took a much more generous gulp of the tasty drink, and then looked around at what the others had laid out between them, “found the kitchen, eh?”

“Yeah, but most of the stuff there was rotten,” the flier said with a grimace and a wrinkle of her nose, “all of the doors to the coolers had been left open,” then her expression brightened again as she waved a hoof at the food, “but then we found the garden! There’s a whole level of this place that just grows things!”

“My stable had one two,” the unicorn confirmed, “I guess it’s a common stable feature.”

Not that I’d noticed really, I thought; recalling my delves into abandoned stables in my past. Though, those were places that had either outright failed or merely been abandoned after their purpose had been served. Until recently, this place had been thriving. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that facilities that grew food with a common feature of stables that were meant to keep going for this long.

Why Stable-Tec had not seen fit to equip all of their stables in this matter, I couldn’t say.

Windfall indicated my allotment of the food that they had gathered, and I took my seat between her and Foxglove. The unicorn was a fair distance away, I noticed. The Pegasus also seemed to be sitting much closer to Cestus, and the two of them were soon engrossed in conversation with one another again.

“What’d you figure out?” the violet mare asked between bites of some sort of crunchy orange stick.

I shook my head, “not much,” I admitted, “some of the ponies they took, I can understand: doctors and techs and stuff like that. Things a stable would need to keep going; but some of them,” I shrugged in resignation, “they were just…ponies. No important jobs, or skills. Some of them were just foals,” I regarded the unicorn with a deep frown, “why take some foals and not others?”

Foxglove was clearly confounded by my findings too. She scooted slightly closer and asked to see my pipbuck and the list of missing ponies. I brought up my findings and gave her my arm. The unicorn tabbed through the profiles, looking thoughtfully at them. After going through the list three times, she finally let out a frustrated grunt and released my pipbuck, “I don’t get it either. Most of those seem completely random.

“I’d say they just wanted ponies to be slaves, but…”

“Why go out of their way to take ponies with special skills, but only some of them; and then grab ponies with no skills, but kill most of them?” I finished the unicorn’s thought, which was the same one that had been bothering me since I’d gotten the list together.

The unicorn nodded, “it doesn’t make sense; but this can’t have been random. There’s something we’re not seeing.”

“What else is there? These were the files that those ponies had access to, right?” I pointed out, “we saw on the video that none of the ponies here were in any condition to be questioned, so the selection had to be made off these records.”

Foxglove considered that for a while, but then she slowly shook her head, “no…that can’t be it,” at my questioning look, she elaborated, “those records are kept on the Overmare’s computer,” she said, “and I watched all of that footage, and not once did they access her computer while they carried her out.”

“They were here before though,” I pointed out, “they got this list back then and made their choices before coming back.”

“I went over those videos too,” Foxglove said, “and they didn’t get the Overmare’s files. They went to the clinic to get…medical records…” the mare’s voice trailed off as her eyes went wide, “…we’re looking in the wrong place!”

She shot up and started trotting towards one of the doorways leading out of the common area, which had a broad illuminated sign above it that indicated that it was the direction a pony needed to go to reach ‘Medical’. Both Windfall and Cestus had broken off their own private discussion to look curiously at the mare just as I was. Foxglove focused her expression on me, “medical records are different from census data,” she explained, “if there’s a connection, we’ll be able to see it with those files. Come on!”

I stood up and followed the mare, waving for the other two to remain put, “you two just stay put, we’ll be right back,” neither raised much of an objection and went back to exchanging stories about their travels through the Wasteland.

It didn’t take the two of us long to reach the clinic. Foxglove did take several minutes trying to force her way through the myriad of passwords that protected the patient files though, as well as the access logs. The unicorn located the exact records that had been given to those strange looking ponies and quickly set about getting them on the screen for us. Both of us were pretty surprised by what we found though; Foxglove somehow more than me.

“Genetic profiles?”

I looked to the unicorn, waiting for her to elaborate on what the medical term meant, and how it could help us get to the bottom of this mystery, “what’s a ‘genetic’?”

“It’s...” the mare frowned and considered how best to explain her findings, “they were basically looking at family lineages,” I could understand her confusion now. How did knowing a pony’s ancestry help when picking out slaves?

“That’s it?”

“Well, I mean,” another sigh, “you can use a genetic profile for a few things, I guess; but the two most common things you do with them are figure out who's a foal's real parent, if there’s ever any doubt; or you can identify a body if it’s been badly mutilated. Stuff like that.”

That hardly sounded useful to the ponies who’d raided this stable. There had to be more to it than that, “and ‘uncommon’ uses?”

The mare sounded a little more uncertain now, “I’m not really sure, I don’t know a lot about this stuff. I’m not a medical pony.”

I bet that a few of the ponies that had used this data to make their selections had been though, “but a pony who did know about this stuff,” I asked, “they’d be able to figure out a lot about a pony?”

Foxglove gave a little shrug, “I think they’re supposed to be able to figure out everything. Your genes are a schematic for who you are. A pony who knew this stuff and what it meant could look at these files and, without knowing anything else about you, be able to tell your height, eye color, pony type, and anything else.”

“So, if you were looking only for very specific ponies, this is all that you would need,” I had found the method to their madness at least. It was a place to start; not that it told me specifically what they’d been after. Maybe if we ever came across a pony who did know this stuff, they’d be able to tell us what the connection was.

She considered the statement, not fully convinced of where I was going with it, “I guess? But what kind of slavers are this picky about their slaves?”

“I guess they’re not after slaves,” I admitted, disgruntled to have to let go of the most obvious motivation I had for what happened here.

“So, in summary,” Foxglove’s horn began to glow and a bottle of red soda floated out of her bag. There was a pop and a soft hiss as the cap was flipped off by her telekinetic grip, “there are a group of really powerful not-unicorns going around and murdering hundreds of ponies so that they can abduct a few dozen for their own weird reasons,” she took a long sup of the beverage, “wonderful.”

She certainly had a way of putting things into perspective, “yep. At least now we know that they’re out there,” I pointed out, “we even have video footage of them, so we can take that with us and show it around. Let ponies know what to look out for.”

“Do you think that’ll help?”

“I don’t see how it could hurt.”

Foxglove seemed to accept that observation and took another sip of her soda, “Cestus has gotten a lot more talkative all of a sudden.”

It took my brain a few seconds to shift gears and catch up to the shift in the subject of the conversation. Not that I particularly minded the change from what we had been discussing. Pounding my head against that cognitive brick wall was getting exhausting, “yeah, I noticed. I guess he’s the type that needs a day or two to get used to ponies.”

The unicorn snorted, “certain ponies,” at my raise brow, “he still won’t give me the time of day; but he’ll hang on Windfall’s every word.”

Oh. Oh! Hmm, not sure how I felt about that. It was bad enough when the Pegasus had simply being trying for the stallion’s attention. Now that she had it? Suddenly, I was rethinking my instructions for them to remain in the common room…alone, while the two of us were here.

Seeming to grasp where my thoughts were headed, the violet mare took another drink, “you are so jealous.”

“I’m concerned.”

“About who? Cestus? The pony your friend sent with us that will be leaving the moment we get back to New Reino and we’ll probably never see again? Or Windfall, the mare you practically raised and agreed with me that she should be interested in anypony else but you?

“If they’re going to happen, I say let it,” the mare’s tone then shifted down slightly, though it was still loud enough for me to hear the words she said under her breath, “no reason neither of us should get a ride from him…”

I frowned at the unicorn, “I thought you were for the mares?”

“I prefer mares overall,” Foxglove corrected very clearly, “that does not mean I can’t still appreciate a good looking stallion.”

“You think he’s good looking?” I quirked a slight smile, “didn’t you also say he looked like me?”

The violet mare glowered at me, “I said he looked like a younger version of you. Obviously, you got really ugly in your old age.” She flashed me a disgusted look and went back to drinking her soda.

I still allowed myself a chuckle at Foxglove’s expense before my mind went back to the prospect of Cestus and Windfall getting…close. The unicorn had made a fair point: if they did, it could only be temporary. The stallion would be on his own way in a few days, and the Wasteland was a big enough place that we could reasonably go the rest of our lives without ever bumping into him again. Honestly, the worst that could happen was the Pegasus coming down with a foal…

Which wasn’t a particularly great outcome. Windfall was our trump card in a fight, and a pregnancy would take her out of it for several months. Traveling with a newborn would cause problems too. She’d also want to stop drinking, I supposed; and as much as the flier threw back in a given day, I did not want to deal with her detox episodes.

“I’ll be right back.”

Foxglove didn’t say a word as I excused myself. She just drank her Sparkle Cola RAD.

As I approached the common area where I had left the two young ponies, the sound of faint, muffled, giggling made its way to my ears through the corridor. When I emerged into the open room, I very quickly spotted the source. It seemed as though I had arrived not a moment too soon. There wasn’t anything too explicit going on, but it looked like things might have gone that way in the fullness of time.

Windfall noticed my arrival first. The stallion with her hadn’t spotted my arrival, as his attention was far more focused on nibbling at the base of the young mare’s ear. That’s where his lips were, at any rate. His hooves, or at least one of them, was on its way to somewhere far less innocent.

This was stopping, right now. I strode into the room, my hooves smacking quite audibly against the steel flooring. At the same time, I rather loudly cleared my throat, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

The Pegasus blushed and placed a hoof on Cestus’ shoulder as she struggled to straighten herself up, “Oh! Jackboot! Um, no, we were…uh…”

The stallion’s reaction was quite different. He lifted his head for only a couple brief seconds to glare in my direction and say, “yes, now go away,” before he leaned his head down to Windfall’s neck and started nuzzling.

The flier’s soft gasp and the subtle biting of her lower lip suggested that she was not at all averse to this contact. She did look back in my direction though and tilt her head in a ‘come back later’ fashion before wrapping the stallion up in her wings.

My irritation level instantly increased several times over at both Windfall’s casual dismissal, and the earth pony’s rather dismissive statement. He was certainly not going to take that tone with me while doing that to the filly I’d raised right in front of me. Not that I would have been any happier about finding out this was happening even if I couldn’t see it. Or knowing implicitly that it was a thing that could happen.

No grubby stallion like Cestus was going to be placing his hooves on my 'daughter', was what I was saying.

“Windfall, I want you to do another quick flyover of the area,” I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance, “make sure nothing big is in the area looking for a new den.”

The Pegasus gave an exasperated sigh, but I saw her remove her wings from around the stallion nibbling on her, “…fine,” again she very gently pried Cestus away from her.

While he lifted himself off of the flier slightly, the earth pony did not let her go completely. Instead, he fixed me once more with a hard stare, even as he spoke to the Pegasus, “don’t listen to him,” he told Windfall, “he doesn’t really think there’s anything out there. He just doesn’t want you enjoying yourself with somepony like me.”

My eyes narrowed at the pony, and not just because he had correctly identified my motives. It was not his place to question what I told Windfall to do, “I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” I growled at the younger earth pony. My gaze went back to the flier, “check the area, now.”

Windfall nodded. To Cestus, she said, “it’s fine. I’ll just fly a couple laps around the stable and be back in a few minutes,” she finished extracting herself from beneath the stallion and set about fastening the straps that had been undone at some point before my arrival; likely by the earth pony so that he enjoyed easier access to the Pegasus while they…’kissed’.

I didn’t much appreciate that sentiment either, frankly. Hopefully, by the time she returned, I’d have come up with a more permanent way to separate them.

While Windfall put her barding back together, Cestus straightened up and faced me. Again though, his words were directed to the mare, “I’ll go pick us out a room. One with locks.”

My nostrils flared. This pony was trying to goad me into a fight, I realized. Did he think that beating me in a brawl in front of Windfall would impress her somehow, or just humiliate me enough to cause me to back off entirely? If I didn’t rise to his bate, did he hope I’d look weak enough in front of her to make her stop obeying my commands?

Honestly, it wasn’t going to matter, because this young punk didn’t know what he was getting himself into. I smiled at the stallion, “you and I are going to have a talk.”

“I don’t think so, you old-”

I just sort of assumed that the next words that were going to come out of Cestus’ mouth weren’t going to be flattering. It had very little to do with why I punched him though. I had planned to hit him no matter what his next response had been. This stallion wanted a fight? Fine. I was willing to give him a fight. We’d see how much Windfall fancied him when a pony twice his age ground him into the floor without breaking a sweat.

My hoof strike caught Cestus square in the side of his jaw. He had clearly not expected me to either hit quite so hard, or perhaps move that fast. I felt the force of my blow fall off abruptly about half way through the contact as the stallion rolled with the punch. He threw his head to the side as he simultaneously took a step back and fell into a defensive stance.

“Whoa, hey!”

Neither of us paid Windfall much attention. The younger earth pony managed to look both simultaneously thrilled that he had succeeded in drawing me into the open confrontation that he had wanted, and disgusted that he had not seen the first blow coming in time to completely avoid it. He was very quick to respond with a rebuttal strike though.

Unlike him though, I was prepared to receive blow. Or, rather, I thought I had been. The right jab I saw coming and parried it aside rather deftly. The left jab that followed was handled much the same. I had to admit though, that Cestus had managed to fool me when the right cross his arm cocked back to deliver turned instead into a second left jab. It popped me square in the eye before I could respond. Not a particularly devastating hit, but it was enough to make me give up some ground.

Young, impatient, sure of himself, Cestus took full advantage of this brief stumble on my part and pressed additional attacks. He tried the same pattern again, and this time I managed to turn away all three of the strikes. On the second left, I even took a step into the punch, and brought the crown of my head right into his exposed muzzle. The stallion howled and recoiled with the pain. It didn’t take him long to recover though.

His response came in the form of a leap this time, as the dark hued earth pony threw himself at me. I chose to rear up and catch him, with the intent of wrestling him to the ground and putting an end to this little display with a submission hold. It seemed, though, that Cestus had anticipated what to expect. Instead of trying to tackle me, like he had appeared to be doing, the earth pony took hold of my right foreleg and turned himself into my body. This put me in a rather perilous predicament with a couple of options: throw my weight forward to out-leverage him and end up on top which could very well completely dislocate my shoulder; or, allow myself to fall backwards and try to roll with him to keep the weight off the joint.

Though it would provide him with a momentarily advantageous position, I chose the latter. The fall wasn’t as controlled as would have liked, and I grunted with a good deal of pain. Cestus outweighed me by a bit. Not much, but enough for me to notice when I hit the ground. I immediately began to pummel the stallion with blows from my left hoof, but I couldn’t get the best of angles on him and likely did little more than cause some light bruising.

Cestus responded by wrenching himself to the side, which put a considerable amount of pressure on my shoulder. I felt something in the joint pop, though I don’t think that it had become completely dislocated. It sure hurt though! I responded by biting the stallion on the back of his neck. Cestus screamed, and I immediately felt his grip loosen enough for me to extract myself and kick him away. Both of us rolled onto on hooves and squared off in preparation to close this distance once more on our own terms.

Only, it was at that moment that a microburst manifested itself in the form of an armored white Pegasus.

Windfall zipped in from the sidelines where she had never stopped demanding that we stop our fighting and slammed into the floor between us. As she did so, the Pegasus executed an impossibly tight spinning maneuver, after several revolutions of which a massive gust of wind was thrown back into both mine and Cestus’ face. Both of us were blown nearly five yards back by the force of the wind.

Just as quickly as it had arrived, the tumultuous air current dissipated, leaving behind only a panting and irritated Pegasus. She flashed the pair of us aggrieved looks, “what is wrong with the two of you?!” not interested in hearing actual responses to the rhetorical question, the flier wheeled on Cestus, “Jackboot’s like my father, you’re not competing with him, so stop acting like it! And as for you,” it seemed that I was not immune to a rebuke from the mare either, “I’m going to kiss stallions. I’m probably going to do other things with stallions too.

“Deal with it.

“Now,” she straightened herself out and started heading for the exit, “I’m going to do a flyover. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone,” as she stepped past Cestus on her way out the door, and said in a low tone that I still caught, “and just for that little display? You can forget about needing a room tonight.”

I permitted myself a victorious smile, which I was very careful to hide from Windfall when she cast me a parting reproachful look on her way out. When she was gone, Cestus and I looked at each other for a long while as well, though neither of us said a word. We knew how this was going to go: he was going to keep pursuing Windfall, and I was going to keep standing in his way—if only out of spite now. Things might come to blows again. We’d just need to make sure we did it while Windfall wasn’t around.

Then I very carefully—because my shoulder actually probably was partially dislocated—turned around and started walking back towards the stable’s clinic; leaving Cestus to tend to his aching jaw and bleeding nose. I made sure that I was far out of earshot before I let myself hiss and grunt and limp the way that I had been want to all this time. My shoulder really hurt! Though I was loathe to admit it, I was starting to get too old for this sort of shit. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before I had to finally admit that I couldn’t hack it anymore and retire somehow. Not that I had nearly the wealth I’d hoped to have by this point.

I had just found an intact stable though which hadn’t been looted in the slightest…

That had never been something I’d ever come across before. If I bankrolled an expedition to strip the place using the funds I did have, I might be looking at a couple hundred thousand caps worth of material here. I’d have to take the time to do a proper inventory. Or, just take the easy road and sell the location to Scratch for an upfront payout. Maybe ask for a cut of the profits?

Eh, that was for the future. Getting Med-X, and other potent drugs to take the edge off, that was what I needed to worry about now!

When I finally stumbled into the clinic, Foxglove was still sitting at the terminal where we had discovered the medical records. She looked up at me, surprise in her eyes as I groaned and nearly fell through the open portal, “Celestia! Are you alright?”

“Nope,” I admitted, partially crawling towards the nearest medical cabinet. Hopefully the doctors here had kept their medicines in places that were low and easily accessible by ponies that were close to the floor.

“What happened?” the unicorn asked as she moved out from behind the desk and came over to help me stand up. The two of us limped to one of the exam beds, where I very gratefully slumped onto the surface and sighed with relief as all of the weight and tension was finally taken off my joint.

“Got into a fight with Cestus,” I breathed, relishing the sweet relief, “find me some Med-X, please. Pretty sure my shoulder’s not seated right…”

The unicorn frowned at me, but she did trot over to a cabinet mounted high onto the wall, “why did you two fight?”

“He called me ‘old’. Didn’t like that,” then I grimaced and added, “and he was touching Windy.”

“He was…? Ah,” the mare levitated a pre-filled syringe out of the cupboard and removed the plastic cap. She tapped the side with her hoof and returned to my bedside, “was he…forcing…?”

I could lie and get the unicorn on my side, I thought. She’d take that lance and geld him right this minute if I suggested that the other stallion had been taking advantage. Of course, a little orange mare fixed me with a baleful look when I considered that option. I sighed, “no. She liked it,” ooh, that was a bitter admission to make.

“Hmm,” I winced as the needle slipped in just behind my shoulder, and then I sighed as the pain went away, “I see why you punched him. How dare he touch her in a way that she liked,” she glanced towards he door, “so, uh…how exactly was he touching her?”

“Nibbling on her ear, kissing her neck, putting his hoof…wait,” I lifted my head and frowned at the mare, “why does that matter?”

“Hmm? Oh. No reason. Just curious,” the hovering empty syringe floated away and vanished into a red box mounted on the wall. Then she looked back at my shoulder and began to poke at the joint gently with her hooves. I could feel the pressure of her touch, but thanks to the drugs, there was no pain, “yeah…feels a little out of place.

“I’ll get you a potion.”

“No need for that,” I insisted, “just pop it back in; it’s not completely dislocated.

“I don’t know how to do that,” Foxglove shook her head.

“I do,” I insisted. Carefully, since while there was no pain I was still aware that the joint was damaged, I rolled onto my side to expose the shoulder, “place you hooves there and there,” I pointed to the prescribed locations. Hesitantly, the unicorn did so, “now, just push.”

“Push?”

“Push,” I nodded.

Still looking a little dubious, the mare began to put her weight into the side of my shoulder. Despite the Med-X, I could tell that she wasn’t using nearly enough force, “no, push,” I insisted. There was more pressure now, but it was still well short of what there needed to be. I groaned with frustration, “for Celestia’s sake, I said pu-AAARRRGH!”

She pushed.

I suppose I was just lucky that she stopped when we both heard an audible ‘POP!’ echo through the room.

With a relieved gasp, I collapsed back onto the mattress and sighed, “thank you.”

“Are you sure you're okay?” Foxglove gently traced her hoof over the joint, “that sounded aweful.”

“It was a healthy aweful,” I assured her.

“If you say so,” she stepped around and leaned in close to my face, “we should do something about that eye too. Looks like the brow got split,” the unicorn turned and walked over to a nearby sink where she started the water running and fetched a clean cloth over with her magic. I touched my hoof to the brow just above my soar eye and looked at what I came away with. Sure enough, there was a little smear of blood.

Foxglove returned with her damp cloth and sat down in front of me. She peered intently at the cut as she dabbed at it with her floating compress. I winced and pulled back slightly. The Med-X wasn't doing anything for my head, and the proximity to my aching eye prompted me to reflexively wince. The unicorn responded by using both of her hooves to clamp my head in place.

“Don't be such a foal,” she chided, “it's just a little cut.”

I frowned at the mare but didn't say anything. I shut my eye and let her wash out the dried blood with the damp cloth. Honestly, I was not so much put off by the mild irritation that her ministrations brought on as I was by her close proximity and her touch. Only a few days ago I had assaulted her, and very nearly succeeded in forcing myself upon this mare; all because I'd lost control. What if that happened again? It wasn't like I completely understood how I'd managed to slip the first time.

My mind circled around and around as I did everything I could to think about anything and everything else besides the unicorn sitting in front of me. Maybe that was all it would take to keep myself under control. I certainly didn't feel like I wanted to do anything like that to her again. Why would I? She was cute enough that I did use the mental image of her as personal material on occasion; but as much as this mare despised me? We'd never happen. Foxglove was just a distant fantasy, and I was basically fine with that; much in the same way that I had been when Windfall and I had first met the unicorn.

She hadn't cared for me all that much then, either. Her affinity for mares paired with her learned distrust of any and all stallions in the Wasteland had been the root of that implicit animosity those first weeks. Recently her feelings towards me had grown more justified.

I felt the cloth drift down from my brow and start to brush up against the side of my cheek. My face scrunched up in confusion. I hadn't been hit there so what was...?

My eyes opened so that I could see what Foxglove was doing; and then they grew very wide. The unicorn was nuzzling me! The violet mare's head was touching mine, very gently rubbing up against me.

“Uh...Foxglove?”

The mare jerked and pulled away with startling speed. Her hooves, which had still been supporting my head dropped away and I very nearly fell off the table at the sudden shift in my center of gravity. I stared at the rather embarrassed looking mare and she found something very fascinating about the cloth still held in her magical grip.

She cleared her throat, “ah...that should do it,” the mare swallowed and tossed the rag into the sink, “I'm going to go, um...somewhere,” and that was apparently all the explanation that I was going to get regarding that bizarre bit of behavior. Without looking in my direction, she turned and started gingerly marching for the exit.

I straightened myself back out on the examination bed, still slightly bemused as I watched her leave, "I'll...just sleep here tonight, I guess,” I was not too keen on walking anywhere right now anyway. This bed, while not as nice as those I was sure to find in the stable's private quarters, was still a far sight better than the ground, “can you at least help me out of my barding before you go?” I flexed my recently re-socketed arm weakly to demonstrate my handicap. It was going to be sore in the morning…or whenever the painkiller wore off, come to think of it.

The violet stopped short of the door, still not turning around to look, “your shoulder...right,” I saw her bite her lip as she seemed to very carefully consider her response, “I...should be able to do that,” she turned around and, without quite looking at me, set her horn aglow. She briefly peered at my barding, and then she did a quick little double-take. Her horn flared brighter, but her confounded look remained.

When I finally realized what she was trying to do, I elected to explain before she got any more frustrated and blew out her horn—if unicorns could do such a thing, “actually, that won’t work,” Foxglove shot me a confused look, “this is modified zebra barding,” when the unicorn still didn’t understand what I was talking about, I elaborated further, “most zebra armor has a…curse? Put on it. Stops the straps from being manipulated by magic.

“They didn’t want a bunch of unicorn ponies to be able to dismantle their barding in the middle of a fight. It has to be undone by hoof.”

Foxglove was suddenly looking a lot less certain for some reason, and I could swear that I saw her cheeks starting to flush. It was hard to really tell beneath her violet coat though. Then, with a deep frown and a shake of her head, “I am not undressing you with my hooves,” she stated vehemently. You’d think she was making some sort of solemn promise to herself the way she was saying it.

“Just undo the straps below my withers, I can get the rest,” I insisted. I could do most of them with just the one hoof without putting too much stress on my injured joint. It would just be the ones close to my armpits that would be hard without bending my legs in ways that I wasn't comfortable with at the moment.

The mare considered the compromise for a few long seconds. Then, “alright. Lie down. Don't move. Don't look at me.”

That seemed like a rather unusual list of condition to have a couple of buckles loosened; but then I remembered that my presence made her uncomfortable anyway. I wasn't sure how to classify the nuzzling that I'd been the recipient of a minute ago. As long as she got those straps off though, I wasn't really going to argue about the methods; so I lay down on my belly and closed my eyes.

This was weird, right?

For what felt like nearly a minute, I didn't hear or feel anything. If it hadn't been for my pipbuck's EFS enduring despite my shut eyes, I wouldn't have even known that Foxglove was still in the room. Eventually I felt her hooves on my back as they fiddled with the straps there. It took her a good while to get them released, which I attributed to a combination of her lack of familiarity with barding in general, and her reliance on simply ‘thinking’ her problems away with her magic. She must have been having a terrible time of things to, since I even felt her pause a time of two and just keep her hooves there before she resumed.

Eventually though, I felt one came loose, and then the other, “thanks, I can get the…” One of Foxglove’s hooves was still in contact with me though, running down along my side before stopping at the buckle near my right flank. I craned my head to look at the unicorn, “um…I said-”

“I said don't look,” the mare snapped.

I spun my head back around, confused. This was...very weird, right?

“I know,” the mare added in a slightly calmer tone; though she sounded...off somehow, “I’m just going to get a couple more is all. Then I’ll leave,” as quietly as she said those last two lines, I couldn't be entirely certainly that she'd been speaking to me.

O…kay. This mare could barely stand to be in the same room as me. In fact, less than a minute ago, she hadn’t wanted to help at all. Even now, it felt like she was barely ‘helping’, really. Her hooves still weren’t actually doing anything with the barding straps. They were just sort of…there, moving around them as they traced out the contours of my back and hips.

Finally she released the buckle there and slid the strap out through it. After that though, things got weird...er, as she reached down around my thigh and placed her hoof near one of the smaller, secondary, straps that was used to size the barding, and not remove it, “whoa, Fox, that’s not a-”

“Just a few more,” the unicorn assured me, though it didn’t sound like she was being very sincere.

“But that one isn’t-!” and that was not a strap!

Those were words that my brain tried to get my mouth to say, but somewhere along the way they got tangled up and eventually lost in the massive collision of reactions and emotions that precipitated as the unicorn began running her hoof up against something that was very distinctly not a part of my barding. I stared at the mare, looking for the telltale sign of the joke that she was playing. I saw none. Indeed, what I did see on the unicorn’s face was a very intent expression directed against my flanks.

Then an odd little smile touched the corner of her mouth as she withdrew her hoof. If I thought that she was done with her cruel little joke, then I would be seriously mistaken. She was just getting started, it turned out. Once again, her horn began to glow. I furrowed my brow and was about to reiterate the magic resistant nature of the barding that I was wearing; except that, once again, my throat lost the capacity to form coherent words, and all that came out was something akin to, “tha-wha-oh-whoa!”

She wasn’t using her magic on my barding.

Saffron had done this a time or two during our sessions. Given the other sorts of activities that I engaged in with the Stable 69 whore, it hadn’t been a highlight of my night back then. Just a quirky little activity that allowed me to appreciate how a unicorn mare could be accommodating to her stallion even while she was all bound up in a bridle and cuffs. Of course, back in those days, I was a regular recipient of a mare’s attentions in ways that were far more delightful than what Foxglove was doing right now.

These were not those days. I certainly wasn’t going to ask her to stop, now was I?

It made no sense, there was no reason for it, and this was quite obviously my mind engaging in a full on psychotic break complete with visual and somatic hallucinations. Fine by me!

While Foxglove’s magic worked its, well, magic, the mare continued to use her hooves to unfasten the remaining straps that secured my armor in place before pushing it to the floor where it fell into a heap. Then the unicorn started to crawl up onto the table with me. It was a small medical examination bed, so it was hardly designed to accommodate two ponies, and so the violet mare stumbled a time or two; but she was determined. As she ascended, she bent her head down and took several deep inhalations with her nose pressed up against my body.

Well, if we were going to go through with this…for reasons, I guess? Then I was going to at least go with the flow. I tried to wrap my hooves around the mare and draw her towards me, but the moment I touched her, the violet unicorn jerked and went rigid. What she was doing with her magic ceased instantly, and I instead found myself violently pinned back to the bed with an unseen force. I stared up at Foxglove in surprise.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” the mare hissed.

I blinked several times, “um, but I thought…”

Foxglove winced, as though she was in physical pain, “I know what you must be thinking, but you’re wrong,” she insisted, “it’s not what it looks like. So, don’t touch me. Don't look at me. Just…” she groped around in her mind for what she wanted to say, but seemed to come up against a mental wall, “…just don’t, okay?

“I’m not doing this for you.”

The invisible weight that had been pushing down on me lifted, but I made no move to prop myself back up; electing to remain lying on my back. I felt as though I was getting some rather extreme mixed signals from this mare. The way she spoke, it was like she very much resented what was happening; like when I’d been coercing her in New Reino. I wasn’t doing that now though. At least, I was fairly certain I wasn’t forcing her into this somehow. Was I?

“Fox, we don’t have to-” my mouth was suddenly sealed shut by a glowing green band.

“Don’t talk either,” Foxglove hissed, glaring at me.

This was really weird, right? If nothing else, it was certainly a rather surreal moment being on the side that was restrained while this was happening.

Think she has a riding crop?

Whiplash was not helping matters.

What Foxglove had resumed doing with her magic, though? That was helping matters. I sighed and allowed myself to relax. If this was going to happen, then oh well!

What was more, it looked like that was even only the pregame show. When the unicorn mare had finally managed to get herself situated over me on the table, she lowered her hips and, with the aid of her magic, guided herself down.

She…felt…great! Maybe it was the decade having gone without, or maybe Foxglove was genuinely a pleasure to be inside. All I knew for certain was that I didn’t care. I was perfectly content to lay there and take it.

My ear twitched a little, and I noticed that she was actually mumbling something to herself that I was barely able to make out:

“…It doesn’t mean anything…it doesn’t mean anything…” over and over again.

What was that supposed to mean?

I seriously considered breaking the unicorn’s ‘no talking’ rule; even if that meant risking her wrath. Though, I was also very strongly against saying or doing anything that was going to stop whatever it was that was going on here. Physically, I was quite amenable, and I felt that it showed quite evidently. I wasn't hearing any critiques from the unicorn, at least.

Mentally, though...things were more complicated. While the mare's every action suggested that she was into this; there was a very different story being told by her words and her facial expressions. Part of her looked like she actually despised all of this. Which didn't make any damned sense! This had all been her idea; so why was she acting like it was the last thing she wanted? I certainly was doing anything to force her hoof here...was I? My mind combed over every detail of everything that had happened in the last few minutes in an effort to sniff out any moment where I might have said or done something that could be viewed as coercing Foxglove into this situation; but I came up with nothing.

This had all been the violet mare's choice.

So why was she acting like it wasn't?

“Hey, guys, are you still—Goddess' horseapples!”

I sat bolt upright, my wide eyes going immediately to the open doorway, and the young pegasus mare that was scampering out of sight back around the frame. Foxglove too looked like she had been caught off guard by the flier's unexpected arrival, and she stopped moving. She didn't immediately leap of of me, though I could sense the battle waging within her as she contemplated doing just that. Finally, I took the initiative and rather firmly pushed her off to the side, in a clear indication that the two of us were done with...whatever the fuck this had been.

“Windfall! You're back...early?” how long had it been exactly since I'd sent her on that scouting round?

“Um...sure?” was the disembodied reply from the pegasus as she spoke to us from the corridor, “so...I didn't see anything,” very quickly she added, “in the Wasteland. Or here. I didn't see anything here either,” there was a very long bout of silence where nopony said anything. I looked over at Foxglove, but she was actually leaving the room altogether, heading for the clinic's washroom. I guess the unicorn was just going to take herself out of the conversation completely. How nice of her. It wasn't like she hadn't contributed to any of this, but, whatever.

“Thanks for taking a look,” I cleared my throat and headed for the door. I peered around the corner, and saw Windfall looking down at the floor. When she noticed me, the flier idly fussed with one of her wings, “need anything else?”

“Nope,” she responded very quickly, flashing an awkward smile, “all good! I'll take first watch. I'll come by in a few hours.

“I'll be sure to knock,” she added under her breath. Then she turned and walked very quickly down the corridor before I could say anything else. Not that there was much I could think to say to the pegasus. How was I supposed to explain what she'd seen when I couldn't explain it either?

Hopefully Foxglove would be willing to shine a little light on what all of that had been about now that she'd been shocked out of her...trance? I didn't know. I turned back into the clinic and headed for the washroom. Inside, I could hear the sound of somepony running the shower.

I tapped my hoof on the door, “Foxglove?”

“Go away!” was the sharp rebuke from the mare on the other side of the door.

What in the-? What had I done?! Judging by the unicorn's frantic tone, you'd think I'd tried to rape her again. I considered pressing the issue, but then my ear twitched as I heard other sounds as well. Putting my head to the door, I was able to make out the distinct sounds of a mare enjoying herself just beyond the sound of the running shower. These sounds were easy enough to recognize as I had heard them much more clearly from this specific unicorn only a few nights prior.

I pulled back and frowned at the door. It seemed like Foxglove was far more concerned with finishing matters than talking about what had just happened. Well, good for her. It wasn't like I wasn't a little riled up myself. Although, Windfall’s unexpected arrival had cooled things a little in that department. Hearing Foxglove having a go at things just beyond the door was rekindling those feelings though...

With a frustrated growl, I turned to leave the clinic. Being out here when the unicorn finished up was probably going to go badly for me somehow; especially if she came out while I was 'taking care of things'. It looked like I was going to need to find a room after all.

Limping out the door, I left in search of some suitable quarters; all the while muttering about crazy unicorns and their impossible to understand mood swings.

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 21: MY SHADOW

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“I want sex and violence, without the sex. You know where I can get it?”

This marked the second night in a row in which I had not awakened in the manner that I should have. Just as my slumber the previous night was supposed to have been interrupted by Windfall seeking to be relieved from her watch, the same was supposed to have happened tonight as well. It didn’t immediately fill me with that initial sense of danger that I’d felt yesterday when the Pegasus wasn’t standing over me as my eyes opened. My thoughts went immediately to Foxglove, and how she had likely interceded once more and asked to take the second watch so that she wasn’t sleeping while I was awake. Even if that had been the case though, the unicorn should have at least been waking me up, right?

Unless she’d approached Cestus next. It was entirely possible that she felt safer with the relative stranger watching over her when compared with me. I had to admit, that thought hurt a little.

Of course, given the unicorn’s revelations last night where her thoughts were concerned regarding me; I suppose that it was a good sign that I was waking up at all. Not that I took it as being particularly fortunate that I woke up well rested. That suggested that I’d slept for a long time, given how exhausted I felt from the past couple of weeks. When was the last time I’d taken some serious time to relax anyway? Going at this breakneck pace where Wasteland excursions was concerned couldn’t be doing me any favors.

I glanced at the clock on my pipbuck. Just a couple hours before dawn, and it hadn’t been particularly late when I’d nodded off either. This was probably the most sleep I’d gotten in months. I’d feel better if I knew why this was the case though. Somepony should have woken me up to take a watch…

With a grunt, I rolled out of bed and started putting my barding on. My shoulder hardly hurt at all, though my eye still ached a little from where I’d been punched last night. Idly, I wondered how badly Cestus was hurting. I’d given at least as good as I’d gotten in that exchange. Not bad for some ‘old’ pony, eh?

Once I was dressed and armed up, I peered at my Eyes Forward Sparkle and did a quick scan of the area to get an idea of where everypony was. I felt a little ball of concern start to form deep in my gut. There was only a single yellow dot that showed up on my EFS. It wasn’t like there weren’t completely plausible explanations that could put those concerns at ease though. The exact range of the device still wasn’t something I’d measured out, and I hadn’t kept track of exactly how deep into the stable I’d wandered before settling down to sleep. Though I certainly hadn’t gone much further than I’d absolutely had to.

I’d reevaluate how worried and/or angry I needed to be once I’d seen who that single yellow blip was.

It took me a few minutes to track them down. All that the pipbuck did was give me a direction to my objective, not a distance or an elevation. There were a couple of wrong turns and dead ends before I finally discovered the door that the pony had to be behind. I tapped the button next to the steel portal and peered inside as the door slid gracefully upward.

Light from the corridor spilled into the dark room, and splashed partially across the bed that sat off to the side of the small room. It was enough for me to catch sight of a purple rump and chestnut tail mingled in with the sheets. Foxglove. The unicorn stirred slightly, but then she just murmured and pulled the sheets up over her head.

I frowned and looked from one side to the other, my eyes staring at the bar at the bottom of my field of vision. I’d come a considerable distance I had thought to get this far, yet I couldn’t see any additional blips to suggest where either Windfall or Cestus were. I could feel that tangled little knot of worry starting to get bigger.

For a moment, I thought about waking the unicorn in order to determine if she might know something about where the two of them were. I discarded the notion though. As tightly wound as she was around me, that might not go so well if she woke up to find me standing over her. Given what she’d been doing around me these last few nights, part of me wondered if the unicorn hadn’t gone further off the deep end than I was. She hated me enough to fantasize about killing me, but would strip me down and mount me.

I was crazy, but even I wasn’t quite that far gone…

A little bit more searching wouldn’t hurt anything. Windfall and Cestus had to be around here somewhere. Maybe having a bite to eat? The two of them might even be outside. The Pegasus was enough of a bleeding heart when she was of a mind that she may have even talked the younger stallion into helping her bury those stable ponies. That was a task that would take days to accomplish in its entirety, to be sure; but the flier might have at least wanted to take care of the younger foals.

So I took myself up to the stable’s atrium in an effort to wind my way to the kitchens and check for any sign that they’d at least been there recently. I didn’t make it quite that far though. The moment I set my first hoof into the stable’s premiere common area where the four of us had eaten last night, I came to a dead halt. The little bundle of worry and apprehension that my brain had been nursing all of this time rebounded in on itself as it collapsed beneath the weight of the sheer terror and grief that fell upon my thoughts.

I wasn’t prepared for this. How could I have been? While it was true that there had always been that tiny little part of my mind that had always known about the threats and the dangers that I could run into while I was out and about in the Wasteland; the infrequency with which they came up allowed those thoughts to be routinely overlooked. It was to the point that I rarely considered guarding against them specifically.

Wandering into a New Republic military patrol. I was a wanted pony where that nation was concerned, and they did send groups of soldiers out routinely to scout for signs of dangerous groups that were moving into the valley. They didn’t necessarily go out with the intent of exterminating those groups, as was evidenced by the gangs that still thrived in the ruined city just beyond their capital in the heart of Seaddle. However, they did still put feelers out for new threats, or to track the movements of their familiar enemies; like the Steel Rangers.

Because those sorts of ponies and ourselves were constantly crisscrossing through the Wasteland, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that we could run into each other. It was even possible that if we met with such a group that at least one of them would recognize us for who we were and engage us. Our merry little band was hardly ready to tangle with armed professional soldier types. If something like that were to happen, it could go badly for us, and I inherently knew that.

Yet I didn’t take any active measures to mitigate such an encounter; relying instead on the weight of probability to simply swing greatly in our favor. The Neighvada Valley was a big place, and those sorts of patrols were infrequent and needed to cover a vast area. The chances that our two groups might come within sight of each other was remote, at best.

Not that the New Lunar Republic was the only such group that might cause problems for us if that found me. The Finders were up there too, though they were far lower on that list of probable encounters; given how far away we were from anyplace even remotely related to Hoofington. Though, I suppose, in hindsight, I should have kept my mind open to the much greater likelihood of meeting others out here. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known that certain ponies were actively looking for me. I just never conceived that they’d find me out in the middle of nowhere like this.

Or that they’d come at me so indirectly.

White Hooves had been here, in this stable, last night. It was stupid of me, unforgivably so, to think that they wouldn’t have followed me here, to this place. A group of them had ambushed us out in the middle of fucking nowhere just last night! I had taken Windfall’s report of a clear Wasteland for granted. I should have known better! The Pegasus wasn’t experienced with their tactics and training; she wouldn’t have even known what to be looking for where a scout was concerned.

Now they’d found us, and left a calling card.

My eyes traced over every inch of the massive white mural that had been painted onto the floor of the atrium. Unlike some instances I had seen in the past, this depiction of the grinning white pony skull which was the symbol of the White Hooves had been created with great care. Somepony had taken their time to make certain that the image was evenly mirrored across its center, and its edges smooth. In its own little way, the neatness with which it had been created was part of the message that it was supposed to convey.

The rest of the message was the barding and weapons in the middle of mural. Windfall’s barding and weapons.

Oh, Celestia…please, no…

My hind legs gave out from beneath me as I gaped at the meticulously crafted tableau. Every part of it telling me about what had happened and what I was supposed to take away from this.

For it was not just the skull and horseshoes that had been very carefully laid out, the artist taking their time to make it. The barding and weapons too had been very neatly arranged. From where I was, I saw no sign that it had received any recent damage in a fight. It had either been removed consensually, or taken off of an unconscious pony that was incapable of resisting. The weapons as well had been stripped and laid out in pieces. A sign of somepony taking their time, with no sense that things needed to be rushed.

There was even a method to the arrangement of the pieces of the weapons and the barding that had been laid out over the painted image. They came together to spell out a single word and a letter: ‘come. W’.

Whiplash had Windfall, and she was using the pegasus as bait to draw me in to her. She’d tried doing this subtly in Seaddle, and more directly last night. Both attempts had failed, and now she was done trying to come after me directly. She was now trying to get me to come of my own accord.

It was going to work, too, wasn’t it? I was going to go…

Sounds like somepony’s getting sentimental in their old age, the Whiplash that lived in my head mused.

None of what happened was Windfall’s fault. Your problem is with me, and that’s how it should stay. You shouldn’t have involved her in this.

I had to get your attention somehow, the yellow earth pony mare shrugged, speaking as though the figment of my imagination had actual insight into the mental processes of the pony off of which my psychosis had based her likeness, you never call, you never write…How’s a mare supposed to know you care?

You know I’m going to come for you now, I seethed at the little yellow pony. I’m going to tear you down and burn everything you ever cared about to the ground. When I’m done, you’ll have nothing left.

I’m hearing a lot of lip flapping. I’m not seeing a lot of action.

Oh, don’t worry about that. You will.

It was time I went home and settled this little family matter, once and for all.

I was going to need help to do it. Foxglove wouldn’t be a whole lot of help in a direct confrontation, but a second set of eyes was never to be discounted. It would be a trick to talk Cestus into helping, probably. If he was a mercenary though, I might be able to buy his support.

If I could even find him.

Where had he even been while all of this was going down? Somepony had been here for hours last night painting this room and positioning Windfall’s gear. He wasn’t in any of the rooms, so he hadn’t been asleep anywhere in the stable. He’d still have been awake when Windfall returned; and while the Pegasus had suggested that they weren’t going to spend any time together in an intimate fashion that night, I saw no reason they wouldn’t have talked together for some time. They should both have been awake when the White Hooves arrived.

How could that pony have missed out on two White Hoof intrusions in as many nights? The chances of something like that were…

…too good to be a coincidence, I realized.

Cestus was involved, he had to be. It explained too much for it to be anything else. It was why he wasn’t around the other night when the White Hooves attacked. He’d been that sixth red bar that I’d seen in the opening minutes, even though only five ponies had ever shown themselves in the actual fight. When he’d seen that things weren’t going to work out, he’d shown up at the last moment to get in a final kill and keep his cover intact. Now he was nowhere to be found; and Windfall had been taken without a fight. Who better to get the drop on the flier than somepony she was having amorous feelings for?

No wonder he’d suddenly gotten so much more conversational with the pegasus! He’d been setting the stage for this as a backup plan!

I decided that I was going to hold off on thinking too much about exactly how likely it was that Scratch had known he was sending a White Hoof agent along with us. One betrayal at a time was more than enough; and there was plenty else to think about that was of a more immediate concern.

It was time to wake Foxglove up. We had a lot of work to do today.

For the second time that morning, I depressed the button that opened the door to the unicorn’s temporary quarters. This time, though, I was not so subtle about my intrusion. I reached around the wall and slapped the panel that would illuminate the room. The sound of my hoof hitting the buttons, and the sudden brightness that pierced through her eyelids caused the unicorn to shoot bolt upright in her bed in a tangle of sheets and limbs.

“Huh-bu-whu-?” she looked around frantically as her brain began to sift through the sudden onslaught of external stimuli. Then her eyes focused on me, “Jackboot?!”

My, wasn’t that a fascinating mixture of fear and surprise she was using to greet me this morning? I didn’t have time for her bipolar treatments though. I needed her focused and concerned with more pressing matters. So I ignored the eldritch lance that zipped to her side with its glowing tip, and merely said, “Whiplash has Windfall. Get your stuff.”

I turned and left the stunned mare blinking in bed as her mind tried frantically to digest that new information. To the unicorn’s credit, only a few seconds passed before I heard her hooves clattering across the floor as she burst out into the corridor. She’d even left her lance behind, “wait, what? What are you talking out?”

“Cestus was a White Hoof. He’s taken Windfall to my sister,” I wheeled on the mare, “so, bags: packed. Now,” the stallion could only have a lead of a few hours on us. The sooner we were on our way, the less time that Whiplash would have to prepare for our arrival. My sister was going to have plenty of advantages as it was without the benefit of time to cement them.

“Cestus…? I don’t understand,” Foxglove insisted, shaking her head, “how did this happen?”

“We can talk on the way,” I growled at the unicorn. We didn’t have time for this! I wasn’t about to spend hours laying everything out for the mare. We’d have plenty of time to lay everything out while we walked. If we left now and pushed ourselves, we could be in the heart of White Hoof territory by late afternoon. Maybe we’d even make up enough ground to all but catch up to Cestus and Windfall. He couldn’t be moving too fast with a burden like her weighing him down.

I was about to turn away again and head back to the atrium to gather up Windfall’s things when Foxglove began asking further questions, “but-”

Oh, for—there was no time! I wheeled on the mare and screamed at her, “shut up! Either get your fucking saddlebags packed right now, or let me know I’m doing this on my own. Which will it be?”

The unicorn backpedaled considerably at my outburst. It took her a moment to recover from her shock, but the mare did eventually nod. I presumed that meant that she was opting to come with me, so I turned away for the final time and returned to the atrium to gather together Windfall’s effects.

It was not an easy task, emotionally. There was a cold pit in my gut as I gathered up the flier’s barding and carefully began to stow it away in my bags. A lot of questions that I couldn’t hope to answer were floating through my head: was she alright? Did she know what was going on? Did she know that I was coming to get her? Because I was absolutely going to.

Though, getting there was going to be the easy part. I’d grown up in this valley. White Hoof territory had been my home. It wouldn’t take a lot of traveling before I started to come across landmarks that I recognized and found my way to the primary settlement that was the heart of my old tribe; and where Whiplash was undoubtedly going to be waiting for me. After that, finding Windfall shouldn’t be altogether difficult. My sister wouldn’t be hiding the Pegasus from the public. A pony like that was a rare prize, and word would get around the camp about where she was being held.

Getting Windfall out, along with the both of us…that was going to be no simple feat. Fighting our way out against hundreds of White hooves wasn’t going to be an option. Nopony was that good of a fighter, not even me. Sneaking out without being noticed wouldn’t be much easier. Whiplash would be keeping a close eye on the Pegasus. Even getting her free would cause at least a small ruckus.

Unless, of course, there was a much bigger ruckus that kept everypony’s eyes looking somewhere else.

Foxglove would make for a nice distraction, the Whiplash in my head mused, and the best part is that when she’s gone, you and Windfall can go back to the way things were. The good life.

As tempting as that thought might have been, it wasn’t going to be nearly that simple. Whatever we used as a distraction had to be something that was going to draw Whiplash’s eye and keep her attention. However, I could think of few things that my half-sister would focus on so intently that she let other concerns fall by the wayside. In fact, there was really only the one thing that came to mind.

Was that really how I wanted to do this?

Not that there were really many other options. Whiplash was a problem that wasn’t just going to go away; and I’d resolved that I wasn’t going to just pack up and run when things got a little rough. Not that this was a situation that could be called a ‘little rough’ with a straight face, I guess. I needed to start dealing with obstacles so that they didn’t just come back to bite me in the ass later; or the ass of the pony I cared about. If I left Whiplash alive, it would only be a matter of time before something like this happened again.

She had to die, and I had to be the one to kill her.

You act like this is personal.

It was always personal. I just kept putting it off. No more.

I finished packing away Windfall’s things, and then I set my saddlebags aside. Just one more thing to take care of before I got down to business.

I brought up my pipbuck and started tapping at the screen.

Foxglove probably didn’t know what to make of me when she finally arrived in the stable’s atrium. She’d never seen me like this before. Well, I guess I had perhaps come close to this sort of state a couple months ago when that pair of White Hooves had stumbled upon us. Some fast talking and a working knowledge had saved us then; but I think that had been the start of Foxglove’s feelings of growing animosity towards me. I had gone from being some generic asshole whose abrasive personality was just a product of the rough and tumble Wasteland life to a member of a feared tribe with a long list of atrocities tucked under his saddle.

She was likely being reminded of that all over again right now.

A laypony who didn’t know any better might look at the markings on a White Hoof and conclude that they were haphazardly slathered on in a fashion that made the warrior look ‘fierce’ or because that warrior though the designs looked ‘cool’. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Painting our bodies was a ritual borne of centuries of tradition dating back to those first decades after the world ended.

Back then, when ponies were just starting to get the hang of learning to survive in that new world born of balefire and megaspells, it was hard to know the capable ponies from those who had just managed to luck their way through life without really picking up any skills. So, some groups of ponies had taken to illustrating their accomplishments as they wandered the valley. Monsters they'd beaten, years they’d survived, raiders they’d killed; that sort of thing. When they arrived in a settlement, they were wearing their resume right there on their coat. Ponies interested in a suitable mate, or folk looking to hire on a reliable worker could tell what they were getting into.

Eventually, this had evolved into the body painting that defined the White Hooves today. Little things had changed over the years, and a lot of standardization had taken place with regards to the nature and placement of specific glyphs. It might indeed look random to somepony who wasn’t ‘in the know’; but that was the point. It was a code that allowed White Hooves to know instantly if a warrior they met was the genuine article, or just some poser tribal trying to fake their way into the White Hooves. Just like what Foxglove and I were about to do.

Of course, I did know the code; and so my body paint looked like the genuine article. Which was because it was the genuine article. The glyphs I painted onto my sides and face and legs were the ones that I had earned during my tenure with my old tribe, with a few additions that I had rightfully earned since leaving. Hardly any of my rust-colored coat remained once I’d finished doing myself up. Ponies were going to notice me when I arrived.

Which was basically the whole point.

I looked over at the unicorn, who had stopped in the doorway leading into the atrium and was now just staring at me. I waved the mare closer and peered into the bucket of white paint that I’d been using. The same bucket that Cestus must have used to paint the White Hoof emblem on the floor of the room, given that it had been sitting nearby. I should have enough left to give Foxglove some fitting glyphs of her own.

The violet mare stepped all the way into the room, her eyes darting from myself to the large white mural painted on the floor near where I was sitting, “it’s true, isn’t it?” she asked, clearly not having really believed what I had told her until just this moment, “they took her?”

“It was Cestus,” I informed the unicorn, “he was a White Hoof the whole time,” at the mare’s slightly dubious expression, I added, “how long had he been gone for that ‘piss’ before we were attacked last night?”

“Well, I mean,” the unicorn began, but her voice trailed off, and then, “shit! But why take Windfall?”

“Because he and Whiplash think I’ll come for her.”

“And we are, right?” the mare prompted, “that’s why you’re doing all of…this?” she gestured at the paint slathered over my body.

I nodded, “and now it’s your turn. Strip.”

“What?”

“Your barding. Off,” I motioned at the mare’s garb, “we need to look like White Hooves, and ain’t no White Hoof ever worn anything like that. We don’t have a need for all those tools. So take it off and I’ll paint you up.”

Foxglove frowned slightly, but she did remove her harness full of pouches and pockets. I motioned for her to stand up erect and I got out the paint brush. I stared at the mare for a few long moments as I thought about what I was going to do for her. I couldn’t just smear on a litany of accomplishments and call it ‘good’. A White Hoof’s markings told a story. So what was hers going to be?

The unicorn started to fidget uncomfortably under my scrutiny. It probably didn’t help that I was spending a lot of time focusing on the drooping flower that emblazoned her flank. A cutie mark was the natural sign of budding maturity in a pony. As a result, it was from here that all of a White Hoof’s glyphs emanated. Her story too was going to start from here. It also had to be a believable story. If I painted the mare as a bold and fierce warrior, she’d be spotted for a phony not long after the tribals noticed her timidity and flinching.

A little orange earth pony with green eyes and a blond mane whispered into my ear and reminded me that the most believable lies were those which were also the truth.

I dabbed the brush into the can of paint, “you worked on weapons in your stable, right?” I mumbled around the handle.

“What?” Foxglove quirked a questioning brow in my direction. Then replied, "um, yeah, sometimes. Why?”

With a smile, I began tracing out the first of her glyphs, “weaponsmith,” I said around the handle, and then smiled a little more broadly, “mastersmith. You do good work, after all.”

“Thanks…?” the unicorn said a little uncertainly. She was probably a lot more concerned with trying not to move too much and smear the job that I was doing.

“Seduced your mentor and secured his position,” I went on as I traced out the next rune.

“What?! I-it wasn’t like…I did not sleep with him for the job,” she protested.

“Relax,” I assured the mare, “it’s not all about fighting and killing with us. We can appreciate some conniving too.

“You said you hooked up with your Overmare?” I started on the next symbol, “favored by your warchief.”

“We did not ‘hook up’, and what are you doing anyway?” she looked around at my work.

“I’m putting together your cover story,” I informed the unicorn, “hold still,” Foxglove had started to flinch away a good bit once I started painting around her belly. It didn’t seem like it was because she was the ticklish type either.

“Can’t you draw someplace else?” the mare asked nervously.

“These glyphs aren’t where they are by accident,” I told her as I waited for her to settle down so that I could finish up, “certain glyphs have to be certain places. Feats of combat go on your legs, professional accomplishments near your cutie mark, and relationships go near where you would think they do.”

“Why does it matter who I was with? Just skip it,” Foxglove insisted.

I sat back and looked flatly at the unicorn, “you’re an attractive unicorn who’s about to walk into a camp full of horny warriors on the prowl for any mare he can get his hooves on to bear his foals. They’ll keep their distance if they think somepony with a lot of pull already called dibs on you.

“Unless you’re in the market for a special somepony…”

“Fine!” the mare said through gritted teeth, “just…watch yourself down there,” I rolled my eyes and went back to work, “I should have figured all the stallions in your tribe were rapists,” she said under her breath.

“Oh, it’s not just the stallions,” I assured her. At her surprised look, I added, “our mare warriors like to know they’re at the top of the pecking order too. We have stallion slaves, and not all of them are looking to take on a White Hoof wife.”

“So it’s your whole society that’s fucked up. Great.”

“I’m not much of an advocate for my old tribe these days,” I said as I finished up the third glyph and allowed Foxglove to relax a little bit as I moved to her withers, “but it’s a way of life that’s let the White Hooves thrive for two hundred years.”

“There are other ways to live.”

“I’m not saying there aren’t,” I shrugged as I thought of the next act in Foxglove’s life, “joined with a band against a rival warchief,” I started painting.

“What? Oh, right, the mutiny,” her ears drooped, “are you going to add that I got exiled too?”

“I don’t have to say how it went,” I assured her, “it’s enough to know that you’re willing to try and take power when it’s within your grasp. Shows determination and a thirst for more from life. White Hooves respect that.”

Next I moved down to her forelegs, “let’s not forget taking vengeance against somepony that wronged you,” I added as I painted a glyphs that would tell of her dealings with Tommyknocker, “and then there’s that hell hound, numerous raiders, those black bug ponies at McMaren,” I stood back from Foxglove when I’d finished with her legs and admired my work.

Then I looked up at her face, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear: but you’re actually coming across as a pretty impressive White Hoof,” I flashed her a brief grin, “it’s not too late, I can still rub out that whole ‘favored’ bit. With glyphs like these, stallions wouldn’t just be after you for your looks. They might even try to genuinely woo you instead of risking being killed when they tried to take you by force…”

“I’m good. Thank you,” the mare deadpanned with an unamused expression on her face.

“Are you sure? I’ll bet they’ll give you some really nice things.”

“Are we done?”

I allowed myself a little chuckle as I dabbed the brush into the can of paint one more time, “almost. Close your eyes,” the mare frowned but complied. I then set about putting the finishing touches around her muzzle and brow. Intelligence and loyalty. I wasn't shy about admitting that she was the smartest pony that I'd ever met, and while she probably wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire, she was ready to march into the middle of a camp full of White Hooves for Windfall, “alright. That’ll do it.”

“Am I a pretty pony yet?”

“Close,” I fished my black jacket out of my saddlebags. I then took my knife and made a few deft slices that removed its sleeves. It hurt to have to nearly destroy this jacket, but sacrifices needed to be made. When my alterations were complete, I tossed it at the mare, “put this on so nopony sees that you don’t have a brand,”

The mare picked up the clothing with her magic, sniffed at it and wrinkled her nose, “laundry much?”

I rolled my eyes, “just put it on,” when she did, I took a step back and admired my work, “there, now you’re passable,” though the truth of the matter was that the unicorn did make for a very distinguished White Hoof now; and I’d hardly needed to twist the truth of her life at all. Every glyph was genuine. Or, at least, as genuine as I could make it using paint. Real White Hooves didn’t actually use paint to color themselves. It was traditionally a paste that was made from the oils of several plants and ground up bones. Some went so far as to use the bones of their enemies, but any bone was perfectly fine. I had neither the time nor the resources to do that though, so paint it was.

That was the end of the frivolity that I was going to allow myself though. We’d wasted enough time making preparations. It was time now to get moving before we lost any more ground on Cestus, “you should sling your lance and the rifle,” I affixed my knife sheath and the holster for my new 10mm. Full Stop was going to stay with my bags. We couldn’t show up unarmed—that wasn’t a very White Hoof thing to do—but I wasn’t going to go in completely prepared for a fight either. If it came down to that…well, we would be dead anyway.

I still needed to get my pipbuck off though. I'd tried to remove it earlier, but I guess I wasn't smart enough to outwit the fetlock mounted contraption. Admittedly, I hadn't ever really considered how I would take it off, since it had proven so advantageous. I had just sort of assumed that there was a latch or something that I could manipulate. It turned out that wasn't the case. Hopefully though, Foxglove knew something about this.

“How do I get this off?” I held up my left leg for the unicorn.

Foxglove glanced at the pipbuck, “you need a specialized tool,” she replied. Then it must have occurred to her why I'd asked the question, “I take it that there aren't a lot of White Hooves with pipbucks?” I shook my head in confirmation. The violet mare bit her lower lip and she turned her attention to her barding full of tools, “this...will be interesting.”

I frowned at the mare, “can't you just improvise?”

“Technically?” her tone suggested that she wasn't entirely convinced of this, “I mean, I could just use my lance to chop it into pieces, but I assume that you want to be able to use that pipbuck again, right?” I did in fact want to leave the device in one piece, “it's just...the latch can be tricky,” her horn started glowing and several tools floated into the air.

She looked at me, “hold still, this might end up hurting.”

I instantly retracted my hoof, “what?”

“The process involves a direct interface with the electrical system, but I don't have a way to do that properly,” I noticed a spark battery floating into the air as well, “so I'm going to try to mimic what needs to happen so that the pipbuck thinks it's being properly removed and opens up.”

I took a deep breath and held my leg once more, “fine,” I did avert my gaze though. Something told me that my stress level was only going to increase the more I watched what the unicorn was going to be doing. None of the tools that she'd taken out yet looked like they were the sorts of implements to be applied gently.

Indeed, I very soon felt my leg jerking in time with several loud metallic sounds. I winced in anticipation a few times as I expected to feel some rather severe discomfort should the unicorn miss. To her technical credit, the mare didn't. Then there was a period of silence that lasted for several seconds. However, I still felt the pipbuck clamped snugly around my fetlock, so I knew that she couldn't be done. Had something gone wrong and the mare had decided that she couldn't take the pipbuck off after all? That would be a rather serious problem if that was the case.

Just as I turned my head back to the operation in progress, my eyes went wide as I saw the second of two wires being connected between a spark battery and my leg. There wasn't any time to react of course. So all I could do was look on in horror as a brilliant tendril of white magical energy arced into the pipbuck. My hoof felt instantly warmed to the point of near discomfort, and all of the hairs on my body were standing on end.

Instinct finally won out and I reacted to the sight, drawing my leg away as quickly as I could. I gathered the limb protectively against my chest as I glared at the mare, “are you crazy?!”

Foxglove smirked at me, “it worked, didn't it?” the next second, I saw the open pipbuck floating next to her. The unicorn examined the device, “it should still work,” she frowned as she looked closely at a scorch mark and started rubbing at it with her hoof, “these things are pretty tough.”

I rubbed my fetlock and felt my heart starting to slow to a more respectable rate, “right. Anyway...” I turned my thoughts back to the preparations.

I’d made the decision to just leave my bags behind. There was too much in there that suggested I was anything other than a White Hoof. I had the unicorn go through her own bags as well and fish out anything we shouldn’t bring with us. Provisions and medicine could stay, along with some of the relevant ammunition and a couple grenades. We shouldn’t need them for fighting, but as far as ‘distracting’ things went, few events could beat out a well-timed explosion. When everything was sorted and those things that weren’t going to be making the trip with us securely stored away in a locker in the stable, we set out.

“Is there anything I should know about how to act like a White Hoof?” Foxglove asked of me as we left the stable behind.

“If somepony talks down to you, don’t take any of their shit,” I informed the mare, “unless they have as much paint on as I do. Then say something that makes it sound like you respect their opinion, but that you’re not going to be their bitch either.”

“Not bad advice, for an old ass like you,” the unicorn quipped.

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, “close; but hold back on the insults. Push back,” I stressed, but then amended, “but push too hard and you’ll be in a fight.

“If you do end up in a fight; it’s not to the death. If you have to take a dive, fine. It’s not like they’ll ever see you again tomorrow,” then I nodded at her markings, “but keep in mind that you look like you’ve been in some big fights before. Give up too easily, and they’ll think those are all fakes. The last thing we want if for them to think you’re a poser.”

“I am a poser,” the unicorn pointed out.

“You probably shouldn’t tell them that,” I frowned at the mare.

“Also,” I went on by way of filling her in on more of the customs of my people, “feel free to ignore anypony who tries to talk to you. You’ve got enough paint that it should put you above most of the warriors there.”

“And if it’s a pony that has more paint than me?”

“Short answers. Don’t agree to anything though. If they tell you to do anything, say you’ll go and clear it with your warchief and leave quickly like you’re going to do just that. There’s a chain of command in White Hoof society, and eveypony respects it.

“If anypony asks who your warchief is,” I added, “point at me if I’m within sight. If I’m not,” I thought for a moment, “tell them it’s Patu, from North Village,” the name and the place were real, which would help with the story. It was unlikely that the pony I’d named was still alive though, as he had been my great uncle and ancient even when I was a young colt. All that mattered was that it sounded like somepony who could be a warchief somewhere.

“Patu? Alright,” then the mare asked, “is there any specific reason why we wouldn’t always be together?”

I glanced at the mare for a brief moment before looking forward again. What I said was, “we’ll need to find Windfall, and we’ll cover more ground if we split up,” what I didn’t say was that at some point one of us was going to be keeping everypony occupied while the other made their escape with the pegasus. The less she knew about my plan, the less she’d be able to reveal to Windfall. Which meant there was less of a chance that the flier could do something stupid and reckless that would fuck it all up.

“What’s the plan when we do find her?”

“Sneak her out while nopony’s looking,” I replied, still not meeting the unicorn’s gaze.

“Wow. So intricate and detailed,” the mare said, frowning.

“The fewer moving parts, the less there is that can go wrong,” I pointed out, “a figured a pony like you could appreciate that.”

“Most things need at least some moving parts,” the mare countered, “like wagons…and viable plans.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Isn’t your sister expecting us, though? What if this is a trap?”

“It’s certainly a trap; that’s why they took Windfall as bait,” that didn’t seem to make the unicorn feel any better, “but it’s been decades since I left. Very few ponies would ever recognize me after all this time. They’ll just see the paint and not give either of us a second look,” I’d be surprised if Whiplash even recognized me.

“If you say so,” Foxglove didn’t sound convinced, but she didn’t have to be. This was the plan that we were going with, “how long will it be before be we’re in White Hoof territory?”

I glanced off to our right, “oh, not long,” I nodded my head, drawing the violet mare to follow the line of my gaze.

The two of us were looking up the side of a mountain as we walked along a trail that skirted its base. About two thirds of the way up the slope was a small stone construction that was almost invisible against the rocky slope. If you knew what you were looking for though, you could spot the lookout posts with relative ease. It also helped if you knew exactly where they were located anyway. These posts marked the outer boundaries of what the White Hooves considered their ‘home territory’. While the painted ponies tended to regard any part of the Wasteland that couldn’t resist their warriors as being ‘theirs’ by right of conquest, those places were never really regarded as being ‘home’.

At the end of the day, the White Hooves always clung to their little corner of the valley that had been theirs since the day that the balefire had burned the world. This was the region we now found ourselves in after a few hours of walking from the stable. Our arrival had not gone unnoticed either. Somepony was coming down the side of the mountain at a leisurely pace. The lookout on duty at the little observation post on their way to greet a couple of returning follow warriors.

And to vet us, of course; and make sure we weren’t impostors looking to spy for the NLR or some rival tribe.

I nodded for Foxglove to stop, just as I had, “remember what I told you: give as good as you get, and think of yourself as somepony of note. You’ll have more paint on you than they will,” well regarded warriors weren’t the sorts that drew duties on the farthest reaches of the tribe’s lands.

As the White Hoof approaching us grew near, I saw that it was a spear-armed unicorn mare sporting a coat of the darkest gray that it could probably be before being considered straight jet. Her mane was a fiery orange and red mixture of strands that fell over the left side of her face. Red eyes twinkled as she drew nearer to us, “howdy! Didn’t know a patrol was due in today…”

There was a brief flash of light from the cinderblock wall of the observation post up the mountain. Daylight reflecting off of the scope of a rifle. A shooter waiting for a signal from this mare that we weren’t who we seemed to be.

Foxglove fidgeted ever so subtly. I was close enough to notice, but hopefully the other painted unicorn hadn’t. If Foxglove got the two of us killed before we even get there…I sighed inwardly. Outwardly, I glowered at the approaching unicorn, “if there is, we ain’t it,” I said to the mare, not hiding my irritation. After all, I was a highly decorated warrior many years her elder. Talking to her long enough to just say ‘hello’ represented a colossal waste of my time, “just going home.”

“Oh?” the mare came to a stop a few yards away from us and sat down. Far enough back from us that she didn’t run the risk of getting in the way of the shot from her companion further up the slope, “where’re you coming from?”

I narrowed my eyes at the mare, “east, you stupid bitch. Didn’t your worthless piece-of-shit father ever teach you basic directions?”

The mare flushed at the retort, and returned a reproachful glare of her own. I saw her eyes tracing out the artwork that I’d painted over my face and legs. Though the unicorn tried to hide it, I could tell that she was a little impressed with my record. She clearly recognized the work as being genuine at least.

While her own record hardly compared to mine, it was notable enough given her far fewer years. Just over a dozen kills in one-on-one combat, several deep range patrols into enemy territory, she’d even taken a lover or two by force. No foals yet, but she’d probably been taking measures to avoid that given how driven she seemed to be to carve out a name for herself with that sort of record. She was bucking to make warchief, and taking a year or two off to raise some foals would push her timetable back a good bit.

My eyes narrowed at the glyphs painted onto her sides and flank. Something was familiar about them…and her red eyes. Oh, horseapples. This…might not actually be a bad thing after all. It would certainly speed things up where our validation was concerned. Foxglove might be a problem, but I could work around her if I needed to.

“Had a tussle or two since we met near Seaddle, eh?” I gestured towards her legs, “there’s at least one new mark on there. I guess you might be useful for more than choking on a cock after all.”

The mare’s eyes went wide at the abrasive comment, and then they narrowed as she leaned in closer to get a good look at me. Recognition dawned on her face a few seconds later, “grandpa!”

“That’s Patu to you, cock-sheath,” I growled at the unicorn, making her flush once more. The mare mumbled something that might have been an apology and then her spear bobbed in the air a couple times. There was another brief glimmer from up the mountain as the rifle was taken off of us.

The dark gray unicorn was a fair bit more differential than she had been back in the ruined little town where we’d first met several months ago. Back then I’d been just some pony that she’d come across in the Wasteland that claimed to be a White Hoof and engaged in a little verbal sparring. Now I was done up as a proper White Hoof warrior, wearing my accomplishments and my standing for all to see. I was her superior and deserving of her respect unless I gave her leave to verbally jab at me as an equal.

Which, as much as I had enjoyed the exchange back then, was something I might be amenable to doing. If nothing else, it would help to cement me into the right state of mind before I set hoof in a settlement where I wouldn’t necessarily be the most decorated warrior there and would be expected to talk a decent game.

In fact, there were a few advantages to having this mare with us beyond this point. She’d be able to vouch for me. Even though everything I’d told her about myself during our first encounter had been a lie, this unicorn was still a pony that would be willing to testify to my identity as a true White Hoof to anypony we met that was dubious despite my paint and my brand. An advocate was something that might come in handy.

“That’s more like it,” I nodded at the unicorn, “now do you have a name? Or are you going to let me keep calling you ‘cock-sheath’ all day?”

The mare looked up at me, and I saw a glimmer of delight in her ruby eyes. Bothering to ask her name was a sign that I respected her even a little. High praise coming from a warrior of my level, “Sica.”

“And who did you piss off to get stuck out here staring at dirt all day, Sica?”

“Actually,” the mare’s smile broadened, “I am just returning from a patrol. I was just chatting up the sentries while I took a rest. If you need somepony to help you get your old joints all the way back to the main camp, I could be persuaded to come along…”

I snorted at the mare, though I was genuinely amused at her testing of the verbal waters. I’d asked for her name, which was a significant first step in accepting her as a warrior. Would I let her jab at me too? This was the unicorn’s lucky day. I craned my head around, making as though I were trying to get a look at her hind quarters. Then I smiled, “it ain’t much, but I think I could stand to stare at that for a few hours,” I said with a shrug, “so sure. Get your crap, and hurry. I don’t want to turn to dust waiting for some whelp to overpack her saddlebags.”

The unicorn grinned, her eyes twinkling, “sure thing; wouldn’t want to let some senile old fart get lost out in the Wasteland on his first day back!” she spun around and just about bounded up the mountain.

Once she was out of earshot, Foxglove leaned in close, “are you crazy?!” she hissed rather loudly such that it basically didn’t qualify as a whisper anymore; even though that seemed to be how she intended it, “why would you want to bring a real White Hoof along?!”

I glanced over at the mare, “I’m a real White Hoof,” I pointed out drolly.

“You know what I mean! She could figure us out.”

“Relax,” I assured the panicking mare, “she knows I’m the real deal. Besides,” I added with a wry smile, “she’s hardly going to rat me out before she’s had the chance to fuck me.”

Foxglove’s expression blanked, “I beg your pardon.”

“She’s been flirting with me since we met,” at the violet mare’s mild look of disgust, I grimaced and rolled my eyes, “believe it or not, I’m a pretty good catch where White Hoof mares are concerned.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’ll be able to take her word for it soon enough,” I mused as I noticed that the gray unicorn was already making her way down the side of the mountain back towards us. She wasn’t wasting any time, that was for sure.

“Have you forgotten that Windfall’s life is on the line?” Foxglove hissed, keeping her eyes on the approaching mare as well.

That sobered me up, “no, I haven’t. This will help us get closer to where Whiplash is keeping her though, trust me,” if I was going to learn anything about what was going on in the settlement, I needed connections; and I didn’t have any that I could use. The moment anypony found out I was Jackboot, the jig was up and we were fucked. I’d have to use this mare’s contacts if I was going to hear about anything that was going on. At least I already had the established story—so far as Sica was concerned anyway—of having been in deep cover in the Republic for several years. She’d tell me whatever I wanted to know, even if it sounded like something I should be aware of, without thinking twice about it.

“I don’t trust you as far as I can buck you,” Foxglove said under her breath, “but Windfall did. You better remember that.”

“She’ll be fine, and so will you,” I assured the mare just as quietly. If there was anything more that the violet unicorn wanted to say, she had run out of time though. Sica had returned, dressed in her bags and barding. Her spear was slung across her back in a simple carrier.

The dark mare flashed a grin at me, “we’re wasting daylight, Patty.”

I cocked a smile in her direction and rose up onto my hooves, “I don’t start walking until I have something worth walking towards. So gut that rump of yours where I can see it,” I jerked my head in the direction we needed to travel.

Sica complied and trotted out ahead. She looked back over her shoulder and winked, “I’ll keep close; I know how you horny old stallions tend to lose your sight,” she then resumed facing forward and kept up a gingerly pace that put a very enticing spring into her step. All joking aside, I was rather enjoying the view. Foxglove was far less amused by the whole affair.

“You couldn’t have chosen a better time to come back,” Sica announced over her shoulder as we walked, “Whiplash has been a complete bitch for months; but not anymore!”

“Oh?” any news I could get about my sister was something that I was very eager to hear, “what had her tail in a twist?”

“I don’t know all the details,” the gray mare admitted, “but I guess somepony that really pissed her off came back into the valley. Ponies that were there when she found out about it told me she completely flipped her shit. She called a whole bunch of her older warchiefs into her tent and killed all of them right then and there.

“She’s always been crazy,” Sica said with a mild shiver, “but this is something new.

“Anyway, so her son just came through, like, a few hours ago with some pegasus bitch. Said she was close to this pony Whiplash wants, and that he’ll come for her.

“Even if that pony doesn’t show up—and I don’t think he will, honestly,” the unicorn added as an aside, “I bet Whiplash’ll be happy enough to throw that mare into the pit even if she just thinks it’d fuck with this guy.”

“Her son?” Whiplash had had a foal? Then the rest of what Sica had said caught up with me, “Cestus…”

“Um, yeah?” the mare confirmed with an amused look, “you couldn’t have been away that long.”

“You’d be surprised,” I mumbled under my breath. More loudly, I said, “you think him getting that pegasus was a waste of time?”

“Totally. The way I figure it, if he was close enough to ‘em to nab the chicken, then why not whack the pony Whiplash wants dead and bring back his head? These games are a waste of time.”

“Sounds like Whiplash wants to kill him herself,” I cracked a wry smile even as I mentally beat myself. Not only had Cestus been a White Hoof agent, he’d been my sister’s son! I could only imagine who the father had been…

“That psycho would think like that,” our guide acknowledged.

“You have an awfully low opinion of your Chief,” I noticed, “and you’re not doing a lot to hide it. I take it a lot of ponies think about her that way?”

I saw the unicorn stiffed slightly at my remarks. She glanced back at me, studying my features for a few moments before she responded, “I mean, I wouldn’t say that stuff anywhere she could hear it, you know? And I’m not saying I wouldn’t follow her orders,” she assured me, now seeming to rethink exactly how open she’d been with what could easily be considered very treasonous statements, “but you have to admit that she’s a little…touchy, at times.

“I mean, you’ve heard about the stuff she does with the slaves, right?”

“Enlighten me. It’s been a while.”

“How she picks out a stallion and brings him back to her tent and makes him fuck her; and then slits his throat just after he finishes?” Sica shivered slightly at the thought, “she’s laughing the whole time too. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

Alright, I had to admit that, yes, that was more than a little bit disturbing. I wasn’t sure how it really made me feel to learn that my dear sibling was at least as far off her mental rocker as I was, if not a good deal more. The idea that our insanity might have been an inherited trait wasn’t much of a comfort, that was for sure.

I did like that idea that there were at least some White Hooves that might not be as fiercely loyal to Whiplash as I had feared they’d be. Considering how fanatically devoted to our father most of the warriors had been, this suggested that there could be some political turmoil that could be exploited somehow. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I was likely to find genuine allies within the camp, but if some of those embers of resentment could be flamed into outright flames of revolt…

It would be very easy to get Windfall out of there if everypony was too busy fighting for control over the tribe.

Let’s test the waters on that notion, “Whiplash is a pale shadow of her father,” I nodded at our escort, “things would be better with one of the other warchiefs in charge.”

Sica glanced back at me and held my gaze for a few seconds, her ruby eyes glimmering. She flashed me a warm smile, “you sound like my father. He went on for years how the tribe was going downhill ever since Steel Bit and Jackboot died. He’d always say, ‘that stupid bitch should have slit her own throat’,” the mare dropped into a surly imitation of an older stallion as she quoted her parent.

I felt Foxglove’s eyes looking at me, but I didn’t meet them. Frankly, I was just grateful that the violet unicorn had been keeping herself out of the conversation and walking behind us so that she wouldn’t be noticed. It had taken Sica at least a little bit of prompting to get her to recognize me. The last thing I wanted with for our guide to match the violet warrior with me to the demure little slave mare that I’d suggested she was back during our first encounter with Sica.

“So why hasn’t somepony done something about it?” if things were really that bad, surely the warchiefs would have rallied and taken her down.

“Because she keeps the right ponies buttered up,” Sica responded dourly, “as long as the warchiefs keep getting a fresh supply of brood mares and stallions, they don’t care what else she does. They’re the ones you need to watch what you say around, because they want Whiplash to stay in control of things.

“Who knows how long that’s gonna last though,” she added as an afterthought.

“Hmm?”

“It’s getting harder to get slaves these days,” Sica explained, “the NLR has been getting a lot bolder since the Rangers showed up,” she rolled her eyes, “and then there’s the Steel Rangers themselves. We don’t fuck with them much, but they’ll shoot at our raiding parties if they get too close. Makes it hard to operate too far east,” she frowned, “and all of the closer settlements are packing up and leaving.”

“Leaving?”

Sica shrugged, “I guess so. They’re not there anymore. A lot of the places that used to pay us tribute around here stopped. When we sent warriors to find out why, there just wasn’t anypony there.”

That was a little disturbing; considering those same hamlets had endured for decades or more, even under our rule. That they’d just pack up and leave now…and where were they going to go, anyway?

“In any case,” the gray mare went on, “that means fewer slaves, which means no ponies for Whiplash to give to her warchiefs; and that’s going to make them irritable.

“Maybe then something can be done about her,” then there was a sudden shift in Sica’s tone as she grinned back in my direction, “until then, we just have to be her happy little warriors! Like I said, though, she should calm down for a little while now. Maybe there’ll even be a party or something tonight. Food, whiskey, a little…entertainment,” she winked at me and gave a little swish of her tail.

“Oh, brother,” I heard Foxglove mumble under her breath.

It seemed that Sica had heard the other unicorn’s comment as well. She turned her scarlet eyes to the violet mare, and then looked between the two of us, “I’m not stepping on any hooves, am I? I see you and somepony are close…” the unicorn’s eyes traced over Foxglove’s markings; and while the words themselves suggested that she might be respectful of any existing relationship that Foxglove and I might have; her tone was another matter. Sica appeared rather keen on the notion of ‘seducing me away’ from her unicorn rival.

I decided that it was best to beat Foxglove to the punch on this one and started laughing, “ha! Foxfire here’s my niece,” I gave the violet mare a playful little pat on the head, “she just think’s I’m too old to be fooling around with a filly like you.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m no filly,” Sica insisted. Then she looked at Foxglove, “have you ever tried out an older stallion?”

“She has actually,” I answered for the unicorn, earning me a glare that could have been easily been described as 'murderous'. I grinned at her, relishing the deathly stare. Little did she know that I was helping to build her credibility, “why don’t you tell Sica about your mentor when you were just starting out as a smith?”

“Ooh, a smith, huh?” The gray mare was keenly interested now, “I love a stallion with a strong back,” she purred, “they just go on forever…”

Foxglove flushed and looked away. Figuring now that perhaps the unicorn had learned to keep her comments to herself unless she wanted to be drawn into more of these little exchanges, I took control of the conversation back, “so what else have I missed while I’ve been away? Do we at least have the two scorpions in that pit?”

“Just got a third one last year,” Sica informed me, delighting in the prospect of sharing more stories, “you should have been there to see the struggle trying to wrangle that bastard. It’s the biggest one we’ve ever had!”

This…felt nice. I hadn’t really figured myself for the type that would get roped into feelings of nostalgia, but here we were. For the next few hours, I was caught up on nearly every major even that had happened within the White Hooves since about the time that I had left he valley. Sica was full of details of most of the happenings of the last few years; but I received only vague details about older events. Hard to fault the mare for that, since she’d only been a filly then.

Finding out that this unicorn was easily young enough to be my daughter earned me some additional glares from Foxglove as I continued to flirt with her. Given what I knew about the violet unicorn’s past though, she didn’t have a hoof to stand on; so it was easy to shrug off.

We reached sight of the capital settlement of the White Hooves before darkness even started to creep into the sky. For Foxglove, the looming sprawl of tents and thin-walled shacks instilled within her a growing sense of unease. It was clear that she was beginning to rethink this whole notion of mine. We were about to walk into a place where she was going to be surrounded by a caliber of pony that wouldn’t think twice about doing very unspeakable things to her if anypony got a look beneath the leather jacket she wore and saw that there was no brand there.

Seeing this from the outside was…odd. Normally, I was the one that maintained a perpetual state of dread while walking around; and for very much the same reason. I was always a wardrobe malfunction away from a great deal of heartache. A fear that had even come to pass that one time. Perhaps this would garner me at least a mote of sympathy from the violet unicorn. What she was feeling right now? That was how I felt all the time, every day I set hoof near other ponies in this valley.

It probably didn’t help the mare’s anxiety level to know that her recent would-be rapist was the only pony that she could trust here; and that I was ultimately going to be the only one that could keep her safe. If Foxglove thought she was uncomfortable now, then she couldn’t imagine how thankful she should be about the glyph I’d painted on her that announced her attachment to somepony else. It was doubtful she’d do well rejecting suitors in a place like this.

“Is there somepony you need to report to?” Sica asked as we approached the front gate of the settlement. Several of the warriors on duty noticed our approach and straightened up as though they had been taken their assignments seriously for the entirety of their shifts. Their postures straightened even more so as we grew near enough for them to get a good look at the volume of paint that graced my coat.

“Nope,” I informed the mare, “but I could do with a meal,” I eyed the unicorn, “anything you’d like to recommend?”

The mare’s eyes twinkled, “I know sompony that makes some mean fried leeks.”

“Sounds good to me. Lead on.”

We reached the guard post and paused as Sica made our introductions. I shared an ‘I told you so’ look with Foxglove as the White Hoof unicorn’s presence made the cursory interrogation a pleasantly painless affair. It looked like Sica was a regular enough sight that these ponies recognized her on sight. She immediately vouched for Foxglove and I. My apparent station, combined with the unicorn’s endorsement, allowed us to be waved on through without a single question about who I was or what I was doing here.

As Sica had predicted, it did seem that the ponies here were preparing for a celebration. Slaves were setting out tables and benches in open spaces that had recently been cleared for them. The air was filled with various aromas as ponies cooked up dishes to be set out for the enjoyment of the tribe. Painted ponies were gathered everywhere, carousing and laughing with one another.

I noticed that Foxglove was looking around at everything with a rather surprised expression on her face. It was as though she couldn’t comprehend of how…normal everypony here was behaving. There were a few sights here and there that one probably would see in the more ‘civilized’ valley settlements—like the slaves and the giant radscorpion pit in the center of the camp—but otherwise it came off as a pretty standard gathering of ponies looking to have a good time.

“You should see this place during the Summer Celebration,” I leaned in and murmured to the violet mare.

“Summer-what?”

“It’s a festival we hold every year,” I informed the unicorn, “some ancient celebration that Old Equestrians had every year. Our ancestors kept the tradition alive. It’s a pretty big deal. Lot’s a fun,” I left out the culmination of that particular observance; which was typically a recently captured pony being set alight in a giant bonfire. The elders of the tribe said it was supposed to be an offering meant to bring back the sun. Given that nopony alive had ever seen the sun, I doubted anypony thought that it was something that was ever actually going to work. They still did it though.

“Great. Does that help us find Windfall somehow?” the unicorn hissed.

“It might,” I countered, “if this is supposed to be because Whiplash thinks I’m on my way, she’s going to want to show off her ‘prize’. Windfall’ll make an appearance at some point.”

“And is that when we’re going to grab her?”

I shook my head, “too many ponies around. We’ll wait until tomorrow morning.”

“What?!” It was clear that Foxglove did not much care for that notion. At least she kept her outburst relatively quiet. Fortunately, Sica was too busy chatting up some passing pony to notice much of our exchange.

“Look at what’s about to happen,” I gestured around at the ponies, “we’d never pull off a rescue tonight without being caught; but in the morning when everypony is sleeping off their hangovers…” I let the idea sink in, and received a very reluctant eye roll from Foxglove as she acknowledged the plan, “all we’ll need to do tonight is watch for where they take Windfall after Whiplash reveals her.”

I would also need to think about how I was going to get myself close to my sister. Of everything I’d yet done to get this far, that would be the hardest trick to pull off. If there was anypony in this place who’d know who I was beneath all of the long years and the white paint, it would be the mare who wanted me dead. More than that, I needed to consider exactly what I would do when I did get close.

My scheming was interrupted by Sica’s return, “three orders of fried leeks,” she announced. Hovering in a scarlet telekinetic field in front of the unicorn was a trio of clay plates, each one heaped high with browned bulbs. Foxglove’s horn started to glow and her own emerald aura crept in around one of the servings.

I left the one that was obviously meant for me in the gray unicorn’s magical grasp and looked around, “let’s grab us a few good seats,” I nodded my head towards an out of the way location that would provide us with a decent view of the center of the camp without making ourselves part of the center of attention.

We wandered over to the table and bench that had been set up but not yet claimed by anypony and sat down. I encouraged Foxglove and Sica to lounge and spread themselves out as much as possible on the seats so that nopony else tried to join us and disturb our small measure of privacy. The gray unicorn mare positively relished the idea and made herself quite comfortable indeed as she leaned up against me. Foxglove took the bench opposite us, but kept most of her attention outward so she didn’t have to watch us flirt. The violet mare certainly found enough to keep her attention occupied as she continually scanned the crowd for signs of Windfall.

If Foxglove thought that my apparent preoccupation with the alluring White Hoof unicorn was a sign that I cared little for the fate of the Pegasus, she’d be very wrong. Windfall was never very far from my thoughts. I was taking a large risk just coming here myself. While the great length of time that had passed since my leaving meant that nopony under the age of thirty could possibly be expected to recognize me; there were plenty of older mares and stallions around that just might if they picked up on enough clues. After all, I had been in the process of consolidating my own power base when my sister had undercut me. That meant that I’d needed to make myself familiar with most of the warriors of the tribe who held any power or clout. Many of those ponies yet lived today; and would be making an appearance at this little get-together.

That looming danger of being recognized was why I was taking pains not to draw attention to myself. Nopony was going to pay too much attention to me while I was lounging around with a pair of young mares as a horny old stallion was want to do. My glyphs would keep younger stallions who might otherwise try to poach one or both mares at a respectful distance. An old decorated warrior like myself would have connections that could cause problems for somepony if they crossed me, after all.

It wasn’t like we were the only such group. From where we were sitting, I could see at least a half dozen other similar cliques coming together. Clusters of ponies consisting of an older mare or stallion surrounding themselves with slaves or younger lovers as they waited for the main attractions to get underway.

In between playful bits of innuendo and alluring promises of pleasures to come, I was keeping an eye out as well. Unlike Foxglove, who knew little about the layout of the camp and so was looking about in just about every direction she could manage, my own attentions went intermittently towards the cluster of large canvas structures where the White Hoof leadership took residence. That was where Whiplash would be living, and the likely place where Cestus would have taken his Pegasus captive.

At some point Sica got her hooves—or more likely her magic—on a bottle of whiskey and was passing it between the two of us. She’d been gracious enough to offer a sip or two to Foxglove as well, but the violet mare had declined. After that, it seemed as though the fiery maned unicorn was content to let it become exclusive to the two of us. I took a sip every time it was offered. Sometimes I even swallowed that sip rather than simply letting the backwash flow right back into the bottle before returning it to the unicorn. Sica didn’t look like she was inclined to hold back tonight.

As the sky grew dark and the festivities began to kick up into high gear, I was starting to wonder just how much formal organization had gone into this thing. I knew that it couldn’t have been much, as Whiplash wouldn’t have known about Windfall’s capture until mere hours before Foxglove and I had arrived. It looked like the ponies here didn’t really care what the reason was, so long as they had an excuse to get as liquored up as possible without getting hassled by their warchiefs for it. I certainly didn’t detect any sort of feeling from the gathering throng of ponies that suggested they were awaiting anything in particular.

That wasn’t to say that some form of main event hadn’t been planned though. This was evidenced by the sudden sounding of a pair of loud horns just as the last tendrils of light died away from the overcast sky. Everypony paused their conversations instantly and all eyes were focused in a singular direction, to include our own. Even Sica was sitting up a little straighter, and wore a semi-serious expression.

It had been the better part of three decades since I’d seen my sister. A fascinating conflict of emotions broiled up within me as she came into view now though. The anger and loathing that I felt for the mare who murdered my father and cast me out of my home tangled themselves in among the shame and regret that I bore for the sibling I’d failed to protect from our sire. I got a hold of those feelings as quickly as I could and packed them away into the deepest part of my mind. None of those things mattered one way or the other right now. Whiplash wasn’t why I was here.

The chained and bound alabaster mare being dragged along behind her was.

I was thankful that Foxglove managed to squelch her aggrieved gasp as Windfall came into view. I felt the same way. Heavy chains had been wrapped around most of the young flier's body, and a black band of fabric was covering her eyes. The pegasus was being dragged along the hard scrabble none too gently. It was clear that the young mare was trying not to give her captors the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfartable she was, but the rough treatment still drew a few barely contained grunts of pain.

Seeing at the young pegasus like this was very hard for me. I didn’t seem to be doing as good a job at hiding it as I thought either. I felt Sica stir at my side as she pulled back and looked at me.

“You alright? You’re very tense…”

I looked at the mare and forced a smile. A couple of deep breaths and I could feel the tightened muscles that had alerted the unicorn begin to relax once again, “sorry,” I said, “I knew her father is all.”

Comprehension dawned in the younger mare’s crimson eyes and she nodded. She snuggled in closer and rested her head up against my neck, “I get it,” she assured me, “I guess that’s why you spend so much time away?”

“Something like that,” I felt the whiskey bottle pressing itself to my lips once more. I took a real sip this time, and then made it a double.

My eyes shifted to Cestus next. He was out of his barding and painted up now. The brown stallion stood beside his prize as though it were some fierce beast that he’d managed to wrestle into submission. The coward. He’d probably ambushed the Pegasus from behind while she was on watch. What a proud warrior he was, to have taken out a filly who’d trusted him.

Whatever I ended up doing to deal with Whiplash, I made a note to dish it out in kind to that bastard too.

A hush went over the crowd as Whiplash came to a halt in their midst. The piss-yellow coat that I’d seared into my memory was as vibrant and lustrous as ever. The lines of the white glyphs traced out on her body were crisp and brilliant. I was rather surprised at how numerous they were too. While it was very common for those in leadership positions within the White Hooves to possess markings that did justice to their stations, I did find it curious that Whiplash should be decorated in such a fashion. Unlike myself, she had not received the training in combat that I had, nor been given the opportunities to prove herself. When I had left, her glyphs related little more than her birth station. Yet, here, she was done up as quite the accomplished leader.

“She’s been busy,” I murmured in Sica’s ear.

The unicorn glanced from me to my sister, and then smirked, “the paint? Funny thing how the Chief gets to decide what is and is not a ‘paintable’ accomplishment,” she scoffed.

I understood now. ‘Gimmie Glyphs’. That explained a few things.

Cestus wore an appropriate density of decorations for a pony his age and position. The chances were decent that everything that he wore had been legitimately earned. A theory that was further evidenced by his position at the head of a quartet of other extensively painted ponies. Whiplash’s personal guard, of which it seemed she had made her son the head.

Her piercing red eyes looked out over the crowd, “my noble warriors,” her crystal clear voice boomed out over the crowd. To my ears, she sounded a good bit younger than I knew her to be. The years had certainly been a lot kinder to my sister than they had to me. Funny how that worked out when I was relegated to trudging through the Wasteland while she remained here in the luxuries that could be afforded to a mare in her position, “today I find myself bringing a mixture of bitter and glad tidings.

“Recently, some of you may have noticed that there was a restructuring of our upper ranks,” I glanced at Sica, and noticed her grimace. Whiplash was likely referring to the slaughter of some of her warchiefs that the unicorn had mentioned earlier, “this was because I learned that they had been deceiving your glorious chief for decades,” this revelation propagated a soft wave of murmuring that washed over the crowd. Whiplash paused and allowed the mumbling to pass before she continued, “they had sworn to me that my brother was dead at their hooves. I learned that this was a falsehood.”

Her crimson eyes flashed over the crowd, “I will not tolerate liars in my tribe. We are White Hooves. We our honest with our actions and our displays of power,” I heard the softest of derisive snorts from Sica. Presumably, there were other ponies in the crowd that felt the same way as the gray unicorn snuggled up against me; though I also noticed a lot of assenting nods and more than a few cheers of agreement; especially from the younger warriors. Likely those who knew nothing of how Whiplash had acquired and maintained her position, “posers lie and bluster. We are not posers.

“So now I learn that my brother yet lives; and may well seek to steal away my right from me,” my sibling continued, “I realize that there are…elements in the White Hooves who might even support him in this,” another fierce glare at the gathered ponies, “they would put at the head of our noble tribe a pony who has been but a common vagrant all these years. A pony no better than the prospector filth that we force to toil for us in the ruins.

“A wretch such as that cannot be a leader of ponies.”

I felt my eye twitch at her statement. While dominion over these ponies wasn’t something I desired any longer, I was not particularly fond of having my capacities questioned like that. Especially not by somepony like Whiplash.

You could always just stand up right here and now and challenge her, the tiny version of my sister that lived in my head suggested, now that you know she doesn’t have as much support as she thinks, maybe you can take over…

That wasn’t what I wanted. Besides, it’s not like Whiplash was the type of pony that would ever honor a direct challenge. She’d go through the motions of accepting and announce a fight to be held first thing in the morning. The trouble with that was that I knew there was no way I would ever live to see that morning. She’d have me killed, probably with poison, and then dispose of my body. When morning came, I would be nowhere to be seen, and she could claim I was a coward who was all words and ran at the first sign of trouble.

“He wouldn’t even come here to face me in honorable combat,” my sister went on. I felt a sudden temptation to stand up right then and there and call her out, despite the danger. If I could undermine her authority enough, maybe I’d have enough support…

“So I was forced to abduct one of his companions to goad that cowardly brother of mine into facing me,” that temptation died a quiet death. Damn her. She wanted me to challenge her, but only on her terms. Whiplash stepped aside and gestured for the Pegasus behind her to be brought up into sight. Cestus kicked Windfall forward before roughly shoving the young mare to the ground and delivering a kick to her side, prompting a pained groan from the flier, and a sneer from me, “look at this pathetic little bird that my brother associates with,” Whiplash spat, “probably some Enclaver trash that even they didn’t want anymore.

“To think there were ponies that thought Jackboot was cut out to run this tribe. He can’t even look after one lost little chicken, let alone the greatest warriors this valley has ever known.”

These statements earned a lot more cheers than her previous ones. Looking around, even those ponies that had seemed to perk up at the news that I yet lived were even starting to nod their heads in agreement. Whatever support I might have had was waning fast. Whiplash was not an idiot. She knew that there was a vein of resentment and insurrection in the White Hooves directed at her, and she was using Windfall to quash it. If I stood up and challenged her now, it would look like I really had just come here for the Pegasus. Which, to be perfectly fair, was why I was here. That didn’t change the fact that I would be without support from even those ponies that hated my sister. Even if I won, I’d still probably be killed by her guards or warchiefs as somepony too weak to really lead.

To say that having both myself and Whiplash dead would leave a little bit of a political mess in our wake was an understatement. Without proper time to make their alliances and consolidate power, the warchiefs would be forced to make open and hasty bids for the leadership of the White Hooves before the tribe simply fractured. It’d be a civil war the likes of which we’d not seen for over a century when the tribe was finally unified. Even in a best-case scenario, it would take years of recovery before the White Hooves could make any outwardly visible show of force to remind the rest of the valley that we still existed.

“Chances are that he won’t even show up for her, being the coward that he is,” Whiplash went on, “and if he does not, then we will simply have to content ourselves with what little entertainment this little bird will provide in the Pit,” that earned a fair number of cheers and a good deal of amused laughs from the audience. My sister bent down and roughly plucked away one of Windfall’s pinions from the flier’s wing, prompting a yelp from the pegasus, “though perhaps we should pluck her first. I’ve always wanted a feathered headdress,” Whiplash purred as she ran the brilliant white pinion across her cheek.

Then her expression abruptly changed as she glared at the quivering Pegasus, “what did you say to me?!”

My ear twitched and I sat up a little straighter as I strained to hear what was being said. I was just able to make it out, “you’re…wrong,” Windfall managed to say in a pain tone, her words coming out in gasps. It seemed that Cestus' kick had done a number on her, “he’ll come for me,” the pegasus glared in what was nearly Whiplash's direction, “and when he does, you’ll all die!”

Whiplash did not seem to care for that prediction very much. She reached down and brought the flier’s head up by her mane, earning another groan from the younger white mare, “he’s a coward,” she hissed at the pegasus, “and he will leave you to die. You’ll know this to be true when my pets are cutting you up into itty-bitty pieces tomorrow morning,” her rebuttal delivered, Whiplash threw the flier back to the ground and commanded Cestus to drag her away. Then she turned back to the crowd.

“When my brother doesn’t show up, I’ll be wanting volunteers to go out and track him down,” she announced, her eyes focusing on the younger warriors, “any who succeed will be well rewarded. See my son in the morning for a description of your target and his known havens.

“In the meantime,” her tone changed rather suddenly to one that was more charming and a broad grin spread across her face, “feast, and be merry! Don’t feed the radscorpions though,” she added, “we’ll need them nice and hungry for tomorrow’s entertainment!”

The crowd was cheering and laughing once more. Conversations started back up as the gathered ponies turned their attention back to their comrades and the exchanged that they’d been enjoying before Whiplash had made her announcements. Some of the tones of the conversations contained a perceivable change though, as the topics shifted to the recent news of my return to the valley. Those few snippets confirmed my fears that whatever support I might have been able to gather together had I shown up months, weeks, or maybe even days earlier, was now all but gone. If the only thing that could get me back here was some Pegasus mare, then I obviously didn’t care to be in charge of the White Hooves anyway.

“Well, at least tomorrow won’t be a total loss,” Sica murmured as she made herself more comfortable against my side, “nothing like a good radscorpion feeding to brighten the mood,” she peered up at me, “want to place a wager on how long she’ll scream?”

I forced myself to smile at the unicorn, “What stakes did you have in mind? I didn’t bring a lot of caps with me.”

The mare’s smile grew, “we can always wager sexual favors,” she suggested playfully, “if I win, you have to fuck me for as long as I want.”

That certainly got my attention, and a disgusted grunt from Foxglove that Sica didn’t seem to notice, “and if I win?”

“You get to fuck me for as long as you want,” the unicorn offered, and then her smile broadened, “assuming you can even get it up anymore.”

I quirked a wry smirk at the mare, “I’m getting kind of tired of all your impotence jokes.”

The mare shrugged, “I guess you’ll just have to put up so I’ll shut up,” her eyes twinkled playfully at me.

“I can think of a few ways to shut you up right here and now, but I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends,” I nodded my head in the direction of the other chatting White Hooves, “I wouldn’t want them to know you can’t handle a real stallion.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her smile remained, “I can handle whatever you’ve got, grandpa,” her gaze shifted to the other ponies momentarily, “but it doesn’t hurt to play it safe, I guess. I might know somewhere private we can go…” she was getting up now and beckoning me to follow.

Foxglove was gaping at us. I could also detect a hint of fear in her eyes. If I left her alone in this place, and she said or did something wrong…

She wanted me to stay, and turn down the proffer of sex from this White Hoof mare. As much as she despised me, the violet mare did not want me to be far from her side tonight.

Unfortunately for her, that was what was going to need to happen. We still needed to know exactly where Windfall was being held, and I couldn’t risk getting that close to Whiplash. If anypony was going to recognize me in this place, it was going to be her. Foxglove, meanwhile, should be relatively fine as long as she kept to the cover that I’d created for her.

“Grab another bottle for us,” I told Sica, “I’ve got to have a word with Foxfire,” the unicorn pouted at the prospect of a delay in our dalliance, but she nodded and stepped away to fetch us some more whiskey. When we were alone, I leaned in close to the violet mare, “find where they’re holding Windfall. I’ll meet you back here.”

“So, what, I have to risk my life while you fuck around?” she growled, obviously not happy with the arrangement.

“Fine,” I snapped right back in a hushed tone, “I’ll look for Windfall while you fuck her!” that earned a reproachful look, but I pushed right past it, “how else do you want me to get rid of her without causing a scene, hm? I go with her, give her a good rut, tell her I need to use the little colt’s room, and then I meet you back here so we can figure out what to do without her around to overhear us.”

“Like you’re not going to enjoy it,” Foxglove said with a disgusted sneer.

“You’re damn right I’m going to enjoy it,” I shot back under my breath, “a whole lot more than that little dick teasing you gave me last night,” wow, could that mare flush a deep shade of red. She nearly went even more purple than usual when I brought that up, “doesn’t change the fact that this is what needs to happen after all that flirting I did in order to get her to vouch for us. Reneging now is just going to make her suspicious.

“So, yeah, I going with her and I’m leaving you alone. You’re a big filly, you can handle it. So make a ‘see you in thirty seconds’ joke and find our pegasus so we can figure out how to get her out of this place before it’s too late.”

Foxglove frowned at me, and looked like she was about voice another round of objections until I felt somepony brush up against my side and lean heavily into me. Sica had returned, a full bottle of Wild Pegasus floating up in front of my face, “you two done with your pillow talk?”

“Yup,” I affirmed before the violet unicorn could say anything, fixing her with a stern glare. Then my expression softened and I glanced down at the grey mare, “lead on.”

The red-eyes unicorn grinned and immediately started trotting through the crowd. I shot Foxglove a final parting look and strode after Sica. She forged a winding path through the throngs of chatting and laughing White Hooves until we made it into the less crowded outer regions of the settlement. We didn’t go much further before she brought us to a decent sized canvas tent.

Before we stepped inside the mare smiled at me sheepishly and said, “um…let me just clear out a couple of things to make room, okay?” I frowned and nodded at the mare. It wasn’t as though I was really going to mind a little mess, but whatever. The unicorn ducked inside, and I heard the sound of shuffling hooves. Then there was the sound of somepony else talking.

“Huh-wha?” it sounded like another stallion, “Sica, not tonight, alright? I’m tire-whoa, hey! What gives?!”

“Outoutout!” the unicorn was barking as the sound of a brief scuffle ensued, “you’re not sleeping here tonight, Bo! I’ve got company.”

“Company? What do you mean—”

I suddenly found myself face to face with a young unicorn stallion who looked quite familiar. The name rang a recognizable bell as well. This was the other pony that Foxglove and I had encountered when Sica had found us. He blinked when he saw me, realization dawning on him after a few seconds. His expression fell and he looked back over his shoulder at the unicorn mare than was pushing him out, “aww, Sica, come on! Not another one!”

The mare flushed slightly as I craned my head around and gave her a look. ‘Another one’? Exactly how often was she bringing stallions around here? Maybe she would know what she was doing after all. I was okay with that.

“Good bye, Bo,” the gray unicorn mare insisted through gritted teeth, “you can come back tomorrow night, er, no, wait…the bet. A couple nights from now,” she looked up at me, questioningly, “how long can you stay in camp?” she didn’t wait for an answer, “Nevermind. Bo, I’ll let you know when you can come back,” she gave the younger unicorn stallion another little shove further out of the tent. Then she paused to consider something and looked expectantly at me, “unless…do you want to see if I can handle both of you?” Judging from Bo’s grimace, he wasn’t a fan of that notion.

I flashed the mare a wry smile, and then looked at the stallion, “I’ll try not to break her,” I assured him, and then gave the dejected unicorn a pat on the shoulder before stepping past him. To Sica, I said, “suggesting I’d need help doing you right? Your mouth just doesn’t quit, does it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I nudged her into the tent with my head and closed the flap behind us. Bo was still sitting there when it came down, “your coltfriend didn’t look too happy,” I noted.

Sica frowned, “he’s not my coltfriend,” she insisted, and then rolled her eyes, “I mean, we’re not exclusive,” another pause, “well, he is. I’m not. Doesn’t stop him from trying to convince everypony else we are though,” she sighed and shook her head, “it’s not that he’s a bad guy, it’s just…”

I closed the distance with the unicorn, wrapping a hoof around the back of her head and yanking on her mane so that her chin was tilted upward. Her surprised yelp was cut off as I placed my lips over hers and took her up in a firm embrace. Sica’s surprise was very quickly replaced by delight as she leaned into the kiss and reciprocated. We held it for a good long while before I finally pulled back. The unicorn tried to lean forward in an effort to extend its duration, but I kept my grip on her mane.

“I thought so,” I murmured. At the mare’s questioning look, I explained, “you’re a lot more attractive when you’re not talking,” she smirked at the comment, “so let’s shut you up, shall we?” I pushed her head downward, noting that I was meeting no resistance at all. As she went to work, I released her mane and squared up my stance over the mare.

She was no amateur, that was for sure; and I was grateful for that. Her rhythm was impeccable, as was the angling of her head as she folded her legs to rest on her belly, thus keeping her horn from doing more than tickle the underside of my stomach. She wasn’t holding back on the tongue either, which was nice of her.

If I wanted to make sure that Foxglove had enough time to carry out her own part of the mission, I was going to have to keep myself mentally occupied or this was going to be over a lot more quickly than I would like. After all of that talking myself up, it would really be a blow to my pride if I couldn’t hold out for longer than some adolescent colt.

I certainly had a lot to think about though, didn’t I?

Windfall, for example. The sight of the tormented Pegasus had hit me pretty hard. She couldn’t have been here for more than a few hours, and yet she’d looked as though she’d been tortured for days. It was probably a miracle that Whiplash hadn’t managed to kill the poor mare. The flier had managed to keep her spirit from breaking at least. Even as scared as she genuinely had to have been, Windfall had found the strength and the will to cut at my sister.

Now it was up to me to make good on the promise that Windfall had made on my behalf.

There were a few options available to me in that regard. Some of them were a bit more desirable than others; but it was the less appealing options that actually offered the greatest chance of survival for Windfall and Foxglove. Trying to do things quietly, without anypony ever being the wiser that we were here was possible. Hard, but possible. The trouble with that course of action was that it was just a stopgap in the end. Whiplash would notice that Windfall was gone, and immediately realize who had to have been behind it. Then we would all be right back where we were, with the White Hooves coming after all of us until one of them finally got lucky.

We had enough to worry about dealing with just the inherent dangers that Wasteland provided without nurturing some of our own making.

My train of thought was broken as I felt Sica pull away. The unicorn was gasping heavily in an effort to catch her breath and wiping at the corners of her mouth to clear away the spittle that had been gathering there. She leaned her head off to the side and looked up at me out of the corner of her eye, “putting up a fight, are we? I usually have a stallion going by now.”

I smiled at the unicorn and reached down with one of my hooves, “maybe you’ve had colts like Bo going,” I jabbed at the mare. I guided her head back beneath me, “I’m just waiting for you to stop acting like a blank-flanked filly that's never seen a cock before and finally do something down there,” with a sense of determination and renewed vigor, Sica once again occupied herself while I resumed my examination of my options where Windfall was concerned.

The only hope for an outcome where Windfall and Foxglove would remain relatively safe from White Hoof reprisals was a scenario where Whiplash died. An accident or assassination would take resources that we couldn’t count on having access to, as well as time to orchestrate; time that the Pegasus did not have. A suicide end run on the White Hoof Chief couldn’t be guaranteed a high enough chance of success to work either; since the guards that protected her were there to thwart exactly that sort of attack.

It was looking like I was going to have to face her openly, and in a proper challenge bout. The problem with that option was that I had to also do it in such a way that Whiplash would feel compelled to accept my challenge, and do it right then and there. A week ago, that would have been easy. I could have worked things in such a way that it looked I’d heard about how she’d been grossly mismanaging the White Hooves and I was returning to set things right and rekindle our glory days. From what Sica had suggested, a lot of ponies in the tribe, including those in higher positions, would have thrown their support behind me.

Unfortunately, after my sister’s little display tonight, those same ponies would keep their mouths shut if I challenged her on those grounds now. Nothing I could say would convince enough ponies that I was here for any reason other than to save Windfall, short of me actually slitting the flier’s throat and then issuing the challenge. That certainly wasn’t a viable option though, now was it?

So the real question was figuring out what it would take to make Whiplash face me in a fight. If I could manage that, there was little doubt that I would win. Of course, my sister had to know that just as well as I did; which was why she wouldn’t accept such a challenge unless she felt there was no other option. She’d have to feel that refusing me would lead to something just as bad or perhaps even worse than death. Which certainly left a rather short list.

What could possibly get Whiplash to risk her life? What did she have that she would be willing to die in order to keep? Or, at least, would feel as though losing could mean her death anyway?

I chuckled to myself. For most White Hooves, that would probably be their image. I mean, we wore our whole lives on our hides for everypony to see because we wanted everypony around us to know how powerful we were. If we thought that there was a chance that all of that could be lost, we would absolutely be willing to risk our lives to keep it. Without that image, we were just plain old ponies, weren’t we? Not that Whiplash really ascribed to that sort of thing. The fact that she was wearing ‘fake’ glyphs proved that. She could care less what everypony else thought about her.

…but everypony else would care though. If she-

“You’re a tough one,” Sica gasped as she pulled back once again and derailed my train of thought. The unicorn wiped at her mouth, “I’m going to need rest up a bit, my jaw’s starting to lock up,” while it was true that she wasn’t sucking me off anymore, I noticed that I did still feel a rather pleasurable manipulation continuing. The glow of her horn testified to the source.

I wasn’t quite done thinking yet though. Which meant that Sica wasn’t allowed to be done either, “I thought you said you were a real mare,” I sighed in frustration. The unicorn was about to protest, but I didn’t give her the chance, “s’alright, I’ll take it from here while you rest.”

The gray mare frowned and opened up her mouth to respond. However, before she could say anything, I took hold of her mane and started to pull her roughly to the side, forcing the mare to roll onto her back lest the strands start ripping out. She yelped in protest, “you just lie there and relax,” I said with a note of sarcasm once she was on her back, “while I do all the work.”

For the third time, Sica made an attempt to say something. This time, when she opened her mouth, I interrupted her words with a deft penetration. The unicorn mare gagged a little bit at first, but was very quick to realize what was going on and tilted her head to take the pressure off the back of her throat. While she kept her head still, I began to thrust at a modest pace that I felt I could maintain for a good while, “I knew you weren’t up to this,” I chided the mare, who was unable to issue a rebuke of any sort anymore.

At least she was keeping her tongue working through all of this.

Anyway, back to the problem at hoof.

It ultimately didn’t matter what Whiplash was willing to die for. She was the public face of the whole White Hoof tribe; the physical embodiment of their ideals and traditions. If they thought that she should be willing to die for something, then backing down would undermine all of her power and authority. She’d look weak. Even if the tribe wouldn’t accept me if I won the challenge, they wouldn’t tolerate her anymore if she didn’t rise to it. All I had to do was appeal, not to her sense of image and pride, but to the tribe’s.

I was her greatest adversary. I was her brother. I was a very direct and personal threat to her power base and an affront to her personal authority over the tribe. All I needed to do was to express that and point out that any true White Hoof would deal with somepony like me themselves. Then, to keep it from being a straight up execution, it would best serve me if I cast doubt on her abilities as a warrior as well.

She’d billed me just now as a Wasteland vagabond who wasn’t fit to lead the White Hooves. In her own words, I was little more than a simple and weak little poser. A smile spread over my face.

Even a blank flanked White Hoof foal could kill a ‘poser’ in single combat, right?

If all of that was made clear in front of everypony, all eyes would be on Whiplash at that point. Turning me down after that would be a deathblow to her standing within the tribe. Nothing would happen immediately, probably; but the scheming would start. Whiplash knew that it would. Within weeks a faction would rise up, being lead by one of the stronger warchiefs, to challenge her. At that point, it would all be over for her. At that point, if the warchief was a mare, she’d probably be killed to prevent an attempt to reclaim her power; if it was a stallion, she’d be made into one of his concubines to add further legitimacy to the coup.

I wouldn’t be alive to see any of this of course, and neither would Windfall or even Foxglove for that matter. That wasn’t the point though. The point was that Whiplash wouldn’t want that to happen. I dare say, it might even be that she’d rather risk dying than let that happen. She’d want to take that slim chance that she might managed to beat me in a fight to the death.

So, that was it. I had my plan. I knew how I was going to get Whiplash to confront me in a public display that was bound to capture every set of eyes in the whole camp. Once the fight was underway, Foxglove would be able to smuggle Windfall out to safety. The Pegasus wasn’t going to like it very much, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that she would survive the day, and that was all that mattered to me.

Now I just needed to let Foxglove in on the plan. Which meant finishing things up here.

Sica was still belly-up, keeping her head properly aligned to accommodate my thrusting. With my mind no longer distracted by thoughts of Windfall’s peril and my own probable death, it didn’t take long for me to really get into what I was doing to the mare. It had been a long time since I’d had a tasty little piece like her in this sort of position.

“Now,” I grunted, “let’s see if you really can handle a stallion…” I changed up the rhythm of my thrusts, and focused my thoughts on how good it felt to be inside an accommodating mare who wasn’t throwing all sorts of signals all over the damn place like Foxglove was. I felt the unicorn beneath me stiffen as I spent longer down her throat than she’d been used to. Her hooves curled as she found herself needing to breathe. I pulled back slightly, and delighted as she gasped for breath as best she could. I craned my head down and saw that her eyes were watering slightly. She wasn’t making any efforts to resist though.

I moved deeper again. Sica was better prepared this time, and it was nearly twenty seconds before she started to twitch and squirm. Again, I pulled back just enough to allow the mare to catch the barest gasps of breath, “good girl,” I cooed at the unicorn, “now for the finale that you really didn’t earn. But I’m a forgiving sort.”

Sica grunted something that could have been a comeback of some sort; but it was completely unintelligible at this point. I gave a quick thrust of my hips and released what had been taking just about every ounce of willpower I’d had at my disposal to hold back. The unicorn convulsed and I could feel a warm sensation starting to seep back up around me as she attempted to resist what was happening.

“If you want to prove you’re a real mare,” I growled with satisfaction, “now’s the time to do it!”

I felt the mare stubbornly clamp her lips down around me, and then I sighed with pleasure as she began to take care of things. It was hard going at first as she worked to make up for the volume she’d allowed to accumulate. After several swallows though she had things under control and found herself able to breathe once again. I remained inside her and made no effort to pull back as a subtle hint that I was going to wait for her to do a thorough job before I considered her participation in this encounter complete.

Sica gasped several times when I finally removed herself. She also very quickly extracted herself from beneath me and wiped at her mouth, “somepony was a little pent up,” she remarked.

“I've been away for a while,” I pointed out, “and I'll be away for a couple minutes right now,” I turned a headed for the exit.

“Calling it quits after just one round?” Sica chided, “I thought you were a gentlecolt. When do I get mine?”

“After I'm back from the pisser,” I informed the mare before glancing in her direction with a wry smirk, “unless you're into that sort of thing?”

She wrinkled her nose and waved me away, “I'll pass,” then she thought for a moment and scrunched up her face like she'd tasted something foul, “maybe wash up a little before you come back...”

“Right,” I rolled my eyes and slipped out.

Outside, it looked as though the party was in full swing. The chatter and laughter had reached a peak in its ever climbing crescendo, making it hard to make out any particular conversation unless you were standing in the middle of the group having it. There was music and singing too. Some of it provided by a quasi-organized group that clearly played together frequently, while some was sourced from drunkards who only ever thought that they could carry a tune after half a bottle of liquor. Oh, to be young again, and full of frivolity. Some of us, though, had serious matters on our minds.

That little dalliance with Sica had been a nice distraction. It had at least somewhat allowed me to think about things other than Windfall’s predicament. Chances were that after I heard whatever details that Foxglove had managed to glean, I was going to need another round of such distractions. At least it would let me work off my frustrations, and maybe even allow me to clear my head again so that I could approach our next task calmly. We were in too deep to risk setting things in motion at the wrong moment due to a loss of control of our emotions.

Letting sentiment get the better of us would surely get us killed.

Well…more of us killed than were already likely to be, at any rate.

Eventually, I made it back to the table that the three of us had originally been seated at, only to find that it had been usurped by another group of White Hooves who were carousing loudly with one another. An annoyed frown tugged at my lips as I looked around for somewhere else to linger where Foxglove would be able to find me, and yet remain far enough removed from the gathered ponies so that nopony saw me standing idly around by my—oh, there she was, actually.

The violet unicorn had already returned to find out place occupied. Or, more likely, had seated herself at the then empty table and been later joined by the other White Hooves. I hadn’t noticed her at first, mostly because I hadn’t thought that the mare would have allowed herself to become engaged like that, given how nervous our surroundings made her. Yet, the violet unicorn was clearly putting on a good face for this sort of crowd. It doubtlessly helped that her companions were well lubricated with alcohol, as Foxglove continued to pass them bottles of Wild Pegasus and Applejack Daniel’s.

Her eyes found me, and I could instantly recognize that everything else about her expression and demeanor were fabrications. While she wore and broad grin, and let loose a raucous laugh every few seconds in response to something that one of the other ponies with her said; even going so far as to place an affectionate hoof on their face or shoulder from time to time. Yet, her emerald eyes betrayed the true animosity and disgust that she felt for them. Her newfound acquaintances were simply too drunk to either notice or care.

After making eye contact with me, she very apologetically made her departure from the table, loudly announcing to the table, “looks, like the party’s over for me, everypony. My warchief needs to have a word,” she gestured in my direction, and a few of the ponies looked over and took notice. Most of them nodded them sympathy, and a few even encouraged her to return as quickly as she could, “you fuckers better save me a bottle,” she threatened by way of a good bye, and then extracted herself from the table.

They bade Foxglove a hasty return, with promises that a bottle would be waiting for her…in their respective tents later that evening. The unicorn was all smiles and laughs as she sauntered up to me. Up until the moment she was well out of earshot, and then she glowered at me and said in a low voice, “get me the fuck away from those assholes.”

We set our course for the outskirts of the crowd and found ourselves a cozy little gap between two tents, which I hastily checked to make certain weren’t occupied. Once our secrecy was assured, Foxglove let the rest of her act fall away and became the rather irate unicorn that I had come to know over the last few weeks.

“You’re quite the actor,” I noted.

“When you have to ‘play nice’ with a pony like Toomyknocker and his friends for as long as I did, you learn how to fake a lot of things,” the mare said, dourly. Then she glared in my direction, “it fucking took you long enough. What, did you two cuddle afterwards?”

I grimaced, “do you really want details, or do you want to tell me where Windfall is?”

The unicorn grunted, “whatever. Yeah, I found her. They have her in that big tent over there,” she pointed in the direction that Whiplash and her entourage had come from, “I think it's your sister's tent. They have her chained up in the middle. Getting through those won't be a problem,” she nodded at the lance on her back, “but there are two guards outside, and your sister's inside, so...”

I grimaced at the news. I had hoped that the pegasus would be kept somewhere slightly more isolated. Certainly getting in there tonight wasn't going to be an option, which worked out well considering my plan was to challenge Whiplash in the morning anyway. The guards might still be a problem though. Foxglove would just have to deal with them when she got that far in the rescue. At least my sister wouldn't be a problem at that point.

“We’re going to wait for morning.”

The violet mare gaped at me in consternation, “morning?! Are you crazy? Didn’t you hear what your sister said? They’re going to kill her in the morning!”

“Not first thing,” I pointed out to her, which prompted a moment of consideration from the mare, though she didn’t look very happy all the same, “and most of these ponies will be hung over. I’ll create a distraction that will get everypony’s attention, including Whiplash's, and then you’ll free Windfall and get her away from here.”

Now Foxglove was looking dubious again, “what sort of distraction?”

I shrugged, “a fire, rampaging radscorpion, something like that. The point is, they’ll all be too busy with it to care about what you’re doing with Windfall,” of course, I actually did have a pretty specific idea for what the nature of the distraction was going to be. Foxglove didn’t need to know what it was though, and I didn’t need to mare arguing with me in an effort to talk me out of it. This was the best way to take Whiplash out of the equation, for good.

“So what are we supposed to do until then?” Foxglove didn’t sound as incredulous as she could have been, but the mare was clearly not pleased with the prospect of delaying our departure more than she had thought we might have.

“You can either keep ‘playing nice’,” that earn a sneer from the unicorn, “or you can find someplace to hide out until morning,” she didn’t seem to appreciate that notion much more than the former.

“And what are you going to do?”

“Take a piss,” it turned out I really did need one, “and then go cuddle with Sica,” after doing other things with her.

That provoked a powerful response from the mare. From her expression, it was probably a miracle that Foxglove hadn’t screamed at me at the top of her lungs; relegating her admonition instead to an outraged hiss, “are you fucking kidding me?! That’s why you want to wait? So you can rut that White Hoof slut!”

“That is not why I-”

“Windfall’s life is on the line, you fucking bastard! I thought you cared about that?” she snorted in disgust, “but, of course; you’re already back to lying again and scheming sex out of ponies. Big fucking surprise!”

“I do care about-”

“I can’t believe I was stupid enough to trust you again,” Foxglove was seething now, “what the fuck was I thinking? You know what, fuck you! I’m breaking Windfall out on my own right now! You go right ahead and screw that unicorn all you want. Screw your sister too while you’re at it,” the unicorn turned to leave and started walking away, “maybe she’ll take you back if you make her squeal like your father did…”

I charged out in front of the mare and blocked her path, “Foxglove, stop!”

“Get out of my way, you piece of shit!” she tried to push me aside.

This was exactly the sort of emotional flare-up that I knew we needed to avoid let drive our actions. Foxglove could very well get the both of us killed and, by extension, Windfall. I couldn’t let that happen. She had to be stopped.

I grabbed the hoof that Foxglove was trying to use to shove me aside, and very quickly pinned it around her back. The mare gasped in surprise, and probably a little bit of pain, but I didn’t give her time to react. This could escalate even further than it already had and get messy fast if I didn’t take care of it quickly. I charged in and vaulted on top of the mare, taking advantage of her unbalanced state and dropping her to the ground. With Foxglove pinned beneath me, I slipped my other foreleg around behind her head and kept her face pressed up against the ground to keep her from screaming out too loudly. Maintaining control of her head like this would also help to keep her from thrashing about too much, as enough pressure in the proper direction should cause sufficient pain to bring her back in line.

There was a fair amount of panic and fright building up in the violet mare. I’d been in a fairly similar position over her not long ago, and I had possessed very unkind intentions back then. It was a given that she suspected I still harbored such desires even now. At least that placement of my body would keep her eldritch lance secured in its carrier if she tried to get at it with her magic. For the moment, though, she seemed to be panicking too much to use her telekinesis.

I leaned down close to her head, “listen to me!” I hissed in the mare’s ear. Foxglove glanced back at me with her terrified eyes even as I felt her continuing to squirm beneath me in an effort to get away, “we have to wait until morning, because,” I was forced to bite off the rest of my explanation as the unicorn gave a powerful buck in an effort to dislodge me. In response, I twisted the mare’s foreleg even further and wrenched her head roughly to the side. Half of her face was now being grinded into the hard scrabble beneath us. Foxglove whimpered.

“…because I need to kill Whiplash!” I said a lot more loudly that I had intended. My head went up, and I hastily scanned the surrounding area for any signs that somepony had noticed what was going on here or taken notice of what we were talking about. The coast looked to still be clear for now.

Foxglove had even ceased her struggling, though she was still very tense as she lay beneath me. The unicorn’s previously frantic breathing slowed to a calmer level as she regarded me with wary eyes, Then she asked, “you’re going to kill her?”

I nodded, “I have to. Otherwise she’ll just come after us again. That’s why we need to wait until morning: I need to be able to pick the right time to take her out. When that happens, that’s when everypony will be too distracted to see you and Windfall escaping.”

“…and what about you?”

“I’ll make my own way out. Don’t worry about that,” I insisted, “you just focus on Windfall.”

Foxglove was silent for a moment as she continued to regard me, as though searching my eyes for what I wasn’t telling her. If she found it, she didn’t say anything. Instead, “alright. I’ll wait.

“Now get off me!”

I smiled wryly at the mare and promptly removed myself from her back. The unicorn stood up and stretched out her aching neck and shoulder from where I’d had her pinned, “you alright?”

“I’ll live,” she said dryly.

“Alright,” I sighed and shifted a little uncomfortably on my hooves, “look, if we don’t get a chance to talk again tomorrow, tell Windfall…something,” I wasn’t very good at this sentimentally crap.

“You can always just tell her yourself when you catch up to us after we all get away.”

“Right,” I nodded. It was hard to tell if the mare was trying to give me a way out of this conversation that I’d awkwardly started, or if she was just being uncharacteristically obtuse about my chances of killing Whiplash and surviving the experience. I might not have outright speculated on my chances of survival, but Foxglove was intelligent enough to realize that they couldn’t be all that high, “stay safe tonight,” I said, “and good luck tomorrow.”

“You too.”

I nodded and stepped away, through the surrounding tents as I made my way back towards Sica’s home.

During the trip, and my quick detour to utilize a latrine, I couldn’t help but ponder some of the details about my plan thus far. Broad strokes were all that I really had at this point. Whiplash was going to organize some big thing tomorrow, with Windfall at the center of it all. I’d have to make my move before that could happen, or Foxglove wasn’t going to have a chance to break the Pegasus out unseen. I couldn’t just walk up to her tent though and kick off a confrontation there. I needed this to be open and public so that she just couldn’t have one of her guards take me out without raising a ruckus.

What I’d probably need to do was step out in the middle of the crowd that was likely to just end up sleeping in the camp’s center and make a big announcement regarding my return there. If I got everypony riled up the right way, Whiplash shouldn’t be able to just have me shot from a distance. I’d be able to call her out, and goad her into having to accept my challenge in front of everypony. As long as Foxglove recognized that as her cue to make her move on Windfall, everything should go relatively smoothly.

As far as the actual escape was concerned, at least.

The fight though…that would be another matter. The thought of it weighed heavily on my mind the whole way back to Sica’s tent. It turned out that it was not quite so simple a thing as it might appear.

My thoughts were briefly drawn away from that prospect as the slate-colored unicorn mare with the blond mane noticed my return. Her face brightened almost instantly, “you took so long, I thought you’d fallen in,” she chuckled as she approached and began to nuzzle my neck. I was grateful that she had at least seen fit to clean herself off this time before trying it, “so, where were we?”

The mare began to nibble up along my neck as she drew herself in close to me. Her scent was everywhere and as pleasant as it was, my mind would not let go of the thought of having to kill the first pony that I could remember genuinely caring about in order to protect the mare that I cared about now. It was hardly fair, was it? Yeah, Whiplash was a complete bitch, and she had tried to have me killed on several occasions that I very distinctly recalled.

That didn’t mean that I didn’t still see the traumatized little filly weeping in a corner whenever I thought about her. That was the pony I was going to be facing in battle tomorrow. That was who I was going to need to kill. My little sister. It was not a thought that sat well with me right now.

A growl began the bubble up deep from within my throat. Sica mistook it for a sign of my pleasure and craned her head up higher to begin chewing on my ear. Her actions and her scent mingled with my frustration to forge a very interesting mixture of desires. Whiplash wasn’t here, but Sica was. Deserving or not, she was about to find herself playing the role of a surrogate for those feelings.

With a snarl, I whipped my head away from her tender little bites and clamped down with my own jaws on the mare’s shoulder. The unicorn immediately cried out in pain and shock. It wasn’t that I was setting out to cause Sica any serious injury; it was more of a way to keep myself some screaming aloud to vent my own aggravations.
The mare tried to flinch and pull away, but I kept my teeth firmly locked around a chunk of her flesh and applied a copious amount of downward force. Between my weight and the application of the pressure point, Sica was forced to the ground as I wheeled around and straddled her.

It was only then that the unicorn started to grasp what I trying to accomplish and she bit back her pained yelps into a barely contained hiss. What I was doing was still causing her pain, but she was no longer making anything more than a reflexive effort to escape from it. When I was over top of the mare, I briefly released her shoulder and growled near her ear, “I thought you were supposed to be a White Hoof warrior? What’s the matter, can’t handle a little pain?”

“As if a frail old stallion like you could ever hurt me,” she shot back defiantly through jaws that were clamped together as she fought back the urge to audibly reveal how much what I had done had hurt. In fairness, even I would have been groaning after a takedown like that.

But I was an ‘old’ stallion, of course, “you don’t think I can make a little filly like you scream?”

The mare let out a short laugh, though it was colored with a pained gasp as she did so, “I’d like to see you tryyYYY!”

My teeth clamped down tightly on the nape of her neck and pulled her head back sharply, eliciting a cry that the unicorn mare managed to squelch into a loud series of gasps surprisingly quickly. Through the hold I had on her neck and mane, I mumbled to the mare, “move your tail,” even as Sica continued to moan softly with her features twisted in discomfort, I felt her long tail flex upward and can off to the side, “now we’ll find out if you’re really a White Hoof, or just a brood mare beneath some white paint!”

I used my grip on the mare as leverage for my initial thrust, and then I threw my weight forward and forced her head to the ground. That was when I released my grip on her, though I kept my muzzle pressed up against the side of her face, lightly pinning her in place against the floor of her tent. If she put any effort into trying to move away, she could have, “if you can’t take it, just let me know,” I growled into the mare’s ear, “I could do with a new brood mare…”

Sica opened up her eyes and glared at me, even as she was panting, “take what…?” she gasped, “are you…even…in yet?”

This was what I needed. It wasn’t even about the sex anymore. I’d been sucked off by this mare not half an hour ago—and rather thoroughly, too—so that sort of tension was gone. That wasn’t to say that this didn’t feel better in all of the right ways, but I didn’t find myself having that same drive that I’d had when I’d continued flirting with her.

No, what I needed was to feel pissed off at somepony; preferably a mare. I needed to force that mental picture of Whiplash as a frightened little filly out of my head, so that when I faced her in the morning, I could treat her like the murderous psychopath that I knew she was and put the crazy bitch down for good!

“It’s hard to tell” I said to the mare as I allowed myself to be spurred on by her jab and redoubled my efforts, “you’re so loose back here; I could be between your legs for all I know!

“I’m actually surprised a slut like you doesn’t know how suck decent cock,” I bit down on her ear briefly, giving it a sharp tug to get her to wince before letting go, “then again, it doesn’t look like anypony’s ever taught you how to fuck, either. Just lying here like a dead Brahmin. You’re going to make me do everything again, aren’t you?

“Maybe you’re worth less than a brood mare,” I whispered in her ear, “at least they know how to fuck!”

Sica seemed to take exception to that, “oh, is that…what…you’re trying…to do…fuck me? I thought this…was just…a back rub. You…should have…said something…”

I felt the mare spurred into action though, and she began to flex her hips in an effort to meet me halfway in this exercise. The difference in the intensity of the sensation was immediately obvious. The unicorn took notice as well, and I could hear her starting to add soft little chirps to her gasps. I couldn’t have her feeling too good though, I needed Sica to keep deriding my efforts if I was going to become sufficiently irritated.

So, in an effort to disrupt the mood, I stopped unexpectedly and pulled out of the mare. The action caught Sica so off her guard that he was still reciprocating with her hips for a couple seconds before she realized something was wrong. Before she could finally react though, I was once more dragging her around by her ear. The mare got off a brief yelp before managing to clamp her lips down to stifle it. I sat back on my haunches and then released her, smirking at the irritated scowl that she flashed my way as she rubbed her aching ear.

“What gives?!”

I threw an arm around the back of her head and brought her in close to me, “that dried up little slit of yours is making me chafe. Fix it.”

There was a brief look of confusion, and then Sica felt me beginning to apply pressure in an effort to encourage her head downward. She smirked at me as realization dawned on her face, “well, maybe if you were worth getting wet over…”

I applied a bit more force and the unicorn finally allowed herself to be bent all of the way down. My hoof remained on the back of her head as the mare went to work, as I occasionally used it to control or even interrupt her rhythm; or even prompt a momentary gag as I forced her to go further than she had intended to. That earned me an annoyed grunt the time or two that I did it, but I just smiled as Sica took the mistreatment in stride and continued.

After a couple of minutes, I restrained the mare from coming back up all of the way. Sica felt the resistance, and compliantly ceased moving, keeping her head exactly where I had stopped it. I idly stroked the unicorn’s mane as she remained where I’d placed her, “you told me last time how you needed breaks for this sort of thing. Just go ahead and relax right there for a while. Actually,” I eased her head downward a bit more, “there’s better.

“I’m thirsty. Where’s that whiskey at? Float it over here.”

Sica issued an annoyed grunt, and then I saw her horn begin to glow crimson. The bottle of alcohol that she had acquired on our way here initially drifted into sight and stopped in front of me. I took it from her magical grasp and tore away the stopper before taking a deep, long, sip of the amber fluid. I let out a contented sigh as I felt the liquor burn down my throat.

I placed a little more pressure on the back of the unicorn’s head, “a little further,” I cooed. The mare complied. I thought for a moment, “more…more,” my hoof continued to guide her further down until I felt myself brush up against the inside of Sica’s mouth. The mare convulsed briefly as she angled herself to accommodate me, “there we go.”

Another long pull from the tinted bottle in my hoof, “let me know when you think you can give me a smooth ride. Otherwise I think I’m just going to keep you parked right here for the night,” I took a third sip.

“hm-hmhm-hmm, hmhm hmm?” I felt the mare try to say through her closed lips.

Intrigued, I allowed her to come up just far enough to get out coherent words. I still kept my hoof firmly on the back of her head though, “what was that?”

Sica let out a gasp and licked her lips clear of the saliva that was dribbling out of her mouth. I’d need to remember to make her clean that up when I was finished with her, “I said: it’s because you’re gay, isn’t it? That’s why you can’t perform without somepony’s mouth on your prick,” she brushed my hoof aside and sat all the way up, “no wonder you don’t know how to satisfy a mare…”

My eyes narrowed at the unicorn’s satisfied smirk. In a flash, my hoof was back, but this time I used it to wrestle the startled mare to the ground on her backside, pinning her down across her neck as I climbed on top of her. I glared into the unicorn’s wide ruby eyes, “what mare? You’ve been acting like a pathetic little filly this whole damn time!” I thrust myself up between her legs and bore down on the mare’s throat. Sica gasped and writhed beneath me, but I retained the arm bar across her wind pipe. Not enough to completely choke her out, as I needed her conscious for this; but it was enough so that she couldn’t catch her full breath.

Though she was in clear discomfort, I could still feel the gray unicorn working with me as I continued to thrust. Her head squirmed from side to side as she struggled to get full breaths, but every time she positioned herself, I adjusted my foreleg to maintain the restriction. I could see Sica’s eyes start to tear up as she went on gulping down the little breaths that she was managing to get. Her own hooves started to push at me as though to get me off of her. Gently at first, in what was either a reflexive response, or an attempt to get me to relieve just a marginal amount of the weight that I was bringing to bear. I ignored these efforts and even swatted a few of them aside with my other hoof.

In my head, even I as had sex with this mare, I was seeing myself on top of Whiplash. Not in terms of any sort of passionate physical encounter; but rather as that moment during our fight tomorrow when I intended to be choking the life out of that bitch! I could have dealt with her equicidal crap if it was just me. Ponies have been trying to kill me for nearly my entire life. It was practically part of my daily routine: wake up, eat breakfast, avoid ponies with grudges, profit. That was just how things were in the Wasteland, and I was fine with that.

Now, however, it seemed that Whiplash wasn’t satisfied with shitting all over my life. She’d gone ahead and brought Windfall into it. That made this extra personal somehow. If my sister had had some sort of private grudge with the flier, that would have been one thing. It wasn’t like Windfall wasn’t finding her own way to make enemies out here. She was a groan mare, and could therefore solve her own problems.

The trouble was that this wasn’t one of Windfall’s problems. This had been my—our problem; Whiplash and I. The Pegasus wasn’t part of the history that we had together. For fuck’s sake, she barely even knew what that history was! Yet, my sister had sought to involve her anyway. That pissed me off to a level I had not thought I was capable of reaching.

I had cared about you once, Whiplash. You’d been the first pony in this whole world that I’d ever loved in the sense that most ponies meant the word. I could have fought you, and probably even killed you back when you first seized power. You may have had allies in it, but I still had friends of my own in the tribe that I could have rallied.

I could have resisted, and killed you, and taken my rightful place. I just took a different option and ran, because it would have meant taking your life. I didn’t want that then.

Now, though? Oh, I wanted it! I wanted that yellow mare to pay. I wanted her on her back, struggling to breathe as I strangled the life out of her worthless little body. I wanted her dead, at my hooves, and out of mine and Windfall’s lives forever. Then this whole fucking ordeal would all be over and Windfall could get on with her life and deal with her own problems without having to worry about getting bogged down by mine!

Sica’s protests were getting more genuinely desperate now. Where, before, her hooves had been applying pressure to my chest that fell along the spectrum from ‘playful’ reaching only as far as ‘cautionary’, I could now feel the unicorn mare trying to remove me from on top of her with a sense of urgency; perhaps even rising panic. She was barely even getting in restricted breaths anymore, and her mouth opened and closed in frantic swallows as she sought out any air that she could find. Her ruby eyes were wide and watery, staring at me with genuine fear.

That was exactly what I wanted to see in Whiplash’s eyes. I wanted to see that fear before she died. I needed to see her realize the full majesty of the mistake that she had made when she sought to get to me through Windfall; through my daughter!

I swatted aside the unicorn’s efforts to dislodge me and leaned in close to the mare, glaring down into her eyes, “you wanted this, didn’t you?” I snarled at her, relishing the growing fear and confusion, “you wanted to prove you could handle me,” I wasn’t even sure who I was talking to at this point. Their faces were blurring together around those crimson orbs filled with terror. Sica tried to gasp for breath, and I could feel her limbs starting to desperately beat against me as she tried to renege on what she’d agreed to. She’d waited too long though, and her oxygen starved limbs were too weak to offer more than a token resistance. Her mind was too panicked for her magic to do more than flicker as she futilely tried to cast a spell of some sort.

“Oh, no you don’t,” I hissed in the unicorn’s face, shifting the timing and intensity of my thrusts as I felt my emotions reaching their peak; both the amorous and the murderous. It was now a race to see which one won out, “this doesn’t end,” Sica continued to struggle, but her motions were getting much weaker. Even her efforts to breath were becoming far more token in nature, “until I’ve finished,” I readied myself for a last heave, “with you…”

I released, and felt several different varieties of relief wash over me. My whole body relaxed like a massive wave of stress and anxiety flowed out of me. The crossed leg over Sica’s throat slid off and planted itself on the ground so that I didn’t just simply slump down on top of her as the last vestiges of my feelings ebbed away.

There was an instantaneous and very animated fit of coughing and choking from the unicorn as she finally felt herself able to take in full breaths. Once more she was placing her hooves on my chest and applying enough force to suggest that she wanted me to roll off of her. Presumably, she would have preferred to actually use enough strength to force me off, but the mare was not yet quite that recovered. In either case, I was not yet ready to remove myself. I still felt quite comfortable where I was.

I bent my head down and took a deep breath from near the hacking mare’s neck. She had recovered substantially already, but there were still a few mild fits of coughing that wracked her body, “looks like you can take it after all,” I cooed, and then began to gently kiss up the mare’s neck.

Sica seemed rather taken aback by this sudden change of approach at first. As the last of her choking abated, so too did her efforts to push me away. She didn’t immediately become affectionate in return though, which was understandable, “that was just a bit rougher that I was expecting,” the unicorn admitted. Finally sensing that things had settled down for good, she allowed herself to begin kissing and nibbling at the parts of me that she could reach as well, “I’ll be ready for it next time.”

I paused and quirked a smile, “next time, huh? How long do you plan on keeping that coltfirend of yours out in the cold?”

“He’s not my coltfriend,” Sica repeated in a sour tone, “he’s just some pony I keep around for a good time,” her words instantly became a lot warmer, “but now I have a real stallion.

“He can fuck himself from now on.”

I chuckled despite myself. I was very doubtful that this mare would feel quite the same about keeping me in mind as a prospect for a partner after the events of tomorrow. Still, it was a pleasant thought nonetheless.

The unicorn sighed, “is there any of that whiskey left? Or did it all spill on the floor…”

I glanced around and quickly located the errant tinted bottle of amber fluid. Reaching over to pick it up with my hoof, I heard some fluid still yet sloshing around inside. Sica heard it as well and her horn lit up as she tried to wrest the container from my grasp. I jerked it away playfully and broke her hold on it. The mare frowned at me, “you’re not going to keep that all to yourself, are you?”

“Probably not,” I smiled, “but you’ll have to earn it.”

“How did I not ‘earn’ it after all that?” she asked, rubbing idly at her throat as a clear indication to me of what she had just gone through.

“Well, the way I figure, we’re not quite done yet,” the mare arched a brow at me. I got my legs fully beneath myself and finally pulled away from the supine unicorn. With a slight groan that I was rather embarrassed to admit had been borne of age, I rolled over onto the tent’s lone sleeping mat—which we had somehow not made it to this whole time—and reclined into a relaxed position. “well, you’re not done yet, anyway,” I grinned at the unicorn, “you’ve got a mess to clean up.

“So, either get to work, or I’m claiming the rest of the booze.”

Sica rolled her eyes and favored me with a wry smile. After a couple seconds of hesitation though, she was finally spurred into action as I shrugged and tilted the bottle to my lips, “alright!” she protested as she came over and knelt down nearby, “I forgot you old stallions can’t do anything for yourselves…”

“The more you talk, the more I drink,” I warned the mare. She flicked another cocked smile my way and then bent her head to the indicated task. As she tended to me, I allowed myself to lean back on the bedroll and make myself comfortable.

As diligent as the unicorn was, it didn’t stop my mind from continuing to wander to tomorrow. Sica thought there was a future here for us. Even as tempting as it was to keep a mare like her in my life, I knew that it wasn’t something that would be in my future. The morning was going to bring with it a confrontation with my long estranged sibling. It would be the last time the two of us ever met.

A more sobering realization was that, one way or the other, the last time I had spoken with Windfall was when I’d been shooing Cestus away from her. Not exactly the most emotional of ‘goodbyes’, was it? I idly wondered if the Pegasus was going to think that too. Well, hopefully she’d be at least a little satisfied with what I’d left her back in the stable.

Heh…in fact, I guess the pony that was getting the fondest farewell in our group was me, somehow. Sica might not realize that that was exactly what this felt like for me, but that didn’t change things.

That’s what this is, Celestia, isn’t it? You know what’s going to happen tomorrow, and you let me have this, is that right? One last ‘hurrah’ for an old stallion finally doing what he should have done decades ago. I’m no idiot, but I guess I’m not the brightest glow in the Wasteland either.

My eyes looked once more to the gray unicorn nestled between my legs. Well, if that was what this was going to be, I was going to make the most of it. A smile tugged at my cheeks once more as Sica’s head popped up in surprise at the reaction my new train of thought had prompted. She glanced over at me and cocked a smirk of her own.

I passed her the bottle, which she took in her magical grasp and finished off, “this round’s on me,” I informed the mare and immediately arranged myself more comfortably on my back, “and you better be too.

“I’ve done enough of the work for tonight.”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 22:...AND ME

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"I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the End..."

Sica and I fooled around a few more times that night. The gray unicorn reached a curious equilibrium of jubilation at the prospect of that much sex, and frustration at being roused every couple of hours to start things off with her mouth before we got to what she clearly considered to be the good part; only to be required to clean up in a similar fashion to how things were instigated. Though it was clearly not something she enjoyed, I very much appreciated that the mare humored me whenever I poked her awake and then used her horn to guide her head towards where I wanted it. By the third round, I hadn’t even needed to do that much; the moment my hoof jostled her shoulder she immediately curled around to carry out the routine we’d established that evening.

It didn’t help to improve on her soured mood at that early hour when she discovered that I didn’t actually intend to escalate things to any additional sexual escapades. She did her due diligence though and then went back to sleep, mumbling something about needing to start bringing more whiskey back to her tent at night for use as a chaser.

She didn’t even notice that when she finished up that last time, I took my leave of her tent. I didn’t have the benefit of my pipbuck’s clock, but I knew that it was getting closer to morning and I had a few preparations to make before I confronted Whiplash.

The first thing on my morning agenda: a shower. As thorough as I had forced Sica to be, there were just some things that soap and water could do that a mare’s ultimately disinterested tongue could not. I wasn’t going to challenge my sister to a fight to the death while smelling like spit, seamen, and some other mare. Besides, my body paint had gotten more than a little smeared while we’d been rolling around all night.

I had momentarily debated reapplying it when I was done washing and drying myself off. Part of me—the part that had once been a White Hoof—insisted that, if I intended to challenge another pony to a fight to the death in this place, I should only do it as a true White Hoof warrior, done up properly in the paint I had duly earned.

However, the more cynical side of me saw the merit in not challenging Whiplash on those terms. If I presented myself as a true warrior, seeking honorable combat, I would just be shouted down. Unless I could produce an alliance of other warchiefs that backed my claim, such a challenge would never be honored, and Whiplash would just have me executed. I’d already known that was not how this would go down. The only way that I was going to be able to guarantee that my sister joined me in the ring was to present myself, not as a White Hoof, but as a poser.

I had to be just some piece of shit stallion that stood as a personal insult to her by simply existing. If I could convince every White Hoof present that killing me with any means other than her own two hooves was a clear sign that she wasn’t fit for leadership, I would get what I wanted. That meant that I had to forgo the paint. More than that, it would help if I covered up the brand to, as though I considered it something shameful. That was something that would surely piss a lot of the other ponies here off, but I could also use it as one more point for why this was a matter Whiplash had to deal with personally.

My thoughts continued to wind along as I considered other and further way to manipulate the situation as I stood in the simple shower that had been built using a barrel mounted on top of a pylon and fitted with a lever and pull-rope. The cool water cascaded over my body, washing away flecks of dirt and paint. It was a refreshing experience, and the last like it I was likely to have.

In fact, I was so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I jerked with a start when I felt something start to rub up against my side. My head whipped around, and I stared blankly at the floated brush for a good five seconds as it gently scrubbed away some of the more stubborn motes of white paint that were hard for me to reach. Then I finally registered the color of the magic that was manipulating the brush and glance about. I immediately spotted Sica standing a few feet away, wearing a wry smirk on her face.

I instantly relaxed, and let out a sigh, “you startled me. Didn’t think you wanted to be up this early.”

“What, and miss Whiplash getting her rump stomped?” the mare snorted, “I wasn’t about to miss that!”

For the second time that minute I whipped my head around as my heart leaped up into my throat. How could this mare have possibly known what I was planning?! Had I mumbled something in my sleep? She hadn’t been anywhere nearby whenever I’d spoken to Foxglove. She had to be guessing or something. Though I was sure the guilt had been clear on my face, I schooled my features back into a neutral expression and looked away from the mare, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Another amused snort from the mare, “of course you don’t. The Great and Powerful Jackboot came all the way back home just to take a roll with me before wandering back out into the Wasteland the next morning. Sure…”

…and that was the third time my head snapped around. I was going to just twist it right off my damn neck at this rate! I gaped at the mare. How could she possibly know who I was? I’d had ample time to study her last night and come to a fair guess as to her age. At the absolute oldest, she’d have been a newborn foal when Whiplash ran me out of the valley, give or take a couple months. She couldn’t possibly have recognized me.

It didn’t mean that she hadn’t been right, though, “how…?” even as I asked the question, I very subtly started to spread my stance in preparation for an attack.

“Whoa, whoa!” Sica took a couple steps back and sat down on her hind quarters as she threw her forelegs up in a clear sign of surrender. The brush floated over to her side and started bobbing like a flag blowing in the breeze, “relax, I’m not about to turn you in or anything. Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for this moment the second I ran into you three months ago,” she hesitated and rolled her eyes, “alright, maybe not that exact second, but the moment Whiplash said who you were, I was totally hoping you’d come here.

“I don’t know why it took that stupid chicken to do it, but whatever,” she added as a somewhat sour aside.

I blinked at the mare, relaxing my stance, “you…wanted me to come here?”

“Of course! Nopony else is going to challenge that psycho. She has all the warchiefs tucked away in her saddlebags. Celestia knows what keeps them there,” she growled under her breath, “she sure isn’t sleeping with them. Nopony’s stupid enough to do that willingly…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I must have been missing something here, because I couldn’t possibly be understanding the unicorn right, “let me get this straight: you know who I am, and why I’m here, and you want me to kill Whiplash?”

Was this some sort of weird trap that my sister had somehow managed to mastermind? It certainly wasn’t her style, and I couldn’t see or hear anypony nearby that was listening in. It was at this moment that I really noticed the absence of my pipbuck and the Eyes Forward Sparkle it provided.

“You going senile there, gramps? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sica restated, sounding exasperated at having to repeat herself.

“I don’t get it, if a lot of the tribe wants her gone, why do you need me? Even if my sister’s bought off most of the warchiefs, if one of the other warriors can get enough public support, there’ll still be a legitimate challenge,” declining a challenge made by a warrior who was endorsed by a plurality of the tribe, if not any warchiefs, was a sure way to lose face; and perhaps even some of that support.

The gray unicorn frowned at me, “who said anything about the tribe? I want her dead. Most of the tribe seems to be okay with her. As long as they have booze and slaves, the other White Hooves go along with whatever. The average warrior could give two shits about the politics as long as he or she has somepony to fuck and a full belly.”

“So…why do you care then?”

“Why do you think?” the mare glared at me. When I provided no guesses, as I had none that came to mind, she answered the question herself, “because that bitch cheated me out of my birthright, same as you!”

My brain threw a clot. At least, I assume that was what had happened, as pretty much all rational thought ceased for an indeterminable amount of time. What could this mare possibly be talking about? What claim to the White Hooves could she have? Steel Bit had sired only two foals in his lifetime, myself and Whiplash. Each of us had been conceived through a different mare, whom our father had then had killed shortly after we were born. He had had no other brood mares or concubines after Whiplash that I’d ever known about; and he wasn’t the sort of stallion who had any need to maintain a secret lover.

In fact, the only other mare he’d ever been intimate with other than our birth mothers had…been…

Sica filled my field of vision as I stared at the mare. Steel-gray coat…yellow mane and tail…red eyes…

“Sweet Celestia,” I said breathlessly, “you’re...Whiplash’s…”

“…Daughter,” the unicorn nodded her confirmation, “her eldest foal; sired by Steel Bit,” she added. Then her features grew hard once more, “which makes me the true heir to the tribe. Not that bastard, Cestus!”

I was still overcome with a great deal of shock for a whole wagonload of reasons that were going to take some time for me to sort out as the opportunities to do so presented themselves. There were some questions that I felt were worth getting the answers to though, “so why aren’t you next in line?” by all rights, she should have been. Unless there had been some great cause to discount her…

“Because Whiplash didn’t want it getting out that Steel Bit had been raping her since she was a filly,” Sica explained bitterly, “she thought none of the warchiefs would back her claim if they knew she’d been weak enough to be treated like a brood mare all her life,” she was right, they wouldn’t have, “she hid the pregnancy, and then killed the midwife that delivered me to make sure word never got out.

“Bo’s father had been one of Steel Bit’s lieutenants. She gave me to him to raise as his own, figuring that he’d want what the former Chief did to stay a secret too,” the gray mare’s scowl deepened, “he kept quite…until Cestus was born. He knew Whiplash was nuts and figured I’d be a perfect rallying point for the warchiefs to get behind: another of Steel Bit’s foals.

“Somepony must have said something though. He got drunk and ‘fell’ into the radsorpion pit one night,” it was clear that she suspected a far less innocent demise, and again she was likely correct, “after that, all the other high ranking warriors got in line, and there was nopony left who knew who my real father was.”

“Why didn’t Whiplash kill you too?” it was sloppy of her to leave loose ends like this. Evidenced by her words right now, as she told me her story and had already alluded to needing me to aid in her takeover.

The unicorn shrugged, “who knows? Motherly instincts maybe; not that she seemed to care when I was born.”

There’s that sentiment again. I guess it ran in the family.

Speaking of which, if this mare was really Whiplash’s daughter—and Steel Bit’s to boot—didn’t that make her…what did it make her? My niece? My sister? My nister? I was suddenly marginally uncomfortable with what to two of us had done last night. Although, it wasn’t like I had known that she was family! I had just thought she was a hot unicorn mare that appreciated what a more mature stallion had to offer her over some adolescent colt that had probably just figured out which hole his dick goes in.

She’d known who I was though. Yet, for whatever reason, she’d taken her…brother/uncle/bruncle/whatever back to her tent for a lot of sex, “we’re related and we slept together.”

It came out as a sort of moment of clarity as my brain finished processing that sequence of thoughts. I don’t know how I thought Sica was supposed to react to that revelation either. After all, she was that one that had known about our relationship and allowed it to progress the way that it had.

In keeping with those circumstances, the unicorn mare issued a bored nod, “a few times,” she noted. Then added, “I’m pretty sure I swallowed more cum than whiskey last night,” she deadpanned, “I can’t wait to see what happens the next time I take a piss.”

“You could have said something, you know,” I pointed out.

“Well, the blowjobs would usually lead to sex, so I figured it was kind of worth putting up with.”

“I meant about being related!”

The mare shrugged, “I didn’t think that it really mattered. What’s important is that you not do anything stupid until I can get all of the other pieces into position.”

“Pieces?” I narrowed my eyes at the gray unicorn who was still scrubbing away at my coat. There were quite a few revelations being thrown at me all at once here, and I was still trying to process them all. Learning that this pony was the product of my father’s habitual rape of my half-sister would have been shocking enough in its own right—even without learning this only after spending half the night rutting her. Add to that learning that she was also Whiplash’s disowned child, and obviously still feeling rather bitter about it. It looked like she decided at some point that she wasn’t just going to roll over and accept her lot in life though; and that she was going to involve me in her designs.

“Well, you can’t challenge her after last night,” Sica pointed out dismissively, “even if you kill her, none of the warchiefs would follow you. It’d look like you were just doing it for the pegasus. We need to wait and bide our time. Let me feel out the others and see who would be willing to support your bid.

“Then, when we have the support we need, we’ll finally call out Whiplash, and take the tribe for ourselves.”

“I’m hearing a lot of ‘we’ here,” I pointed out, “why do you need me for this, if you really are Whiplash’s kid?”

Sica scowled, “because the only pony alive that could prove it is Whiplash; and I don’t see her admitting it any time soon,” it didn’t sound like the sort of thing that was likely to happen, no, “which means that my only hope of getting anywhere close to being Chief is through you.”

I frowned, “you want me to name you as my successor or something? Acknowledge you as Steel Bit’s third foal?”

“What?” the unicorn’s face contorted in confusion, “no, of course not! Even if anypony believed you, you’re the one they would have supported, not me. If you died or left or whatever, I wouldn’t inherit shit,” she grumbled in annoyance, “the only way I get any control, is if you take me on as your wife.”

I blinked at the mare in surprise, “didn’t you just get through telling me I’m your brother…ish?” seriously, what was our relationship in this gnarled family tree of ours?

“So? Nopony else knows that,” Sica pointed out, looking rather cross at having to repeat herself, “as far as the others are concerned, I’m just another White Hoof. A pony like you taking on a young mare to bear his heirs is hardly anything new; and I’ve been working to make enough connections over the past couple months that it won’t even look that out of place.”

“Wait, you’ve been planning this for months?” I thought back over my initial meeting with the unicorn back in the ruins of that little Old World town. There had been no sign that Sica had recognized me then. So, how could she have been plotting for this? “how long have you known who I was?”

“Not until I got back,” the mare admitted, “I didn’t think anything of it really; Whiplash has loads of spies all over the valley, and it’s not like I know everypony in the tribe personally. But I mentioned running into one of our ‘agents’ near Seaddle and described you, trying to find out your name in case I wanted to meet you again,” the unicorn flashed me a knowing smile, “but nopony who worked with our agents recognized you.

“At first I thought you’d conned me, but your brand checked out, so I asked about anypony who’d been exiled or something,” she smirked, “which is when ponies started bringing up Whiplash’s brother, Jackboot; but also that he was supposed to be dead. When word about you got back to that yellow bitch, you could hear the screaming for miles in every direction,” she chuckled, “it was glorious!

“That’s when I saw my chance,” the unicorn sidled up next to me beneath the shower and used her magic to stop the drizzling flow of water, “I figured you were back in the valley to finally settle things with Whiplash, so I started laying the ground work,” her expression soured slightly, “which you’ve managed to neatly undo by coming here just after they brought in the feather duster,” she forced a smile and brightened herself up a little once more, “but, as long as you don’t make a move for a couple days, we can play things off as a coincidence. Maybe even convince everypony that you don’t have any connection at all to the pegasus and that Whiplash was making it all up to try and discredit you.”

Windfall wasn’t going to last a ‘few days’ in my sister’s clutches. The flier would be lucky to make it to sundown. I wasn’t quite ready to discount Sica’s machinations allowed though. The unicorn had clearly put a lot of thought and effort into her designs, and I seemed to be their linchpin. If she found out that I wasn’t dead set on helping her, I’d very quickly lose the closest thing to an ally that I had among the White Hooves. That meant that I had to at least pretend like I was intrigued by the notion of accepting her help.

“So, you want me to hold off for a few days until the timing’s better,” the unicorn nodded her confirmation, “and where am I supposed to stay in the meantime?”

The unicorn chuckled and rubbed up against me, “with me, silly,” she purred, “we’ve got some ‘ground work’ to lay too, you know?”

“We do?”

The unicorn’s smile became marred by a wry frown, “of course we do. I can get a few of the warchiefs to support your claim based on you being Steel Bit’s eldest foal—that earns you a lot of points, after all; but they’re still White Hooves, you know? You’re not exactly a spry young stallion there, gramps. The tribe’s going to want to be assured that there’s a line of succession in the works if they're putting somepony your age in as chief. The sooner you sire a foal, the better everypony’ll feel. Which means it’ll be less likely we’ll see the warchiefs conspiring against you later.”

“You made it sound like the other warchiefs wanted me back,” I noted, “why would they work against me after supporting me?”

“Because Whiplash is fucking nuts, that’s why,” Sica snorted, than she glared up at me, “I get that you’ve been away for a while, so let me bring you up to speed on how the politics here work; since you seem to have forgotten,” I bit back an annoyed retort, as the unicorn did have a point. She had her hoof on the pulse of the tribe at the moment, while I did not. So I patiently listened to her rhetoric.

“So far as the average White Hoof warrior is concerned, the chief calls the shots. They don’t care how much of a nutcase they are, so long as they have food and booze. The warchiefs, on the other hoof—some of them, at least—take a longer view of things. They know exactly how much damage a crazy chief can do to the tribe down the road. That being said, they can’t just oust a chief that’s incompetent so long as their warriors don’t know she is. Not without some overt reason that’s easy for the common warrior to get behind without thinking too much.

“Like having a more legitimate heir step forward,” she flashed a knowing look at me.

“The warchiefs can then go ahead and prop him up as a replacement chief and the other warriors will be on board because, hey, why not? This is obviously the warchiefs trying to do the right and honorable White Hoof thing by support the ‘true’ heir to the tribe. Everypony loves that shit and they eat it up,” Sica rolled her eyes.

Then her expression got a little more serious, “what everypony doesn’t know is that you’re just a stopgap. The warchiefs can get Whiplash out of the way, look good doing it, and then take their time to get everything in place for one of them to take over; especially because you’re so old and have no foals. They can quietly gather support to get one of them in position to inherit the tribe; and when the timing is right—Bam!” she slammed her hoof on the ground and adopted a tone that was obviously meant to parody a gruffer old stallion, “our noble chief has had a heart attack, as old ponies do. But, don’t worry! We have a successor all lined up! Hail to the new chief!” she grimaced as she let the charade fall away, “you’ll be lucky to survive a year. Worse, they might kill me too, just to tie up loose ends."

Obviously, ‘worse’ was a matter of perspective in this case.

“However,” Sica piped up, once more nuzzling me, “if you produce an heir before they can get everything set up, they’ll be forced to openly support all three of us in public. That’ll buy us enough time to start ‘retiring’ the warchiefs that didn’t support us, and elevate fresh warriors who’ll do what we tell them because they’re too young and stupid to know how the game’s really played.”

The gray unicorn slipped around in front of me, allowing her tail to flip up and curl around my neck as she flashed me a sultry look, “so, until I can get us the support we need to challenge Whiplash, you and I need to work on ‘securing the succession’.”

Oh, Father, you would have been so proud of this mare. I think, in a few ways, she is the most like you: determined, cunning, and even a little incestuous. Which wasn’t to say that there wasn’t a lot to recommend her plan. In fact, if she had introduced me to this concept a few years ago, I’d have been all over it. Not necessarily all over her though, as her familial relationship was still eliciting an uncomfortable tinge in the back of my neck.

“And it doesn’t weird you out that you and I have the same father?”

Sica let out an exasperated sigh, “horseapples, are you really still on that? I’m talking about making you Chief of the White Hooves! Trust me, I don’t like everything about this either,” this surprised me a bit, given that this was entirely her plan, “for the record: I hate sucking off stallions,” the unicorn glared at me and gave a little shiver of revulsion, “you guys aren’t nearly as clean down there as you think you are," she flashed me a determined sneer, "but I’ll do whatever you want as long as you put a load or two where it counts every night to get us that foal we need to make our move.

“Once you’re chief though, thing are going to change in that department. We’re going to get you a slave or something; because, once we’re in, I’m done swallowing your crap,” Sica scoffed as she stuck out her tongue. She stepped a little further around me and I felt her hoof brush up against my underside, “but if that’s what it takes to get you up, so be it.

“Let’s go get you painted up for the day,” Sica started leading me away from the shower, back towards her tent.

I hesitated, as that wasn’t going to work for what I was intending. The whole Idea was that I’d be challenging Whiplash, not as a White Hoof, but as a poser that was a satin upon the honor of the tribe. I couldn’t do that if I was decorated in the traditional white paint of a White hoof warrior. Trying to come up with a plausible excuse for Sica as to why I felt like going without today would be tough though.

Playing along might make things easier, I reasoned. I nipped Sica’s tail and tugged her towards the shower. The unicorn issued a slight peep at the pulling of her tail, but allowed herself to be drawn nearer out of curiosity. I drew the mare around and gave her a kiss on the lips, which seemed to put her a little more at ease as she leaned into it. When we parted, I reached up above us and gave the lever a slight pull and let the water begin falling once again, “if it’s a cleanliness issue, I think I have a solution for that,” I smiled at the mare, “and this time I promise I’ll finish where it’s needed most.”

The unicorn frowned slightly at first, but then fixed me with a playful glare, “you’d better,” she warned before kneeling down and ducking beneath me.

I played nice this time around, and contributed to Sica’s desire for a foal as she’d asked. All the while, the question of how I was going to let her blood relationship affect my feelings regarding performance allowed me to draw things out sufficiently to leave the unicorn feeling sufficiently satisfied with our little romp in the shower. Ultimately, while I was not very happy with the further parallels that the encounter drew between me and my father, I was able to assuage those concerns with the insistence that Sica desired this, and that it was not anything I was going to be capable of making a habit of.

What we engaged in last night was hardly my fault, as I had possessed no knowledge at all of our relation. This morning was less about sex, and more about distracting Sica so that I could do what needed to be done in order to save Windfall. That meant giving the two of us a reasonable excuse to be separated. Making a slightly messier go of things as I finished so that the unicorn felt compelled to linger in the shower and clean herself off while I fetched us some breakfast seemed to suffice.

It allowed me to be alone and wandering through the camp unhindered, at least.

As I had suspected would be the case, a fair number of White Hooves had not made it back to their own quarters that night, and had taken to slumbering wherever they’d ended up passing out last night. Some ponies were tangled up with one another, alluding to some sensual antics of their own, while others had apparently had the presence of mind at the last moment to at least try and find somewhere slightly out of the way to finally lose consciousness.

Foxglove was firmly in the court of the latter, and hers was a very transitory slumber. I had to wonder exactly how much sleep the violet mare had even managed to get when she snapped awake before I’d made it within ten feet of her. Her very tense expression relaxed slightly when she recognized who it was that was approaching her, but I imagined that the unicorn had not allowed herself to sleep particularly soundly in this setting. With her disguise as it was, I very much doubted that any of the other warriors would have tried anything outright violent of malicious with her, but young White hoof warriors didn’t need to be drunk to proposition a pretty mare.

I idly wondered just how many offers Foxglove must have gotten last night.

The mare rubbed at her bloodshot eyes and yawned.

“Sleep well?” I inquired with a slight smile on my face.

“Fuck you,” was the unicorn’s unabashed response as she finished her yawn, “I hope she gave you something that makes your dick fall off. Painfully.”

“You always say the sweetest things,” my smile soured slightly as I recognized that this passing moment for levity was going our last for a good long while; if not ever. Dying outright wasn’t the plan, but there was no denying that my chances of getting out of this alive were slim to none. I had no intention of telling Foxglove any of that though, “I’m going to be causing a bit of a commotion in a minute. You’ll want to be in position before that happens, so nopony notices you going in the opposite direction of everypony else.”

Foxglove nodded and rose to her hooves, “yeah, good idea,” she glanced at me, “just…try not to do anything too stupid, huh?”

“I knew you cared,” I even managed to crack a smile as the unicorn frowned at me, “hey, pass me a green-band grenade, will you?”

This caught the mare’s attention, and it was hard to miss her long period of hesitation as she opened up her saddlebag and floated out the requested apple-shaped orb. She raised a questioning brow at me before releasing her magical hold on it though, “I figure it’ll make for one heck of a distraction when I throw it into the crowd,” or at Whiplash. I hardly intended to fight fair, after all.

My response satisfied the unicorn, and she let the grenade drop into my outstretched hoof. I then tucked the explosive into my tail so that it would remain out of sight. I didn’t want any weapons to be visible on me, so that I could convince Whiplash to have to fight me with her bare hooves. I wanted every advantage I could get, and fighting without any weapons was going to give me an edge that Whiplash shouldn’t be able to openly criticize.

“Now get going,” I motioned for the violet mare to be on her way, “I’ll meet you and Windfall back at Stable 137,” probably not though.

The unicorn nodded and trotted off towards where Whiplash was keeping her prisoner. Meanwhile, I made my way to where my sister had issued her proclamations the previous evening near the radscorpion pit. As I walked, I kicked a few ponies in my way, jostling them awake and prompting some rather irate grumblings. I wanted a big crowd for this, and I needed it to be here long before my sister or her guards arrived in an attempt to deal with me quietly. This needed to be a commotion if I was going to keep any eyes from inadvertently spotting the two mares making their escape.

Once properly positioned, I took a deep breath and issued my challenge, “hey, Whiplash!” I boomed in the direction of her tent, “pull your hoof out of your slit and get out here! Big brother needs to have a talk with his baby sister!”

Most of the ponies scattered about didn’t seem to be registering much more than the fact that somepony was being inconsiderately loud far too early in the morning and needed to shut up. A few even managed to grumble as much as they rolled over in an attempt to return to sleep. However, there were several for whom the words I was saying were fully processed by their waking minds and sat bolt upright. They, in turn, began to wake up their more stubborn comrades and clue them in to what was going on.

More and more White Hooves got to their hooves and took notice. A fair number were even spilling out of their tents to come and see what was up, “Let’s go, Whiplash, I don’t have all day; finish sucking off that cock and get out here!”
I began strutting around in a circle, glaring towards the tent that housed my younger sibling and muttering loud enough for the nearer ponies to hear about how sad and depressing it was that a pony like Whiplash was somehow the figurehead for what it meant to be a White Hoof, “proudest tribe of warriors in the valley,” I grumbled audibly, “and she’s too busy being plowed by some slave to come out and kill one senile old poser.”

I heard a great deal of muttering and hushed asides being exchanged around me now that most of the nearby White Hooves had taken notice. There was even some movement finally coming from the direction of Whiplash’s tent. It looked to be one of the guards being sent to see what all of the yelling was about. He ducked back into the large Chief’s tent quick enough upon seeing me. While I doubted that he recognized me specifically, it wouldn’t have taken a whole lot of wits to realize what was going on.

I flashed a grin towards grin towards the crowd, “she goes through all the trouble of inviting me here, and then shows up late to her own party? I heard her say something about facing me at the crack of dawn, didn’t you?”

Of course, I knew full well that Whiplash had not uttered any such thing last night. However, I doubted that many of the ponies gathered around had even really paid all that much attention to the timetable that my sister had announced; or were even yet sober and awake enough to recall any details at all. The point was to sow those seeds of doubt about Whiplash’s quality of character. I needed them to demand that Whiplash prove herself against my claims and deriding marks, just as any of them would be expected to against a pony that was calling them out like I was.

“Well I’m here, Whiplash, where are you?” I resumed heckling at that top of my lungs, “I’ve killed a lot of your minions to get here; the least you could do is show up!” then I pretended to think for a moment and glanced at some nearby White Hooves, “actually, that explains why she gave up and settled for catching that bundle of fluff, doesn’t it? I mean, if you know you can’t handle a real fight, you rig one that you can win, right?

“That’s how White Hooves face their foes these days, isn’t it?” I turned back to the larger tents, raising my voice to be heard by everypony, “we skulk in the shadows like street urchins trying to snatch somepony’s caps,” this drew an uncomfortable look or two and encouraged murmuring among the public. Good, “and when that doesn’t work, we send an entire raiding party after two fillies and geezer; like the proud warriors we are,” even more grumblings.

“And when that doesn’t work, we abduct little fillies in the middle of the night because our Chief’s eldest colt can’t beat down one old poser stallion,” I sneered at the gathered ponies, “because that’s what it means to be noble White Hooves.

“Steel Bit must be so proud.”

The crowd was pretty stirred up now by the sounds of things, with a lot of looks being exchanged by the gathered ponies who didn’t seem to feel that any of what I said embodied what they thought of as being the acts of a ‘real’ White Hoof. Not that any of these young idiots probably would. So much of that tired rhetoric was just air anyway. My father had never sent me into a ‘fair fight’ in my life. He’d had been beating down on half-starved colts or crippled slaves who couldn’t work anymore. Old ponies and foals accounted for most of those that I’d killed as a White hoof. It wasn’t until I’d reached Hoofington that I found myself struggling against ponies who could fight back on an even footing with myself.

That was immaterial though. These ponies didn’t think like that. They still saw themselves as something special, and that was the ego that I was playing to right now.

“Says the pony that ran away in the middle of the night…”

Everypony’s attention, even mine, was drawn immediately to a small group of ponies that were being none-to-subtle about muscling their way through the crowd. Two painted guards burst through into the ring that had been formed around me, followed shortly by a yellow mare with a charcoal mane and red eyes. It seemed as though my little tirade had spurred her into action much more abruptly than she might have preferred. My sister was adorned in nowhere near the quantity of paint that she had been last night, but she had still managed to get her fetlocks covered and place a few streaks across her face before coming out here.

Clearly she had hoped to be able to make this a much more ceremonial occasion; likely believing that her sentries would have alerted her to my approach long before I arrived. Well, sorry to disappoint, Dear Sister.

Her comment drew some mutterings from the crowd as well, to which I did have a response, as it played nicely into my plans, “I never denied that I was a coward,” I shrugged as I nodded my head. It took some effort not to grin as I heard a few stunned gasps from the crowd and saw the look of irritation on Whiplash’s face, “a gutless coward who fled at the first sign of trouble. Yup, that’s me,” now I glanced up at my sister and grinned, “and yet, you can’t seem to kill me.”

The Chief of the White Hooves flashed me a baleful scowl, her words dripping with loathing as my last remark prompted several audible musings from the crowd, “that will soon be fixed,” she seethed through gritted teeth, “guards!”

The two stallions that smashed their way through the crowd to allow Whiplash to pass charged forward in an effort to tackle me to the ground and subdue me. I deftly sidestepped one and ducked low beneath the other in a movement he had clearly not expected from an older pony like me. The end result was both of the charging guard ponies colliding with one another off to the side. Several ponies in the crowd found this sight quite amusing, judging from the jeering and the laughter.

“What? Can’t handle one old coward on your own, Oh Mighty Chief of the White Hooves?” I jeered as I danced around the pair of earth ponies, frustrating their efforts to take me to the ground. Judging from the hollering going on around me, many found that notion to be funny as well. I just about had them where I needed them, “is a senile old poser like me too much for you to manage without some big strong stallions to help you?”

I turned my back on the pair of guards and faced the crowd, “and this mare is your Chief?!”

As was to be expected from taking your attention off of your opponent, I very quickly found myself tackled to the ground. While I could have done a lot to dislodge them, that would not get me what I wanted; which was the crowd’s support…after a fashion. I needed them to want to see me dead at Whiplash’s own hooves, not those of her lackeys. So, I instead allowed myself to be subdued, taking only a few subtle measures to mitigate my chances of being injured during their rough treatment.

Already I could hear the stirrings of disapproval from the crowd. The jeers and laughter at watching two of the Chief’s guard stumble after an old pony were replaced by grumblings and audible exchanges between ponies about whether or not the ‘crazy old poser’ had a point. While I knew I would never be able to identify who had instigated it, a chant rose up from within the crowd: “Bout, bout, bout…”

The crowd wanted to see a fight. These White Hooves didn’t want to see me put down by Whiplash’s guards; they wanted to see one-on-one combat between myself and my younger sister. I didn’t think for a moment that any of these ponies actually wanted to see me win that fight, of course. I had made a lot of allegations though, and those claims would linger for a good long while unless Whiplash put them firmly to rest here and now.

Judging from the enraged expression on my sister’s face, she knew it too.

The guards piled on top of me heard the chanting of the crowd, and they looked questioningly at their Chief, awaiting her next command as to what they were supposed to do. For her own part, my younger sibling schooled her features into something that at least closely resembled a calm and contemplative expression as she turned towards the crowd of gathered warriors.

She raised her hoof into the air, and the chanting died away until there was only silence. Then she addressed them, “that this poser thinks he’s worthy of facing any White Hoof in an honorable fight demeans us all,” she announced to the crowd. A pony here and there did look rebuked at this, but far more of them kept their expressions resolved. They wanted to see their Chief address this matter personally, and Whiplash seemed to recognize that. Hiding her ire, she continued, “but fine. If you think we should bow down to the whim of every piece of Wasteland trash that we let stumble into our camp, so be it.”

I had to give my sister some credit; she was at least going to capitalize on her victory. If she managed to come out on top of this, she was going to be well placed to exact some sort of penance from the whole of the tribe for making her ‘lower’ herself to killing common rabble for their entertainment. If the warchiefs were in her saddlebags as much as Sica had alluded to, the concessions that she got could be considerable. All she had to do to achieve them was kill one tired old pony.

Not that I intended to make that easy for her.

Whiplash waved a hoof at her guards, “let the filth up,” she said dismissively. Neither stallion was very gentle as they removed themselves from on top of me and back away, leaving me to face my sister without any interference from them. Similarly, the crowd backed away in order to make additional room for a brawl.

“I’m half tempted to have your pegasus slut brought out here so she can watch me kill you,” Whiplash mused.

Oh, that would be very bad if that happened, I thought while working very hard not to let the apprehension I was feeling show on my face. Thinking quickly, I said, “trying to get out of the fight already?”

My sister’s expression soured instantly, “but I supposed I can settle for showing her your severed head when this is over,” she seethed. She reached around and removed her saddlebags from her back, retrieving something from inside before tossing them to a nearby guard. At first, I thought that she was grabbing a weapon. Then I noticed that she was simply slipping a pair of leather cuffs over her forehooves, “I wouldn’t want to stain my hooves with the blood of a coward,” she scoffed.

“S’alright,” I quipped, “I don’t intend to do any bleeding anyway.”

Then I charged.

This moment, right here; I have waited so long for this chance. You, Whiplash, who are the source from which all of the grief and tragedy in my life stems. You are the thief who stole my life from me and left me a mad pony capable of hearing your voice wherever I went. I have killed hundreds in my life, but never before, through all of those deaths, have I actively wanted somepony dead; except for you. Today, Whiplash, you will die, and my suffering will finally be at an end. With you dead, I will no longer hear your incessant prattling in my head and I will have at least one moment of piece before my days end!

That was the monologue that ran through my head. Out loud, it was more along the lines of, “die, you bitch!”

I threw myself at the yellow mare and grinned madly when I saw her hastily scamper out of my way. She’d never been the fighter when we were younger; Steel Bit had not included her in the same training regimen that I’d been subjected to at her age. Whiplash couldn’t compare to me in terms of skill, and was outclassed in this fight by an order of magnitude. She’d be spending this whole exchange on the run until I finally decided that Foxglove and Windfall had been given enough time to make good on their escape. Only then would I end things.

All of that being said, Whiplash was moving a lot more quickly than I would have expected. While I would not say that I was putting forth a genuine effort to catch her up right off the bat, I wasn’t coming as close to nabbing the yellow mare as I was trying to. Nor, did I soon realize, was Whiplash looking as nervous about the fight as I had expected. She had to know had disadvantaged she was here just like I did; so why wasn’t she concerned?

Feeling myself getting nervous at the thought of my sibling knowing something that I didn’t, I decided that maybe I should at least get in a good hit to slow her down; or at least remind her of why a fight against me was not something she should feel confident about winning. So on my next lunge, I broke it down from a single loping leap into two rapid hops in quick succession, allowing me to instantly adjust my direction of attack in response to her attempt to evade my strike.

I was partially successful, as it turned out. As predicted, Whiplash moved to avoid what she had interpreted to be another broad lunge as all of my others had, and was promptly caught off her guard when I fell short only to spring off in a slightly altered direction that would catch her. She was a lot more nimble than I would have anticipated though and very nearly managed to get away from me even then. I caught a piece of her though with my foreleg and the two of us ended up rolling briefly on the ground until Whiplash managed to shove me away at the perfect time to capitalize on the momentum of our tumble. Both of us came up onto our feet on different ends of the circle of watching White Hooves.

Whiplash had a smug expression on her face that seemed very out of place considering what just happened. Did she believe that I was putting forth my best effort and yet she was somehow managing to stay out of my reach? Her escape from that roll had been acceptable, but I’d hardly been looking to grapple with her just yet. She had gotten off lighter than I would have preferred though. I certainly wasn’t any worse for wear…though my shoulder was bothering me a bit.

No…that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t bothering me, and that was what was bothering me. I was very accustomed to being sore in a lot of my joints. I was still feeling the effects of my tussle with Cestus. Or, rather, I had been feeling those effects until just now. At this moment, I felt…nothing. There was no sensation at all in my right shoulder.

Glancing briefly at the joint to see if it had perhaps become slightly dislodged again as a result of the fight, my eyes were draw to a few shallow cuts that were barely visible through my coat. They were three very neatly spaced parallel lines that lay just about where Whiplash had made contact with me a moment ago. Curious, I spared a brief second to look at the ground where we had been fighting. Visible in the dirt were several other places where that same pattern had been gouged into the hard scrabble of the impromptu fighting ring.

My gaze went back to Whiplash and her satisfied expression. Her eyes met mine, and that was when I knew that she was cheating; and she understood that I had caught on to what she was doing. It wasn’t like I could call her out though. Even if anypony believed me—and why should any of them—it wasn’t like there was a referee who was going to call the fight off. This was to the death; and nearly every pony here was hoping to see mine.

Well, there was at least one pony that was eager to see Whiplash buy it in this bout. I noticed that Sica had somehow made her way to the inside of the ring of ponies to watch the fight. Judging by her own livid expression, I imagined that she was hoping to see us both killed in some manner. She had a very understandable grudge against Whiplash of course; but now that she had seen me completely undermine all of her scheming and throw away her last real chance at achieving power in the tribe, I doubted I was her favorite pony either.

Sorry, sis…er, niece, whatever; it was nothing personal. Your plan just meant that Windfall would end up dead. I couldn’t let that happen when all of this was my fault.

I could feel the numbness spreading further down my leg, suggesting that whatever toxin the yellow earth pony was suing wasn’t necessarily a local one. It looked like I was going to be given less time to work all of this out than I had originally thought. Horseapples.

Playtime was over.

This time when I closed the distance with my sister, it was not nearly so haphazardly as before. No leaps or lunges that were easy to predict and avoid. I ran in on my hooves and worked to corner my sister up against the crowd. I knew Whiplash’s game now: scratch me up and the wait until I couldn’t move anymore before finishing me off. It wouldn’t even look all that suspicious. The poor old poser got all tired out and collapsed. Best to put him out of his misery.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Eventually, I did manage to maneuver Whiplash into a confrontation, but it didn’t last for as long as I’d hoped and my numbing leg was already having a visible effect on my combat ability. I got in a decent strike across her muzzle with my left hoof, but it cost me a graze on the elbow. It would probably be less than a minute before I started to find it difficult to put any weight on that limb. I’d have to lock it to support myself, but that would really slow me down.

I couldn’t afford to let up though, and so I closed again. Each time, I ended up trading a strike for a scratch. My flank, then my chest, and then my ankle; I couldn’t keep taking those sorts of losses in mobility just to get in a bruise or a black eye. Unfortunately, that was how the fight was starting to shape up. While, between the two of us, Whiplash looked the far more beaten and worn, I knew I was the one that was losing. Anypony could see that I was having trouble even staying on my hooves towards the end of it.

Finally it happened, and my left leg gave out, sending me to the ground. I struggled to get my limbs back under me and stand, but it was basically impossible to do when I had to visually look at all of my legs to make sure they were moving in the right directions. I could hardly feel a damn thing anywhere on my body.

This looked to have been the moment that Whiplash was waiting for though. My younger sister boldly marched toward me, a wide grin plastered across her face, “awe…is the little old poser tired?” she jeered. Several other ponies in the crowd were laughing as well, “I guess somepony should have waited for their mid-morning nap before picking a fight with a proper White Hoof,” then she turned to the crowd and glowered at them, “this is the pony you thought I should waste my time with? I’ve seen infant foals put up more of a fight!”

I noticed quite a few sheepish looks from the ponies that had more loudly protested my being executed by Whiplash’s guards. There were quite a few disgusted looks being thrown my way to. I had talked up a pretty good game, but hadn’t even come close to delivering in this fight. What was supposed to have been an epic struggle between two warring siblings for control of the most vicious tribe of warriors in the whole Neighvada Valley had turned into a geriatric stallion chasing a mare around in circles until he got tired and fell down.

I wondered if anypony had been stupid enough to put money on this fight.

“I’d feed him to the radscorpions,” Whiplash went on as she approached nearer, “but I’m worried they’d get indigestion from eating such a worthless piece of shit,” she stepped up and placed her hoof on my throat. I could feel the three little pinpricks that must have been sewn into her leather cuffs as they poked my flesh. My sister sneered down at me, “any last words, Brother Dear?”

“Probably,” I croaked out beneath the weight of her hoof.

Before Whiplash could respond, I threw my legs out and rolled to the side. The wild flailing of my senseless limbs caught the yellow mare by surprise. She had perhaps thought that I was fully paralyzed and let her guard down. The two of us both rolled around on the ground for several seconds. It wasn’t an exchange that I was going to win though. I couldn’t hope to get Whiplash into any sort of holds the way that I was. This was simply a move borne of desperation as took advantage of one of the few regions of my body that she hadn’t bothered to numb: my tail.

Whether Whiplash noticed it or not, I was guiding our brief struggle. By the time it was over, which took only a hooful of seconds, we were oriented facing the opposite direction than we had been when I’d taken her to the ground. I doubted that the yellow earth pony really cared about that though, or could have known why that was something I would have tried to achieve. From where she was mounted on top of me, she couldn’t have seen why anyway.

I felt Whiplash wrap her hooves around my throat and the back of my head and clamp down as she initiated a choke hold. Her head was leaned down close to mine and I could hear her teeth grinding up against each other as she spoke, “you never should have come back here,” she seethed in my ear, “you never came for me a day in your miserable fucking life; why do it now?!

“What makes her so special?”

I could only assume that she was referring to Windfall. In any case, it was very hard to answer her the way things were right now. I gave it a shot anyway, “rrrrgk…mmmmrrrkll,” not quite what I wanted to say, but you know…

It was enough to get Whiplash curious though, and I felt her hold loosen slightly, “what?”

With a great heave, I managed to throw my weight sufficiently that it rolled me on top of the yellow mare. Her grip constricted again almost immediately, but her placement was off as a result of the new orientation. It still wasn’t an ideal position for me to be in though; but that was going to very soon become moot.

“Ah Haid,” I barely managed to get out legibly around the obstruction in my mouth before finally spitting it out, where it fell heavily to the ground next to me, “she calls me, ‘Daddy’,” as far as famous last words go…well, I thought it was funny.

Whiplash turned her head and looked at the steel sphere marked by a green band that was missing a very important stem-like feature. Her eyes grew wide with terror, “wha—are you crazy?!”

She tried to throw me off and get away, but it was too late. There was no way that she would clear the blast radius in time. It had already been cooking for a second or two anyway. She’d make it half a step, at best. Some of the White Hooves who were fortunate enough to have seen the grenade as I rolled over might have kept enough of their wits to start moving in time. They’d need to push their way through a throng of ponies that had no idea their lives were in danger though. Good luck to them.

Me? Oh, I wasn’t going to live through this either. I’d know that going into the fight. True, I would much rather have had this whole thing end with me choking the life out of Whiplash, and then tossing the grenade into the crowd like I’d told Foxglove I was going to do. I would probably have still been cut down as I tried to get through a horde of pissed off White Hooves in an effort to escape; but I would at least have gotten the satisfaction of seeing Whiplash die before my eyes.

I couldn’t even see her this way. At least I would know she was dying along with me. That was something, I guess.

As to my being crazy? I allowed myself a chuckle. Well, peanut gallery, what have we to say about that?

Only, there was no peanut gallery anymore. No Yellow Bitch, Orange Cunt, White Whore, not even a tiny Whiplash or Steel Bit. There was nopony in my head except for me. A peaceful moment of genuine silence where I could be alone with me own thoughts. Funny…I kind of missed them all now. Heh. Maybe I was crazy, after all.

My world became very green, and very loud as I uttered my response to my sister’s final question, “…maybe.”

Footnote:
>>GAME OVER!

>>RELOAD LAST SAVE? Y/N
>>Y

>>RELOADING...

>>ERROR! SAVE CORRUPTED!

>>ATTEMPT DATA RECOVERY? Y/N
>>Y

>>RECOVERY IN PROGRESS...

>>LOADING...

I was pretty sure that Jackboot and Foxglove were arguing again. Which was a little strange, I guess. I mean, it wasn’t like the two of them didn’t rub each other the wrong way on occasion. They’d hardly seemed like particularly close ‘friends’ since they’d met, in my opinion. They’d kept things more or less civil though, at least whenever I was around them. So, in that regard an argument between those two ponies wasn’t anything out of place. This even seemed like one of the quieter ones, with only the occasional slight inflection suggesting that they weren’t quite seeing eye-to-eye.

That being said, I would have thought that the two of them would have gone at least a day or two before going back at it like that. I’d just caught the two of them fucking, after all. Maybe it was one of those ‘hate fucks’ that I’d overheard ponies in the bar talking about. The idea sounded strange to me just as a concept. If you didn’t like somepony, why would the two of you ever consent to sex with each other? Wasn’t that exactly the opposite reason that ponies had sex, or something?

Admittedly, I was hardly an expert on the matter. Maybe it was one of those things that only sexually active ponies understood. I’d have to remember to ask Jackboot about it later. Actually, maybe Cestus would be a better choice. Jackboot was probably going to be a little tight-lipped about sex where I was concerned, given how our last conversation about the topic had gone. On the other hoof, I was pretty sure that the younger earth pony who’d come with us to this stable was open to an intimate discussion.

Now that I thought about it, we’d been having a talk about that sort of thing just before I’d fallen asleep. It had been right after I stumbled onto the others two fooling around in the clinic. Definitely the last thing I’d expected them to be doing in there. I remembered leaving and going to where Cestus was going to be sleeping to tell him about what I’d seen, and explain how it was really weird to have seen that going on between them. We’d talked for a little bit. There’d even been a little more kissing and nibbling involved; which I’d insisted was as far as I was going to let him take things.

The stallion produced a bottle of…something. He’d said it was a special whiskey blend from his hometown. I’d gone easy on it, since I wanted to make sure I kept most of my wits about me, but I wasn’t going to turn down a drink. I’d taken only maybe two sips? Three at the absolute most. We’d kissed a little more…

…and that was it. My next memories were right here and now.

Had I fallen asleep? I couldn’t have, especially when I knew that I was going to have to be on watch for the next few hours. I had planned on a little talking, a little nibbling, and then I was going to do a flight around the area. That had been the firm intent in my mind. So how had I fallen asleep? I hadn’t even felt tired in the slightest.

Maybe it had been the brew? It had tasted a little weird for whiskey. It also seemed to have left me with a slight headache, which was more than a little annoying. I hadn’t suffered from any sort of hangover since I’d been, what, twelve? Actually, no, that wasn’t quite right. I’d gone a little far when I was fourteen after Jackboot and I had cleared out a den of ponies that were suspected of robbing caravans in the area. I must have killed, like, thirty ponies that day. Drank three bottles that evening to get to sleep. The next morning had been pretty rough.

Still, that didn’t explain why a few sips had me aching now. I didn’t even feel all that dehydrated. My bladder was full enough to do with a good piss. Best get up and take care of that. I could swing by the clinic too for something to take the edge off this mysterious hangover too while I was at it, since I could be assured that I wasn’t going to walk in on anything this time around.

It was at about this time that I realized I couldn’t move. More specifically, I couldn’t move my fore and hind legs. My mind blanked at the realization. Curious, I tried again, suspecting that I was still somehow in the trailing throws of slumber and wasn’t processing things quite right. Sure enough, my limbs lacked any freedom of movement. More so, I determined that this was because there was something cold and heavy that was wrapped tightly around them that made a soft metallic sound as I struggled. My wings were similarly restricted by something cold and hard that pinned them to my sides.

That was…concerning, to say the least.

Trying my best to keep a growing ball of panic that was welling up in my chest from getting too far out of hoof, I opened my eyes. This did nothing for me. It wasn’t that the room I was in was pitch black, as there were some scattered pinpricks of light that were visible. However, there was very clearly something that was obscuring my vision, like a blindfold or something similar.

I could very safely say that I had never once awoken anywhere without the ability to see or to move, and I decided immediately that I was not a fan of these circumstances. That feeling of panic was getting a little bigger, and I was having a much harder time now keeping myself from giving in. Something was wrong, and I didn’t know what it was. I needed answers, and fast, if I was going to get my nerves settled.

“What’s going on?” I blurted. Jackboot and Foxglove were nearby, they should be able to hear me. I could only hope they weren’t as bad off as I was. A dozen different undesirable scenarios that explained why I was restrained flew around inside my head, and I didn’t much care for any of them. I hoped beyond hope that there was an innocent explanation for this.

Maybe I had fallen asleep on my watch somehow and Jackboot had found me and was teaching me a lesson? I really hoped that was what was happening. Please let this be a lesson, “where am I?”

The two talking ponies went quiet for a few seconds. This didn’t help to sooth my nerves. Neither did the response that I did eventually receive, “looks like our guest finally woke up.”

It wasn’t Jackboot at all, I realized. The hushed tones had made it hard to distinguish, but the much louder proclamation clearly identified the owner as being Cestus. I was suddenly a lot more uncomfortable about my circumstances. As much as I was kind of hoping this was his idea of something fun and kinky, it went a lot further past ‘nibbling’ than I was comfortable with.

I was also having some doubts about whether the mare I’d been hearing was Foxglove. There should have been a very short list of candidates that a female voice could have belonged to in our group though, and it certainly hadn’t been me that the stallion had been arguing with a minute ago.

“So she did,” was the mare’s assent, “does she know anything worth asking her about?”

“Nothing that I didn’t already tell you,” Cestus replied, “she’s just the bait.”

Bait? Oh, horseapples. There was a rather sparse list of things that I could be used as bait to attract; and Foxglove didn’t have the sorts of dedicated enemies that I knew Jackboot did. This was a lot less brazen of them than the last attempt had been though. Odd, considering where they’d nabbed me from. Odder still that Cestus seemed to be one of them, and had chosen to go this route instead of confronting Jackboot directly in the stable.

Though, now that I thought about it, he and Jackboot had engaged in a little tiff earlier. Cestus hadn’t exactly been mopping the floor with the older stallion in that exchange. Maybe that was why he was hoping to use me to lure Jackboot somewhere more favorable, with his own allies nearby.

It was just too bad we couldn’t pull the same sort of stunt that we had before. Although, that didn’t mean that these ponies couldn’t still be bought. I certainly didn’t have anything to lose by trying that angle, “look, we don’t have to do things the hard way,” I was grateful that my voice didn’t reflect any of the fear I was still feeling. Bounty hunters were ponies that could be reasoned with most times, and they weren’t out to hurt me, so I didn’t have a whole lot to be worried about, “if it’s about caps, we can get you caps. Cestus, you saw the stable; you can name your price with the salvage we’ll get from it!”

“You think this is about money?” the mare scoffed derisively, “White Hooves don’t need your fucking poser money. If we want something, we take it.”

My blood ran cold, and I was very suddenly not feeling as good about my situation. Had she said, “White Hooves? You’re…” this was bad. This was very bad. These sorts of ponies, I couldn’t reason with. Honestly, these weren’t the sorts of ponies that I cared to reason with. There was only one way that I had ever vowed to deal with their ilk, and my fear very quickly gave way to rage as I finished processing the reality of my situation, “…dead. You’re fucking dead!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I renewed struggling against my bonds, “you killed my family you bastards! I’ll gut every last one of you and mount your heads on fucking pikes! I’ll paint the valley red with your blood!”

“She has spirit,” I heard the mare note in an amused tone, “it’ll be a shame to feed her to the radscorpions tomorrow.”

A renewed vein of fear formed when I heard that detail of my intended fate. It seemed that my usefulness to them came with some sort of expiration date. I wasn’t going to let that get to me though. The last thing I needed to do was to give in to fear and despair. Jackboot would be coming for me, and he was going to kill these ponies, and whoever he didn’t kill outright, I would get the moment I was free. I just had to keep my spirits up, and the bravado helped me do just that, “just you try it!” I dared the pair of ponies, “I’ll ripped their stingers off and run you through with them! I will fucking skull fuck you with their tails, just you wait and see!”

“A lot of spirit,” Cestus agreed. I heard somepony walking around very close to me and made every attempt to kick out at where I suspected they were; not that my bonds let me do so very effectively. I was probably doing little more than quivering, “she would produce equally spirited foals, I should think…”

I felt a hoof being traced along my flank and instantly suppressed the terrified thought of what Cestus was implying might become of me beneath renewed oaths of reprisal. I would not give in to the very real and acceptable despair that was threatening to take hold of me should I let my defenses waver for even a moment, “you touch me and I will bite your dick off, you bastard! I swear to Celestia I will crush your testicles into paste and force feed them down your mother’s throat if you try anything!”

As though she hadn’t heard a single thing that I’d said, the mare continued speaking with Cestus, “I’ll consider letting you take her as a brood mare. If I do, she’ll need to be kept muzzled until she learns her place,” I was sent reeling by an abrupt and unexpected strike by a hoof to the side of my jaw. I tasted blood within seconds, “poser talk bores me.”

I spat out the bitter fluids that were seeping into my mouth, “Jackboot’s going to kill all of you when he gets here,” I hoped it sounded more like a genuine fact of future reality than the vain prayer that it felt like as I spoke. At least my voice didn’t break, “you’re all fucking dead!”

“Tell yourself whatever stories you like,” the mare quipped dismissively, “my brother is not nearly so capable as you might think.

“If he was, I wouldn’t be the reining Chief.”

Oh…fuck. I wasn’t in the custody of two random White Hooves, one of them was Jackboot’s sister, Whiplash. This…this was actually really bad. We probably weren’t even just out in the middle of the Wasteland, were we? If she was here, then I was probably sitting in some White Hoof camp or someplace where there would be dozens or hundreds of White Hooves around. A dozen warriors wouldn’t have been a problem for Jackboot and Foxglove, but against as many as there could be here?

I couldn’t give in though. He’d find a way to save me. The things these two were threatening to do to me weren’t going to happen. Jackboot was going to save me, “you don’t know him like I do,” I hissed in the general direction of where I thought the mare was, “he’ll fucking destroy all of you. You’ll see.”

“I look forward to seeing how long it takes you to break,” the mare sighed, “but first we must attend to my tribe.”

Somepony grabbed me and started dragging me along the ground. Even through the blindfold, things got suddenly brighter. The hard scrabble was rough and painful as I was rather unceremoniously taken from where I had woken up. I became suddenly aware that I was not in some small little camp either. I could hear the voices of what sounded like hundreds of other ponies laughing and talking, and those voices were getting louder. After a few minutes, the pony stopped dragging me, and grabbed ahold of me and brought me up onto my bound hooves.

Then I heard a hush draw over the crowd. Our arrival had been noticed. Whiplash began addressing the other ponies, “My noble warriors, today I find myself bringing a mixture of bitter and glad tidings.

“Recently, some of you may have noticed that there was a restructuring of our upper ranks. This was because I learned that they had been deceiving your glorious chief for decades,” I heard the crowd's murmured reactions as Whiplash paused to let the revelation sink in, “they had sworn to me that my brother was dead at their hooves. I learned that this was a falsehood...”

I drowned out the older White Hoof chief, my thoughts turning to more relevant concerns of escape. This was going to be a lot more difficult than I might have originally anticipated if there were really as many ponies around as it seemed like there were. Even if I somehow managed to get out of these chains and out of the tent, getting away without being noticed by too many ponies was going to be nearly impossible. A daytime escape was out of the question; it'd have to be at night if it was going to happen at all.

My thoughts were interrupted by somepony shoving me forward roughly. I was also much more aware of What Whiplash was saying now, “so I was forced to abduct one of his companions to goad that cowardly brother of mine into facing me,” I barely managed to stay on my bound hooves as I hopped forward to be presented to the gathered ponies. Somepony took exception to this, and I was almost immediately tripped and sent to the ground, where I landed with a grunt. Not seeming to be satisfied with this anemic little outburst, a pair of hooves drove down into my chest and I let out a reflexive scream of pain.

“Look at this pathetic little bird that my brother associates with,” Whiplash spat from above me, “probably some Enclaver trash that even they didn’t want anymore,” I heard a roar of cheering and laughter rippled through the crowd, “chances are that he won’t even show up for her, being the coward that he is; and if he does not, then we will simply have to content ourselves with what little entertainment this little bird will provide in the Pit”

I didn't like the sound of that, or the answering cheers from the crowd as they were presented with that bit of news. Somepony grabbed a feather of one of my wings in their teeth, and I yelped as it was ripped away. I felt somepony lean in closer to me. The voice suggested that it was Whiplash this time, “though perhaps we should pluck her first. I’ve always wanted a feathered headdress,” something that felt a lot like one of my feathers brushed against my cheek.

“Wrong...bitch,” I managed to wheeze out quietly. My ribs still ached terribly from where I'd been kicked.

“What did you say to me?!” Whiplash hadn't liked that comment very much. Fine by me.

“You’re…wrong,” I managed a little more loudly this time, “he’ll come for me,” even though I couldn't see where she was, I glared through the blindfold in her direction, “and when he does, you’ll all die!”

My head was roughly snapped back as somepony grabbed my mane. I tried to muffled my pained gasp as much as possible, but I knew that Whiplash had at least heard it, “he’s a coward,” she hissed in my ear, “and he will leave you to die. You’ll know this to be true when my pets are cutting you up into itty-bitty pieces tomorrow morning,” with that, she threw me back to the ground. Then somepony else clamped down on my tail with their teeth and started dragging me away.

“ When my brother doesn’t show up, I’ll be wanting volunteers to go out and track him down,” I heard Whiplash addressing the crowd once more as I was returned to where I had woken up. After a bout a minute of being dragged across the ground, things grew darker again. I felt my tail finally get released, but that sensation was replaced by a hoof now resting uncomfortably upon my flank and gently rubbing back and forth.

I had the feeling of somepony suddenly being very close to my face as warm breath washed against my cheek. Before I could react, something warm and wet was being dragged along the side of my face up towards my ear. I tried to flinch away from it, but there wasn’t really all that much I could do to escape what was happening. Then a set of teeth gently tugged at my ear as a voice whispered, “I will save you from the Pit,” Cestus' voice promised in my ear, yet I found myself feeling no relief for this offer, “and then I will take you tomorrow night, and every night until you finally foal,” he nuzzled up against my cheek, “and then I’ll take you again…”

“Cestus,” Whiplash called from several yards off, “attend to me.”

I felt the stallion pull away, and more loudly say, “yes, mother,” then I heard the sound of a second set of hooves trotting away from my side.

There was the faint sound of fabric rustling, or something similar to it anyway. Distant conversations. My ears were even able to detect the faint crackling of a small fire that must have been burning nearby. It was impossible to know if I was truly alone though, so I remained quiet and still for as long as I could. I wouldn’t dare give any of these bastards the satisfaction of seeing how much they’d gotten to me.

And they had gotten to me. I could spend all day and night lying to them—and I intended to do just that—but there was no way I was going to be able to deny the harsh truth to myself. That truth was that I was terrified. I was surrounded by White Hooves, I had to be. Ponies that got taken into their territory didn’t ever make it back out, that was a known fact of the Neighvada Valley. I was one of those very ponies that they had taken now, and nothing suggested that I was going to be able to beat the odds that were stacked against me.

As much faith as I might have in Jackboot, what could I honestly expect? He was just one pony. Foxglove would surely help him to rescue me if he asked—and she probably didn’t even need to be asked—but even so, what sort of odds could that pair hope to overcome in this sort of situation. We’d made it out of some tight spots before, sure, but this was different, right?

I didn’t want to admit it. I really didn’t. I wanted to believe that Jackboot was on his way here right now with a plan to get me out and kill everypony here. Dear Celestia, I wanted that more than anything in the whole world. I wanted to believe that was how things were going to go. Somehow that was what would happen.

Because the alternative was…it was something I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t want to think about the sorts of things that were reported to happen to ponies that the White Hooves took. I didn’t want to think about what Cestus and Whiplash had talked about where one of my possible fates was concerned. I didn’t want to think about that stallion putting his hooves on me like that, and doing what he promised he would. I didn’t want to bear his foals.

I’d die before I let that happen to me. Somehow I’d find a way to die, if the alternative was giving him the satisfaction of make me the mother of one of his hellspawn.

…Celstia, let me die…

If there was still a goddess watching over the ponies that lived in the Wasteland, then there shouldn’t have been anypony around to see me finally breaking down and crying. It wasn’t loud; I kept my mouth firmly shut to ensure that much at least. I was still crying though, and I couldn’t help it. There was only so much a pony could do to deny reality before they had to accept it. I couldn’t even move right now, what could I possibly do to stop Cestus—or anypony else for that matter—from doing whatever they wanted to me? For that matter, how exactly was I supposed to take my own life?

I was at their mercy, and as much as I could loudly protest otherwise, they knew it and so did I. I was just another White Hoof slave that their tribe had claimed, and I was going to suffer the same fate that any of them had. It’s not like they were new to this concept when it came to taking captives; and I was hardly the first who’d defied them, I imagined. If they were confident I’d lose my resolve, then who was I to question their experience in such matters?

So I cried.

I’m sorry, Jackboot. I fucked up. You told me to stay away from Cestus, and I didn’t, and now here I am. You knew something was up, and I didn’t listen. Maybe you didn’t know that he was actually a White Hoof, because I’m pretty sure you’d have killed him if you had, but you knew something was off. I was stupid, and I let the fact that he looked so much like you cloud my judgement. It was just supposed to be a little bit of harmless flirting. Maybe there would have been something more than flirting in a day or two, but nothing serious, I swear.

He’d just looked so much like you…

You stupid, stupid, little mare. Bloatsprites have more brains than you do. You spent the last—how many years? Three? Throwing yourself at the older earth pony stallion, and it never occurred to you to stop and think about why that might not have been a great idea. Did you really think he’d been completely oblivious to all your little hints? A stallion like him has been around long enough to see the signs and know what they meant. Rubbing up on him, doing up you hooves and hair for him, putting on pretty clothes…of course he knew what you were trying to do!

He was just trying to be nice and let you take the hint.

But no, you had to come right out and kiss him and try to fucking seduce him openly! Then he tells you ‘no’, like he hasn’t been trying to get you to look elsewhere for years, and you rebound onto the next piece of flank that you see because he ‘looks like Jackboot’. That didn’t mean that Cestus was going to be anything at all like Jackboot though, did it? You thought with you hind quarters, ignored the stallion that knew better, and now you were royally fucked.

You know what was even worse than that? Jackboot probably really was going to try and save you. You know that, right? He’s going to try and save you, and he’s going to fail because not even he’s that good. He’s going to fail, and he’s going to die, and Foxglove is probably going to die too—or worse, end up like you—and it’s going to be all. You’re. Fault.

You just killed everypony in the whole world that cares about you.

Congratulations, hero. What do you call this move?

There needed to be a level beyond crying, so that I couldn’t finally stop. If somepony came by and saw me like this…

“Don’t let them see that.”

The sudden sound of a pony talking brought my current train of thought to an abrupt halt. Oh, Celestia, no! They can’t know that they’d already broken me like this, not after all of the talking I’d been doing!

“It’s worse if they know. Trust me.”

Wait…whoever this pony—mare from the sound of things—was, she wasn’t talking to me like she was a White hoof. Unless there were members of their tribe who felt sympathy for ponies in my position, which I very much doubted was the case. Another captive then? I still didn’t really know where I was. It was possible that there were a whole bunch of other ponies around me. Though I imagined that I would have heard so telltale sign of that by now.

“Who are you?”

“A friend,” the mare replied in a kind tone, “a pony who knows what it’s like to find herself in this place; and what you must be feeling.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” he words grew a little sadder now, “it’s going to get bad; but you can survive it. I’ve been here almost ten years now, and I’m not a very strong pony, myself. If I can endure, so can you.”

“Kill me,” I croaked, “please, just kill me. I won’t let them use me like that!”

There was silence for a long while, “I’m sorry,” she barely whispered, “like I said, I’m not a very strong pony. I promise you, you can bare it.”

“I don’t want to bare it,” I hissed, feeling tear streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t want to die, not really, but I didn’t want to let Cestus do what he promised even more, “I don’t want to give that bastard any foals! Help me die, please…”

I felt somepony near me now. I flinched at first, since the last contact I’d had was anything but comfortable. However, I could sense already that this was the mare who was talking to me, and that this was anything but malicious in nature. A comforting leg was draped over my neck, and I felt myself being pulled into a gentle embrace. I let myself be taken in, and wept into the mare’s neck, leaning in as far as I could into the comfort she was offering.

A hundred distant memories of being comforted by my mother back on the ranch flooded into me, and I was forced to use the mare as a means to muffle my sobbing, “let it all out,” she cooed softly, rocking me gently, “let it out. There we go.”

“Please don’t let it happen,” I pleaded, “please…”

“It’s not happening to you, little one,” the mare assured me, speaking like one who knew such matters, “it’s happening to somepony else, and you’re just there. It’s not happening to you.”

This was so stupid. I'm a grown mare who's faced down hordes of ghouls, monsters, and murderous raiders. Now look at me. Here I am crying into some strange mare's chest like I'm some little filly who'd just heard thunder for the first time and nothing was going to be able to convince me that the world wasn't ending. Much like my mother had back then, this mare was doing all that she could to sooth me. Unfortunately, she wasn't having nearly as much luck.

My world really was ending, after all.

I was grateful that she kept trying though. This strange mare didn't have to do that for me. It may not do anything to change what was going to happen to me, but it was a single happy thought that I was able to fiercely latch onto. Even as deep within a White Hoof den as I was, there were still good ponies here.

“Thank you,” I said softly. The worst of my grief was starting to pass, and the outward signs had finally ebbed enough for me to begin to bring them under control once again. I should be able to put back on a hard facade when Cestus and that other mare returned.

The mare nuzzled me gently, “I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to give you what you're asking for, little breezy,” she replied, a note of regret in her voice. My ear twitched at her comment and I started to pull away as my mind worked to grasp why the words had triggered a reaction in me, “I've seen enough killing in this world. I can't bring myself to add to it.”

I felt her start to get up, presumably in order to resume whatever duties had brought her here in the first place. I tracked her position as best I could and even reached out a hoof to try and keep her attention, “what...what did you call me?”

There was silence for a long moment, then I heard the mare answer with audible embarrassment, “sorry. It just slipped out. It was nothing.”

“No, you...” my mind whirled and flew about as it sifted through a hundred memories that hadn't come to the forefront of my thoughts in over a decade, “you said, 'little breezy',” it was impossible. This was some perverted dream that I was having as my brain tried to deal with what was happening to me. The whole ordeal felt like some horrific nightmare, but I knew full well how tragically real my peril was. This, however, this whole encounter could well be a hallucination. After all, I'd only ever heard that phrase uttered by one pony during the entirety of my lifetime.

It couldn't be, “...Ma...?”

The was deafening silence. For several long seconds, I began to doubt that there ever had been a second pony in the room, and that everything just now really had been a product of my imagination. Please, Celestia, don't let this be a dream anymore. Let it be her...

Then, finally, “...Windfall?”

I'd cried out all of my grief and anguish already. My eyes still burned with the effort, and I could feel that my cheeks were damp. My body had no more tears to lend me now. Which was okay, because I wasn't feeling overwhelmed by sadness. This time, it was happiness.

I found myself gathered up in another, tighter, embrace as the mare rushed back and wrapped her hooves around me. She was crying too this time around, and I could feel that her tears were more than making up for my own dried eyes. Both of us were caught up in the same strange mixture of sorrow and joy that was difficult to put into meaningful words. We’d found each other, impossibly, after so many years having gone by with no real thought given to ever seeing each other again. Yet, as much as both of us might be relishing this dream come true, neither of us could shake the shadow that hovered over the location where this meeting had come to pass.

...Because I know they don't want to see you! Your mother doesn't want to see some White Hoof stallion plowing her precious little filly while you wail for him to stop!

Those had been the words that Jackboot had long ago said to me when we’d discussed ever finding my family again. As my mother held me, I could sense that she was truly fighting back that bitterness even now. She’d found her long lost daughter; and that daughter was a slave of the White Hooves destined to suffer a heinous fate no matter what the morning brought with it.

The darkness was lifted from my eyes as the blindfold was slipped off, and I was finally permitted to see my surroundings. Most of them were obscured by the teal unicorn mare with an ivory mane who was holding me close and peppering me with kisses and tears. It broke my heart to see her now. My mental image had always been of the beautiful and happy mare who had cared for me and my elder brother. Even in the heart of the Wasteland, she had managed to keep both herself and our home looking neat and tidy. It was as though the desolation had simply passed her by.

Looking upon her now, her body told a tale of suffering and woe. Scars littered her hide and testified to all manner of injuries and abuses from cuts to burns to what even looked like pieces of her hide that had been outright flayed off. I knew that my own coat was hardly without blemish from my own hard years, but they were nothing compared to the beleaguered state of the unicorn holding me now.

Her features were drawn and exhausted. Her mane had lost much of its remembered volume and was now a wispy mess. Her tail was gnarled and filthy. Even her cutie mark looked to have been ravaged by her tenure here. The once brilliant dollop of whipped cream was cut up and faded to the point where it looked like it might have been no more than some additional grime marring her flesh.

Around her neck was a contraption of steel and wires that was visibly biting into her flesh. A red light glowed on one side of it. I recognized the device for what it was, though I had only rarely ever seen them with my own eyes: a slave collar. A band of explosives that was designed to keep captive ponies compliant by using the constant threat of a sudden and violent decapitation should they put a hoof too far out of line. My mother looked to have been wearing one for a great many years, as I could make out bits of flesh around the top and bottom of the collar where teal fur no longer even bothered to grow anymore.

It was probably just a matter of coming to a final decision regarding my own long-term fate before I was wearing one of them too.

Finally it looked like she was getting herself under control again, and she pulled back slightly to regard me with blue eyes that could have been my own. These too were not the dancing orbs full of joy that I had known as a young filly. Time and tragedy had dulled them, and they were tinged with grief as that beheld me now in the state that I was in.

“Oh, Windfall…”

I’d never before heard two words that had been so full of regret. Her face insisted that she was doing everything in her power to look reassuring and glad to see me, but she had not been prepared for this. Passing comfort to a stranger, that she could muster the stoicism to offer; but for her own flesh and blood whom she had assumed was safe and far from horrors like these? She was helpless in the face of that.

“Ma, I…” what could I say? Did I apologize for doing this to her? It was my fault that I was a prisoner here. Is that what she wanted to hear out of me after all these years? No. Grief and sadness were already in sufficient supply right now. After the better part of a decade, my mother deserved something more than that, “I hope this was a good time to visit.”

I’d even almost made it all the way through without my voice catching in my throat. Almost. The last two words had to be croaked out, and I was pretty sure the false smile I tried so hard to keep in place was trembling rather blatantly. A joke. A joke was the best that I could do for her, and that somehow hurt me even more deep down.

At least I could see that flash of mirth in her own eyes. It was so brief and fleeting. Maybe I’d even only imagined it, in the end. Still, it was an image that I could latch onto. That fraction of a second when she didn’t look like she was grieving for a foal that she had just lost. I wasn’t dead yet, after all. In fact, if ever I’d felt a renewed determination to get out of here alive, this was that time. I was going to survive this, somehow, and I was going to save her life too.

The ‘how’s’ of all of that were immaterial. It was going to happen. Celestia as my witness, it was going to happen!

“Maybe a letter next time.”

I snorted. I didn’t even mind the snot that began running down my nose as a result. Her sense of humor had remained intact; or she was just doing it all for my sake. I hardly cared. It had helped me all the same. The unicorn reached out and wiped away the tendrils of nose goo. Then she proceeded to start fussing with the rest of my face and my mane. It was like I was her little filly again and we were back home on the ranch.

“You’re mane’s so short,” she commented, “I miss the curls. You were so pretty with the curls,” she gently brushed her hoof through my mane.

“I didn’t have you to brush them anymore,” I said through a wan smile. My surroundings disappeared for the moment, and I was back at the ranch, sitting in my room while my mother played with new styles in my mane and then I’d do the same for her. Pa never noticed when we came back downstairs with the new styles. Ma said that was just how stallions were, “and the wind just kept blowing everything back when I flew.”

“You’re flying now?” the unicorn gushed, “really flying? Of course you are,” she was combing down the fur on my shoulders now, “you’re all grown up. You’re not my ‘little breezy’ anymore, I guess.”

“I’ll always be your ‘little breezy’, Ma,” I assured her.

She smiled more broadly at that. She fussed with the downy mixture of feathers and fur on my chest, brushing out some of the grit that had settled there, “you’ve grown into such a beautiful mare,” she cooed, and then glanced at me with prying eyes, “I bet you’re beating the stallions off with a stick!”

I blushed now, “Ma…”

“I was young once too,” she insisted, “I know how they are. Your pa was that worst of the lot, let me tell you…”

I knew we were both pretending now. We kept the conversation light and focused so that we didn’t have to remember where we were. It was all just a fabrication of course, and it couldn’t last forever. I wanted it to so much though. I wanted to forever live in this moment and pretend like the last ten years hadn’t happened. In this fantasy world that I was building in my head, we’d both been safe and sound this whole time. I was visiting after a few years away finding my fortune in the Wasteland. Now we were just catching up like nothing had happened to us.

It couldn’t last forever, of course. One of us would have to be the first to break the illusion, and I decided that it was going to be me. So when my mother finished regaling me with the story of my father’s first courting attempts, I let my features adopt a more serious appearance, “are the others okay?”

I saw my mother wince at my question, and her sadness at the knowledge that our little reverie was at an end. She bowed her head, “your pa was killed in the fighting,” she said quietly, “and Holstein…” she swallowed, “…they made him fight in the arena.”

There was little need for me to ask for specifics about how that fight had gone. The results were clear on her face. This unicorn had seen two members of her family die, and now she was convinced that she’d have to witness her daughter’s fate all well. I’d asked her to end my own life just minutes ago before I’d known who she was. Now, I found a renewed sense of purpose. She wasn’t going to have to see me die. More than that, I was going to save her somehow.

I’d killed hundreds of raiders and monsters. I was a more capable fighter than half the ponies in the White Hooves, I bet. I’d killed several of their warriors just the other night, with hardly any trouble at all. All I needed to do was to bide my time for that opportune moment. Then I’d strike hard, fast, and without mercy.

There were going to be indignities to bear until that time came, I was certain of that. Cestus was probably going to have a run at me a few times until he’d let down his guard enough for me to seize my chance. If I could be strong though, and not give in…

“I’m going to get you out of here,” I told her. Unlike so much else I’d said to reassure her so far, I was very grateful that nothing in my tone wavered in the slightest.

The teal unicorn looked taken aback by my statement. She searched my expression, looking for any sign that I was just trying to make her feel better, and when she didn’t find anything, she shook her head, “Windfall…if they catch you trying something…”

She didn’t want to lose her last child. It wasn’t that she wanted to see me suffer, but if her only choice was that or watching me die too…

“They won’t,” I assured her with a sharp nod of my head and a determined expression. I nodded back towards my flank, “I’ve been in worst situations,” that might have been stretching the truth just a bit. I’d been in marginally similar situations perhaps, but nothing that had felt quite this dire, “I can get us out of here.”

My mother peered around and her eyes caught sight of my cutie mark. She studied the heart that was framed in a pair of silver wings and bisected by a raised sword. The mark of a pony who had developed a talent for killing. There was another hint of regret in her eyes. That wasn’t the sort of mark that she’d hoped for any of her foals. Her eyes went back to mine and after a brief moment, she allowed herself to smile and issue a nod. It was a sad, fleeting, smile this time, “I know you can.”

I could see in her eyes that she didn’t really believe that I could do it, though a part of her surely wanted to think otherwise. That was okay. It wasn’t like I had any clear plan in mind on how to fulfill my promise just now.

Her head whipped around suddenly, as though she had heard something. My own ears twitched in an effort to find anything amiss. There weren’t any sounds that I heard that seemed out of place, but something had spooked my mother all the same. Her face was a mask of uncertainty and hesitation. Then, with obvious reluctance, she reached a decision and stood up. Her hoof lingered on my face as she did so, “I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” she assured me.

“Just remember: I’ll always be here for you,” fresh tears glistened in the corner of her eyes, “no matter what happens.”

That actually made me feel better, knowing that I wasn’t going to have to go through it all alone. Maybe I would be able to stand it after all. It wouldn’t be forever. Just long enough for me to find that moment I needed to get the both of us away from here and to safety.

This was assuming that Jackboot and Foxglove didn’t find some miraculous way to stage a rescue, of course. Jackboot was capable, and the violet unicorn mare was creative. Maybe they would come through after all, and when they did I would be ready to help in any way that I could. Then the four of us could get away.

Perhaps I was being overly optimistic. Perhaps. I just didn’t want to let go of this newfound optimism. Not when I’d just made such a wonderful discovery in the form of my long lost mother.

It would work out. I’d make it work out.

My mother hadn't been gone for more than a minute before somepony else came into the tent. I noticed immediately that it couldn't have been the same pair that had previously left it. Cestus wasn't among them. It was some yellow mare with a really dark gray mane, and with her was a pony that I doubted could have even been a White Hoof at all. While the mare was painted up in an incomprehensible number of the strange glyphs, the stallion with her bore none at all.

More than that, I could see an indentation on his neck that was indicative of long term wear of something that was remarkably similar in size and shape to the collar that my mother had been wearing. He looked rather gaunt and underfed as well. A slave, I supposed, but it was interesting that his collar had been taken off.

The yellow mare was smiling at him for some reason, but her smile faded rather quickly when she looked in my direction. I froze as I realized that I was not precisely the way that I had been left earlier. My blindfold had been taken off by my mother, but she hadn't replaced it before leaving. Was that going to cause trouble for her if this mare realized it had been the teal unicorn mare that had removed it?

The yellow mare watched me fr a few silent seconds while the stallion shifted awkwardly beside her. Then she seemed to reach some conclusion of her own and shrugged. Her attention went to the stallion, “sorry, love, where were we?” the hairs on the back of my neck bristled as I recognized the voice as belonging to the other pony that Cestus had been talking with earlier. Whiplash, “ah, yes, you’re acceptance into the tribe,” the mare purred as she walked deeper into the tent, the stallion keeping pace behind her. His own expression was an interesting mixture of trepidation and excitement. It was very obvious what type of excitement he was experiencing to.

There was also a bit of confusion that crept into his expression when he saw me. He paused mid-step and was looking between me and the other mare, his mouth hanging slightly agape as though he was about to ask a question. The mare noticed what was going on and whipped her tail up to wrap it around his neck and give him a subtle tug, “no, she’d not for you, sweetie. You’re all mine tonight.”

Well, that was a…relief? While I was grateful not be have been included in the night’s activities, I wasn’t exactly keen on being the sole member of an unwilling audience either. At first, I even managed to maintain enough self-control to keep my head facing towards the entrance to the tent and ignore everything that was going on by the bed. I could still hear everything of course.

It wasn’t like I wanted to watch the two of them go at it.

It was just very distracting to be hearing what was going on and being forced to come up with my own visuals when the spectacle itself was only a slight head-turn away.

“I’m going to need you to prove to me that you’re a stallion worthy of being a White Hoof,” the mare was telling him as the headed for the bed, “I was pretty sure I already saw something special in you, or I wouldn’t have brought you this far. I just need you to show me I was right about you, hmm?”

“Y-yes, Great Chieftess,” the stallion stammered.

“Good,” the mare turned away from him and laid herself down comfortably on the pile of bedding. She flicked her tail up and out of the way and peered back at the stallion, “why don’t you start by paying your Chieftess some real lip service, and then maybe I’ll let you get to the good part.”

The stallion nodded and bent down behind her. The mare crossed her forelegs and rested her head upon them as she took up a relaxed pose. Every once in a while I saw her inhale a little sharply or bite her lip and let out a soft moan of contentment. She stretched out her hooves and bound them up in some of the blankets, drawing them in closer to her as the stallion went on as she had directed him to.

I, ever the virgin despite some not-so-subtle hint dropping with Jackboot, didn’t have a whole lot—or any—personal experience to draw on when it came to what the mare was experiencing right now. There’d been more than a few nights where I’d played ‘sticky hooves’ and there even been that one tryst with a Wild Pegasus bottle; but nothing like that with another pony. The most I’d let Cestus do was feel me us a little; and that memory had been thoroughly soured, so I was content to be of a mind that it had never happened at all.

It did sound like she was enjoying herself though. I hadn’t made any of those sounds during a solo performance, anyway. Maybe I could give jackboot another pass when I got out of here. Even if he’d taken sex off the table, I might still be able to talk him into something like what that stallion was doing now. A little liquor might be needed at first, but that was what it was for, right? I could even ask Foxglove what she’d done to bring him around…

“Good, boy,” the yellow mare groaned, “that’s a very good boy,” her tail teased around below the stallion’s neck and encouraged him to look up, where she met his gaze, “I think it’s time for the main event, don’t you?”

“Of course, Great Chieftess,” the stallion smiled, obvious encouraged to hear that she was pleased with his efforts. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hoof and crawled up onto the bed over her.

The mare arched her back slightly and craned her head around to give him a tender peck on the cheek. Then she buried her face in the sheets that she’d gathered up and gasped as the stallion made his way inside her. This was getting to be a bit much for me, honestly. There were a lot of conflicting emotions. I mean, I hated this bitch for what she and her son had done to me and were planning for Jackboot. Never mind what had happened to my mother and the rest of my family. I wanted her dead, at all costs.

Of course, I was also feeling a little turned on despite all of that. For fuck’s sake, why did she get some while I couldn’t?! I’d spent over a year dropping hints on Jackboot, and most of them hadn't exactly been very subtle, in my opinion. Rubbing up on him, making my hooves and mane look nice for him, dressing up in sexy dresses; everything I could think of, but that damn stallion was like a fucking gelding or something!

Then Foxglove shows up and suddenly starts telling me how I should keep away from ‘stallions like Jackboot’. I didn’t know what that had meant at the time, but then the whole White Hoof thing had happened. Yeah, that had hurt pretty badly, but I’d gotten over it eventually.

I’d thought my dreams were finally coming true back in McMaren. Then come to find out it hadn’t even been him. I’d felt so embarrassed. Foxglove and the real Jackboot had found me before anything super serious could get underway, so there was that. Still, whatever the mare equivalent of blue balls was; I’d had a major case of it that night.

Foxglove had gotten really heavy on the ‘stay away from Jackboot’ rhetoric recently though. I mean, I thought it had just been because she’d had bad experiences with stallions, and I got that. Still, Jackboot wasn’t that kind of pony. I’d known him for years, and he’d never done anything at all like that with a mare. He wasn’t that kind of pony anymore. So finally I’d just right out and told him.

He shot me down in flames worse than those raiders had, and that hurt; but at least I’d tried. I even had hope for the future, kind of. He didn’t want to fool around because he felt like I was his daughter, and I guess I kind of understand that. But, that just meant that all I needed to do was make him stop seeing me as a little filly he needed to look after, and more like a mare he could go after. It might take time, but I could wait for him.

I mean, I at least knew that he liked mares and not stallions. I’ll admit I’d been worried it was like that. Then I’d caught him with Foxglove back at the stable and suddenly a lot of what she’d been saying to me made sense. She hadn’t hated stallions; she’d just been trying to get at Jackboot herself. I wasn’t mad at her for that—well, maybe a little—because I knew he was a good catch. I could understand that. She’d just have to enjoy it while she could though, because I’d been here first, and I was going to win out in the end.

I wasn’t the type of mare who’d be up for sharing either.

Someday, Jackboot would be doing to me what that stallion was doing to the yellow mare on that bed, and I’d be where she was, enjoying myself. I’d have my sweaty face buried in the sheets panting for him to keep on going. I’d be the one screaming into the mattress so I didn’t wake everypony else up. I’d be the one with a knife clutched in my teeth as I—wait, what?!

In a rather jarring change of mood, I watched in horror as the yellow mare lifted her head from the sheets, an intimidating serrated blade clutched in her teeth. Her eyes weren’t filled with a lust for love-making. I knew that expression well. I’d worn that expression. She was out for blood.

The stallion had no idea what was coming. He was wrapped up in the moment, thrusting into the mare with his head turned off to the side away from her weapon. The first hint he got that anything was amiss was when the jagged edge of the blade was sawing through his throat. I didn’t even have time to yell out any sort of warning, the surprise had caused me to hesitate so long.

He was reeling now, throwing himself away from the knife-wielding mare. It was too late, of course. Torrents of blood were flowing out of the wide gash that the mare had opened. He tried to stanch the bleeding, but it was a completely futile gesture, and the blood just continued to pour around his hooves. His attempts to scream for help resulted in little more than choked gurgles that propagated bubbling spurts of blood out through the open wound in his throat.

Eventually, he stumbled and collapsed to the ground, gasping and gargling as he writhed there. All the while, the mare stood up on the bed, the knife still held firm in her teeth, as she watched him bleed to death. When the last of his quivering he ceased, and it became very obvious that he was dead, the yellow mare stepped down from the bed and walked over to where the body lay.

What I had just borne witness to was one of the most disturbing things that I’d ever seen, and yet it didn’t prepare me for what came next. I watched in horrified fascination as the mare straddled the fresh corpse and leaned down next to his ear, as though she was going to whisper to him. Then that was exactly what she started doing, all the while one of her hooves was tucked beneath her. I couldn’t hear everything that was said, but from what I was able to piece together, she had more serious ‘daddy issues’ than I could ever have conceived of.

And I should know!

Despite having had the use of a genuine stallion, the mare took matters into her own hooves to finish up and then rolled off of the corpse. She very calmly trotted over to her vanity and sat herself down on her haunches, “you can clean up now!” she called out as she picked up a brush and started to run it through her mane.

Two painted warriors immediately burst into the tent and trotted over to where the body lay. They didn’t balk or hesitate for even a second. This, none of this, was anything new to them. One of them was even carrying a fresh pelt across his back to replace the one that the stallion had bled all over. The other brought in fresh bed linens. How often did this sort of thing happen to where this pony’s guards had the routine down pat?! What kind of psycho was she!

“You killed him,” I heard myself say.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I did,” She picked up a towel and started wiping away the blood that had gotten splattered onto her coat when she'd opened up the other pony's neck.

“...why?”

It wasn't as though I was expecting to hear that the other pony had been in way deserving of his fate. He'd obviously been some slave of theirs that she'd enticed into her bed with the promise of freedom. Why anypony needed to entice a slave to do anything was beyond me though. As I understood the concept, you just said something and they did it. That was how the relationship worked.

“Because I can't have anypony around in this tribe who has dominated me in any way,” was her bored reply, “but a mare still has needs.”

Was I supposed to pretend that made any sense to me? Given the compromising position I'd caught Foxglove and Jackboot in earlier, I knew there were ways to go about getting in a good rut where the mare didn't look 'dominated'; but I wasn't about to argue with this particular brand of crazy. This was how she went about getting herself off. It was sick and it freaked me out; but I guess it worked for her?

“Cestus wants me to let you live if I get Jackboot,” the mare said in a conversational tone, as though nothing at all had happened that might have put the mood in the tent off recently, “I don’t think he’s actually taken a fancy to you, you understand; he just wants to hurt something my brother cares about.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way,” she shrugged, “but I’m not unreasonable. It’s not like I’m a monster or anything,” was…she being serious right now, or was this some weird White Hoof brand of sarcasm? I genuinely couldn’t tell, “so I’m willing to just outright kill you, if you’d prefer.”

I blinked. It…might have been sarcasm? Hesitantly, I replied, “so, my choices are death or…?”

“Bearing Cestus’ foals until you either die in foaling, or until he thinks it’d be more entertaining to feed you to the radscorpions, or until he gets tired of you and passes you off to the rest of the tribe for whatever they feel like doing to you,” was the casual response I received, as though we might have been talking about a bar’s drink selection, “but I’m willing to just kill you now, if you’d prefer?”

“Do I have to decide now, or can I sleep on it?”

The mare cracked a smile, “you have until noon tomorrow, provided my brother doesn't show up. I promised the tribe a show in lieu of an execution,” she chuckled, “though they rarely see a difference between the two.”

“A show?”

“In the pit. They do so enjoy watching ponies get ripped to pieces by the radscorpions,” she tapped her chin with a thoughtful hoof, “I think it's the betting aspect. They'll bet on anything: how long a pony screams, how big the pieces will be, whether it's a hind or foreleg that gets chopped off first, that sort of thing,” she turned and looked me over, “I can only imagine what your wings are going to do to the odds when it comes to the losing limbs bets...”

Awesome. It didn't do a whole lot for my nerves that the earth pony was saying all of this with very little sign of any actual malice. It was like somepony talking about how cloudy it was going to be tomorrow. Here she was, talking about killing her brother and feeding me to monsters, and it was....just business to her somehow. It was a part of her schedule that had been marked right after waking up and taking a shower.

I really did not like White Hooves.

The mare finished cleaning herself off and walked back over to the bed and its fresh linens. She stifled a yawn and crawled onto it, “goodnight little pegasus. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning,” she proceeded to make herself comfortable.

How the fuck was I supposed to sleep after any of this?! She didn't seem to have a whole lot of trouble though. It was minutes before she was snoring softly in her bed, leaving me the lone conscious pony in the tent.

How sleep had found me, I doubt I’d ever really understand. I wouldn’t have thought that it would be possible with all that I had to think about. Between being captured by White hooves, finding my mother, and realizing that it was Jackboot’s psychotic sister that had possession of me, I should have found it impossible to get any rest at all tonight. Perhaps it was the result of there still being some traces of whatever Cestus had used to drug me before still remaining in my body.

Whatever the cause of my slumber, there was less uncertainty regarding what had roused me the next morning. Somepony was making a boisterous racket outside. They sounded as though they were a fair distance from the tent that I was in though. It was far enough that I was having trouble making out exactly what was being said; but they were loud enough that I could tell it wasn’t anything pleasant. There was also something vaguely familiar about it, but I was too groggy to put my hoof on it quite this minute.

Whiplash seemed to hear it as well.

"Oh, for Celestia's sake," the mare seethed as she rolled out of her bed and slowly made her way to the tent's entrance, "what is going on out there? Cestus!"

The younger stallion appeared very quickly, so much so that I doubted he was actually reacting to his mother's summons. It was far more likely that he had already been on his way to tell her about the disturbance, "Mother, it's Jackboot, he's in the camp!"

"What?" the yellow earth pony screamed, "how did he get past the sentries?!"

"I don't know," her son grimaced, but he's doing a lot of talking, and a lot of the warriors look like they're listening to what he has to say..."

The mare paled slightly, and she looked very worried for a brief moment. Then her features hardened once more and she shoved her way past the stallion, "come, we'll deal with this if the rest of these fucking morons are too stupid to do anything about it. Go get me some paint..."

I watched the yellow mare leave. Only when she was gone did I allow myself to cease suppressing the feelings of elation that were welling up within me. Jackboot was here! He’d come, and had somehow even managed to survive long enough to make it into the center of the White Hoof camp and issue a challenge to his sister. I didn’t know what his plan exactly was, but I trusted that he had one. I just needed to make certain that I was ready to help out when the moment came.

That meant getting myself out of these chains, I supposed. A task that was far easier said than done. There seemed to be only the single lock, but I didn’t have any way to get through it. Even if I had the tools and knowledge necessary, the angle would have been too awkward for me to reliably pick it. Maybe if I squirmed the right way I could manage to slip out of them? It was worth a shot…

I flexed and writhed on the ground in every conceivable direction that I could think of. I tried moving all six of my appendages singularly and in various combinations as I tested out how much play existed in the metal links that were wrapped around me. I could feel them move ever so slightly when I curled up in specific ways, but it wasn’t nearly enough for me to achieve any degree of freedom.

The more I moved without making any additional progress, the more frustrated I became. I had to be able to do something; Jackboot was going to need me any minute!

A sudden flurry of movement at the tent’s entrance caught my attention and I looked in that direction as I grew immediately still. The breath I didn’t realize that I’d been holding released when I caught sight of a teal unicorn mare coming inside, “Ma!” she might be just the help I needed to get out of here.

“There’s somepony out there challenging the Chieftess to a fight,” my mother said breathlessly, “nearly everypony’s gone to watch.”

“That’s Jakboot,” I informed her, “he’s a friend. Get me out of these chains and I think we can all get out of here!”

“A friend?” she looked bewildered for a long moment, and then a flicker of hope appeared in her features though it was heavily shadowed by doubt, “he’s so outnumbered…”

“Foxglove can’t be far away,” I assured her, and explained further at her confused look, “she’s another friend. Come on, we might not have a lot of time. I need to get free!”

The mare hurried over and began to tug and pull at my restraints. They hardly budged at all though, despite my own efforts to aid her by contorting myself. After nearly a minute of fruitless efforts, I finally let out an exasperated groan. We were so close to being able to get out of here! I refused to let a simple chain stand in the way of it all.

I flopped on the floor, grinding my teeth in frustration. Then my eyes found Whiplash’s vanity, and I recalled the sight of the file that the mare had been using on her hooves the previous night. That might be just the sort of thing that we needed. I looked at my mother and threw my head in the direction of the small dresser, “Ma, there’s a file over there! Get it and use it on the lock!”

The teal mare looked up and I saw her horn start to glow blue. A second later the metal file was at her side and she applied it to the lock. The sound of grinding metal filled the air and I could already see a thin gouge forming beneath the hurried oscillations of the file.

It was happening. It would take time, but I’d be free soon enough, and then my mother and I could make an escape! We’d need to find Foxglove before we went too far so that the mechanically inclined unicorn could remove my mother’s slave collar, but that was hardly any sort of consideration. We were going to get out of here!

“You see,” I said with a broad grin, “I told you I’d get you out of here.”

My mother offered a refreshingly genuine smile in return, “really? Because it looks like I’m the one rescuing you right now.”

I laughed despite myself. That was a rather fair observation, I guess. I was going to make a reply when the words caught in my throat. My eyes were riveted on the tent’s entrance, and the brown stallion standing there. His expression chilled me to my very core. He didn’t look upset or angry like one might expect of somepony who’d stumbled across an escape attempt. Rather, he looked…excited.

He surged forward.

Too late, I found my voice, “Ma, behind you, watch out!”

I didn’t know what I was expecting of the unicorn. She wasn’t a fighter to any extent. Old and beaten as she was, the teal mare was hardly in any sort of shape to move quickly and avoid the younger earth pony stallion’s attack. All that she managed to do was turn around just in time to catch one of Cestus’ hooves across her face. This was followed up by a savage kick from his hind leg that sent the unicorn mare tumbling to the ground. The file feel to the ground in front of me as my mother’s magic hold of it was broken by the blows.

Cestus glared at the unicorn as she moaned on the ground, not even making any move to get back on her hooves, “what do we have here?” he cooed in a dangerous tone as he circled around the offending mare, “did one of our slaves forget her place?”

He lashed out with another kick. I cringed at the echoing crack of several snapping ribs. My mother cried out in pain, “you should know better!” he snarled at the whimpering pony, “what could have made you think, for a moment, that was a good idea?”

I saw him rise up on his hind legs in preparation to bring down a strike on my mother that I was terrified might kill her. For a moment, I completely forgot myself and cried out, “Ma!”

There had been no helping it. I was a little filly for a brief moment that was about to watch her mother be killed by a White Hoof. I’d seen that happen to my family once before. Never again, please, Celestia!

My cry seemed to be enough to stay Cestus’ hooves, for the moment. He lowered himself to the ground and cast a curious eye in my direction as he processed what I had said. Then he looked back to the unicorn on the ground in front of him, and I saw a whicked smile spread across his face, “oh, ho ho ho…you can’t be serious?” He paced around the mare once more, looking between her and myself, “what are the chances…you two are related?”

I bit my lip and restrained myself from making any additional comment. Perhaps my previous outburst had saved her life, but I doubted very much that there was anything that I could say that would improve either the situation for my mother or myself any further. I merely glared defiantly at the brown earth pony in silence. He didn’t seem to require any additional confirmation though.

“This is too perfect,” he chuckled as he neared me, “Mother will have to let me keep you now,” the stallion mused. He ran his hoof along my cheek, and I forced myself to not flinch at his touch. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. Cestus didn’t seem to mind though. He caressed my lips and then pulled away as he headed back towards my mother. It suddenly became a lot harder to keep myself composed.

“I’ll ask her to give me this one too. What better way to keep both of you in line?” he glanced in my direction even as he got closer to the teal unicorn, “you’re going to let me do all sorts of things to you, aren’t you? You’re going to be a nice little brood mare…aren’t you?”

I maintained my silence, even as I felt myself filling with dread. What he was saying didn’t mean anything, because Jackboot and Foxglove were going to save both of us any minute now. All I had to do was whatever it took to keep us both alive until that moment arrived.

“When I ask you a question, you’re supposed to say, ‘yes, Master’,” Cestus growled.

The loss of a little dignity was a small price to pay for the little time that I needed to buy, “yes, Master,” I even managed to not spit the words out and antagonize the stallion further. Play nice, Windfall, for just a little while…

“Good girl,” he nodded approvingly. Then he looked back at my mother, “and you’ll behave from now on too, won’t you?”

“Y-yes, Master,” the unicorn coughed out in a far meeker tone. She’d been doing this for longer than I had after all.

Cestus looked between us once again, and then his smile somehow broadened even further, “this is a unique opportunity I have here,” he purred, “I get to find out exactly how much like daughter the mother is…”

He glanced back outside and thought for a moment. His ears cocked as he listened. Mine followed suit. Ponies were cheering and jeering at something. The stallion’s features creased briefly, “it won’t be much longer…” he looked at the prone unicorn, “…but I have time for one of you,” he sneered at the mare.

Before I could wonder exactly what he meant by that, I saw him roll my mother over roughly onto her back. She gasped as the movement aggravated her injuries, but she didn’t fight him. After nearly a decade in servitude to the White Hooves, I had to wonder if my mother could even summon up the will to resist them anymore. As I watched, I saw that she wasn’t merely offering no resistance, she was actively complying with what Cestus was intending. I suppose she had long ago learned what the stallion was after when he did this to her.

Keeping silent became a lot more difficult now as I watched the brown stallion mount my mother right before my eyes. I had to fervently remind myself that anything protest that I offered, any oaths I swore out loud, would only cause the unicorn greater grief. I had to maintain a stoic exterior. I didn’t even dare to look away, lest Cestus witness my discomfort and take pleasure in it. It was likely he’d derive pleasure from my watching him do this to my mother, but it felt like the least amount of gratification that I could give him nonetheless.

What hurt worse than seeing him do this to her was seeing and hear her seeming to enjoy herself. I couldn’t hardly believe that was the case. Had my mother been so indoctrinated by her time here that she’d allowed herself to grow to appreciate her captors in that way? I didn’t want to think that could be the case, but the evidence to the contrary was right there in front of me as the older teal unicorn cooed encouragements to the stallion grunting on top of her.

She had her hooves wrapped gently around him and nibbling on his neck as she gasped. I found myself now fighting back incredulous outbursts intended to reprimand her for commending him like she was. How could she?!

Then I realized exactly how she could. I caught her eyes glancing in my direction briefly, and I saw the truth within them. She wasn’t enjoying this in the slightest, not really. She was doing it to assuage Cestus’ ire at the two of us. If she gave him a good show, he’d leave without hurting the two of us any more than he already had. She was protecting me. Her coos and caresses were just a ploy to shield her daughter.

Wait…no, they were even more than that. Her fervent caressing had possessed an ulterior motive. My mother had noticed something that I had not while she’d been up close to the younger stallion: a set of keys hanging from his barding. One of her hooves was even now playing with the fastener that held them in place under the guise of massaging the stallion’s flank. Cestus was completely oblivious to what was going on.

She was helping to arrange my escape…

Incredibly, I watched as the keys fell to the ground, the clasp finally released. The teal unicorn mare took no other action beyond satisfying the stallion for several seconds, waiting to see if the sound of the jingling had drawn her partner’s attention. When he didn’t break stride, she moved onto the next phase of her plan. Her horn started to glow, and I saw a mirrored aura surround the keys as they slowly lifted off the ground and started floating towards me.

I stretched out my forelegs as best I could, despite my bindings, in an effort to catch the keys at the earliest opportunity before Cestus noticed what was going on. My eyes were glued to the floating ring.

Whether it was the visible glow of my mother’s horn, or that the use of her magic was distracting her from giving her performance it proper attention, I’d never know for sure. In any case, something had caused Cestus to take note of his surroundings. I only became aware of the pause in his sexual efforts when I heard him exclaim, “what’s going on?”

Both my mother and I looked at him, and we watched with mirrored expressions of fear as his eyes found the floating keys that had nearly made it to me. Comprehension took him an extra second, which was a moment of hesitation that my mother had the presence of mind to seize upon. She bent up and threw her hooves around the stallion’s shoulders and brought herself in close to the earth pony. At the same moment, her horn flared and the keys went sailing through the air a little ways beyond me. I wasn’t watching where they landed though. My eyes we fixed on the pair of ponies in front of me.

If I thought that my mother was making some awkward attempt to subdue the stallion, I’d have been wrong. It would have been a laughable effort anyway. She wasn’t a fighter by any stretch, and Cestus was, and my mother knew that. She couldn’t have hoped to beat him in a struggle. All that trying to fight him would have done was gotten the two of us into further trouble, likely to face rather stiff punishments.

My mother knew this. So she didn’t try to fight him. Not really.

I wish she had…oh, in hindsight, I truly wish that she had.

She didn’t know what was coming though. All that the teal unicorn knew was that her daughter was in danger, and she had a chance to save her. What mother worthy of the title would have done anything differently?

Even as she clung tightly to the stallion trying to peel her off of him, the teal unicorn looked at me with eyes filled with sorrow. Then I heard her say, “I’m sorry, my Little Breezy. I’m so sorry…”

Then her horn flared once more. This time a matching blue magical aura appeared on the collar clasped around her neck. It took my brain a fraction of a second too long to work out what she planned to do. Comprehension dawned at the exact moment that one of the collar’s wires was yanked loose by my mother’s magic.

Deducing that the wearer was attempting to make an escape by removing the collar without the required authorization to do so, the device did exactly as intended...and detonated.

Slave collars contained a small amount of explosives. Realistically, there wouldn’t have been enough to create anything more than a rather anemic grenade if the material was repurposed into such a weapon. It operated on a rather different principal though. Where a grenade was intended to send death in every possible direction, a slave collar needed only to focus its charge inward towards it wearer’s throat. Pony flesh wasn’t very resistant to explosions from so close, so there wasn’t a need for a lot of explosive material in order to create the shaped charge.

It would also not have done for a slave’s death to have inflicted a lot of collateral damage if they were surrounded by guards, or even the slave’s owners. For these reasons, the collars didn’t have a lot of bang for their buck. They had enough to do the job though.

All of that considered, shaped charges weren’t perfect. The material that was detonated, be it black powder or some sort of composite substance, didn’t have the capacity to channel itself in specific directions. It just wanted to explode. It was the job of other materials to direct the blast. The outer metal shell of a slave collar served the purpose in this case. It was thin metal, and made brittle by age and decades of reforging for alternative uses. Two hundred years ago when that same material had been stamped out of the foundry where it had been created, maybe it wouldn’t have even budged. Today though…

My mother’s embrace had placed Cestus’ neck right up against the collar when it was set off. Her death had been assured, and she’d known that. She had just been hoping that hers would not be the only life taken by the collar.

None of that registered at the time though. My mind was keenly focused on my mother’s resigned expression as the wire was broken and the collar around her throat responded appropriately. My pained cry for her to stop, to take any other course of action at all in the world, was drowned out by the soul-crushing muffled wet mess of an explosion.

To call it an ‘explosion’ was to give it too much credit really. In reality, it was like somepony clapping their hooves together. Just a pathetic little ‘pop’. That was all the sound it made. The force hadn’t even been enough to propel my mother’s head away from the rest of her body with any great force. There was a spray of blood that misted outward, and then it just sort of…fell off.

No…nonononononoNO! Celestia, no!

This wasn’t happening! This was the dream, it had to be!

It wasn’t, but it had to be…please…

I barely even registered Cestus writhing and gurgling on the ground nearby. His hooves were grasping at his throat as he tried to staunch the blood flowing freely from the jagged gouges that the collar’s detonation had opened up. His eyes were wide with pain and terror as he comprehended that there wasn’t anything that he could do to save his own life, and that he couldn’t even summon help through the blood that was drowning him. In any other circumstance, I might have watched his last desperate convulsions with great satisfaction. However, that wasn’t where my focus was.

Instead, I was simply staring at my mother’s decapitated body. Her head had rolled to the side and was looking away from me. Perhaps that was a mercy, I couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t as though it really mattered. She was clearly dead. She’d died trying to save me.

“Ma…” I whimpered pathetically, pawing at the ground in an effort to pull myself towards her. I couldn’t move though, not easily. I wasn’t even sure what I intended to do when I got to her. It wasn’t as though a potion was going to fix this, even if I’d had one. I just…I needed to hold her one more time…

No. I needed to get the keys, I told myself harshly. She’d given her life for them. I couldn’t let that sacrifice be in vain! Get the keys you stupid little filly and get out of here. Jackboot was probably waiting for you even now! Get the keys!

I kept pawing at the ground in my mother’s direction. We were supposed to have gotten out of here together! I’d just found you again and I was going to save you! That was how this was supposed to have worked out…

I needed to get the keys, I knew that, but I had to hold her just one last time.

These damn chains though…

The keys. I turned myself around and looked around for them. I hadn’t been paying attention when my mother had thrown them, but they couldn’t have gone far. I scanned every inch of the fur-lined floor of the tent, but I couldn’t see them. Where could they be? Panic started growing in me, colored with despair. I had to find them, if only because my mother had lost her life trying to get them to me. Where were they?!

The anguish pressing down on me finally overwhelmed the fragile barriers that were all that was keeping them at bay. It was too much. I couldn’t hold it in any longer and I was suddenly sobbing even as I continued to futilely drag myself along the floor in a fruitless quest for those keys. I’m sorry, Ma, I’m so sorry!

Finally I stopped and curled up into a little ball, sobbing uncontrollably. How could things have gone so wrong?! We were all about to be free! Jackboot was here and he was going to save us! Now it was just me left and I couldn’t even find that damned keys…

I heard more movement at the tent’s entrance, but I didn’t make any move to respond to it. Probably one of Whiplash’s guards come to see what was taking Cestus so long. He’d spot the bodies instantly and report what happened to Whiplash. There wasn’t anything I could do about any of it regardless.

“Oh my…”

My ear twitched at the familiar voice. I rolled over and craned my head around, “Foxglove?”

No, it wasn’t her…was it? A violet unicorn mare was standing in the doorway, but she was covered from head to hoof in white paint. Then I caught sight of her emerald eyes flashing in my direction and I realized that it really was the mare that I’d been traveling with these last few months. Relief and regret battled within me. Oh, Ma, if you’d only waited another two minutes…Foxglove would have been able to make short work of a distracted Cestus and all of us would be leaving together.

“Windy,” the mare exclaimed in relief, “you’re alright,” she rushed over and quickly appraised the chains that were enveloping me, “hold still,” her horn glowed and her eldritch lance detached from her back. The tip burst to life and she flicked it deftly across several of the links so quickly that I would have doubted that it could possibly have cut all of the way through the metal. Then I immediately felt my bindings falling away. I was free in seconds.

Hardly even thinking, I pushed past the violet mare, much to her surprise, and dashed to my mother’s body. Hesitantly, I reached out a hoof and placed it on her shoulder. No words came to my mind, and I wasn’t even sure what I had intended. I think that I just needed this inexplicable confirmation that she was really dead. As though seeing her severed head lying just over a foot away from the rest of her body wasn’t proof enough of that fact. I was even tempted to roll the head over to see her face.

That probably wasn’t a good idea though…

Neither was the urge I felt to gather her body and take it with me in order to give her a proper burial later. There wasn’t time for that, was there? I glanced back at Foxglove and opened my mouth to ask her if we could, but those words caught in my throat. The unicorn regarded me with clear confusion. At her questioning glance, I said the only thing I apparently could manage, “she…she was my mother…” I closed my eyes and looked back at the body.

Just two more minutes…

Foxglove looked torn between a desire to comfort me, and her knowledge that time was a factor in this extraction. I noticed her looking towards the tent’s exit, looking apprehensive, “I’m sorry, Windy, but we have to go. Now.”

“I know,” I nodded. I didn’t want to leave, but it wasn’t just me who would suffer if I didn’t bring myself to move right now. Foxglove was in danger too, and so was Jackboot. Both of them were here to get me clear. I had to move, for their sakes.

My mother wouldn’t want me to stay if she knew I needed to leave in order to make good on this escape.

“Bye, Ma,” I whispered to the corpse, “I love you.”

I turned and followed the mare through the exit. My eyes found Cestus’ corpse as we left, and I let that little bit of satisfaction fill me with purpose. Killed by a rancher’s wife, you sick fuck. Suck on that!

Once outside, I finally got my first glimpse of the White Hoof encampment. It was much bigger than I had anticipated. Hundreds of ponies must live here. Just about every single one of them was currently gathered in the center of the camp too, forming a thick ring around a couple of ponies. I recognized both of them instantly. It was Jackboot and his sister Whiplash. The pair were dashing about the ring as they sparred with each other.

“He’s got them distracted,” Foxglove informed me, “we need to move, now!”

“But, how’s he getting out of here?”

“He’s got a plan, don’t worry about him,” the unicorn informed me urgently as she started galloping.

I followed on her hooves, but I felt dubious regarding her response. What kind of plan could Jackboot possibly have had for getting himself out from the middle of a cluster of White Hooves like that? Was he intending to take Whiplash hostage somehow and negotiate for his escape? That was certainly a possibility. Though it didn’t look like he was having a whole lot of luck getting his hooves on the slippery yellow mare that looked like she was more intent of dancing out of his reach than she was of actually fighting him.

My eyes frequently went back to the fighting even as I followed Foxglove out of the camp. My wings were a little too cramped by the confines of the chains to offer me much more than short little fluttering flights at the moment. I suppose that worked in my favor, as it reduced my temptation to fly and draw attention to the pair of fleeing ponies that must have seemed out of place when everypony else was so intent on the fighting going on.

Finally I saw Jackboot get a hold of the yellow mare, and I felt myself grin in satisfaction. That’s the way, Jackboot! You’ve got her now and there’s nothing she’ll be able to do about it. Now you can use her to get yourself out safely somehow like you had planned all along.

Then I noticed something green nearby the pair of ponies. It looked an awful lot like…

No…no! It couldn’t be!

Even as the thought froze me in place, I saw and heard the panicked screams of the ponies closest to the pair of struggling ponies. They’d seen what I had, and their reactions confirmed my fears. Somepony had produced a grenade, one of the green magical ones.

If I’d thought there was any way for me to get there in time, I’d have launched myself into the air and swooped in to rescue Jackboot from the ring. However, even if my wings had been working at their peak, I couldn’t have crossed the distance in the limited time required, not from a standing positon like I was. I couldn’t get there. All could do was freeze in place and look on with renewed grief.

Not twice in one day, Celestia, please! Not twice in one hour! I couldn’t lose two ponies I cared about, not like this!

Then there was a green flash.

Ponies were screaming and flailing about in the cluster of onlookers. Painted White Hooves dashed about madly in all directions as they tried to figure out what was going on and what needed to be done in response to the events that had transpired. Nopony was paying attention to the ivory Pegasus and her painted violet unicorn companion standing on the far side of the camp looking down at them. Not yet at any rate.

I barely even registered the sensation of somepony poking at my shoulder. The sound of my name being called sounded like it was coming from the far side of the Wasteland, for all Foxglove must have been all but shouting it in my ear.

Not twice…

It was with a numb sort of acquiescence that my hooves started to move in the direction that Foxglove was urging me. I could run though. There wasn’t feeling enough in my body to manage that without simply falling over. As much as it seemed to chafe at her sense of urgency, Foxglove resigned herself to settle for the awkward canter I was moving at. Hopefully she knew where we were going, because I hardly recognized that we were going anywhere at all. My eyes may have been locked forward, but my mind was looking elsewhere.

Twice. Two ponies that I cared about were dead. The mother that I had only just rediscovered had been alive all this time and the stallion that had raised me from a filly. If there were two other ponies that had mattered more to me in that world, I couldn’t have said who they were. Now they were both gone. What was I supposed to do now? Where was I supposed to go?

Honestly, I guess that it didn’t even matter anymore. Nothing mattered. Not with Jackboot gone. He’d been the pony that had been leading everything. He’d been the reason that I was out in the Wasteland at all. He’d taught me how to kill raiders and monsters. Now he was dead, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with myself.

For now I guess I just needed to follow Foxglove. That was simple enough. I could do that.

It was about all I could do. I was hardly in a position to give any thought to tomorrow or the next day, after all. I could barely process what was going on around me now, or how much time had passed, I was in such a daze. We could have been running for seconds, hours, or even days, by this point.

I was aware that Foxglove was trying to get my attention again. She was saying something to me, by I couldn’t hear her. My mind was still elsewhere. My eyes were locked straight ahead. The violet unicorn wasn’t in front of me anymore. She was off to the side trying to get my attention. The mare was looking rather concerned and adamant at this point. I guess it had been a while since I’d spoken to her. I wasn’t normally this quiet, I guess.

I wasn’t normally dealing with deaths like these either.

Whatever she was saying, it would have to wait. My eyes had noticed something ahead of us. A trio of painted ponies lounging around a fire. They hadn’t notice Foxglove and I. In fact, they weren’t even really looking in our direction. Most of their attention that was wasn’t being directed towards each other as they caroused, was focused away from us, outward into the Wasteland.

Sentries, I realized. These ponies were sentries tasked with keeping an eye out for ponies approaching the settlement. The sort that Whiplash had ordered to keep a lookout for Jackboot. My lips quirked as my mind recalled Whiplash’s final instructions that morning regarding the fate of all the ponies that had been posted on lookout. I wondered if her instructions would actually be carried out now that she was dead.

It would be a shame if White Hooves didn’t die who were supposed to.

Somepony should do something about that.

However long we’d been going for, it was long enough that my wings were working again. Foxglove was yelling at me again, but I still wasn’t hearing what she was saying to me. I didn’t hear her for very long though. A couple of powerful strokes of my wings were all that was needed to send me rocketing towards the trio of White hoof sentries. With the silence afforded to me by an airborne passage, none of them even heard my approach.

The first sign that any of them had that they were in any sort of danger was when an ivory blur shot past them. I didn’t merely soar through their gathering without any mischief though. My hooves wrapped themselves around the head of the pony in the middle of the trio, and I merely held on tight as my flight carried me past, arcing sharply to the right at the last moment. The result of the sudden tight hug was that the unaware stallion had his neck twisted around with a great deal of abrupt force that enticed a loud cracking sound from his vertebrae.

He was dead before his corpse hit the ground, and I was gone in a streak of ivory and aquamarine that left the remaining two ponies stunned. They merely looked at their dead companion for a full five seconds before it finally dawned on them that he was dead and that their lives as well might be in a great deal of danger. They spurred themselves into action, but neither still had any clear idea of what they were fighting.

Their eyes panned around the Wasteland looking for any sign of the threat that had already claimed one member of their party. Neither of them bothered to look up though, and why should they? It was rare to the point of unthinkable that somepony should be descending upon them. Unfortunately for the remaining duo, that was exactly where my next strike came from.

I darted downward, my wings tucked in close to my sides. As I neared the ground I gave my wings a slight flick, and suddenly I was falling with my hind legs angled downward. Both of my rear hooves landed directly in the middle of spine of a mare. I could feel the bones crumbling beneath my strike as her body was driven to the ground. Her scream was piercing and anguished. She wasn’t dead, but nor did she seem capable of moving the rear half of her body anymore.

Her cries drew the attention of the remaining stallion that was the third member of their group. He wheeled around just in time to catch a hoof in his face as I beat my wings and executed a vicious pirouette in midair. His jaw crumbled and he was sent crashing to the ground. I somersaulted through the air and landed with all four hooves directly on the back of the stallion’s neck. He died without a word.

The mare that still yet lived had more than a few words though. Most of them were pleas for mercy. I sort of heard them, but not really. They penetrated about as far into my brain as all of Foxglove’s prior calls had. She had my full attention, but I wasn’t nearly as interested in what she had to say as I did in making her hear what was on my mind.

“They didn’t have to die,” I heard myself say in a voice that was impossibly calm, all things considered. The mare continued to blubber and beg, but I ignored her. The tips of my wings fluttered as I glided to just in front of her and glared into her face, “they didn’t have to die, you bastards.”

I wasn’t speaking to this mare specifically. She was a surrogate for the entirety of the White Hoof tribe, whether she understood it or not. The terrified confusion on her face suggested that she didn’t know what I was talking about. That was alright; she didn’t have to understand what I was saying. She just had to listen to me, “you could have just left us alone.

“What did you even get from our ranch? You killed all the Brahmin. We didn’t have a lot of weapons or food. You didn’t find me, you killed my father…you killed Holstein when you got him back here. Was having my mother as a slave for all these years really worth it? Was she worth all this death?”

There was still no sign that the paralyzed mare knew what I was talking about, “and what about Jackboot? You’ve really been chasing after him for twenty years? One old stallion is worth all that effort…all these lost lives? You ponies are assholes,” I said coldly, “there’s not a single rational thought left in your heads. You just care about causing misery and death.

“I’m going to end you. I’m going to end all of you and put a stop to it,” I raised my hoof and brought it down on the mare’s throat. Firmly at first, but I gradually applied greater pressure to the pony’s windpipe. Her eyes grew wide and she struggled to push me away. I didn’t weigh all that much, but I didn’t have to as I remained hovering in the air above her. The beating of my wings altered slightly and their purpose was no longer to keep my aloft.

They were driving my hoof harder against her throat.

I felt my teeth grinding as the mare’s panicked eyes started to bulge out of her head. Her pleas were just a mixture of gurgling nonsense, “I will crush each and every one of you beneath my hooves, like fucking radroaches,” I seethed through clenched teeth. The mare continued to paw at me, but her strength was ebbing noticeably, “the White Hooves will be reduced to a myth,” I swore at the mare who couldn’t understand why she was being made to pay now for the sins of members of her tribe who were themselves already dead.

I didn’t care though. Maybe this one White Hoof mare hadn’t wronged me directly, or anypony that I knew. She might not have ever even killed a pony, as young as she looked. She was wearing white paint though. That was enough of a crime in my eyes. I hated this mare. I hated her so much, “every last one of you…will…die!”

A final, forceful, stroke of my wings drove my hoof further into her throat and I felt the cartilage crumble beneath it. The mare squirmed and twitched for another few seconds. Then her body grew still, her bulging, bloodshot, eyes staring off blankly into nothingness. I kept my hoof on her throat all the same. I felt no pulse, and no signs of life, but I kept it there. These three ponies would be the first of many on my crusade to fulfill the oath that I’d just sworn.

“Windy…”

I jerked at the sound of my name. My head turned slowly and I saw Foxglove standing nearby. She wore a concerned expression, her eyes wide as she beheld me. From her point of view, I had darted ahead and killed three unsuspecting ponies without warning. She’d even probably been trying to explain some sort of plan that she had for getting past them without anypony needing to die.

Had she been close enough to hear what I’d been saying?

Jerkily, I retracted my hoof and settled to the ground.

“Sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

I thought for a moment, and then I said, “I’m good.”

Foxglove looked dubious. It was hard to blame her. Oddly enough though, I didn’t feel like I was lying to her. I did feel fine. Well, not fine, per say. I wasn’t going to burst into tears again though. Killing these three must have been more therapeutic than I thought.

“You sure?”

I willed a smile onto my face, and surprised even myself with how easily it came, “yeah. Where are we off to?”

Foxglove hesitated, her eyes searching mine. Then she replied, “most of our gear’s still back at the stable.”

“Alright,” I nodded. That sounded like it should be our first stop, “lead the way,” I still had no idea where we were really. I could probably have flown off and gotten my bearings easily enough, but I didn’t want to get too far from the unicorn while we were this far inside hostile territory. It would be best if I kept nearby.

“Windfall, I’m sorry about Jackboot. I really didn’t know he was going to do something like that.”

“I know you didn’t,” I assured the mare, “and it’s okay. Come on, let’s get going before any other White Hooves show up,” I nodded in the vague direction that we’d been heading in thus far.

The unicorn hesitated for another brief moment but then she started trotting along. I hovered beside her.

Every last one of them. They would all die. I would personally make sure of it.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added - Iron Hoof - Increased Hoof-to-Hoof Damage

CHAPTER 23: HEARTACHES BY THE NUMBERS

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"Did you ever try to put a broken piece of glass back together? Even if the pieces fit, you can’t make it whole again the way it was."

Somehow, I’d forgotten just how grim a sight the exterior of Stable 137 was. Somewhere in the vicinity of six or seven hundred putrefying corpses laid out in neat little rows to be ravaged by the elements and Wasteland denizens. I’d seen what the White Hooves and raiders left behind in the wakes of their own wanton devastation; the calculated and deliberate efficiency of what had happened here…I was hard-pressed to decide which group was the bigger monster.

Both the White Hooves and whomever had been behind this needed to be dealt with severely; there was no doubt in my mind about that. It was all just a matter of deciding who needed to be eradicated first. Even though the ponies behind what had happened here represented a much larger threat, overall, I felt that I would have to settle for exterminating the White Hooves initially. If for no other reason that because I at least now knew where the primary White Hoof settlement was.

After I wiped it out, there would undoubtedly be raiding parties and patrols that remained out in the valley, but without their leadership or a centrally located capital of sorts, they’d just revert to common bands of raiders. Their reputations would be in tatters and any significant threat to settlements would be gone. The valley would be a safer place.

All I really needed was firepower; both my own and perhaps even the aid of some hired mercenaries. For both of those things, I’d need money, and a lot of it.

My eyes focused on the stable Foxglove and I were heading towards. A pristine trove of pre-war technology and artifacts that were worth their weight in caps and Republic bits. With enough time and logistical support, I could realistically have scrounged up enough salvage from this place to outright buy the entirety of new Reino. It would be a project years in the making, and would require seeking out customers with the raw capital that simply didn’t exist in this one little valley.

I didn’t have that sort of time. Well, I guess if I was being completely honest with myself, I could very easily have devoted myself to this task. After the decade it would likely take me I could sweep through here with an army and snuff out every single White Hoof I could find. I could take my time and make sure that the job was done right, leaving no pony alive who so much as knew how to correctly apply their signature body paint.

The burning need for vengeance inside of me would not abide that long a wait though. I was not quite so far given to my rage that I felt compelled to go right back and rain as much destruction upon their settlement as I could—mostly. I could wait a little while. A few weeks at least. Time enough to strip this place of its most valuable salvage and use the proceeds to outfit myself with appropriate armaments and hire on a few stalwart mercenaries. That armored mare that had captured Jackboot the other night had seemed the capable sort. Maybe she’d be up for the task…

As we passed the last of the bodies and crossed the threshold into the stable, my mind was brought to the topic of the other villains on my list. I needed more information on them; specifically the location of their base of operations. I had a vague direction of where the group that had destroyed this stable had gone in, but that still left a large swath of Wasteland to cover. Even if I found them, it would take more than a few mercenaries to go up against the kind of firepower that they possessed.

Stables weren’t easy targets. Serviceable tech, fortified entrances, and population densities that few surface settlements could match made for several factors an attacker would find it difficult to overcome. Even a White Hoof force of a hundred ponies might have found it hard to bring this place down. Fighting a group that could do this would require a lot of ponies and material.

Doing it on my own was, well, unrealistic. The cost of the mercenaries required would be prohibitive; never mind finding that many experienced fighters that had nothing better to do than follow a young Pegasus mare on some grand crusade. That didn’t leave me with a lot of options.

I inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly as I followed Foxglove into the stable’s atrium. You can do it, Windy. Somehow, someway, you can do it.

My hooves froze in place as I finally got a clear look at the room. It looked quite different from how it had when I’d last seen it. The white skull was a new feature, for example. As were the bits of my barding laid out on the floor. I felt my wings subconsciously flexing along my sides as I fought back the bile gathering in my mouth.

None of the memories of that night from after I’d found Jackboot and Foxglove fooling around in the clinic had really manifested into much of a coherent narrative. There were flashes that felt like real memories and not just my mind’s attempt to piece together what might have happened. I’d gone to talk with Cestus. There’d been more kissing, and a little toughing…

I was filled with a sensation of revulsion. He’d been a White Hoof that whole time. I had let him touch me, put his mouth on me; I’d put my mouth on him…Even though I hadn’t known, and couldn’t have known, I still hated myself for it.

Somepony was saying something. I shook myself from head to hoof and looked around, soon finding the violet unicorn looking at me with a concerned expression, “huh?”

“I asked if you were okay,” the unicorn said softly.

“Yeah, I’m just…tired, I guess,” I answered, rubbing my eyes. It wasn’t physical fatigue that I was feeling so much as it was mental. I’d been giving a lot of thought to the distant future recently. Perhaps it was best to focus on more immediate concerns. Like a stomach that was reminding me that I hadn’t drunk or eaten anything at all since being taken hostage by Cestus, “there’s Sparkle Cola in the kitchen, and vegetables a couple levels down,” I informed the mare, “would you mind bringing me some?”

“Sure thing,” Foxglove nodded, letting herself smile for the first time in a while. I think she just liked knowing that there was something she could do to help me.

Not that I really needed any help, not anymore. I was out of the clutches of my White Hoof captors. Honestly, between the two of us, Foxglove was likely to need more general assistance than I was. After all, I’d grown up in the Wasteland, while the unicorn was from stable stock. She wasn’t the most capable of fighters either, so it would now fall to me alone to keep her safe.

While I waited for the violet mare to return with something to eat, I sat myself down and started to reassemble my barding. Cestus had apparently taken his time while stripping it off me by going out of his way to unbuckle every last strap. Fortunately most of the leather had molded itself into the size that it had been while I’d been wearing it, so only a minimum of guesswork was needed in order to put it all back together so that it fit me once more.

I slipped it on and made a few additional adjustments. A frown creased my features as I looked myself over. Foxglove had picked out this barding, and either there had been a very limited selection of armor for Pegasus oriented protection, or the unicorn had yet to develop an understanding of what constituted quality protection. The leather was malleable and thin across most of my body, hardly suitable for resisting weapons of even questionable quality. There were some reinforced sections across my chest and flanks, but even those weren’t made of particularly robust materials; basically it was just a second layer of boiled Brahmin hide.

My eyes wandered over to where Jackboot and Foxglove had stashed most of their own gear before coming to get me. I walked over and peered at the neatly folded sets of barding. Much like what I was currently wearing, Foxglove’s choice of protective armor left much to be desired when it came to comprehensive protection. I started to wonder if the unicorn really understood the reality of what it took to survive outside of a settlement in the Wasteland.

Jackboot’s barding was much more practical, in my opinion. Granted, those opinions had been heavily influenced by the earth pony stallion who had raised me. Still, there was no denying the practicality that existed in wearing protection which actually stood a chance of deflecting away both bullets and edged weapons during a fight. His barding was thinnest around the joints to permit unrestricted movement, but was quite rigid along straight surfaces like the upper legs and back. Ceramic plates had been sewn into the barding to protect the more vital parts of a pony’s anatomy.

I picked it up and frowned a little bit at its weight. I supposed that for a grounded pony like Jackboot, this wasn’t all that much or a concern. He’d probably been sturdy enough that it didn’t bother him much or noticeably slow him down. This sort of burden would reduce my airspeed considerably though. I wasn’t accustomed to hauling around a lot of weight.

I was going to need something substantial though, if I was going to go up against large groups; especially ones that were well equipped.

Not that I’d be able to wear Jackboot’s barding without significantly modifying it though. It’s greater size aside, there were no wing holes. There were even a few of those bullet-resistant plates mounted along where those wing holes would need to be, making modifying the barding a much more involved process than simply cutting away the excess material.

I’d ask Foxglove if she could make the necessary alterations. Whatever I may have to say where her combat prowess was concerned, she was a far more cerebral sort than I was, and clearly knew her way around a workshop. I needed only to look at what she’d done to my 10mm submachine guns in order to see that. I’d need to ask her to start manufacturing more of her specialty ammunition while I was at it. I was going to need a lot more of those explosive rounds.

It was too bad that Jackboot hadn’t had anything particularly powerful in the firearms department. I’d been toting around the ‘big guns’ where our little trio was concerned; and even I had to admit that what I brought to bear wasn’t all that powerful in the grand scheme of things. His pistol was a far weaker weapon than anything I carried. That cannon of a revolver might have been able to cause considerably more destruction than most other weapons of its size that I’d seen, but it wasn’t very practical for somepony like me. The kick was just as likely to jerk me off my flight path, and I tended to prefer quantity of devastation over quality.

The grenades would be a welcome addition to my arsenal, so I pocketed them. Huh, it looked like he’d been holding out on me: there was an energy pistol in his saddlebags too. I wonder when he’d picked this up? I’d certainly never seen him using it before. That was probably because he didn’t seem to have anything in the way of spark packs to go with it, and the one that was inserted into the weapon was all but dry. It was a very nicely crafted pistol; even if I wasn’t an expert in the design of such things. It was certainly better maintained than most examples I’d seen. A winged thunderbolt engraved on the grip suggested that this was a weapon that had been affiliated with the premiere fliers of the Old World, the Wonderbolts.

It looked like I was going to keep this thing around too. I’d have Foxglove take a look at it at some point and make sure that it was in proper working order. Then maybe I’d see if she could find some way of incorporating it into my battle saddle. I did so enjoy have options when it came to firepower.

There were a few other baubles in Jackboot’s saddlebags, of which some were easier to explain than others. I recognized the one statuette of the yellow Pegasus with a pink mane. Her picture was all over billboards around the Wasteland, and her cutie mark was plastered across every box of medical supplies. I’d been there with Jackboot—albeit unconscious—when he'd found it in the Seaddle orphanage all those years ago. I couldn’t believe he’d kept it all this time, or that it was still in pristine condition. Had he been cleaning it up?

Its two companions were new to me. I couldn’t point to when he’d picked them up. The three posed mares were obviously part of a set; they were too similar in their design, each with little quips embossed upon their bases, to have been coincidence. While I couldn’t place the faces of the orange and white mares, I did recognize the cutie mark of the earth pony. I very much doubted it was a coincidence that old Ministry of Wartime Technology materials incorporated the trio of apples into their emblem that so exactly matched the mark on the orange pony’s rear end. Another one of the Ministry Mares then. That suggested that the white unicorn with the styled purple mane was one as well, though I couldn’t place which ministry she must have been in charge of.

All three statuettes were in extremely good condition considering their age. Either Jackboot had spent an inconceivable amount of time cleaning them up—which I couldn’t see the earth pony stallion ever doing—or there was something else going on with them. Perhaps some sort of spell? It seemed odd that somepony would have wasted that sort of magic on little decorative items like these, even if they were depictions of important ponies of the time.

I’d certainly never come across any such statues of the goddesses, and they should have been much more important than a few bureaucrats.

Jackboot, interestingly enough, looked to have also been in possession of some jewelry. I’d certainly never seen him wearing anything of the sort, but I was hard pressed to explain the leather collar with the polished jet stone mounted into it. He’d never worn it, and I couldn’t think of anypony that I’d even seen wearing anything like this either. It was certainly the sort of thing that I would have expected the practically-minded earth pony to sell rather than hold onto all this time. Assuming that it wasn’t something he’d come across while looking through this stable.

I slipped it into my own bag. While Jackboot might have had no use for such things, it did look kind of pretty. Maybe it was something I might wear in the future.

Perhaps even more puzzling than the three little statues and the jeweled collar was the plastic whistle I came across. My face scrunched up into near-incredulity when I dug it out of the bag. What could Jackboot have possibly been doing with something like this? It looked like it was just some little foal’s toy. Hardly the sort of equipment that a hardened survivor of the Wasteland would be carrying around with him in his bags beneath a bunch of grenades and bullets.

It certainly didn’t look or feel very valuable as I held it in my hoof. Frankly, it looked cheap enough that I doubted it was even capable of producing any meaningful sound when you blew through it. With a wry little smirk, I brought the flimsy plastic whistle up to my lips and blew through it in order to hear whatever anemic little chirp actually came out the other end.

“THE NIGHT SHALL GO ON…FOREVER!”

I’d thrown the whistle away from myself even before the second word of the proclamation had finished echoing forth from the unassuming trinket. That had not seemed to stop the device from continuing on with its thunderous decree even as it bounced across the floor of atrium. I stared after it with wide-eyed shock even as I clamped my hooves over my ears to dull the deafening words. When it was finally over, I simply stared at the now inert trinket, dumbfounded.

What the holy-hopping-hell-hounds was that?! Who made something like that?! Why?!

The sound of clattering hooves echoing through the atrium was followed a few seconds later by the painted violet unicorn bursting into the open area. She was looking about with wide eyes, her eldritch lance already lit and floating at her side ready to be applied to any threat that she might find. The mare looked a little more relieved when she quickly found me standing near the wall, but she was clearly still on edge.

“What’s wrong,” she asked fervently, resuming her visual search of the surrounding area, “why were you yelling?”

“It wasn’t me,” I protested vehemently, jabbing a hoof at the offending plastic whistle, “it was that thing!”

“What?”

“That,” I emphasized, once more pointing my hoof at the inanimate culprit, “I blew into it and it yelled at me!”

Still looking a little dubious, the unicorn approached the discarded whistle and levitated it into the air. She turned it around in the air, examining every portion of it with her practiced fabricator eye. Not that there was all that much of it to examine. Something caught her attention though and she brought it closer to her eye, peering into the mouthpiece. She cocked an eyebrow and then cautiously brought it to her mouth.

In anticipation of what was about to happen, I looked away and clamped my hooves over my ears. The sound was muffled a good deal by my mitigation efforts, but I could still hear another resounding phrase blast through the stable.

“THE PRINCESS OF THE NIGHT HAS RETURNED!”

Foxglove jerked back from the whistle, though she still maintained her magical grip on it. Much like myself, her lips had ceased to contact the device almost immediately, but the words persisted. I peered at the mare and watched her look over the plastic whistle once more, again affording the mouthpiece extra attention. Again she brought it to her lips and issued a brief puff of air. I cringed away.

“BOW TO THE RIGHTFUL RULER OF EQUESTRIA!”

This time, the unicorn immediately spun the whistle around and looked through it. Her puzzled expression melted into one of comprehension and she put on a wry smirk, “that’s pretty clever, actually” she murmured at the device. Upon seeing my wide-eyed look of puzzlement, she floated the whistle over to me and held it up to my eye so that I could look into the mouthpiece as well. I obediently did so, but I wasn’t sure exactly what I was supposed to be seeing, and admitted as much to the unicorn.

“See how it glitters?” She slowly rotated the whistle around its axis as I looked through, allowing the light to reveal what were indeed shifting pinpricks of light, “it’s diamond dust. Each of those grains is infused with a spell that plays back a recorded bit of sound,” she returned the whistle and let it spin in front of her as she looked at it with renewed admiration, “it’s similar in principle to how memory orbs work really. Except, instead of needing magic, these activate when warm air passes over them, like a pony blowing into it,” the whistle started darting around her as the unicorn used her telekinetic field to send it flying about, “see? Just using wind doesn’t do it.

“When a pony blows into the mouthpiece, the dust selects a random bit of sound and then plays it back,” she brought the whistle to a stop and then floated it back to me.

I cautiously took the offered toy in my pinions, as though it might decide to yell at me spontaneously, despite Foxglove’s demonstration to the contrary. I wasn’t sure if this was something that could be easily sold to a merchant, as I suspected that there was a very niche market for this sort of thing, but you never knew. It went very gingerly into my bag. Looking at my wing and how much my feathers had bristled during that first unexpected outburst, I recognized that it was probably going to take me hours to preen everything back into order.

I’d probably want to take a shower first while we were here though.

When I looked back up, there was a bottle of soda and some apples and carrots floating nearby. I allowed myself to smile at the violet unicorn as I took the offered soft drink and waved for the rest to be put down on the floor in front of me. Foxglove had brought enough to make her own meal as well and walked over to sit across from me.

“So,” the other mare sighed, “how are you holding up?”

My lips quirked into a small frown. This wasn’t the first time that she’d asked me a question like that, “I’m alright,” I assured the mare once more as I popped the top of my drink and pocketed the cap. Foxglove hadn’t taken a drink from her own bottle yet, still regarding me with some concern and a dubious pair of emerald eyes, “really.

“It’s not the first time I’ve lost ponies close to me,” even if I had just lost the same pony for the second time, from my own point of view. Still, I’d mourned for my mother once already long ago. I could deal with it again. Jackboot’s death was no different from when I’d lost my real father, and I’d weathered that in time, “and it won’t be the last,” I added with a sardonic smirk at the unicorn.

That might have come out a bit more contrite than I’d intended, judging from the violet mare’s shocked expression. I hadn’t meant to imply that I thought Foxglove would be dying anytime soon. That didn’t mean that I didn’t think deep down that, between the two of us, she wasn’t more likely to wind up dead first; nor did I intend to imply that I wouldn’t do everything in my power to keep her alive when things got rough.

“Sorry,” I said, meekly.

“No,” the unicorn shook her head and trying her best to offer a warm smile, “I know what you meant: life out here is hard and ponies die. It’s just…I can’t honestly imagine what you must be going through,” she admitted, “I’ve lost ponies close to me in the sense that I know I’ll never see them again, but at least I know they’re still safe…” her eyes glanced about the empty stable and I saw her features grow uncertain.

I reached out a comforting wing and patted the unicorn on the shoulder, “we’ll find your stable and make sure they’re alright,” I assured her, “and we’ll make sure they know about what happened here.”

Foxglove looked noticeably relieved to hear my promise, and she relaxed considerably, “thanks, Windfall. I just hope we can find it.”

“You remember the number at least, right? We’ll figure it out; especially if you walked to New Reino from there. It can’t be too far from there,” the unicorn nodded her agreement with my assessment and took a long sip of her drink. I picked up a carrot and started munching on the narrow orange stick. Idly, I dug back into Jackboot’s bag and felt my hoof come over something much more familiar.

I drew out the pipbuck and held it in front of me.

The memory of when we’d found this thing on the corpse of an unfortunate stable dweller who apparently had ventured out of this very stable came flooding back to me. It had proved invaluable over the years since, providing the older earth pony with a situational awareness far in excess of what a normal pony could hope to have. He’d described what it was like when he utilized the SATS mechanic too, and I could only imagine the tactical and combat advantages that conveyed. It was a wondrous piece of ancient Equestrian technology, that was for certain.

Foxglove noticed me looking over the device, “I can help you put it on, if you’d like; and show you how to use it?”

I nodded, “yeah, please,” I passed the pipbuck to the unicorn who took hold of it with her magic and opened it up.

“Hold out your left leg,” I did so and watched as the contraption was pressed up against the underside of my fetlock and carefully closed around it. There were a couple of audible clicks as the unicorn secured the devise in place. Then I saw a screwdriver and a small ballpeen hammer float of their carriers from the unicorn’s folded up barding that lay nearby. I cocked my head as the tools were used to gently knock in several retaining pins. The unicorn flashed me a wry grin, “you need specialized tools to take these things off normally,” she explained, “I don’t have any with me, so I had to improvise when I took it off Jackboot.

“It shouldn’t be any worse for wear,” there sounded like there was a lot more supposition behind that statement than certainty, but I deferred to the unicorn’s experience in such matters. A few more taps were applied and then the unicorn put away the tools, “that should do it. If you feel it sliding around, let me know. Most of its sizing protocols should still be working just fine.”

Even as the mare spoke, I could feel the pipbuck shifting around subtly on my leg as it grew snug. It wasn’t anywhere near uncomfortable, but a few experimental shakes of my leg left little doubt that the device wasn’t going to budge from its new perch. A second later, I heard the device start to make whirring and clicking noises as it came to life. I jerked in surprise as numbers and symbols started appearing in front of my eyes. Nearly all of it was too quick for me to make sense of.

A few things stuck out as a list propagated in the upper left corner of my eye. Each item lingered and was soon followed by the word, ‘enabled’. Things like the Eyes Forward Sparkle, Sparkle Inventory Management System, Crystal Map Cartography, and Stable-Tec Integrated Radio all passed their checks with flying colors. There was a slight pause when the device got to the Sparkle Assisted Targeting System though. It flashed orange and was followed by the word, ‘limited functionality’ before the entire list vanished from view.

There were still quite a few additions to my field of view though. A compass lined the bottom, with a bright yellow blip where Foxglove was sitting. A couple of other meters lingered too, but before I could ask, Foxglove was already launching into a briefing about their function.

“In the bottom left, you’ll see a bar that represents your overall health,” she explained, “the pipbuck’s screen will show a more specific breakdown,” I brought my leg up and looked at the cartoonish representation of the happy little Pegasus mare smiling back at me, “on the left is your SATS energy,” Foxglove continued, “the pipbuck can assist you in combat, but it’s pretty limited and takes a lot of energy for bigger weapons; but it can really help in a pinch, or so I’m told. I’ve never used it myself,” she admitted, “between those is the navigation compass, which also shows you threats. Watch out for red blips, they mean that whatever you’re looking at wants to hurt you.

“Alerts and messages will appear in the upper left, and radiation is displayed in the upper right,” she finished her rundown of what I was seeing and then directed my attention to the pipbuck itself, “you can use these buttons to swap between your condition, inventory, and other functions. The dial over here lets you move through the screens,” she demonstrated by tabbing through several of the available screens.

I took the time to browse through them as well. It seemed that pipbucks were actually pretty intuitive. I didn’t feel like I needed to ask for a lot of clarification on much. Although, “how do I activate SATS?” asked, “is there a button or…?”

“Just think about it,” the unicorn answered simply, “look at me and think about using the pipbuck to attack me,” I glanced at the mare in surprise. She couldn’t be serious?! The violet mare smiled and waved aside my apprehension, “you can chose not to do anything,” she assured me.

Still feeling a little anxious about the whole thing, I made certain that I didn’t have any weapons readily available and squared off against the mare. I frowned and did as Foxglove had instructed and thought about using the pipbuck to hit her. Suddenly, I saw my vision alter as it was overlaid with more numbers and several highlighted areas. As I looked about, I saw that various parts of Foxglove became illuminated by yellow shading. Each new portion of her body that lit up was accompanied by a percentile.

I certainly didn’t have any desire to actually strike the mare though…

The moment that thought crossed my mind, the new overlay reverted and the percentiles vanished. I shook my head and looked at the mare, “wow. That’s…pretty awesome, actually.”

“Yeah, pipbucks are pretty useful,” the unicorn nodded, “anything else you’d like to know?”

“I think I’m pretty good,” I said as I clicked through a few more screens, “if I think of anything though…” my voice trailed off as I came across a list of files of some type under one of the device’s directories. I think I had just found the audio logs of the original owner of the pipbuck, given what the titles of most of the files was. However, there was a single entry that possessed a much simpler heading that was quite different in the way it was formatted. Where all the other files had entry numbers and dates and times, the file at the top of the list was a singular string of letters: ‘forwindfall’.

Hesitantly, I selected the file and instructed the device to play the recording. There was an audible ‘click’ and then the sound of static. A few seconds of silence ensued until a voice could finally be heard, “Windfall,” my ears twitched at the sound of the stallion that had raised me from a filly, and I felt a tight ball forming in my chest. A heavy sigh could be heard and then, “I’m sorry…I…”

My hoof tabbed out of the screen and the recording ended abruptly. I’d gone only a few seconds into what the pipbuck suggested was a message that was nearly two minutes long. Frankly, I didn’t much care for what the recording had to say. Jackboot was dead, and there was nothing that was going to change that. Listening to this wasn’t going to do me any good, ever. If I thought Foxglove would have been willing to, I’d have had the unicorn show me how to delete the file entirely.

As it was, the mare was looking at me with concern again. I rolled my eyes, “he doesn’t have anything to apologize for,” I informed the violet unicorn, “it’s the White Hooves that should be sorry; I know that.”

Foxglove didn’t look to be entirely convinced, but that was her own problem, honestly. I was perfectly fine, and I didn’t need any of her misplaced empathy. Jackboot was hardly the first pony in my life that had died for my sake. What I was going through right now was nothing new or unexpected.

I directed my thoughts away from depressing subjects like that towards finishing my meal. It was a few seconds before Foxglove also resumed eating, though I got the impression that she was of a mind to continue prying. By avoiding eye contact as I ate, I was able to keep from inviting additional commentary. For fuck’s sake, the two of them had been sleeping together, apparently. If anypony needed consoling, it should be her! Maybe that was even why she wanted to keep talking about it, as a way of getting her own feelings off her chest.

Well, she’d need to find somepony else to play therapist. As much respect as I might have for the mare for what she could do and how she’d helped Jackboot and I up to this point, her grief was something she’d have to deal with on her own. She’d been the one that kept trying to keep me from getting close to him while she apparently moved in. I’d thought that the unicorn was just being generally wary of stallions after having some bad experiences. Now I knew that she’d just been trying to get with Jackboot.

Congratulations, Foxglove, you’re the one that ended up with him. Now he’s dead, and you’re just going to have to get over it yourself. I was hardly the mare who was going to feel sympathetic over ‘your’ loss.

Maybe something constructive would take her mind off of things. I reached over and pulled out Jackboot’s barding and passed it to the unicorn, who glanced up at me in mild surprise, “do you think you can modify this to fit me?” I asked her, “I’m going to need some better barding than what I’ve got. See if you can make it a little lighter though,” I added, “maybe by taking off some of the spinal plates. I doubt I’m going to be getting attacked from above very often,” I smiled and flexed my own wings for emphasis.

Foxglove glanced between the barding and myself and then nodded slowly, “yeah, I think I can,” she frowned, “it’s going to take some time though,” she admitted, “I’ll need to trim some of these plates, maybe even remold them to get around your wing joints,” she brought the barding closer and examined it while occasionally glancing at my withers.

I shrugged, “take all the time you need. I can make do with what I’ve got for now,” I chugged down the last of my Sparkle Cola and tossed the bottle away, “I’m going to take a shower and preen myself a bit,” I informed the mare, “you know about stable’s right? Why don’t you pick out the more valuable stuff that we’ll be able to sell in New Reino,” we’d be able to get better prices on some of the technology here back in Seaddle, but that was a lot further away. I was pretty sure that Foxglove was still a pony-non-gratis in the territories of the New Lunar Republic for her aid in Jackboot’s escape from their custody.

“Just keep in mind we’ll be taking as much of the armory with us as we can,” guns and ammunition fetched a reliably high price wherever you went, “so try to only pick out things that are small and light,” I stretched out and headed for the lower levels where the showers were.

“Yeah…sure.”

As I watched the pleasantly warm water dribble through the primary pinions of my left wing, I idly wondered if it wasn’t possible to just live in this stable forever. I mean, realistically speaking, this was the Wasteland and as such a pony was allowed to live pretty much anywhere they wanted; provided that they could keep anypony else from taking it from them. So, in that respect, yes, I could very easily just hang around here forever.

Of course, what did I know about keeping up the maintenance on a stable? I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that this place was just going to keep on going about its merry way indefinitely. Perhaps it had been going along without a hitch for the last couple weeks, but I’d seen enough abandoned stables to know where this place was inevitably headed without anypony to look after it. Foxglove was a stable pony herself, and quite technically inclined. I was sure she’d have an idea of what needed to be done.

Asking her to keep up a place like this on her own while I just lounged around though…that didn’t exactly sit well with me. Something told me that, as competent as the unicorn was, a task like this would be beyond even her abilities.

No, ultimately we’d have to leave this place behind. It was definitely a shame. In the meantime though, I was going to take full advantage of all of its amenities. Warm showers, scented soaps and shampoos, fluffy towels, and was that styling gel?

It wasn’t just myself that I tended to either. I discovered that the stable’s armory was just as well stocked as the larder. Gun oil, leather polish, wire brushes, the whole works! I sat myself down in the corner and broke down all of my weapons, ready to give them a thorough cleaning too. The submachine guns weren’t in all that bad a shape really. It hadn’t been all that long since Foxglove had modified them, and she’d taken the time to polish everything up nicely before putting them back together. The interiors were full of carbon and dirt, as was expected from the heavy use they saw, but the grime withered in the face of the chemicals that stable provided me.

My compact .45 was another matter. This pistol was a true product of the Wasteland, and showed its age quite painfully. I fought valiantly against the centuries of abuse and neglect, but in the end I achieved only a pyrrhic victory. The exterior was still dull and there were flecks of rust that refused to give up their positions, but my efforts weren’t entirely for naught. A few tugs on the slide and some dry firings demonstrated that whatever the outside may suggest about the weapon’s condition, the action was the smoothest that I’d ever heard it.

I didn’t put hardly any effort into cleaning up my barding, honestly. I fully intended to be upgrading to something more substantial in the near future, and this thing was hardly even worth hauling to a merchant for the pittance I could expect to be paid for it. In hindsight, I probably should have gone shopping with Foxglove instead of tagging along with jackboot that last time we were in new Reino. In the meantime, it was better than flying around naked—barely—and so I at least brushed away the worst of the dried blood and filth.

That being said, after all the effort that I had just put into getting myself refreshed, I wasn’t looking forward to putting this barding back on against my bared fur and feathers. I also happened to be in a stable, which should have plenty of freshly laundered garments. I finished raiding the armory for cleaning supplies, and then filled my saddlebags to the point of bursting with ammunition and the most serviceable firearms they had, and then set off on my quest for quality clothing.

A half dozen rooms later, and I had rather firmly decided that stable ponies were quite lacking when it came to wardrobe options. Don’t get me wrong, I was very much a fan of the blue and gold motif; it felt a little bit like a Wonderbolt’s jumpsuit with that color scheme. I would just have liked to see a little more variety. Never mind that it looked like pegasi hadn’t been among the stable’s residents. A couple strategically placed cuts with some scissors created the necessary alterations to one of the jumpsuits and I slipped it on.

Studying myself in a mirror, I decided that while I wasn’t a fan of jumpsuits that were clearly intended to serve more function than fashion, I very much looked good in blue. Maybe if I had Foxglove take in some of the material around my hips and chest…I canted myself and struck a confident pose with my wings flared out. Yeah, a couple changes here and there and I would definitely get Jackboot’s attention!

I winced mentally, my wings wilting. Okay, so maybe not his attention, not anymore…but somepony’s, I guess.

A second jumpsuit was wedged into my tightly packed saddlebags before I finally donned my barding. It very neatly covered the broad yellow number stenciled across the back of the stable coveralls. A few judicious clips of the scissors took care of the dual 137’s embroidered into the collar. While it was tempting to want to play off of ponies expectations when they thought they were dealing with some oblivious stable pony in certain expectations, for the most part I didn’t need that kind of hassle just yet. Merchants were hard enough to haggle with on the best of days; I didn’t want to have to prove to each and every one of them that I knew the Wasteland economy wasn’t powered by seemingly indestructible coffee mugs.

My housekeeping errands done with, I returned to meet up with Foxglove in the stable’s atrium. At some point, it looked like the unicorn had made use of the showers as well, as her coat was devoid of any trace of the white paint indicative of the White Hooves. She was currently organizing her saddlebags to accommodate a wide selection of the less perishable foodstuffs and some fresh water. The violet mare glanced up at my approach and waved.

“So, I have about four or five days’ worth of food for the two of us,” she began, waving at the food, “and I also found a bunch of spark-batteries and sparkle-packs on the lower levels. I also stripped a couple dozen talismans out of the stable’s systems: water purification, weapon targeting, climate control, that sort of thing,” the unicorn hesitated and then pointed at another pile of items nearby that hadn’t been packed away quite yet, “I wasn’t sure if we’d be going to Seaddle any time soon, so I don’t know if we want to take this stuff?”

I followed the mare’s questioning gaze to a collection of what looked to be very sophisticated electronic equipment from some terminals. While surely valuable to somepony in New Reino, Foxglove was correct that we’d get the best offer for such things in the capital city of the New Lunar Republic. As much as I would have liked to take a trip back there, I couldn’t be sure that it would be any time soon. There was quite a bit that I wanted to deal with in this area first.

“Leave it,” I shook my head. Foxglove nodded and resumed packing up the rest of the food and salvage that she had acquired, “is this everything?” I glanced around the atrium to see if there was anything lying about that I hadn’t noticed.

“It’s everything that was small and valuable,” the unicorn confirmed, “just like you asked for.”

“Good. We should get going then. We’ve wasted enough daylight,” I started heading for the exit.

Foxglove fell into step quickly and then increased her pace until she was abreast of me, “is there any reason you’re in such a hurry? We could stay here and rest a while.”

The violet mare wasn’t wrong. Most of our prior urgency had rested upon Jackboot’s relationship with the Republic and the efforts that they seemed to be inclined to go to in order to retrieve him. It was a consideration that had promptly expired along with the older stallion. Neither of us was under any sort of timetable that I was aware of; not really.

That didn’t mean that there weren’t a few things I wanted to address that did me little good to put off for very long. Chief among those was questioning a certain griffon that I had recently met. After all, it was at his insistence that Cestus should come along with us as ‘insurance’ that we did the job that we’d agreed to as quickly and efficiently as could be expected. With that taken into consideration, I was finding few plausible explanations coming to my mind that suggested how the young earth pony’s affiliation with the White Hooves couldn’t have been known to the feathered feline.

I needed to know if we’d been set up. If my suspicions proved valid, then I was going to need to make some rather hasty and violent arrangements where that griffon was concerned.

Idly, I wondered what it would do to my reputation in New Reino to be the mare that was involved with the deaths of two of the more powerful figures in that city in as many months. Considerations for both my own health and that of Foxglove suggested that I shouldn’t endeavor to make that a habitual purpose for my visits, but if that was just the way that things happened to work out…oh, well.

In answer to the unicorn’s question, I replied, “I want to have a word with that griffon,” there was no reason to keep her in the dark. Especially if it turned out that I was going to need her support, “I need to know if he knew what Cestus was,” I didn’t bother to hide the bitterness that implied I’d already come to a conclusion in that regard.

Foxglove was understandably worried upon hearing my intentions, “Windy, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” she licked her lips, “I don’t know anything about him, but if he was connected enough to take over Tommyknocker’s operation like he did, he doesn’t strike me as the type you want to piss off.”

“If he knew, I don’t intend to piss him off,” I quipped back, “I intend to kill him.”

“How? If he did set us up, then he’s going to know something went wrong the moment we show up,” the unicorn pointed out, “he might just order his guards to kill us on the spot!”

She wasn’t wrong, I admitted to myself. There was a very real possibility that a confrontation with the griffon could get very violent very quickly. He certainly wasn’t going to allow himself to be alone with me if he really did know about Cestus’ connections. It’s not like I was the sort of pony that could easily blend in either. He’d be on the lookout for a white pegasus with a teal and aqua-streaked mane and tail.

My mind started the turn with possibilities. Of course, if I looked like somepony else…

“We still have that holo-whatsit, right?”

“The personal projector? Yeah, why—oh,” realization dawned on the mare almost instantly. Foxglove frowned slightly as she started to mull the possibilities and necessary logistics over in her mind, “we’d need to get our hooves on somepony that he’d let get close to him,” she pointed out, “and we’ll need a camera. We have a pipbuck, so I can interface with it easily enough…

“We can make it work,” she sounded like she was slightly reluctant to admit that, “but it would just get one of us into a meeting with him,” she pointed out, not bothering to hide her concern, “you’d be outnumbered.”

“I’m always outnumbered,” I said with a smirk, “and if we make it big like last time, I’ll be able to hide my guns.”

“It’s really not designed for that,” the unicorn grimaced, “the matrix is supposed to be flush with the wearer’s body, otherwise the projector runs into clipping issues.”

“Do you want me to nod my head and pretend I know what any of that means?”

Foxglove sighed, “it means that the hologram will have trouble moving when you do,” she explained, “leg stuttering, lip syncing, that sort of thing. If it slips too much, ponies are going to know something's up.”

“It didn’t seem to matter when I was pretending to be Princess Luna,” I pointed out.

“That’s because it wasn’t synced to you at all,” Foxglove said, “you didn’t move your legs or talk or anything, and even your wing flapping was covered up by most of the projection. But when you’re walking around and talking with ponies, that stuff’s going to matter a lot; especially if it looks off.”

I frowned. That could prove to be a problem. However, without a lot of alternatives at hoof, it was going to have to be one that I was probably just going to have to deal with, “we’ll test it out first; see how bad it gets,” I wasn’t going to allow myself to be deterred. If that griffon knew…if he was responsible for Jackboot’s death…

…My mother’s death…

My teeth were grinding against each other, and I had to force my jaw to relax. Not something that was incredibly easy as the two of us stepped into the afternoon light and within sight of the former inhabitants of the stable. The griffon, the White Hooves, the two-horned ponies…my list was growing rather quickly. I was very much inclined to start shortening it one body at a time, and the griffon was far more easily dealt with on my own.

Foxglove didn’t really seem to be reacting to the sight any better than I was. But for the grace of Celestia, this could have been her own stable, after all. There was a lot more anxiety and worry in her features though, compared to the rage in mine.

“I’m thinking of adding a third color to my mane.”

The abrupt announcement snapped the unicorn out of whatever thoughts had been consuming her thoughts and she regarded me with stark bafflement. I smiled and shrugged, running a few pinions through the short-cropped aqua and teal on my head; though it had been getting longer of late. Time for a clipping, “not sure if I want to go lighter or darker, what do you think?”

There was a moment of hesitation as the mare processed what I was talking about, and then a smile broke over her features and she turned an appraising eye to my mane, “how dark are we talking?”

“Indigo?” I ventured, “a little darker than my eyes. Or should I follow the green route?”

“You could always make it something striking,” the unicorn suggested, “a couple black or red stripes so that they really stand out?”

I stuck out my tongue in not quite so feigned disgust, “black and red stripes? Ick! I’d look like a badly put together checkerboard…”

The styling banter didn’t lead to any breakthroughs with regards to my future fashion trends, but that hadn’t been the purpose. It kept our minds on more pleasant topics than death and loss. At least for the remainder of the day until we finally turned in for the night.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much that I could use to distract myself while I took my alternating watches with Foxglove. Never did I miss having a third member in our troupe than at this moment. While it was nothing new, as this was how things had been when it had just been Jackboot and I, the inclusion of Foxglove to the rotation had apparently softened me a good bit.

I bet you didn’t think about that when you went and got yourself killed, did you, Jackboot? Not even a tiny little thought to how inconvenienced I was going to be now that I have to keep trading off with Foxglove all night. I’m going to have to start interviewing for your replacement when we get to New Reino if I expect to get a decent night’s sleep again, I thought sourly.

We do need a new earth pony to round out the group; and it might as well be a stallion while we’re at it. It’d be a plus if he was cute, too. Actually, there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t make that a requirement. I wasn’t saying that I was looking to getting a useless pretty-boy who didn’t know which end of a gun the bullets came out of, but if I was going to be forced to look down at somepony’s ass from above all day, it might as well be an ass worth looking at.

Come to think of it, we might need two. I glanced at Foxglove with a frown. For all I could have sworn the unicorn told me she was a mare’s mare, she’d been pretty possessive of Jackboot. I wasn’t looking to go through a repeat of that again. It’s not like I was really going to hold it against her-Jackboot was his own pony too-but I wasn’t going to let the violet mare make a habit of poaching stallions from under my nose.

Not that I’d really know what to do with a stallion if I got my hooves on one, I groused. You could at least have taught me a few things about that before you kicked it, Jackboot! I could flirt and look pretty, but other than what I’d done with Cestus, I knew basically nothing; and I’d just as soon put all of that out of my mind for good, thank you very much! The last thing I wanted was for any stallion I was seriously flirting with to know that I had no idea what I was doing when it got serious. That would just be mortifying.

Almost as mortifying as plying the only pony I reasonably could for information on the subject, which would have been Foxglove. As much as she seemed to regard me as a filly that needed to be protected sometimes, I doubted that she was going to be very forthcoming with those sorts of tips.

Just one tumble, Jackboot, that’s all I needed from you…

I glanced down at the pipbuck’s clock and yawned. Well, my two hours were up. I rolled over and started poking at the unicorn, “you’re up,” the mare stirred and grumbled and acknowledged her duties. I then closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift off to sleep for the couple hours I’d be permitted until my next rotation on watch.

We did seriously need a third pony.

The next morning put us within spitting distance of Old Reino. I was able to pick out the freight station that wasn't really a freight station too. Several painful memories were instantly pushed to the furthest reaches of my mind as I focused my attention on our surroundings. There were dangers here that I knew quite well from our previous visit. In fact, I was able to very easily pick out my flight path by matching up the terrain with what I recalled from that day.

I hadn't directed much thought to what I was getting myself into at the time. My thoughts had been far more acutely occupied with my rather critical mission of getting back to the warehouse with the medicine that Jackboot had so desperately needed. However, I did recall a few of the least fuzzy details about that harrowing flight.

It hadn't been some wandering band that I'd stumbled into that day. I would have noticed a group of ponies out in the open, no matter how occupied my thoughts were. All that I had noticed at the time were a few rooftops that had seemed just as unassuming as a hundred other empty ruins in the Wasteland. Obviously, at least one of those structures had indeed housed some tenants. They were hardly the nicest of neighbors too, as they had opened fire on me without any warning or signs of threatening action on my part.

Those assholes had nearly taken me down—and threatened Jackboot's life by extension; I couldn't deny that. I still couldn't remember all of the specifics about the last leg of my return flight once I'd reached the warehouse. Obviously I had made it inside and Jackboot had received the medicine. I certainly didn't recall ever actually reaching the warehouse, let alone landing inside of it. It had probably not been the most graceful of returns...

What I did know, was that those ponies represented a very clear and present danger to the good ponies of the Wasteland, if they were willing to just open fire on some lone mare flying harmlessly through the air. I found myself adding a fourth group to my list of intended victims, and that irked me considerably. Was that all that I was going to do, grow my list of targets?

I hadn’t even gotten back to New Reino yet, and the list of problems that needed to be dealt with just kept on growing. My teeth started grinding as I tried hard to contain my frustration. It wasn’t easy though. With so many targets, I couldn’t just fly in, guns blazing away, and call it all good—as much as the idea might appeal to me.

Oh, how that appealed to me right now…

Foxglove and I whipped our heads around to the north as the distant crackle of gunfire echoed faintly across the Wasteland. My experienced ears concluded that whoever it was that was shooting was a good few miles off, and wasn’t likely to be a threat to us. The unicorn mare was looking a little nervous all the same. It was likely that she believed those sounds could have presented a danger to us. I was about to offer her assurances that we’d be alright, that it was probably just a caravan fighting off some raiders or critters.

Then something finally clicked in my mind. My eyes scanned our surroundings briefly, comparing it to the visual map of the Neighvada Valley that I had been slowly building in my head over my long years of soaring over its surface. Recognition began to dawn on me.

Since my abduction, I’d been traveling through unfamiliar territory. I’d never been given a chance to see anything while Cestus had hauled my unconscious body back to the White Hoof encampment. Now, though, Foxglove and I had finally made our way back to terrain that I did recognize, and I was finally able to visualize in my mind’s eye exactly where I was in the valley.

My mental coordinates lined up rather closely with where I had been just a few days earlier, the last time something rather traumatizing had happened to me. I couldn’t say for certain whether or not some group of innocent traders or prospectors was involved in that exchange of protracted gunfire that the two of us could still hear; but I was very confident about a certain group that was embroiled in it: the ponies that had ambushed me during my flight to deliver the anti-venom to Jackboot.

I felt a cold fury start to ripple along my spine.

Maybe I wouldn’t have to wait to get back to New Reino after all.

“Load explosive rounds,” even to my own ears, my words sounded flat and distant. The unicorn looked at me with a shocked expression as the servos that she had adapted to my submachine guns cycled and rotated their bolts to accept the specified ammunition.

“Windfall, what are you…”

It wasn’t until much later that I realized the violet mare had said anything to me. I honestly wasn’t even aware that she was standing nearby at that moment. Only a very few things were registering at that moment. One: that a group of very bad ponies who had hurt me was only a short distance away. Two: that I had at my hoof-tips a chance to trim down that list I was making. And three: that I hadn’t put my special talent to use in a very. Long. While.

A couple of powerful sweeps of my ivory wings had me aloft and arcing higher into the overcast sky. I kept an eye cast to those unending clouds as I leveled out and guided myself towards my target. Jackboot’s many warnings about the defenses that the Enclave had set up to protect their aerial nation rattled around in my head. The exact altitude at which those defenses would activate was still something of which I was unsure, but a few candid questions to other ponies over the years, which included one old Dashite mare, had confirmed my earth pony guardian’s cautionary statements.

I had yet to ever encounter any Enclave pegasi myself. From what I had heard, I suppose that was something of a blessing though. The rumors suggested that they didn’t hold Wasteland residents in high regard in general, and—according to that Dashite—even reserved a special brand of disgust for pegasi who weren’t fortunate enough to live in their clouded paradise. Even if I wasn’t one of their condemned Dashites, exiled to the ground, I would presumably be shot on sight as a ‘mud pony presumptive enough to fly’.

That was fine with me though. The Enclave wasn’t who I had scheduled myself an appointment with today.

It wasn’t long before my eyes fell upon the ponies that were my target though. Their barding did indeed suggest that they were some flavor of bandits or raider gang. The scene laid out before me consisted of a half dozen stallions and mares cackling and hollering at one another as they tripped a pair of fresh corpses of their possessions. It seemed that the group had claimed a couple of fresh victims with their most recent bout of violence. My lips curled in vicious sneer as I angled myself down at a steep angle, diving at them.

“Ten round burst,” I growled at the voice-activated weapons strapped to my sides, “both sides,” I waited another beat, and then, “fire.”

Green motes of light spat forth from my submachine guns, arcing downward. At the same instant, I set my pinions and arced in a tight barrel roll that spread the rounds out around the milling ponies. When those magically imbued shards of emerald that Foxglove had fashioned impacted, all of Tartarus broke loose.

As tended to be the case with most automatic weapons fire, the first rounds were the ones that struck their target perfectly. Pegasus ponies were so rare and few in the Wasteland that it hardly occurred to even the most experienced combat veteran to keep an eye skyward for threats. I had exploited this trend for many years, and today was no exception. The azure unicorn stallion examining the contents of the saddlebags of one of their recent victims wasn’t even aware that he was being fired at when four crystalline pellets struck his backside, and detonated.

Foxglove had done a phenomenal job when she had augmented my guns. The ability to give them voice commands in lieu of the pull-string or bit trigger like most ponies who used a battle saddle needed was a huge bonus when it came to getting the drop on ponies who didn’t realize that they were in immediate danger from the mare who didn’t even have her teeth on a trigger. That, coupled with the option to call for either or both barrel to fire a specified number of rounds gave me unheard of control over the amount of ammunition that I expended, and the ability to very precisely track how many rounds I had left in my magazines…though it occurred to me now that my recently inherited pipbuck was able to fulfill that function now. Still, it had been a very helpful feature in the past!

Perhaps even more helpful than all of those little tweaks, however, had been the ammunition that she had fashioned for me. While the much smaller gemstones that tipped the converted 10mm rounds couldn’t compare to what a full-sized grenade could generate in terms of raw explosive potential, they more than made up for that with their ability to more precisely focus that energy. A grenade couldn’t know exactly what you were hoping to hit when you threw one, and so their lethal charge did all that it could to destroy everything around it.

With bullets, it was a very different prospect. Foxglove had used her skills to fashion them into precisely directed explosions, shaping the charge so that it was thrown forward into whatever was struck by the round. The results of this feat of engineering were…pronounced. To say the least.

Leather barding, even that made from strips that were hardened through various processes, offered little protection from all but grazing bullet strikes. That, coupled with the fact that my explosive rounds didn’t detonate immediately upon contact, meant that while the first pony I struck might not have ever had the opportunity to realize that he’d been killed, those around him received a very messy announcement regarding my arrival.

Blood, gore, and even a limb or two, radiated outward from where the stallion had been sitting while he’d pawed through the contents of the saddlebag. The gray earth pony mare rifling through the possessions of the second pony that the gang had slain received the worst of it as pony viscera was violently splashed across her entire left side. Unlike her less fortunate comrade, she did live long enough to realize that her life was in danger. Unfortunately, she was not able to direction from which the threat was coming in time. Even as she started to move and seek out her nearby shotgun in order to defend herself from her unknown attacker, I had already begun sweeping my fire along a preset path intend to catch up as many of these ponies as possible in my initial overhead pass.

As happened with automatic fire, not every round could be counted on to be a direct hit, or even a graze, in most cases. After the four that had ripped the first stallion into a ludicrous number of crimson giblets, the three that followed buried themselves harmlessly into the hard scrabble just before sending a small geyser of dirt and gravel about a foot into the air, as I ‘walked’ my stream of deadly fire to my next target. Bullet number eight would have struck the mare in her head if she hadn’t been so quick to move for her weapon. Nine and Ten were far more fortunate as they found the mare’s left elbow and shoulder respectably. Twin flashes of viridian light bloomed simultaneously and the mare screamed as her leg violently wrenched itself from the rest of her body.

Eleven through fifteen were also wasted on the ground or as ricochets as my dive leveled out and bestowed a more horizontal trajectory on my rounds, but sixteen caught a green unicorn mare in her right cheek as her head whipped around to see what all the commotion was about. Her entire mandible, and most of the lower half of her head, was reduced to a fine red mist and the surprised corpse fell to the ground in a heap just as bullets number seventeen and eighteen created and pair of redundant divots in the dead pony’s chest and flank. Nineteen and twenty went sailing harmlessly off into the distance as I started arcing back up in preparation for a second pass.

Of the six who had been standing when I arrived, only three remained capable of fighting. Those survivors remained stunned for several more seconds as they took in what had so suddenly and unexpectedly happened to their companions, but eventually they mustered together enough of their senses to recognize that there was a threat and take action to defend against it. One particularly resilient unicorn mare with a red mane and silver eyes was rather quick off the mark and had some sort of light machinegun hovering at her side and spitting rounds in my direction just as I was starting to gain altitude.

Orange tracers burned around me as the enraged mare sought to avenge her fallen comrades. Most of the shots went very wide; the unicorn either not concerned with accuracy, or never having bothered to become a particularly skilled marksmare with the weapon. Even so, she was still clearly the more immediate threat, and I wasn’t looking forward to braving that hail of bullets on my next pass. I decided that I might want to do something about it before then.

I flicked my wings and snapped around onto my backside as those brilliant streaks of light started to get a lot closer. A second maneuver sent my hindquarters pitching up and over my head as I flipped myself upright. My wings continued to beat furiously, maintaining my speed and direction of flight as I faced the unicorn firing at me. My lip curled in a slight frown as I gauged the distance. I would be unlikely to reliably hit anything at this range like this.

My eyes flickered briefly to the matte gray pipbuck on my left wrist. If ever there was a moment to give it a real test…

I focused my attention on the mare wielding the machinegun, and the world around me slowed to a crawl. Foxglove had suggested that everything was supposed to completely freeze when the magic of the Sparkle Assisted Targeting System was activated, but the exaggerated muzzle flashes and tracer rounds flying around me confirmed that was not the case. Still, it afforded me much more time to focus than without the pipbuck’s assistance. I studied the numbers hovering around the mare, tied to various portions of her body. The percentage values were slowly diminishing as my distance from her increased even during these slowly advancing moments in time.

The values I was being presented with were actually lower than what I had figured they’d be. I cringed at the thought of continuing to use my limited quantity of explosive rounds when I knew that so many were going to impact uselessly on the ground, “load spark rounds,” my words, surprisingly enough, sounded to my own ears like they were being spoken at a normal speed. My submachineguns cycled almost instantly too. Not too bad, “five rounds, both barrels, fire!” both my weapons and the pipbuck seemed to acknowledge the commands simultaneously.

Blue orbs of crackling light flew away from me while I was still trapped within the same bubble of slowly advancing time. My teeth clamped together as I watched incoming slugs cross through the air towards me and miss by much narrower margins than I was comfortable with. It was funny how being able to pick out the unicorn’s bullets with my naked eyes gave me a better appreciation of how much more accurate she had actually been this whole time when all that I’d been able to track before had been every fifth round…

The two lines of sapphire rounds being fired from my guns drifted into vague clusters as each pair of shots was influenced by the slow beating of my wings as I fired. The cloud of crackling energy rounds sprinkled themselves around the mare. It looked like only one of them managed to score a solid hit, which was admittedly far fewer than I would have guessed. I also inwardly cringed at how many of those rounds that had missed had done so by going long on her right side.

Up and to the left…again.

Still, the one single hit had really been all that I needed.

My specified attack completed, the pipbuck dropped me out of SATS and time once again began to proceed as normal. I saw the unicorn mare wince in pain as the shard of magical crystal struck her squarely in the chest and vanish in a flash of indigo lightning. The silver glow that surrounded both the unicorn’s horn and the weapon hovering at her side vanished and the machinegun fell to the ground. My lips spread into a grin and I immediately reversed direction.

The mare shook her head in stark surprise as her eyes fell to her inert weapon. She glared at the defiant firearm and her horn stated to flicker impotently with dim glimpses of silvery light, but nothing that endured. After several failed attempts, the gray unicorn turned her crimson eyes back to me, and I could see the fear in them where rage had once been only a few seconds ago.

While designed to disrupt and destroy the sensitive electro-magical components of sophisticated electronic components of machines like automated turrets and roboponies, the energy discharges of the blue-banded grenades were also known to do very irritating things to a unicorn’s magic for a short period of time. It was very rarely longer than even a minute at the outside, and the amount of magically disruptive energy in one of Foxglove’s specially fashioned rounds would probably only knock out a pony’s magic for just under ten seconds.

Unfortunately for this mare, ten seconds was all that I was going to need to kill her.

“Load armor piercing, five rounds, right barrel, fire!”

I corrected my trajectory ever so slightly as I felt myself being pulled to the right by the submachinegun spitting rounds at my side. The mare in front of me didn’t stand a chance as the first bullet struck her at the base of her throat while those that followed after it crawled upwards. Her larynx, left side of her jaw and left temple were the next to be struck by the Teflon-coated steel core rounds. Only the fifth shot went wide, sailing over the dead unicorn’s head.

Fresh screams and sounds of small arms fire from my right sent me reflexively to my left as I veered to avoid the new threat. I was rather uncomfortably close to the ground at the moment, and that severely limited my maneuvering options which sat at the core of my advantages in a fight. I needed altitude, and I needed it now!

I flared my wings as I simultaneously arched my back, which sent me into a forward flip this time. I brought my hind legs together and coiled them up close to my chest. The moment I judged the time to be right, I shot out with both of my rear hooves and felt them impact solidly on the ground. I shot straight up into the air on a straight vertical trajectory, gaining an immense amount of height very quickly even as the pony shooting at me tried in vain to track my abrupt shift in course.

It seemed that mundane firearms were not all that the remaining pair of raiders had at disposal either. Beams of violet energy danced in the air around me, which was actually rather concerning. I peeled off sharply to my right just as a fresh lance of thrumming magic sliced through the air where I would have been had I not diverted.

Okay, that actually had me pretty concerned…

I flared a wing every second or two, sending me whirling and diving through the air in an almost random direction with each movement as more purple columns of light struck out towards me. All the while, more ‘pops’ of what sounded like pistol fire crackled up from below. Those didn’t have me worried very much. A pony would have to be either very lucky, or very good, to hit me with a small caliber pistol at this sort of range. Meanwhile, all whoever it was that was shooting those purple beams had to do was-

My world vanished in a magenta haze, and I felt my whole body go numb. When the blinding light that had enveloped me went away, I found the Wasteland spinning around me as I went tumbling to the ground. Terror welled up inside my chest as the ground came screaming up to meet me. Desperately I flared out my wings, or rather I tried to. It was really hard to tell though, since I could no longer feel the air rushing around them to know that they were oriented correctly. I couldn’t feel anything.

Fighting down the panic that was threatening to seize control of my mind, I physically looked to each of my wings and watched them until they were properly oriented. I could see myself starting to level out, but I knew it wasn’t going to be enough. With a deep set cringe, I closed my eyes and braced myself. This was going to hurt…

At least, I suppose it would have if I’d still had the ability to feel anything. I guess the total body numbness that had overcome me so unexpectedly wasn’t such a bad thing after all. That wasn’t to say that I wasn’t aware of hitting the ground. I could still hear things, and the sound that a pony made when she went tumbling head over flank along the ground was a rather distinctive one. Snapping bones were a rather unique sound too, come to think of it, and I heard a few iterations of those as I ‘landed’. I’d probably broken something—or more likely a lot of somethings—but I wasn’t going to find out about that any time soon.

When I opened my eyes to get my bearings, I discovered that I had managed to end up on my neck, peering out from between my hind legs. Awkward. I grunted and arched my back, watching as the lower half of my body clumsily fell out of view, followed by the sound of a pony hitting the ground. That had probably been me, as the only other ponies that were moving around in the area were currently advancing directly towards me.

This wasn’t ideal.

“hen hounth, hoeth herralth, hire!”

Unsurprisingly, neither weapon responded to my command. It was hard for me to blame them, as even I hadn’t been able to understand what I’d said, and I was the one saying it! I stuck out my tongue and crossed my eyes in an attempt to confirm that it was still there and hadn’t managed to get bitten off during impact. It was indeed still present, which was a relief, but it was also just as numb as the rest of my body.

“Horthappelth…”

It was at this moment that I was grateful that Foxglove had not removed the pull line that Jackboot and I had rigged up for the weapons for when we desired a means of firing them that was a little easier to conceal beneath a cloak than a true trigger-bit. I craned my head around and awkwardly fumbled around for the little metal tab tucked in at my side. Without feeling to go on, I had to rely on the sound of my teeth finally clasping onto something metal. I gave the object an experimental tug and felt it come loose.

A quick glance confirmed that it was the pull line that I had been seeking, and a renewed sense of relief flooded through me. I once more turned my attention to the approaching raider pair. The black unicorn mare with purple eyes wore a rather irate expression. Meanwhile, the earth pony stallion walking beside her was chuckling rather gleefully to himself as he loaded a fresh magazine into the butt of his weapon. His yellow eyes were dancing over my body in a way that suggested he was intensely debating whether he wanted to have fun with it before, or after, he killed me.

You aren’t going to get that chance though, asshole.

I gave the cord a sharp yank and held my head in that position. Both of my submachineguns roared to life as their trigger mechanisms were engaged. I wriggled around as best I could in an effort to spread out the fire I was sending at those ponies. This was hardly an ideal firing stance, and I couldn’t be completely sure of how I was oriented. It would have been a lot easier to guide my shots if I’d been using one of my more visible ammunition types, but that wasn’t an option unfortunately.

My efforts produced at least some results though! At least one of my rounds struck the stallion, and he went down screaming. The mare was a lot more nimble on her hooves and had danced out of the way, beyond where I was capable of squirming to it seemed, despite my best attempts to correct that. My right barrel went dead, followed a second later by the left one, and then the Wasteland was quiet again.

Just the one pony remained standing, and it didn’t look like my latest efforts had done all that much to improve her mood. She surged forward over the remaining distance, very nearly frothing at the mouth, “you fucking, bitch! I’m going to cut you to pieces!”

It was very probable that she was literally going to do just that too, I thought to myself as I saw the rusted length of steel that had been battered and honed into a crude machete float out of a scabbard strapped to her backside. My eyes went wide as I saw the jagged, nicked, blade rise up into the air and then swing downward towards my head. Desperately, I willed my left leg upwards in an effort to defend myself. Sparks flew as the edge glanced off the seemingly impervious casing of the Old World device. If wasn’t a completely successful deflection though, and I screamed as the machete cleaved off a small portion of my leg’s flesh.

That fucking hurt!

Hey, wait…that actually hurt!

Indeed, though the pain of my wound seemed to course freely through the entire limb, I noticed that my movements were still a little awkward as I tried to roll out of the way of the mare’s next strike and found myself to be only partially successful. A fresh gash was opened up on my cheek as the machete caught me in my attempt to evade. My follow-up hop was significantly more successful and I managed to completely avoid being struck that time.

I could feel pain, and move around a little bit, but it was clear to me that I wasn’t completely recovered from whatever this mare’s beam had done to me. In an attempt to find out just how recovered I was, I once more attempt to issue out a voice command to the weapons at my side, “woad weguwah wouns!”

No telltale noises of the bolt revolving to strip from the specified magazine.

Fuck!

It looked like I was going to have to do this the hard way.

I snarled at the advancing unicorn and ducked under another one of her swings. This time I didn’t give up any additional ground though. I couldn’t afford to remain on the defensive, especially when I didn’t possess the option of flight. On the ground, this unicorn had all of the advantages when compared to myself, even without her magic. So I charged on ahead in an effort to wrap my hooves around the mare and wrestle her to the ground.

Unfortunately, it seemed that I wasn’t nearly as recovered as I had hoped quite yet, and the mare easily withstood the anemic ‘tackle’ and then casually flung me aside with her leg. I hit the ground with a pained groan, which was followed up very quickly by a stunned grunt as the unicorn planted her hoof in the center of my chest and pinned me to the ground. Alright, so maybe that didn’t quite work out the way that I had hoped…

Uh oh…

My left leg shot out reflexively and swatted aside the machete that had been coming down to decapitate me with the pipbuck’s casing once more. I followed through this time and slammed the blade down against the ground in an effort to pin it there and remove it from the fight. No telling how long that was going to last though, as weak as I still was.

I wasn’t quite done yet though, and this mare had fucked up by the numbers by coming back within reach of me. Her hoof was still putting a lot of weight on my rib cage, but I was flexible enough to work around that. I heaved upwards with my hips and managed to snake my legs around the unicorn’s neck. At that same moment, my free right forehoof gripped around the leg she was using to hold me in place. Her violet eyes went wide as she realized her mistake, but it was too late. A decent amount of force was all that I needed to apply in order to put her off balance and send the mare to the ground.

With every last bit of strength that I could muster, I clamped my hind legs down tight around the unicorn’s throat. I was also keeping in mind the need to keep as much of my weight as possible on the grounded machete, as I saw that the mare’s horn was still glowing brightly. Judging by her struggles and discomfort, the unicorn was at least starting to get a little short of breath, and she started to pound at me with her forelegs. At least a little numbness yet remained to help mitigate those strikes at least. At this rate, I was sure to come out on top…

Windfall, one of these days, you will learn to keep your big. Mouth. Shut!

The unicorn’s horn flared briefly, and I was once again enveloped in that same purple light which had caught me before. I felt the pain of my injuries vanish almost instantly, and my strength starting to ebb away. I couldn’t even be sure that I was still constricting my legs around the mare’s throat. If she escaped, that was it.

The light dissipated, and my vision quickly returned. The unicorn was still in my clutches…for now, at least. She had stopped pounding at me, and was instead making an effort to pry herself free, which was no doubt going to work very soon now. I couldn’t let that happen though. I just couldn’t. If I died here, then who was going to avenge Jackboot? Who was going to get rid of all of those ponies on my list that needed to be dealt with in order to make the Wasteland a better place?

I couldn’t die here.

No, I wouldn’t die here! This bitch was not going to get free! Celestia as my witness, I was going to end her life; because that was what I was good at, damn it! I wasn’t going to lose, not to her, not ever!

I had her in my clutches. All I needed was just a little…more…strength…

Come on, Windfall, stay strong, I thought fiercely at myself even as I saw the other mare starting to make some progress in her efforts to get one of her hoofs around my hind leg and pry it loose from her neck, if ever there was a time you were going give it your all, this was it! Stay strong, Windfall!

Be Strong!

That last thought felt like it had echoed in my head a little more than the others. It had seemed to be enough though, and I felt a surge of power run down through my body. Choking her was going to take too long. I needed this fight ended now!

With a sharp twist of my hips as I flexed my hind legs, I wrenched the unicorn’s head sharply to the side much farther than biology had ever intended for it to go. I heard the sound of crackling bones as the base of the mare’s skull was dislocated from the rest of her cervical spine. Instantaneously, the unicorn’s body went limp and the light surrounding her horn faded away.

I finally allowed myself to relax and loosen my grip on the dead mare. Feeling was returning to my body already, making me suspect that the mare’s more recent, desperate, blast had not been charged as potently as the first one that had struck me. It was certainly enough to make me a little unsteady on my hooves at first when I finally managed to stand up. That was fine, since for the next little bit, all that I was concerned about was taking the opportunity to catch my breath.

Six on one may have been pushing the limit a little bit when it came to the sorts of odds that I could overcome, I conceded. Next time, I’d make sure that I had some backup. Or maybe bigger guns. Bigger guns might help out a little bit too.

The sound of somepony groaning nearby drew my attention. I glanced over and saw the yellow-eyed stallion who’d been shooting at me with a pistol before. He was still alive, despite the oozing hole in his chest. The enterprising stallion was even trying to crawl away, it looked like. Ambitious of him. I wasn’t going to let it happen though, I thought, as my eyes flickered over to the pair of corpses that I had found this group gathered around.

Careful to mind my still tingling legs, I stepped towards the pitiful earth pony. He must have heard me coming, because the pony glanced over his shoulder at me, and I saw his amber eyes widen with terror. He whirled back around and started to frantically claw away from me but, in his panic, his hooves found it difficult to find solid purchase, and he started to actually make less progress.

“Nononono,” he uttered in fearful gasps of breath, “please, don’t! No,” he wasn’t even looking at me as he continued to try and futilely escape. I frowned and continued walking closer to him, “I don’t want to die! Please, no!”

Nopony wants to die, I thought caustically at the stallion. Out loud, I began to issue the necessary orders to my weapons, “hwo hegu-weh ahmen,” I scowled as I cleared my throat and stretched my jaw for a second attempt, “woad weguleh-aaargh!” this was so incredibly frustrating! On to ‘Plan B’ then.

I glanced to my side and kept an eye on my right wing as I tried to manipulate the submachinegun’s fire selector switch with my pinions. This was proving to be rather difficult as well. After about five seconds of what would have, in any other situation, been comically funny failings to move the switch with my wingtip, my pinion slipped and accidentally ejected the magazine containing the weapon’s regular 10mm ammunition.

With another exasperated sigh, I lifted up my wing instead, “fug ih,” I ducked my head beneath the wing, withdrew my compact .45, and placed a round into the back of the crawling stallion’s head. I glanced around at my surrounding’s, my eyes keenly tracking the bottom of my pipbuck’s Eyes Forward Sparkle. No blips of any kind, red or yellow, appeared in any direction. So far as the pipbuck indicated, I was completely alone out here. I was likely to remain that way for a good while yet. Foxglove was a couple miles away, and it would take here perhaps ten minutes to get here even at a decent gallop. I certainly wasn’t going to risk flying in the near future considering how poorly my wings were responding to my commands to move.

Resigned to waiting, I found a patch of ground that wasn’t splattered with blood or pony guts, and brought up the pipbuck. I could at least enjoy some music while I waited. Bringing up the radio function on the pipbuck, I tuned in to frequency of the Manehattan DJ and allowed myself to relax as the gentle baritone of King Claws-Beak, a popular griffon singer of the Old World, began wafting out of the speakers. To my knowledge, he hadn’t been an actual ‘king’, but I didn’t really know for sure. His crooning sounded nice regardless.

As the soft music surrounded me, I found myself once more surveying the carnage around me. Eight dead ponies, six of them brought down by my own hooves. Not bad for one young little mare, I suppose. I really was good at killing, the sour though wound through my head for far from the first time. That sick feeling that I always got after something like this started in my stomach and I instinctively tried to reach into my saddlebag for some Wild Pegasus, but the latch’s mysteries eluded my desensitized pinions. Not that it really mattered, I realized with an irritated grunt. I didn’t have any more whiskey anyway. I hadn’t gotten the chance to replenish my stash after we’d been paid for delivering Homily and her crew safely to McMaren. Our departure had been pretty sudden.

That meant that I didn’t have anything to take the edge off this time. I pounded the ground in frustration, glancing at the corpses surrounding me. A thought then occurred to me: it wasn’t many a raider gang that traveled without some sort of alcohol themselves! With a renewed sense of excitement, I shot up and cantered from body to body, rifling through their belongings. I was reduced to tearing open most of their bags with my teeth and upending them in order to get at what was inside.

Some of the more worthwhile looking food and ammunition I set aside, along with any medical supplies and loose caps. I’d get to those sorts of things later. Right now, I needed whiskey!

As I emptied the final saddlebag, I was forced to acknowledge that my thirst for some Wild Pegasus was going to have to go unquenched. Unfortunately, the only alcohol that I was able to find on any of those ponies was a single bottle of Crystal Heart vodka. I had never been any sort of fan of the clear spirits. In my personal opinion, it tasted like a doctor’s shanty smelled—at least the respectable doctors that bothered cleaning their equipment anyway. It looked like this time the vodka was all the option I had left to me. There certainly wasn’t any way that I was going to sit here thinking about my work and not drink though.

So I popped the cork and took several long, painful, swallows from the aptly named heart-shaped bottle. Oh, yeah, this stuff was still just as putrid as I remembered it being…

When I finished taking my needed drink, I shuddered in an effort to keep it down. It may not have been whiskey, but it was still alcohol all the same, and I could feel it already start to go to work on numbing me in a very different sort of way. I was very grateful for that, if not the acrid taste it left in my mouth. More prepared for what my taste buds were going to be subjected to, I took two more long pulls from the decanter.

Once upon a time, just a shot or two was all that I needed to numb my brain to the point where seeing a bunch of dead and mangled pony bodies that I'd created no longer bothered me as much. As the years dragged on, and my body count climbed, that necessary volume had steadily gone up. These days, I needed damn near a whole bottle. There were a few times when even that wasn't quite enough though. Drinking myself into unconsciousness did the trick on such days; but that meant that I was also effectively useless for the rest of the night. It was much too early now to go to that sort of extreme this time.

Which was unfortunate, because I could already feel that what was left in this bottle wasn't quite going to cut it. I'd just killed a lot of ponies right now, and a few had been very messy deaths. Celestia it really sucked being good at something that made me feel this sick...

I felt the back of my head start to tingle as the third large swallow I'd taken began to work it's dull magic. It wasn’t a moment too soon, as it turned out. I heard the last of Claws-Beak’s song fall off into silence, and get replaced by the recognizable words of the eastern Wasteland disc-jockey, “Hello, children!” DJ Pon3 offered by way of his usual greeting. However, right off the bat, I could tell from the faint waver in his tone that this wasn’t going to be one of the radio personality’s more uplifting broadcasts, “I hope everypony’s having a better day out there in the Wasteland than I am. Your old friend, DJ Pon3…well, he’s having a rough week…”

“Twade yah,” I mumbled to myself, cringing again at the slightly slurred words.

“Children, believe it or not, there are days when this old stallion wonders if he didn’t make the biggest mistake of his life when he made that promise to give all of you out there the honest truth of what’s happening in the Wasteland,” I could hear the resignation fully in his words now. These were the words of a stallion who was bearing a heavy burden and was thinking very hard about whether or not he wanted to keep on bearing it, “you don’t know how many times a piece of news comes across my desk and I think to myself, I think, ‘Pon3? If you tell your children about this, it’s going to break their little hearts,’ and I don’t want to break your hearts, children. You all have enough to worry about out there. The Wasteland’s a hard place. You know that, and I know that.

“But…” the stallion continued with a heavy sigh, “as much as I know that it’ll hurt your hearts to hear the sorts of things I have to tell you from time to time, I know that it’ll break your spirits if word gets around that even good ol’ DJ Pon3 is just one more liar and con pony out to play with your emotions. So…here it goes:

“It turns out, children, that the Lone Ranger…well, he really was doing all those things that ponies were saying,” I felt my own throat catch now as I heard the distant stallion’s news. I hadn’t wanted to believe those earlier rumors. The Lone Ranger was…well, he’d been my hero! A pony that had seen the injustices of the Wasteland, and knew that he had the power to do something about it, and actually did do something about it? He was exactly the sort of pony that I’d aspired to be since my parents had died.

I winced. Well, since my pa had died, I guess…Of course, everypony important to me was dead now, weren't they?

I took another drink.

When I’d heard that broadcast last week about how the Lone Ranger might have been attacking innocent caravans…I’d known it had to be a lie. The lone Ranger was like me: a pony who wanted to help because they knew they could. I knew that I’d never kill innocent ponies, so then how could he do it?

Now, hearing DJ Pon3 confirm those initial rumors…I didn’t know what to think. Except, perhaps: why?

“For those of you wondering ‘why’, well…like I said, children: we all know that the Wasteland is a hard place. If it can’t crush you, it’ll crush your heart and your dreams until you don’t feel like you have anything left.

“I genuinely believe that the Lone Ranger wanted to help ponies. I really do believe that, children. At first, he was. He killed raiders, and monsters, and slaver ponies. He was doing good out there, children!” there was a long pause, “but then, I guess, he started to get tired. He saw that, no matter how many raiders he killed, there were always more waiting around the corner. For every radscorpion he’d crush, two more would pop up. Every time he freed a slave, another pony would be captured.

“Eventually, he just stopped feeling like he was making a difference. He was treating the symptoms of the Wasteland, but he couldn’t cure the world of its real sickness,” another long pause, “and, I think, in the end, he caught some of that sickness. He thought that, as bad as ponies like Red-Eye’s slavers were, ponies—good, honest, ponies—were still trading with him, selling him food and guns.

“Now, children, I know we all have families, and we need to survive. I’m not going to pass judgement on anypony that has to choose between letting their foals starve or trading with Red-Eye. Not everypony has an option to do the truly right thing, and has to settle for just doing the best that they can. I guess, though…the Lone Ranger, he didn’t see it that way. He saw ponies like that as being just as bad as the slavers that they traded with.

“I’ve-we’ve-managed, Homage and I, to confirm that all of the caravans that were hit by the Lone Ranger had, at some time, done business with either a slaver or raider band.”

I hung my head in despair. I had hoped…maybe it could have been a mistake. To hear that those rumors had been right, that my hero could become just as murderous as the very ponies that he was fighting for so long.

Not that a part of me didn’t understand why he’d done it. It wasn’t like there weren’t times when I didn’t see some merchant in New Reino dealing with a pony I knew to be a slave peddler, and want to throttle the both of them. I had to remind myself that the merchant wasn’t actually dealing in slaves himself—and that slavery was still legal in New Reino—and that he probably could afford to turn away customers on moral principle. Principles didn’t put food on the table, after all.

“But,” he went on, interrupting my thoughts with his melancholy tone, “I guess I have some somewhat ‘sweet’ news to go with this bitter pill: the Lone Ranger is dead,” it felt like somepony had punched me in the gut. I slowly lowered myself all the way to the ground and lied down as I continued listening, “the local trade guilds paid for a Talon mercenary contract, and Gawd herself delivered his head to Friendship City early this morning. At least…at least nopony needs to worry that they might be next,” it was clear that DJ Pon3 hadn’t enjoyed this outcome any more than I had.

There was several seconds of dead air before the stallion resumed his broadcast, “I want everypony out there to do dear old DJ Pon3 this one favor; can you do that, children? I want you to remember the way you felt when you knew that there was somepony out there helping you. I want you to remember those days when seeing the Lone Ranger cresting a hill made you feel safe, and sent raiders running for their lives.

“I want you to remember what it’s like when there’s a good pony out there in the Wasteland, fighting the good fight. Remember that, children. Maybe, some day…we won’t have to just ‘remember’ what that feels like. Someday…it’ll just be the way that the world is.

Another long pause, and then I heard the sound of a mare clearing her throat in the background before the stallion continued, “but, for now, here’s some Ink Plots for you with, ‘Until the Real Thing Comes Along’,” the disc jockey chuckled softly, “until that time, children. Until that time.”

The Manehattan stallion’s voice was replaced by the strumming of a lone acoustic guitar and a quarter of singing ponies, but I hardly even noticed. ‘Until then’, he’d said. Exactly how common did he think heroes were in the Wasteland? I could only count two ponies like that in my whole life so far, and both of them had failed miserably in the end. We just had to face it and accept the facts: you couldn’t beat the Wasteland; it was going to win in the end. No single pony was going to end a two century long streak, after all, were they?

I brought the heart-shaped bottle to my lips and upended it.

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 24: DEVIL OR ANGEL

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“We all need something that keeps us going, despite all the terrible things around us.”

When Foxglove finally found me she was…well, I’m not sure what she was. My mind was a little bit hazy at the time. I’m pretty sure that it started out with a lot of yelling and screaming. Some of it was angry screaming, and some of it was horrified and concerned screaming. I don’t think the violet unicorn was all that comfortable yet with seeing ponies’ bodies splattered across the Wasteland the way these were. That was a bit hypocritical, I felt, since she was the one that made the ammunition that did this to the ponies I shot. I wisely decided not to inform her of this, so that she continued to make more of it for me.

Instead, I puked all over her hooves.

Vodka sucked.

I think the purple unicorn mistook my transitory nausea for something far more serious and immediately shifted her priorities from berating me to treating my injuries. In hindsight, I suppose that I had been covered in quite a bit of blood, and that most of that blood was indeed my own. The wounds weren’t really all that bad when I thought about the sorts of injuries that I had suffered over the years, or even rather recently. They were actually rather mild and superficial, come to think of it. Still, given how recently I’d been at death’s door, I suppose her concern was understandable.

The healing potion certainly helped to take the edge off. I was a little less enthusiastic about the syringe of Med-X that the mare used on me. After that fight, the last thing I wanted to experience were additional losses of sensation in my body. Compared to feeling nothing at all, I actually preferred the pain. At least I could talk through pain!

“Danks, Fozzi!”

Inebriation, on the other hoof…

“For Celestia’s sake, Windfall,” the violet mare cried out, exasperated, “what were you thinking! You could have been killed!”

“Waddn’t doh,” I managed a broad smile at the mare. Then I winced as she started screaming at me again.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?!” well, actually, yes. She didn’t seem to see it that way though, “Windfall, you can’t just fly off and pick a fight with a group of raiders!” show’s what she knows. That was exactly what I did. In your face, bonehead!

I must have said some of that out loud though. Something sure set her off, “Windy, I know you’re upset about Jackboot and your mother, but getting yourself killed isn’t going to help anything!”

A lot of my intoxication cleared up pretty quickly upon hearing the unicorn mention those two. What the fuck did this bitch think she knew about losing ponies? Who had she lost? Everypony that she knew was still safe and sound back in her old comfortable stable where they had all the food that they could want, and never had to worry about raiders or White Hooves. She was going to pass judgment on me?

“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed at the mare, causing her to draw back with wide eyes as she slammed her mouth shut. It was clear that she hadn’t expected me to roar at her like I was. Well, too bad. You want to yell? Fine, we’ll yell, “you don’t know a Celestia-damned thing!” I staggered up onto my hooves, straining through the alcohol and Med-X induced numbness which was fortunately nowhere near as potent as what that black unicorn had done to me.

I fixed a steely glare on the violet mare, “you think this was dangerous?” I gestured around at the surrounding carnage, “well then welcome to the fucking Wasteland! This is what I’ve lived with my whole fucking life, you stupid fucking stable-twit. You see this?!” I turned so that my flank was directly in front of her face and jabbed a hoof at my cutie mark, “it’s a fucking sword stabbing through a fucking heart! You want to know how I got it?” I glared at the mare with cold eyes as the scene in question replayed in my head for the hundredth time that year. I don’t recall ever having actually told the mare about that day, “I shot a pony in his fucking head when I was six years old. And do you know what it means?” the unicorn very wisely didn’t attempt a guess.

“It means that I kill ponies,” I growled at the unicorn, “that’s what I do. It’s my special Celestia-damned talent,” I jabbed my hoof at the nearest corpse, “and I’m damned good at it. You think this was some brutal fight that had me in over my head? Bitch, I’ve survived a factory filled with roboponies and a stable crawling with ghouls. I’ve fought hell hounds, demon ponies, and gangs of slavers twice this size.

“Maybe for a mewling pathetic stable-pony like you, facing down six puny little raiders on your own in a fight would be a life-defining experience. But for me? It’s a fucking Tuesday!

“So take your prissy little lecture about ‘being safer’, and shove it up your fucking slit!”

The vast bulk of my rage was finally spent with that last utterance, and I was left seething in the face of a very surprised—and immensely hurt—Foxglove. Deep within me, I did feel guilty about what I’d said to her. A tiny little voice in the back of my mind recognized that the unicorn was just concerned for me, but I sealed it away quickly. She was wasting her time if that’s what all of this was about. I certainly wasn’t concerned about me; there wasn’t any need for somepony else to be either.

“I guess I really shouldn’t expect you to understand,” I continued in a much calmer tone, “you haven’t had to live with this your whole life,” I glanced at her own cutie mark, “what’s a pony with a damned flower on her butt know about surviving in the Wasteland anyway?

“Let’s just…get to New Reino.

“I need another drink.”

New Reino.

I used to have so many happy memories about this place. In my head, I could clearly recall the first time that Jackboot had brought me here. We’d been tracking a bounty all the way from Seaddle. I couldn’t quite remember exactly what the stallion we were after had done—those were the sorts of details that Jackboot kept track of—but I did remember how I’d felt when we crested the hill and saw all of the city’s colorful blinking signs and lights.

To me, it had been one of the most beautiful things that I’d ever seen. New Reino wasn’t the largest settlement in the Wasteland, or even just the Neighvada Valley, really. I was pretty sure that title went to Seaddle. Jackboot told me that Hoofington was much bigger, but I think he was just being biased. I had to fly pretty high up in the air to see from one side of Seaddle all the way across to the far end of those old ruins. Even the currently inhabited portion was fairly large, taking up many square blocks. You couldn’t miss the midnight black converted theatre that served as the Princess’ palace either.

By contrast, New Reino was much more compact; but it was fun and colorful. At least, that was how I had thought of the place once upon a time—also known as ‘last week’.

Now…it was where everything had started to go wrong. This is where we’d left from to track down Homily’s missing expedition before heading on to McMaren. That was when Foxglove must have had her falling out with Jackboot. At least, I’d thought they were having a falling out, before I found them in the stable. They seemed to make up pretty fast…

The bounty hunters had found us here too. That had caused us a few problems and nearly gotten both me and the older stallion killed. Then we’d come right back and got hooked up with Cestus.

I could feel my teeth starting to clamp down, hard, as I thought about the White Hoof. That damned griffon wasn’t far off the top of my growing ‘list’ of creatures that needed an express ticket out of the Wasteland in a gruesome and permanent fashion. The temptation to bolt right on in there and just gun down that feathered bastard was almost overwhelming.

My gaze flashed towards the purple unicorn mare trudging along the ground below. Foxglove had previously expressed how little she cared for my going in with guns blazing to solve issues. Truth be told, Jackboot had never been a particular fan of that approach either, now that I thought about it. Besides, I knew that if I launched an attack on that griffon’s casino stronghold, I’d be fighting a lot more than a half dozen clueless raiders. Heck, I might just find myself getting labeled as a ‘raider’ myself for doing something like that; and while New Reino wasn’t my favorite place in the valley anymore, I didn’t need to go around alienating entire settlements.

The griffon needed to die, I knew that much, but this time it might behoove me to find some way of taking care out of him that wasn’t going to involve turning a block or two of New Reino into a warzone. Something along the lines of how we dealt with Tommyknocker.

There was time enough to come up with that sort of plan though. The griffon wasn’t going to be picking up and moving shop anytime soon. I could wait…for now.

My more immediate concern was getting my hooves on a decent drink. That vodka hadn’t taken nearly enough of my edge off, and left a rancid taste in my mouth. I needed whiskey.

That meant choosing a place to get it though. I didn’t want to go to the Lucky Bit, or any of the other well-known places like that. It was unlikely that the griffon was going to be keeping a sharp eye out for Foxglove and I. Jackboot had clearly been the pony he’d meant to sell out, and the two of us would just be collateral damage. I still figured it would help to keep a lower profile though, so that he didn’t immediately notice that we were back and put himself on guard.

It’s not like I was the sort of pony that blended in well anywhere though. Ponies with wings weren’t a common sight on the ground. Still, keeping to the lower key bars couldn’t possibly hurt.

We found exactly the sort of place that I had in mind on the outskirts of the settlement. A whole-in-the-wall joint whose flickering red sign identified it as being Crow’s Bar. The odor of hard liquors hung thick in the air even before you actually stepped a hoof inside. Once through the door, I knew that I’d found exactly what I was looking for when it came to a place that I could acquire quality spirits. It didn’t check all of the right boxes as far as ‘blending’ went though…

Just about every eye in the place locked onto me when I glided on inside and set my hooves down. It was clear that a lot of ponies didn’t know what to make of me. Ninety-nine out of every hundred winged pony currently alive in the world was an Enclaver, and their type was hardly welcome in most places on the surface due to their rather dismissive attitudes towards the typical Wasteland resident. The pegasi that left their terraphobic order and committed themselves to a life on the surface tended to be Dashites, and thus bore very specific brands where their cutie marks had once been. My mark was rather clearly intact, so I couldn’t be a Dashite. To ground ponies, that meant that I was either an Enclave agent—which wouldn’t score me a lot of points with the locals—or I was a genuine Wasteland resident who had been born on the surface like the rest of them.

It had hardly ever been an issue in most places that we’d gone when I started traveling with Jackboot, since I’d clearly been a young filly and was in the company of an earth pony. Ponies had written me off as his daughter and gone about their business. By the time I’d gotten older, ponies in those places already knew who I was, and Jackboot hadn’t been keen on causally introducing himself to new ponies when he didn’t have to. He stuck to the contacts that he’d been creating over the years.

For the first time in a long time, I was in a completely new place with new ponies who had no clue who I was, and without the benefit of anypony to vouch for me. This…could get awkward.

“Glovy-darling, is that you?! It’s been ages!”

My head whipped around as a blur of movement caught my attention from out of the corner of my eye. My body tensed up instantly in anticipation of an attack and I launched myself up into the air and whirled around to face the pony coming at me. Only, it had not been me that they’d been after, it seemed.

My unicorn companion’s eyes went wide as she found herself gathered up in an enthusiastic embrace being foisted upon her by a midnight blue earth pony mare with a silver mane and braided tail. There was a brief look of panic and surprise on the violet mare’s face, and then an expression of recognition.

“Kashmir?”

The blue mare pulled back slightly, enough for Foxglove to regain and steady her footing, and continued beaming brilliantly at the unicorn, “of course, silly! Who else?” her face instantly fell into an exaggerated mask of concern and worry, “where have you been?! I haven’t seen you since that big poker game a couple months back. I’ve been worried sick!”

“Oh, um, yeah,” the violet unicorn cringed, “Tommy and I had a…falling out. I needed a change of scenery, you know?”

“You poor dear!” I watch as Foxglove was consumed into a second, even more potent, hug by the other mare, “I’m so sorry to hear that!” the hug was released as suddenly as it had begun, “did you hear that Tommy died?!” before waiting for an answer, she launched into further details, “they found his body in an alley outside his suite. Dreadful!” now her features soured considerably, “some pigeon’s running things now, and I guess he doesn’t have a taste for refined mares like us, so me and the other girls were sent packing.

“Now I have to serve drinks in a bar like a…a…drink server!”

“I…” whatever Foxglove had been about to say was interrupted by a rather loud shout from the direction of the bar.

“Hey, Kash!” a burly gray stallion wearing a white shirt and a poorly knotted bowtie snarled from behind the bar, “I’m not paying you to gush over your old whore friends! Get back here and pick up these orders!”

A dark sneer crossed briefly over the mare’s face as she looked at the bartender, but it was gone by the time she looked back at Foxglove. In its place was a warm smile, “looks like duty calls. Catch you up later, Glovy!” the mare gave the unicorn a peck on each cheek and then bounded off towards the bar.

I settled back to the ground and shot the unicorn a questioning look, “friend of yours?”

“…sort of,” Foxglove replied, rubbing away at her cheeks, “let’s get some seats, and you can ask me about it.”

The bright side of the whole encounter was that it looked like it had been enough to provisionally vet me in the eyes of most of the patrons in the bar. The server very clearly knew the purple unicorn that had come in, so that marked her as a local, and I was very obviously a friend of that same local. I was sure a few were going to be keeping a wary eye on me throughout the night, but at least I wasn’t the focus of everypony’s attention anymore.

The two of us found ourselves a booth in the back that offered what passed for privacy in a place like this and took our seats. It was another pony—for which Foxglove seemed thankful—that took our order. While we waited, the unicorn decided that she might as well get an explanation out of the way.

“Kashmir and I were both ponies that worked for Tommyknocker as his ‘companions’,” the word made the mare shudder ever so slightly, “he had a few of us that he kept around so that he could ‘lend’ us to some of his high-roller friends when they came by.”

“She was a slave like you then,” I concluded, and was surprised when the unicorn shook her head.

“Not like me, no. Tommyknocker didn’t need to use threats or drugs on her, or a few other mares. They seemed to actually like working for him and doing that sort of stuff,” the idea that such ponies existed sounded like it surprised her, and I could understand that bafflement. Why would anypony want to be used like that? I asked her as much.

“We weren’t paid,” Foxglove explained, “but we didn’t need to buy anything either. We had places to sleep, and they were pretty comfortable—when we weren’t keeping his friends ‘company’ in the suites that is. If we wanted food, all we had to do was ask for the kitchens to send up whatever we wanted. Sometimes the ponies we spent time with gave us jewels or other gifts.

“I suppose if you don’t care that you have to bump flanks with a bunch of stallions whenever they tell you to, then it probably wasn’t a bad gig,” her gaze went to the distant Kashmir, wandering around tables as she deposited full bottles in exchange for those that the customers had finished. Every so often I’d notice a bolder stallion tap her on the rear with a hoof. Depending on how attractive they were, the indigo mare would either flash them a wink or smack them across their face with her tail in response, “Kashmir certainly didn’t seem to mind. She even picked out a couple of favorites that she made sure she got paired with whenever they came by.”

Foxglove shook her head, “not me though. I’d just as soon never touch a stallion ever again.”

I flashed the mare a sour look before I realized what I’d done. That was an interesting thing to hear from the only mare I’d ever known who was lucky enough to get a shot at Jackboot. The unicorn caught my gaze before I could properly school my features and raised a curious brow in my direction. I kept silent for a few moments, waiting for the unicorn to realize why I might have looked at her like that.

When I didn’t get a reaction, I cleared my throat, “and I suppose you decided that in the last couple of days?”

“Huh? What are you—oh,” for a mare who had a purple coat, she actually blushed rather noticeably, “…that.”

“Mmh-hm.”

It was at that moment that our drinks arrived. I didn’t even wait for our unicorn server’s magic to get my bottle of Wild Pegasus and glass all of the way onto the table before I snatched it out of the air and started to take several generous gulps of the amber fluid. Both the server and Foxglove looked at me for a moment before the violet mare took her own Sparkle Cola and settled the tab.

When we were alone again, Foxglove tried to muster up an explanation, “look, Windy, I realize that what you saw looked…um, well, it wasn’t what it looked like.”

I swallowed my current mouthful and frowned at the mare, “it looked like you were fucking him on an examination bed.”

Foxglove cleared her throat and looked away, nodding, “yes. Yes it did.”

“Were you not fucking him?”

“No. I was.”

I rolled my eyes and took another long pull from the bottle, “so, when you said it didn’t look like that, what you really meant was…?” I waited expectantly for her answer.

The unicorn was looking thoroughly uncomfortable right now, but I didn’t feel a whole lot of sympathy for the violet mare. She was a grown mare, and Jackboot had been a grown stallion. They were perfectly free to do whatever it was that they wanted with one another. That was their business. I’d taken my shot and missed the mark. As much as that hurt, as did knowing that he’d chosen Foxglove instead, I was a grown mare and I could deal with it.

What I was having a hard time dealing with was Foxglove’s evasiveness. Just own up to it already!

“What I mean is that I didn’t have feelings for Jackboot like that,” the mare winced, “you know I never really liked him, and not just because I knew he was a White Hoof. It was more than that, and I don’t want to get into it with you,” was this supposed to make me feel better about it somehow? “but what you saw? It didn’t mean anything.”

I really hoped that none of that had been meant to make me feel better about any of it, because if that had been the case, Foxglove had failed miserably. It wasn’t enough that she’d stolen Jackboot from me, she had to emphasize that she’d never had any actual feelings for the stallion? Meanwhile, I’d had all sorts of feelings for him. Very specific and passionate feelings that I’d been nurturing for years!

“I see,” I somehow managed to keep my tone far more civil than I thought I could have under the circumstances, “so, you just needed him to get off,” Foxglove managed to blush even deeper somehow without making any effort to deny the accusation, “your hooves weren’t cutting it that night? I figured you’d have a spell or something that could hit that sweet spot just right and do the job in a sec.”

Each subsequent statement made the unicorn even more uncomfortable and ashamed. Seeing her descend even further and further into that state only served to throw more fuel onto that growing fire of outrage that was slowly growing inside of me.

She’d known how I felt about Jackboot. I hadn’t been very shy about those feelings around her when the stallion was out of earshot. I’d never had a chance to talk about stallions like that with another mare for long periods of time. French Tip had always been up for a bit of saucy fantasizing when I visited her to get my mane styled and trimmed, or my hooves polished. She’d been rather supportive of my feelings.

Foxglove hadn’t been. The unicorn had kept asking me questions about how Jackboot acted around me and whether or not he made me do anything with him. She’d never been explicit, but it hadn’t been long before I picked up on what she’d thought our relationship had been like. At first, I thought she’d been put off by the age difference. Whatever other ponies might think, I was well aware of how much older Jackboot had been than I was. While the usual story had been that he was my father, the truth was that he was old enough to have actually been my grandfather—as young as most mares in the Wasteland sometimes were when they had their first.

That being said, the thought of how much older he was hadn’t bothered me. I’d known plenty of younger, more ‘age appropriate’ stallions in my time; and most of them were hot-headed, immature, assholes who just wanted to prove how much of a stud they were to the pretty little pegasus mare so that they could get her to lift her tail for a night while they took her for a ‘test flight’. Jackboot always treated me like a genuinely useful pony; and not just some prize to be won, or an idiot that could be tricked into bed with enough flattery and drink.

Besides, Foxglove obviously had a thing for older stallions too. Jackboot had certainly been old enough to be her father.

Then, when the older stallion’s secret had come out, I thought that maybe she’d known from the beginning that he’d been a White Hoof, and that was why she’d been warning me to keep my distance. The memory of how I’d reacted to the news still made me feel guilty. Whatever he had been once upon a time, he’d never been like that with me. I should have judged him on the pony I knew him to be, and not the pony that I’d never even seen since we’d met. Obviously, though, his White Hoof history hadn’t been all that much of a strike against Jackboot in Foxglove’s book either.

He might not have been good enough for me in the unicorn’s eyes; but Jackboot had obviously been good enough for her to get a good time or two. There really wasn’t any telling how long they’d been a thing, now that I thought about it. There had been plenty of times when the two of them could have been going at it without me knowing anything.

Had it been Foxglove’s idea to keep it a secret from me?

Was she the reason that he’d turned me down? With all of the things that she’d been saying to me, what could the unicorn have been talking about with Jackboot?

The tip of my hoof started digging into the table’s surface, putting a wide scratch into its surface, “what were you telling him about me?” I asked in what had nearly come out as a growl. I hadn’t quite intended it that way, but I wasn’t feeling very calm and collected at the moment. I had to know if the unicorn had had anything to do with Jackboot rejecting me.

“What?”

“Jackboot. What were you telling him about me,” I elaborated, doing my best not to raise the volume of my voice too much. I didn’t want to create a big scene here. Yet, at any rate. I suppose that it very much depended on what I heard out of this mare, “how long were you and he a ‘thing’?”

The unicorn shook her head vehemently, “Jackboot and I were never a ‘thing’, Windy. That thing in the stable was just a one-time thing, and that was just a fluke. I swear,” the violet mare even managed to sound sincere. Then she hesitated for a brief moment and bit her lip.

“But…?”

“Nothing. Nothing else happened.”

Foxglove didn’t sound completely convinced about that, and neither was I, “so you spent months badmouthing him, trying to convince me that he wasn’t worth feeling the way I did; but then—out of the blue—you decide you want to get a piece of him?

“I’m really supposed to believe that?”

“It’s the truth, Windy, it really is!”

“Okay,” I took a deep breath and finished off the bottle in my hooves. I needed a break from this mare’s lies before I did something that was going to leave her regretting it, “I need another bottle,” I slipped out of the booth and headed for the bar. Foxglove, rather wisely, didn’t make an effort to follow me. The unicorn chose only to bow her head and bury it in her hooves.

Funny what guilt did to some ponies. Especially when those ponies were stallion-stealing, backstabbing, lying, cunts! Jackboot had wanted to cut her loose too, I recalled. Just one more example of how he’d had an uncanny sense about a pony. I should have listened to him then too, it turns out.

Too late though.

I alit into one of the open stools at the end of the bar, “Wild Pegasus,” I barked at the stallion behind the bar. A glass slid over in front of me and a bottle floated over in front of me and filled it up. Just as it was about to drift away, I wrapped a wing around it, “leave it,” my other wing fished a small pile of caps out of my saddlebag and flipped them at the bartender, who caught them easily in his magical grasp as he obligingly released the bottle.

The contents of the glass, and a third of the contents in the bottle were gone in two quick gulps. Between that and the first bottle that I’d already downed, I was finally feeling the alcohol take a firm hold of my mind. It was taking more and more of it these days. It used to be that two glasses was all I needed to numb myself enough to deal with a hard day like this one. Now a whole bottle was barely doing anything for me. Perhaps it was time that I tried something else to relax me.

Flirting with Jackboot had always been pleasant. That was off the table though.

Another long gulp from the bottle.

“Now there’s a real mare,” I heard a silky voice say as a pale green unicorn stallion poured himself into the stool next to me. I must have grimaced rather noticeably, because the next words out of his mouth were, “relax, darlin’, I’m not here to ruin your night. Actually, I’ve got a business opportunity for you.”

Maybe a job was what I needed. At the very least, it wouldn’t hurt to hear the stallion out. I turned to look at the new arrival and give him a quick look over. Almost immediately, I could tell that this wasn’t the typical fixer that tended to scour these sorts of places for ponies to do difficult jobs out in the Wastes. He was way too greasy. Like, literally. His chestnut mane was slicked back with so much styling gel that it had a polished sheen to it. His tail had been bobbed up short. The unicorn stallion wore a broad grin that revealed an array of gold and silver fillings along most of his teeth that were almost as tacky as his pin-striped purple suit and polka-dotted tie.

This probably wasn’t going to be a job that involved going out and mowing down bandits, “and you are…?”

“My apologies, where are my manners,” the stallion extended a hoof, “Money Shot,” I glanced at the hoof for a second and then back at the stallion without making a move to take it. His grin didn’t waver for a moment as he continued as though he’d never actually even expected me to shake it, “I run an up and coming little establishment on the edge of New Reino. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Golden Horseshoes?”

“Nope,” it wasn’t a casino that I was familiar with.

Once more, without missing a beat, the unicorn stallion continued with his pitch, “I’m not surprised, we’re very new in town, and we’re still getting our proverbial hooves into the valley’s proverbial door. But, don’t doubt for a moment that we won’t soon be the premiere business in Neighvada.”

“Right. You mentioned a business opportunity?”

“I very much did!” his garishly wide grin somehow expanded even further as his amber eyes twinkled, “I am scouring the valley for the perfect talent to make our business the resounding success that I know it’d going to be, and I could tell from the moment that I saw you that you, Miss…?” his words hung as he waited for me to supply a name. I declined and merely continued to stare at him with a bored expression, “…are perfect for the position.”

“What position?” I inquired when he paused, waiting to see how his proposal was being received thus far. I was hearing a lot of fluff talk that I really could have done without. I hoped he’d get to the part where he wanted me to kill somepony.

He waggled his eyebrows a couple of times and leaned in close, “diamond-dog-style, reverse cowpony, congress of the griffons, whatever tickles your feathers, gorgeous!” he leaned back and slapped his knee with a bout of raucous laughter, “no, but seriously,” the grin returned, “you have just that exotic look that I know our customers are going to love to feel for themselves,” his eyes traced over my body, and I suddenly felt sick. I was pretty sure it wasn’t the whiskey either. Pretty sure…

“Excuse me?” I was probably going to have to hit him before this was over. That would probably get me kicked out of here. I took another swig in case they didn’t let me keep the bottle, “are you trying to hire me to be a hooker?”

“What? No! Of course not,” he actually sounded sincere, to my surprise, “sleeping around with strange ponies for money is dangerous, and messy, and can lead to all sorts of problems! Besides, with a hooker, you have to pay every time you want to be with them.”

“That’s the way I understand it, yes…”

“And, you can’t experience sex through the eyes of the hooker either!”

“What?” What was this pony talking about?

In response to my question, he reached into his suit’s vest pocket and pulled out a tiny little pink orb.

I’d never actually seen one of them this close up, but I had heard them described to me enough times to know what it was that the stallion was holding up, “a memory orb,” my curiosity piqued. I was admittedly a little intrigued to learn how those ancient relics tied in to what the unicorn was talking about.

“Exactly! I take it you also know what they can do?” I nodded, “well, as it so happens, I have come into possession of a couple of devices that can create these little beauties,” I felt my eyes widen at the revelation. I’d not heard of anypony in the valley being able to do that.

“Now, most of the memory orbs that you find in the Wasteland contain a lot of boring tripe that only mattered to ponies two hundred years ago,” the unicorn slipped the orb back into his pocket, “but the ones that I’m creating are important to the here and now. Ponies in this valley won’t know how they ever managed to live without what I’m making once word gets around!”

“What exactly are you making?” as curious as I was, I found myself also feeling a growing annoyance. This unicorn had done a great deal of talking up until this point, but I had yet to hear about how any of what he was talking about related to me.

“Experiences!” the stallion beamed, “and I’m giving you the opportunity to get in on the ground floor. Once ponies learn what’s in store for them in these little beauties they’ll be throwing caps at us by the cart load!” he leaned back in his stool and looked me over once more with that same appraising glance that turned my stomach, “and you, my dear, could be our star attraction…”

I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew what he was getting at, which was rather pointedly killing what growing interest I’d had in the notion of taking on his job, “…and what would I be ‘attracting’, exactly?”

“Pegasi are a rarity, especially radiant beauties such as yourself,” I got the impression that the unicorn felt like I should feel genuinely flattered by the ‘compliment’ that had was giving me, “and there are ponies that would pay a fortune to know what being with one feels like. Together, we could fill that need, and make enough caps to buy our own private valley!”

I scowled at the unicorn and turned away, back to my bottle, “I’m not going to go around fucking stallions for money. Goodbye.”

The unicorn waved his hooves and shook his head, “of course not! And I’m not suggesting anything of the sort—quite. This is a purely professional offer. Nothing so tawdry as prostitution!” I frowned at the stallion and he continued, “what I’m proposing is that you and other professional ponies, in the safety and comfort of a professional studio, put on performances that are captured and put onto memory orbs which are then, in turn, distributed to the masses.

“You’d never even have to meet any of the actual customers!”

I raised a dubious brow, “so…you don’t want me to sleep with anypony?”

“Well…I mean, you would be interacting with one or more of your fellow professionals,” then he thought for a brief moment and nodded, “although, it occurs to me that there might be a market for, let’s call them: ‘solo performances’. So, we’ll certain leave that on the table,” his grin returned as the unicorn beamed at me, “see? We haven’t even produced your first orb yet, and you’re already helping to grow the business! I knew you were the perfect candidate.”

‘Interact’, huh? “one or ‘more’?” my frown got deeper, “exactly how many ‘more’ did you have in mind,” I’d already decided that I was going to turn him down, as I had no interest is sleeping around with ponies for caps. However, I did have an interest in relieving some of my growing tension in other ways, and this stallion’s answer might determine whether or not I let him keep any of those metal-plated teeth of his.

“It’s hard to give a hard number right now,” the unicorn admitted with a shrug, “obviously, we’ll want to appeal to a wide client base, which means accounting for tastes. Right off the hoof, I know we’ll want to cover the basic demographics: young and old stallions, young and old mares, unicorns, earth ponies—I’m putting out feelers for some of the resident Dashites too—I know an interested zebra mare…” his voice trailed off as he continued to silently consider a few more options, then, “fourteen? Though, that number could grow as we receive requests to fulfill specific ‘appetites’,” his grin returned, “ponies out there have some weird kinks, let me tell you!”

Yeah, he was probably going to end up losing his teeth. I took a deep breath and another swallow of the whiskey. Mentally, I weighed the pros and cons of getting thrown out of this bar, “no,” this stallion really thought that I—or any mare—would go for something like this?

“Now, I know that it can sound intimidating at first,” the unicorn admitted in a conciliatory tone, “but I can assure you that you could do this hundreds of times and never feel like you’ve done it once!” then he winked, “except for maybe not being able to walk straight the next morning,” another round of laughter.

I nearly spit up the sip that I was currently taking, “hundreds?” that was a far sight higher than the number he’d just thrown out earlier.

The stallion didn’t miss a beat though, “unfortunately, the memory extraction process only works once per experience, so performances would have to be repeated in order to get multiple copies; and your own recollection of the event is erased, I’m afraid. But, that just means that every performance with one of your co-workers gets to feel like the first time! You’ll get to meet the same great ponies over and over again!”

“No,” I said far more firmly this time. This unicorn was crazy! Who would be okay with something like this?!

He wasn’t quite ready to give up that easily though, “how about a test run?” the stallion suggested in an encouraging tone. He pointed over his shoulder at a table nearby where a pair of ponies were seated, an earth pony stallion and a unicorn mare, “those are a couple of good, professional, ponies that I’ve known for years. All I’m asking is for a few minutes of your time to give it a chance before making your final decision.”

“I said: no,” I winced inwardly as I heard my words slur ever so slightly. The alcohol was starting to catch up with me finally. It wouldn’t be so bad if this unicorn would just let me be drunk and numb in peace like I wanted.

The greasy pony leaning in close to me glanced between me and my nearly empty bottle. Then he raised a hoof to signal the bartender as he spoke, “I feel like we can come to an agreement if we just work together to meet in the middle. How about we get a fresh bottle while we iron things out?”

I pinched the bottle I was currently holding between my hooves and sighed. I had a good, solid, buzz going. If this stallion ruined it, so help me Celestia...

“Go away. Now.”

“Awe, beautiful, don’t be like that…” the unicorn slipped his hoof under the table and placed it on my thigh.

The bottle in my hooves exploded in a shower of fine shards as my body tensed and I crushed it. I guess I was going to get kicked out of here after all. A shame.

Before the unicorn sitting next to me knew what he’d brought down upon himself, my elbow shot out and caught him just below his jaw, pitching his head back. My wings flicked out and caught enough air beneath them to act as a pivot point. A deft stroke was all that it took for me to spin my body out of the stool, sticking out a hind leg as I whirled through the air. My kick caught the stunned stallion in the side of his head and set it slamming into the counter in front of him. His skull bounced off the polished surface with a loud ‘thwack!’ before rebounding back and sending the pony sprawling to the floor, unconscious.

He probably wasn’t dead.

The fight could have ended there—if anypony could have even called that thrashing a ‘fight’. Unfortunately, somepony seemed to think that grabbing a irritated flying death machine from behind without any warning was a good idea. In hindsight, if probably hadn’t been meant as an actual grab, and was just a well-meaning pony who was hoping to diffuse what they’d perceived as an escalating situation. Their well-meaning intentions, if that’s indeed what they were, had the opposite effect, unfortunately.

Still hanging in the air, it took no more than a flick of my pinions to spin myself around, my leg still out, and catching the pony that had laid a hoof on me in their jaw. The blow was enough to stagger the earth pony mare that had approached me. It was an action which a pair of stallions at a nearby table took exception to. They lunged from their seats in an effort to tackle me. I bobbed up in the air, dodging just out of the reach, mindful of the ceiling. As they sailed harmlessly beneath me, I rolled myself into a tight ball and used my wings to flip myself forward. At the opportune moment, I lashed out with both hind legs and delivered a ferocious double-buck to one of the stallions right on his backside. He was forced into the floor with a pained grunt.

There were a lot of ponies moving now. A wise hoofful were trying to make their way to an exit and escape from the maniacal Pegasus mare that was thrashing the other bar patrons. A lot more were keen on trying to subdue her. Which was unfortunate for them, as this mare was in no mood to be calmed down. I rolled aside as a stool sailed through the air and crashed into the bottles arranged behind the bar, much to the ire of the establishment’s owner.

Distracted by the flying furniture, somepony managed to get themselves onto my back. This turned out to be an ill-conceived plan on their part. With an enraged snarl, I hurled myself upwards at the ceiling and slammed the misguided pony against the rafters. I heard him groan just before I rocked backwards and shot myself towards another scrambling bar patron, using my passenger as an impromptu battering ram. My wings allowed me to come to a quick and painless stop. That pair of ponies, on the other hoof, were introduced to a chair, a table, and a window, in that order.

Throughout the brawl, I did catch the occasional hoof or flying bottle, but they were rarely more than irritations and didn’t break my stride in the slightest. If anything, they only served to fuel my rage as I continued to maneuver through the bar and subdue the ponies that had been foolish enough to remain. These simple morons had no concept of what they were dealing with. Their moves were clumsy and uncoordinated. Meanwhile, I darted through the air in and around them as I delivered blow after blow.

Jackboot had been a ruthless teacher growing up when it had come to hoof-to-hoof combat. He’d never pulled any punches when we’d sparred, having no reservations about throwing me across the Wasteland if I was careless enough to let him get a hold of me. This resulted in a lot of bruised flanks and cracked ribs at first, but pain had been a very good teacher. It got easier once I’d become a competent flier, because it meant that it was harder for Jackboot to throw me to the ground. My aerobatic abilities also allowed me a lot of flexibility when it came to adapting what he’d taught me about fighting with my hooves.

Now, I was capable of fighting with the savagery of a veteran White Hoof warrior, but paired with the elusive grace of a Pegasus. These ponies found it nearly impossible to defend themselves against somepony who could swoop in, deliver a staggering cross on their chin, and then be on the other side of the room before they could blink. To say nothing about the throws I could pull off when all I needed was enough open air to spread my wings in order to provide myself with enough leverage to send them in any direction I wanted to.

I guess though, at some point, a pony got fed up with getting thoroughly thrashed by one little filly and decided that it was time to escalate matters further. Just as I finished heaving my latest victim over the bar and crashing onto the pile of shattered glass bottles and spilled liquor there, a gunshot rang out. It had not been fired as a warning either. At the same moment the deafening sound reverberated through the bar, I felt a sharp, burning, pain in my right hip.

Oh, it was on now! I was just playing with you assholes up to this point, but if that’s how you wanted to do things…

I engaged SATS and scanned the slowly moving scene. My eyes soon locked onto the one pony that I could see who was armed. It was an earth pony stallion with a revolver in his mouth. I probably could have drawn my own compact .45 and dealt with him quickly enough, but that would have been too easy. He’d pissed me off by brining guns into this fight, and I wasn’t going to be letting him off with a quick and easy death.

Slipping out of SATS, I quickly looped through the air and dove behind a nearby overturned table. Another pair of shots rang out as I ducked behind the cover. Coiling up my hind legs, I released them in a powerful double buck that sent the table surging towards the armed stallion. He seemed ready enough for this, and reared up to catch it with his forehooves.

However, what he was not ready for was the Pegasus that flipped up from behind it and flew directly into him. I wrapped my hind legs around the stallion’s neck and wrenched him to the ground. The revolver went clattering across the floor. With my target right where I wanted him, I leaned in and began delivering strike after strike directly into the stallion’s face. He went limp after the third hit, but I didn’t abate right them. It wasn’t until the right side of his face felt like putty when I punched him that I finally released the stallion.

“Windfall!”

Somepony else was coming in from my left side. I leaped off the unconscious—and perhaps even dead—stallion that had had the gall to shoot at me and spun around to kick my new attacker in the face. The charging pony was sent sprawling to the floor as they tumbled into a nearby table. Then my ear twitched as I heard the sound of a pistol’s slide being cocked back in order to chamber a round. Somepony else was looking to escalate the violence.

Fine by me. Unlike them, I was an expert at killing. After all, I thought bitterly, it was my fucking talent, wasn’t it?

When I whirled around to meet the new threat, it was with my own firearm in my mouth this time. I had SATS already engaged and queued up three shots at the pony’s head. All I had to do was commit myself to the attack and that asshole’s face would be reduced to bloatsprite gizzards. That was all you had to do, Windfall. Just will the pipbuck to execute the commands that you’d given it and kill him. It was what you were good at. This is what you made Jackboot train you for all these years: killing ponies.

Just. Kill. Him.

A concerned little yellow statuette gave me a worried look. I blinked in surprise. In fact, I fell right out of SATS. The pony I was facing off against took advantage of my hesitation and fired. At the same instant, I threw myself to the ground as I realized the danger I was in. My left ear suddenly hurt a whole lot and I felt something warm running down the side of my head.

With a glare, I once more engaged the pipbuck’s targeting system. I didn’t lock onto the pony’s head this time though. Instead, I focused a shot on their weapon and executed the attack. The .45 in my mouth bucked once. I watched with satisfaction as the weapon in the other pony’s mouth sparked and was wrenched free. The pony that had been holding it cried out in fear and pain as they were disarmed.

I stood back up and advanced upon the now unarmed pony, debating just how badly I was going to hurt them.

Then I was forced to draw up short as a violet unicorn mare with green eyes interposed herself between me and my target. My shock gave way to anger as I noticed that the mare’s cheek below her right eye was discolored and starting to swell. She was also bleeding from a split lip. It looked like she’d been treated a little roughly by the ponies in this place too, and I knew that she wasn’t nearly the fighter that I was.

I glared around at the few ponies left in the bar who were still standing. They were all keeping a respectable distance from me now, very aware of just how dangerous I was as evidenced by the dozen or so moaning figures lying on the ground among their unconscious brethren. My piercing blue eyes fell to those remaining ponies, “which one of you hit her?” I snarled at them.

“You did!” said the pony standing in front of me.

I whipped back around and looked at Foxglove with wide eyes. When had I…then I recalled a purple blur that I’d lashed out at. Guilt churned my stomach. The unicorn mare was glaring at me, wiping away the blood that had started to dribble down her chin. She inspected her hoof, and then looked back up at me, “Windfall, what the fuck is wrong with you?” she gestured around at the bar, “what was all this about?”

My eyes once more scanned the surrounding scene. In my head, I went back to the impetus. Some sleazy stallion who wanted to get me to sleep with other ponies for money. Yeah, well, maybe that didn’t truly justify all of this, but I’d just wanted to deck him in the beginning. After that, I’d just been defending myself, “they started it.”

The unicorn looked at me with a bewildered expression. Okay, so I wasn’t sure that I really bought that either. Whatever. The moment was over with anyway, and my stride had been broken. Nopony was taking any more swings at me, or pointing guns at me. The fight had ended. I put my compact pistol back into the holster tucked beneath my wing and turned away from the unicorn. As I headed for the door, the ponies that were anywhere near my path made noticeable efforts to back away even further from the crazy mare that had just destroyed their bar.

I glanced around my surroundings. It was really late at night now; about time to find someplace to bed down. My eyes fell upon a nearby hotel that had been set up by an enterprising pony to cater to the needs of traders and merchants passing through New Reino. It wasn’t like the usual rooms that we’d rented from the casinos that Jackboot and I had stayed at, but that was probably a good idea. I’d done enough drinking for the night, and the last thing I needed right now was to put myself back in a public setting like dice and card tables. Drunken stallions got excitable around pretty mares, and one throw-down melee a night was plenty.

I heard movement behind me, and glanced back over my shoulder just enough to catch sight of Foxglove following me outside. She was still nursing her split lip and sore cheek. In the back of my mind, I did feel a little bad about that; but only in the sense that I hadn’t realized that it was her that I’d hit that time. The rest of me wasn’t the least bit sorry that she’d suffered at my hooves. It was the least she deserved for all the manipulating she’d been doing where Jackboot and I were concerned.

Frankly, I was half tempted to tell her to go ahead and get lost right here and now. It was a fleeting urge though, born more of my own alcohol addled brain and recent revelations than any real desire to be rid of the unicorn forever, and I recognized that. As much as she might not be my favorite mare right now, I also knew her well enough that I was willing to give her a chance to explain herself. Eventually. Tonight though, I could do with a night alone.

“You have money for a room, right?” I asked over my shoulder at the mare.

Foxglove looked at me in confusion, then the nature of my question seemed to dawn on her. She was a bright one when she wanted to be, this mare, “oh. Um, yeah, I should.”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning,” I turned and started walking away, “we’ll meet in the markets. See you then.”

“Windy…”

“Good night, Foxglove,” I hopped into the air and flew away from the violet unicorn without looking back. It should have been a suitable hint.

In the distance, I heard a familiar voice coming from Foxglove’s direction, “Glovey, darling! What was all that about? Are you okay? Who was that mare? Do you know her?”

“I’m fine, Kashmir,” the violet mare assured her old co-worker, “and Windy…she’s just had a bad day. I’m sorry,’ a pause, “hey, do you have a spare bed…?” I couldn't hear anything more after that.

So much for a nice, quiet evening. I guess I never had been all that good about staying calm and out of sight, now that I took a moment to think about it. That had always been Jackboot’s thing. He was the pony that wanted to hide himself away in some dark and quiet place while he came up with a calculated plan to get at whatever we were after.

I wasn’t wired that way though, in spite of all the advice that he’d ever tried to give me somehow. It just…

How was anypony supposed to just sit back and not do anything when they knew that something needed to be done, and they knew that they could do that something?

Case in point: Scritch—or Scratch, or Scrunch, or whoever—needed to be taken down. It was a matter of justice, and doing right by Jackboot. There was no doubt in my mind about that. He was just one old griffon who ran a casino, no different from how Tommyknocker had been; and that fat tub of lard had been foal’s play to take down. How much more difficult could it be to handle some griffon who wasn’t, by all accounts, even a Neighvada local? He was out of his element, which gave me the home field advantage!

I bet if I were to find him right now, and get the drop on him, it wouldn’t even be a fucking fight.

Maybe it was the adrenaline that was still pumping through my veins from the fight. Maybe it was the two bottles of Wild Pegasus sloshing around in my stomach. Maybe it was still that lingering frustration about Foxglove and Jackboot. Any or all of those factors might have contributed to why I spread my wings and veered right with specific destination in mind.

If Jackboot were here, he’d be telling me that this was a bad idea. The older stallion would be suggesting some more subtle approach, probably like the one that I had discussed yesterday with Foxglove about using that holographic projection device. The thing was…subtlety and elaborate plans were Jackboot’s thing. I didn’t have the experience to pull off anything like that. I just knew how to do what it was that I knew how to do:

Fly in. Kill things.

It’s what my cutie mark is telling me, I thought sourly as I angled towards the Lucky Bit.

That was a lie, of course. My cutie mark had never told me anything, ever. I’d never even wanted a mark like it. All I’d ever wanted to do was to help. I’d wanted to help out on the farm, and after it had gone away, I’d wanted to help out pretty much anypony else that I could. Killing…that wasn’t the same thing all the time, even when I was killing ponies that did bad things.

But what else was a pony good for when she had a sword on her butt?

So be it. I’d do what I did best.

I’ll get the bastard, Jackboot. I’ll make up for all my mistakes, I swear I will…

…no matter how many I have to kill.

I was going to need a lot more alcohol before the night was through.

The Lucky Bit wasn’t all that far off from Crow’s Bar by air. It took me less than a minute to get there, even at a flutter pace. I didn’t land immediately though, instead taking my time to survey the layout. Because I’d always been here before while in the close company of ground-bound ponies, I’d never really appraised it from above. I was glad that I did though, since I had forgotten about one of the more peculiar renovations that the griffon had made after moving out: he’d removed a wall of his office which exposed it to the outside.

For a creature of the skies, I could actually see the merit in that, especially for an upper level room. We had wings, which meant that we didn’t have to worry about leaving a building on the ground floor.

It did mean that it was hard to keep out other fliers though. I wouldn’t even have to tangle with all of the security on the first level to get to him.

My eyes narrowed as I spied the soft white light indicative of an electric illumination source spilling out of that unique office. The griffon was in residence. So were a few other ponies.

I fought back the urge to simply dart up and open fire into the office and mow down every soul in the room. It would undoubtedly have been a simple affair, but it also would have been quite noisy. Plus, I didn’t know exactly who else was in the room with that griffon at the moment. Being identified as taking out a big player in New Reino was going to make my life in the city a little difficult as it was, since it would undoubtedly put the other influential ponies in the town on edge. They’d wonder why I did it, and probably spend a good deal of time trying to figure out who put me up to it; which would only get worse when they discovered I was a ‘free agent’ and there was no guarantee one of them wouldn’t be next.

The last thing I needed was to accidentally kill two of those bastards and cement myself as a pony-non-gratis in New Reino.

So I glided in silently, alighting gently against the side of the casino, just beside the opening in the wall. Soft flaps of my wings kept my hooves planted to the vertical surface as I craned my head to listen to the conversation being held nearby.

“—Y’all don’t need to concern yourselves with the White Hooves, I assure you,” a voice that I recognized as belonging to the griffon said in a tone that sounded to border on exasperation, as though it was not the first time he’d had to say it recently, “they’ll settle themselves down in due time.”

“It’d be nice if we had proof of that,” a stallion’s voice growled, “we’ve never seen this sort of activity from them before! White Hoof raiding parties have been sighted within twenty miles of the city! Twenty miles!”

“They’ve never come this close before,” an older mare chimed in, sounding equally unhappy about the topic of their discussion.

“And they likely never will again,” the griffon said, “my own contacts in the White Hooves assure me this is about an internal matter. It has nothing to do with New Reino.”

“Opening negotiations with the White Hooves was stupid,” the stallion didn’t sound very placated by the assurances he was getting, “now they think we’re desperate and can’t defend ourselves! They’re probably scouting us out for an attack…”

“It’s nothing of the sort!” the griffon snapped, “I have spoken personally with their representative and brokered a very good deal for the city.”

The mare sounded even more unhappy about this news, “you’re saying you took unilateral action on ‘behalf of the city’? That’s not how this works, Mr. Scratch,” her tone grew very icy.

I might not be an expert on New Reino politics, but even I knew that the griffon was going off the reservation if what he was saying was true. While the city might not have had a real ‘government’ in the same way the NLR did, there was an…understanding among the ponies that owned large stakes in the city: the casino owners. They cooperated and worked together—for the most part—to make sure that they could all get rich together without an excessive amount of backstabbing going on. One of their ‘rules’ was that anything that dealt with other prominent groups, like the NLR, or Steel Rangers, or the White Hooves, had to be agreed upon by a majority of the owners to make sure it was in all their interests.

Dealing behind everypony’s back like this was a huge ‘no-no’.

I might not even need to kill the griffon. The other ponies in this town might do it for me…

“There wasn’t time to arrange a meeting with all of you,” Scratch insisted, “certain developments came up that accelerated my timetables.”

“Developments?” the stallion stressed, clearly not liking the word, “care to elaborate?”

“Just an irritant that needed to be dealt with. It was an internal matter, nothing that affects your own operations. However, it also presented me with a unique opportunity to make a deal with the White Hooves, so I took it.

“The best part is that it won’t cost you a thing, and it cleared up my own problem in the process,” the griffon said in a satisfied tone, “we all win.”

“You really expect us to believe that the White Hooves can be bought that cheaply?” the mare was clearly not convinced. I wouldn’t have been either.

“I helped them with something very important to their current leader. Apparently, it was a problem that she’d been having for a long time: a loose end that needed tying up. I helped her solve her problem.”

“I swear to Celestia, Scratch,” the stallion snarled, “if you don’t stop beating around the bush and talk straight, I’ll—”

“Snake Eyes,” the mare snapped abruptly before continuing in a slightly calmer if audibly strained tone, “let us remember to keep these meetings civil. Please,” there was a snort from the stallion, “though, he does raise a valid point, Mr. Scratch. Keeping the rest of us in the dark like this would be…unwise.”

There was a long bout of silence before the griffon finally spoke, “very well. Whiplash apparently had an older brother.”

“Steel Bit had a colt, yes,” the mare confirmed, “but our sources said he was killed in the coup where Whiplash seized power.”

“He lived.”

“What?”

“He fled east,” the griffon continued, “apparently Whiplash’s warchiefs just told her he was dead so they didn’t look incompetent. I met him there, actually,” Scratch chuckled, “he used to work for me.

“I didn’t know who he was then. He was just another thug that I paid when he did things for me. Imagine my surprise when I learned that he could have been one of the big players in the Wasteland?

The griffon’s tone became slightly cooler now, “he screwed up back east and had to disappear. I guess he came back here. He dropped by a few weeks ago and did a job for me,” there was ice in his voice now, “then he tried to blackmail me.”

I blinked. Jackboot had tried to screw with his ‘old friend’ from back east? I mean, I suppose I found it hard to sympathize with the griffon, since I knew he was a fucking asshole. Jackboot likely had known that too and was just trying to capitalize on getting the most out of the griffon.

“A little birdy told me he had a bounty on him, so I tried to direct some hunters his way,” so that was how they’d found us! Scratch was turning out to be some piece of work, “somehow they screwed it up and he got away.

“That was when a chance conversation with Whiplash’s representative clued me in to who he really was. So I set him up to be delivered into their hooves in exchange for New Reino being exempt from White Hoof raids for the next decade or so.”

My blood ran cold. Scratch had known. He’d known exactly who and what Cestus was and had specifically put him in contact with us to get Jackboot captured and killed. Thinking back on it, that little raid out in the Wasteland had probably been ‘Plan A’, which was why the brown stallion hadn’t been anywhere in sight when it all went down.

That made my abduction his fallback plan.

What had happened to me, to Jackboot, and to my mother; it had all been this griffon’s fault. I had my confirmation of guilt, straight from his own mouth. Which meant that I was going to have to kill him. I might even be able to wait until those other two ponies were out of the room.

“So these patrols we’re seeing are because Whiplash has been looking for her brother?”

“Yes,” the griffon confirmed, “and now that she has him, I’m sure they’ll move on so that you can all relax.”

“They’d better,” then stallion snarled.

“They will. Now, if there is nothing else?” the other two ponies must have nodded or shaken their heads or given some other indication that the conversation had indeed come to a close, because he followed his question up with, “then I bid you good evening. Let the other’s know what’s going on—oh!—and please don’t forget to spread the word about the frequency for Valley Radio. The inaugural broadcast will be in eight days, promptly at seven in the evening.

“Please have any advertisements or messages you’d like to have featured in that broadcast to me no later than the day after tomorrow so I can sure they’re worked into the script. Thank you!”

There was the sound of two sets of hooves clomping along the aging floor of the office, followed by a door opening and closing. The griffon sighed, “fucking ponies,” I was holding my breath as I inched closer to the missing segment of wall. If he was alone now, this was my chance to get the drop on him and end all of this tonight. Just a little closer and I’d be able to see his—

“No offense,” Scratch murmured idly.

“N-n-none taken, s-sir.”

I froze. There was still somepony else in the room. I was pretty sure I recognized that stutter though. I’d heard it before.

“We’re going to need to edge those two out,” the griffon went on, “but first we’ll need to find suitable replacements.”

“I-I-I’m feeling out th-their staff now. Got s-s-some prospects l-l-lined up.”

“Good. Good…” I heard a barely stifled yawn, “go ahead and knock off, Itchy. I’m going to play with Homily’s speech a little more. It’s going to be hard to break up DJ Pon3’s monopoly, but if we can get the locals really hooked the first time they tune in…”

“Y-y-you’ll nail it, b-boss!”

“G’night, Itchy.”

“’N-n-night.”

I heard the sounds of another pony leaving. It should just be the griffon now. My heart was pounding through my ears with the anticipation of it all. I was seconds away from avenging Jackboot and my mother. This was my chance to start balancing the scales…

I waited several more long seconds. There was the sound of a pen scribbling upon paper, occasionally punctuated by the muffled buntings of a cigar being tapped against an ashtray; nothing else that suggested the griffon wasn’t completely alone in his office. With a deep breath, I detached myself from the wall that I had been perched against and floated slowly in through the opening.

The smart move would have been to waste absolutely no time and simply open up with both barrels of the submachine guns mounted on my sides, using my remaining explosive rounds to reduce the griffon into so much feathery fluff and blood. I’d be gone before anypony could respond to the chaos and offer any sort of reprisal or even make a positive identification of who’d slaughtered the casino boss. It would have been so simple and easy, and really was the smartest course of action.

Gunning him down from behind was exactly what a pony born to kill should have done.

I could feel my teeth grinding themselves into powder as I found myself unable to give the necessary verbal instructions to the weapon systems that Foxglove had designed for me.

The first pony that I’d killed had been from behind. A screaming farmer standing over a rust-colored stallion that I’d known for only a few short days. Both of them had been the next best things to strangers to me, and I had felt no special loyalty or devotion to Jackboot back them. I could have probably found a way to throw my lot in with the farmer and convinced him of my innocence by helping him deal with the stallion that had obviously been trying to rob him.

It was just that…I couldn’t stand by and let somepony who was clearly helpless been pummeled to death. There certainly wouldn’t have been any way that I could have brought myself to help kill Jackboot in that condition. It wouldn’t have been right. Taking a few bits shouldn’t earn anypony a death sentence.

Not that I’d had any intention of killing the farmer either. I’d just wanted to scare him with the gun and make him back down. The pistol had been heavy and awkward and I must have done something wrong though, because it had gone off. I’d saved Jackboot though, and I’d been immensely grateful for that much. The farmer’s death had hurt…and the mark his slaying had earned me had cut even deeper.

Can you do it one more time, Windfall? I thought bitterly, this griffon killed Jackboot, like that farmer was going to.

All you need is one more bullet in the back of one more head…

My eyes darted briefly to the bottom of my field of vision, and the classification that the pipbuck mounted to my fetlock had assigned to the griffon. He was showing up as a golden blip. The Old World aid insisted that he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t a bad pony—er, griffon. I’d made a promise long ago to only shoot those whom I knew were bad. A killer I may be, but not a killer of innocents.

This griffon was no ‘innocent’ though, I knew that much, at least. Still, the pipbuck insisted that he wasn’t like other bandits and murderers that I’d put down. I shouldn’t let that me dissuade me though. The pipbuck didn’t know what I did: that Scratch had arranged for Jackboot to be killed—twice it turned out. Surely that was cause enough to just pull the trigger…

…no. I winced with the pain of it. I might be a killer, and there was nothing I could ever do to change that, but I wasn’t going to let myself become a murderer. Whatever else the griffon might have done, he hadn’t directly killed Jackboot. The stallion had died as much due to my own bumbling incompetence as anything else. If I was going to kill this griffon for it, I’d have to punish myself just as severely. That didn’t mean that I just had to turn around and forget about all of this though.

Dealing with White Hooves wasn’t much of a crime here in New Reino, but if I dragged Scratch’s feathered ass to Seaddle maybe the NLR would want to have a ‘word’ or two with the griffon to find out what he knew about the painted tribals.

If he resisted, and things got out of hoof though…

…maybe that would be enough to keep me from needing to drink myself to death over killing him.

Too bad Jackboot wasn’t here. He’d have been able to do what I apparently couldn’t.

I lifted my wing and withdrew the compact semiautomatic, “don’t make any sudden movements,” I informed the griffon calmly around the grip in my mouth.

The griffon jerked, startled to have heard anypony addressing him from behind. His clawed hands remained visible on the desk, not darting for any weapons of his own. Pity that. It would have been nice to have an excuse like self defense. He craned his head disturbingly far around and fixed me with a beady golden iris. The eye widened slightly when he finally beheld me.

“…Windfall, right?” he said slowly, his own tone sounding remarkably calm for having a gun in his face, “Jackboot’s little protégée,” a thin shadow of a smirk tugged at the side of his beak, “I take it this isn’t a social call?”

“I’m taking you to Seaddle,” I heard somepony saying in a numb voice that sounded remarkably like my own. I was supposed to be here to kill him, not ‘arrest’ him. I promised Jackboot’s fucking ghost that I was going to kill this fucker, damn it! Pull the trigger, Windfall! Kill this asshole!

I’d never wanted to be a killer, though. I’d wanted to help ponies, damn it, not smear their entrails over the whole fucking valley. Just because it was my destiny didn’t mean it was what I had to do every time…did it? Time to find out.

“You are, are you? Any particular reason?”

“You’re dealing with White Hooves,” I said coolly. I could feel the smaller feathers near my wing joints starting to tingle. Something was…off. He wasn’t acting the way that he should have been while sompony was pointing a gun at him. Even more than that: his blip was still yellow. That…that couldn’t possibly be right, could it? “the NLR will have you executed for that. They’ll probably torture you first too.”

“Oh, no doubt,” the griffon nodded, wearing an expression that suggested he agreed fully with my assessment, “Why, I bet they’d have my head off my shoulders within a week of us getting there.”

I swallowed. Was he…patronizing me? “cut the chatter. Get on the floor, and put your claws behind your back. Slowly.”

The griffon turned the chair he was sitting in around lazily until he was facing me directly. I kept the color of his blip firmly in mind as I watched him warily. The moment it changed, he was going down. Scratch steepled his talons and brought them up to touch the underside of his beak, staring at me. He didn’t say anything for several seconds, and then he finally responded with a single word: “no.”

I wasn’t able to keep the surprise off of my face. What did he mean, ‘no’? I was pointing a fucking gun at him and he was unarmed! He didn’t get to tell me ‘no’! “Get on the floor, now!” I snarled at the griffon, willing his blip to turn red, “or I swear to Celestia, I’ll kill you right here.”

“Then do it.”

I blinked, caught off guard. Was this griffon nuts?!

“I take it you must have been out there a while and heard all of what was said before?” he didn’t wait for me to nod my confirmation before he continued in that same even tone, “so you know I arranged for Jackboot to be captured by the White Hooves,” his beak turned up in a slight smile, “and now he’s dead, I reckon. He’d be here himself if he weren’t; and if he was still being held by the White Hooves, you’d still be trying to get him away from them and not bothering me.

“Right?”

He was, of course, but I wasn’t going to overtly confirm his suspicions. Turn red, you stupid blip! Let me shut this asshole up! I can live with being a killer, but don’t make me a murderer too…

“Jackboot suggested you were a capable sort when y’all were here last,” Scratch went on, seemingly oblivious to the peril he was in, “and I’ve never known Jackboot to associate with useless ponies. So I’m inclined to believe you’re good. You managed to escape whatever trap Cestus set, after all,” he gestured to indicate that my very presence was firm proof of that, “but,” he held up a claw by means of caveat, “but maybe Jackboot read you wrong?

“You have me dead to rights,” the griffon shrugged, “and if there’s a pony in this whole valley with more cause to want me dead, I ain’t met them as of yet.

“Arresting me? Most would’ve shot me. I’d’ve shot me!” he chuckled, and I felt my jaw tighten on the grip of the pistol. Fucking blip…

“So, no,” he frowned and shook his head, “I won’t be going quietly to the NLR. You’ll just have to kill me, I’m afraid,” he shrugged and spread his clawed hands out to either side, in a clear invitation to begin shooting at his exposed chest.

“You really think I won’t do it?” I felt my own features cringe slightly at the faint waiver in my voice. Celestia, damn it, Windfall! Just shoot him! It wasn’t that fucking hard! For fuck’s sake, he set you and Jackboot up. He tried to kill you both, and Foxglove too. What did it matter what color his blip was, if you knew he was a fucking bastard?

The griffon flashed a smile at me, “I really don’t think you will.”

Was he right? Was I really going to let him live? I was a killer. I knew that. My cutie mark reminded me every day that this was what I did. This was my life. My destiny. Those little ‘rules’ about who I killed and why were my own construction, and had no real relationship to my talent. They didn’t matter. I was what I was, and nothing would ever change that.

The slide bucked in my mouth.

It was almost worth the look of surprise on the griffon’s face. Genuine shock, followed very quickly by excruciating pain as the little crimson stain appeared in his chest. That first gunshot was accompanied by the remaining six in the magazine. Each additional bullet inflicting upon the griffon another lightning strike of pain that contorted his body. When all of my rounds were finally spent, all that was left of the griffon who was so thoroughly responsible for destroying my life was a bloody lifeless corpse slumped in his high-backed chair. His eyes were still wide with astonishment, as though, even at the end, he couldn’t believe how wrongly he had misread the situation.

He hadn’t been so wrong though.

Innocent he hadn’t been, not by a long shot. This was probably exactly the sort of fate his life had earned him. At least, it might have been. I really didn’t know. He’d been a yellow blip, after all. I stared down at the feathered carcass of the griffon that I’d murdered.

And it had been a murder. He hadn’t been attacking me, or anypony else for that matter. He wasn’t an immediate threat. He was just an asshole that had tricked Jackboot into hooking up with a member of the tribe that wanted him dead. For all I knew, this griffon had never once taken a life with his own talons. He was certainly responsible, however indirectly, for ponies dying.

That really wasn’t enough though, was it? If I was going to gun down individuals just because they were manipulative assholes…the Wasteland would probably become a very lonely place.

…I really was a killer, wasn’t I?

…What color would my blip look like right now?

The door burst open, thrusting me out of my reverie. My eyes looked onto a pair of armed ponies charging into the room. I didn’t hesitate, flipping into the air and zipping around the corner before they realized what had happened. I heard the yelling fading into the distance as they called out in order to muster the others and sort out what had happened. It wasn’t anything that I cared about though. My work there was done.

I alit in front of the lobby of a little motel on the outskirts of town. The kindly old mare there was polite and curious while she sold me one of her rooms for the night. She didn’t even act like she noticed the bloody ear or the smell of alcohol from the numerous bottles that had been smashed over my body during the fight in the bar. I suppose, in a town like this, that a sight like me wasn’t really anything new for her.

She even pointed me the way to the communal bathroom and showers that were provided for guests. I chose to visit my room first and secure my things before I headed back down to clean myself off. At least it was late enough in the evening that there wasn’t anypony else there. It allowed me to shower in peace.

I stepped beneath the tin can that served as the spout for the water and tugged down on the handle with my mouth. My whole body jerked as ice cold water rained down over me, but I kept hold of the handle so that it would keep falling and thoroughly soak my coat. I stared down at the tiled floor, noting the fascinating swirls of red, brown, and black as the blood, booze, and grime were rinsed out of my coat, and let my mind wander over what I'd been through that evening.

It had always been a thin pretense, my little set of rules when it came to killing others. ‘Bad ponies’. Jackboot had scoffed at the notion when I’d brought it up. I suppose that it wasn’t until this exact moment that I realized what he’d been talking about. It never would have occurred to me to kill that griffon when I was a little filly. He might not have been a particularly good individual, but he also might not have ever done anything that warranted killing. I’d made that determination. I’d been the one who said he was ‘bad’.

Even the pipbuck had disagreed.

Jackboot had been a White Hoof. They were the quintessential ‘bad ponies’ in the valley; yet I’d defended him even after he’d come clean about everything he’d done. He’d fit ever criteria I’d ever set for myself when it came to killing, but I’d spared him—helped him even!

So much for my fucking rules…

I just killed whoever I wanted, apparently. Which sucked, since I’d only ever wanted to help the ponies of the Wasteland, just like the Mare-Do-Well had all those years ago; like how…

…how the Lone Ranger had.

DJ Pon3’s recent broadcast rang in my mind, about how my idol had fallen from grace. He’d gone from being a hero out to help ponies to the sort who, well, the sort who would probably have gunned down an unarmed casino owner because he was a conniving bastard. Did that mean that it was only a matter of time before I started hitting caravans and merchants too? Was that the sort of pony that I was going to become, no matter what?

My eye caught sight of a mirror in the little bathroom that still possessed a fair portion of its reflective surface. In that reflection, I caught sight of the steel sword over the crimson heart and golden wings.

Death from above…

I wiped at the corner of my eye where it was starting to burn a little. That wasn’t the sort of pony that I’d wanted to be. I wanted to help ponies, not kill them! It wasn’t fair.

I released the lever and the water dribbled to a stop. I shook myself violently to cast off most of the water and help dislodge any other loose filth. I flared the feathers of my chest and wings and shook myself again before taking a deep breath and yanking down on the spigot’s handle once more. Again, ice cold water fell all over my body as I watched a much more subdued slurry of blood and dirt get rinsed down the drain. I released the lever one last time and shook away the water.

I idly preened my chest and wings on the way back to my room. Already, I found myself missing the facilities of that old stable that we’d found. The bodies had certainly sullied most of the exhilaration that had come with finding so fascinating a place, but I couldn’t deny that a nice long soak in a warm bath hadn’t been one of the happiest moments in my recent memory. Not that I had many of those.

As I finished tugging on one of my pinions, I found myself staring at it, idly. Life had had quite a few difficult moments, growing up as a Pegasus among ponies that hadn’t really seen one up close before. My mother had told me that her grandfather had been a Dashite, and that was how I had been born a Pegasus. Unfortunately, she’d never gotten a chance to know her grandfather, let alone ply him for information about what went into raising one.

The whole family had been horrified the first time I molted. I was too young to really remember, but my mother had talked about how they were all sure that I’d become deathly ill. When it became clear that I wasn’t sick at all, and that this was a natural process, they breathed a huge sigh of relief. It had actually proved to be a bit of a boon to the household, as every year I provided them with a small amount of feathers to use to make more comfortable bedding.

It hadn’t taken me many years to learn how to properly preen myself—or even that I needed to preen myself. My mother and I had spent a long time experimenting with several varying techniques before finding a method that worked reliably. I had altered that technique over the past couple of years when I caught Jackboot staring at me from time to time. With the right posture, I was able to make the exercise rather…intimate looking. Not sure how much my mother would have approved of that…

She definitely wouldn’t have approved of Jackboot. It wouldn’t have had anything to do with his being a White Hoof either. Killing…well, it wasn’t her thing. She didn’t even like it when Pa had to put down a sick Brahmin. If she’d ever seen me on one of our little forays into the Wasteland to take out a bunch of raiders…she would have been horrified by the sort of pony I’d become.

Maybe, in that sense, it was a good thing she’d hadn’t lived long enough to find that out.

I scowled and slammed my hoof into the door leading to my room. With a pained grunt, I shook out the aching limb and headed inside. In hindsight, I should have bought some more whiskey before that fight in the bar. It seemed like I was going to need a lot more of it tonight.

My gaze fell to my saddlebags, where their unceremonious impact on the ground had caused a swath of blue material to spill out. I reached out and slowly dragged the ancient barding into view, looking wanly at the pristine Wonderbolt uniform. It was hard to miss all of the posters and billboards in the Wasteland that touted the elite flying corps as valiant heroes and defenders of the ponies that had once lived in the Neighvada Valley and elsewhere in the Wasteland.

Why couldn’t that have been my destiny? Flying around the world, saving ponies. That was what I’d wanted to do, not…this. I couldn’t do this, not anymore. If I did…well, who was to say I wouldn’t keep slipping more than I already had? If I kept on killing ponies like I was, I’d end up becoming just like the Lone Ranger.

I didn’t want that.

Of course, it’s not like I could do anything about it. My talent was killing.

You can’t fight fate.

A glint of polished steel had tagged along with the Pegasus barding. Pulling it further into view revealed it to be the massive revolver, Full Stop, that had become of fixture of the stallion who’d raised me. I picked up the weapon, running a wingtip over the heavy frame and rugged mouthpiece. A thought crossed through my head that formed a cold knot in the pit of my stomach.

Maybe somepony could fight their fate…if they had the guts to do what needed to be done.

I guess that nopony had ever told me that life was going to be fair. Indeed, I believe I correctly recalled that somepony close to me had stated exactly the opposite. Not everypony got a ‘happily ever after’, did they? Jackboot certainly hadn’t. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to have one either.

I know I promised that I’d kill a lot more ponies for you, Jackboot, but…

My eyes were burning again, and my cheeks were starting to feel a little damp. The truth was that I had never liked killing. I’d hated it, I’d always hated it. The whiskey used to help, but these days…it was like I had to be drunk all the time just to get through the day. I didn’t want to live like that, if that was what it took to be the kind of pony I was.

I didn’t want to be my kind of pony anyway.

There were still more than a few ponies on that list that I’d been putting together. A lot of White Hooves, and those weird unicorns. I’d sworn that I would get rid of them as part of that vow I’d made in Jackboot’s memory. The thought of all of those bodies, all of that killing…

I’m so sorry, Jackboot. I wish I could have been that pony for you. I just…I never liked killing. I hated it. I’m sorry.

I depressed the cylinder release on the revolver and the heavy piece of bored steel swung out. Six unfired rounds. Gently, I ran a hoof over them, feeling that knot grow a little tighter and my throat go dry. The alternative though…ending up like the Lone Ranger…

A flick slammed the cylinder into place with a metallic click. I found myself focusing past the weapon in my hooves, looking once again at the crumpled Wonderbolt barding. I never had tried it on; see how it felt to actually be a pony that helped others. With a brief look at the firearm, I set it on the bed. This was going to be the last chance that I’d have, I guess.

It…it was actually a pretty good fit, I thought as I looked myself over in the mirror. Much better than the stable barding had been. I hadn’t realized how much of this barding had been meant to stretch and conform to the body of the wearer. Even though it had once been the uniform of a stallion, it fit my little mare body quite well. There was also something to be said for barding that had been specifically designed to be worn by ponies with wings. I couldn’t recall having that sort of freedom of motion before.

Jackboot was right about how flashy it was though. Bright blue with golden accents that were very nearly reflective. Even on a dark night I’d just about be visible wearing this thing! I guess the Wonderbolts hadn’t been very big on the concept of ‘sneak attacks’. It sort of made sense, thinking about it. They were the heroes, right? Heroes were supposed to be visible to everypony so that good ponies knew that help was nearby. Good Ponies didn’t need to hide like some sort of assassin.

They probably wouldn’t have wanted somepony like me anyway.

With that last sour thought, I returned to the bed and the revolver laying upon it. That knot redoubled in my gut and I forced myself to take a deep breath to steel myself. This was what had to be done. I wasn’t going to let myself become the very thing I’d wanted to fight against. I didn’t want to be a bad pony.

I picked up the revolver in my hooves, using my wings to lift me up and deposit myself on the mattress. I lay back, making myself at least a little comfortable on the old bed. Full Stop was clutched to my chest as I stared up at the ceiling, fighting back the tightness in my throat. My eyes were getting a little wetter.

It hadn’t been as much of a problem when Jackboot was still alive. Whenever I’d felt the slightest bit of doubt, the older stallion had been there to set me straight and let me know what I was supposed to do. He’d pointed out the targets, and I’d taken care of them. It had been easy and simple, and while the killing had always made me uncomfortable, I’d been able to take solace in the whiskey and the knowledge that Jackboot knew what he was doing.

But I can’t rely on you anymore. You’ve been gone a day, and I’ve already started slipping.

At this rate, I’d be Whiplash in a week, I scoffed at myself. So, yeah, I fought though the burning in my eyes, the wetness on my cheeks, and the fear in my gut. If I didn’t do something about this, I was going to become even more of a monster. I. Was. A. Killer.

But I knew how to deal with killers.

With another deep breath, I closed my eyes and brought the barrel of the revolver up against the base of my jaw. One pull of the trigger, and the Wasteland would become a much safer place. That was all it was going to take. Just a tiny little twitch of my hoof on the mouthpiece’s trigger.

Come on, Windfall, stop being such a fucking coward and do the fucking Wasteland a Celestia-damned favor by getting rid of one more bad pony! It’s your fucking destiny!

I could feel the pressure on the trigger mounting as my hoof slowly found the strength to do what needed to be done.

Just…a little…more…

Jackboot…I’m sorry…

My eyes shot open as a distant scream drifted in through the open window.

It was a very high-pitched scream, the sort that might be uttered by a filly or a young colt. My head whipped towards the open window in my room. Nothing showed up as being hostile on my EFS, but that could have just meant that it was out of range. All I knew at the moment was that it had come from beyond the boundaries of the settlement. I tossed he revolver aside and rolled off the bed towards the small motel room's window, cocking my head to see if I heard anything more, in case it had just been my imagination playing tricks on me.

Then I heard it again, and this time it was clear enough for me to make out distinct words, “Mommy!”

I was out the window and in the air before I even knew that I was moving. My wings beat furiously as I propelled myself like a missile in the direction of the screams. I didn’t know what I was likely to encounter, just that there was somepony out there that was in trouble. It wasn’t until I spied the trio of red blips on my EFS that I realized that, in my haste to leave, I had managed to leave behind all of my weapons.

It was a bit late to do anything about that now though. I could also make out the pair of yellow markers that indicated the ponies that were currently in peril. If I turned back to get my guns, there was no guarantee that they’d still be alive by the time I returned. Hopefully, I’d be able to deal with whatever I found when I got there.

I wasn’t all that far outside of the boundaries of New Reino when I arrived on the scene. What was going on was immediately obvious as well. Three ponies wearing the matching barding of one of the mercenary outfits that helped to ‘protect’ the bustling Wasteland city were tussling with a pair of ponies. I felt my jaw set firmly as I realized what was happening.

Ideally, the ponies guarding New Reino from raiders and monsters kept their minds focused just on those tasks, and the generous number of caps that the casino bosses were paying them to do that simple job. Of course, where you were a soldier for hire, you always kept an eye out for the opportunity to squeeze out a few more caps where you could; despite the absurdly high wages they were already getting to make sure that they couldn’t be bought by ill-intending marauders.

For the most part, this just meant little things like ‘tolls’ and ‘customs fees’ that most ponies didn’t really bristle too much at. As long as the amounts weren’t too outrageous and the ‘wrong’ pony wasn’t shaken down like this, the casino bosses didn’t really do anything about it either. Nor, on the rare occasion when it happened, did they raise any objections to those ‘guards’ abducting the odd pony here and there to be sold to them as a slave. It happened very rarely, since most ponies who traveled across the Wasteland were armed to some degree, and none of the guards was actually willing to risk their lives for the price they’d get for one or two slaves.

Unfortunately, if you were stupid enough to be trudging through the Wasteland without any barding or weapons at night and one of those patrols found you, then you were fair game as far as the mercs were concerned. That seemed to be the case here. The orange unicorn mare and her cyan earth pony filly weren’t wearing any protective garments, and I couldn’t see any sign that they were armed. I couldn’t fathom why they’d have been traveling like that, but that wasn’t my concern at the moment.

The armored stallion wrestling with the young filly was.

“Head’s up!” I announced as swooped down, coming within inches of the ground before pulling up. The earth pony stallion subduing the younger filly did in fact glance upward. This worked out rather well, since by this time I was actually coming in from his side. At the last moment, I flipped onto my back and brought both of my hind hooves up into a powerful buck aimed at the underside of the armored pony’s chin. The force of the blow lifted the stallion up off the ground and sent him sailing through the air, landing in a heap nearby. Meanwhile, I scooped up the terrified filly and darted back off into the night sky.

“What the f—Sandbag!” one of the other mercenaries called out. Then he snarled at his remaining companion, “Bowie, get the collar on this bitch, we’ve got company.”

I landed us about a hundred yards away from the other ponies, setting the trembling earth pony on the ground gently. I leaned in close and put a hoof to my lips, “shh. Stay here and keep quiet. I’ll be right back,” then I gave the young pony a delicate pat on the head and a wink, “I think those other two still want to play,” and with that, I darted back off.

Once I was airborne again, I locked my eyes onto the mercenary that was closest to the remaining yellow blip. My aim was get the orange mare out of harm’s way as well before I started dealing with armed ponies that were on edge. If shooting started, I couldn’t be sure that the bystander wouldn’t end up getting hit.

I angled myself so that I came at them by way of the first mercenary that I’d dropped. I snatched up the unconscious stallion as I flew over and heaved the dead weight at my next target, “trade ya!” I yelled out. There was a surprised gasp followed by a grunt and a pair of armored bodies colliding, “thank you!” I flipped up on one wing and landed on the unicorn mare’s back. Before she knew what was happening, I slipped my forelegs around her shoulders and lifted off, “hold on,” I whispered in her ear as we disappeared into the night sky.

“Bowie?” the remaining pony ventured nervously.

Fortunately, it looked like the mare recognized a rescue when she saw one and kept quiet as we silently glided back over the mercenaries. We reached the spot where I’d deposited the filly earlier and I set the unicorn down.

“Mommy!” “Dewdrop!” the pair rushed in and gathered each other up in a hug. It was a heartwarming moment, to be sure, but I still had some business to attend to.

“Wait here a minute,” I cautioned them, “I need to have a…talk with those ponies,” those mercenaries were very lucky that I didn’t have any of my guns with me. It meant that I might actually do some talking after I was done throttling them. I jumped into the air and zipped back off towards those three red blips.

Two of the mercenaries were on their hooves when I returned, and they were fervently scanning the Wasteland around them. One of them had his horn lit up in order to illuminate the surrounding Wasteland. They weren’t looking upward though. Still, with that light, once I tagged one of them the other was likely to spot me. What I needed was—hello, what are you?

My eyes spied a pulsing red light on the ground near the still unconscious pony that I’d taken out upon my arrival. The light was attached to a metallic collar that I recognized easily. I felt myself briefly tense as I seethed with rage at the reminder of what these three had been about to do. I noticed an identical pulsing light coming from a little square device on the unicorn stallion’s barding.

Then I smiled as I was hit with an idea.

I tucked my wings in to my side and fell towards the ground above the collar. At the last moment, I flipped my wings out and leveled out, snatching up the explosive accessory. My trajectory took me directly into the backside of one of the two remaining mercenaries. I rolled up onto his back, ending with myself laying draped over him like a living cape as my hooves clasped the collar closed around his neck. The pulsing stopped immediately and simply glowed with a steady red aura.

“Personally, I think this looks better on you,” I purred in the stallion’s ear. The unicorn jumped in surprise, whipping his head back to look at me before then glancing at the collar around his neck, “it really brings out your eyes,” I reached out with my hoof and snatched up the detonator control that was no longer pulsing either, “for me?! You shouldn’t have!”

I fluttered up into the air, gliding gently away from the pair of them as I held the detonator in clear view of the both of them, “just what I always wanted,” I gushed as I clutched the little device to my chest and grinned at the pair of ponies, “how did you know?”

“You’re dead, you fucking bitch!” the earth pony snarled at me. He sat back slightly in order to angle up the pair of rifles on his battlesaddle and took hold of the trigger-bit that was positioned in front of his mouth. Before he could fire though, his partner threw himself between us, waving his hooves frantically as he reared on his hind legs.

“No, you idiot! She’s got the detonator!” he jabbed a hoof at the armed collar around his neck. Fortunately for him, there did seem to be a modicum of comradery-like honor among this group, and the earth pony didn’t fire. Instead, he and the unicorn settled for glaring at me intensely.

“Alright,” the unicorn growled, “so what do you want?”

I grinned at the pair of ponies as I floated back down to the ground, “ooh, you’re a smart pony. I like smart ponies,” my eyes went to the earth pony stallion who was still keeping his guns trained on me, “but your friend is still being very stupid,” I tossed the detonator into the air and caught it on one of my wings. The unicorn’s eyes went wide, terrified that I might accidentally set off his collar with my antics, “I see that you don’t like ‘stupid’ either,” I noted as I began to idly bounce the detonator from one wing to the other, “I stop being stupid, when he stops being stupid. Fair?”

The unicorn cast his panicked gaze back at his partner, “drop you weapons, Bowie!” the earth pony didn’t do anything at first, so the unicorn reiterated, “drop them!”

The other pony scowled, but I saw him reach around with his head and pull on the releases that would drop his battlesaddle. Once it was on the ground, I made a motion with my hoof and the unicorn obediently floated it over. I took the harness and tossed it off into the darkness. I ceased toying with the remote in my wings, and saw the unicorn visibly relax, though both of them were still quite aware that this was not over with yet.

“Alright, we’re unarmed. So now what?”

Be Pleasant!

My grin broadened ever so slightly. I strode slowly up to the unicorn and reached out to run an appreciative hoof along the front of his barding and around his shoulder, “my, you’re a healthy looking stallion, aren’t you?” In honest fairness, he was attractive. Of course, mercenary slavers weren’t my type. Too bad, “is this barding form-fitting?” I tapped my hoof gently on the barding’s chest plate, “let’s find out, hm?”

The unicorn growled, but his brown eyes had clearly caught my meaning. He grunted back over at his partner, “take it off,” he sighed. I was pleased to see that both ponies complied without too much resistance and I was soon facing two bare stallions with a pile of barding sitting next to me. The unicorn was even cooperative enough to disrobe his unconscious friend too.

I sat back and studied the pair for a moment, relishing how uncomfortable they were. Then I raised up the detonator in my hoof, watching the unicorn’s nostrils flare in fear. I waggled my eyebrows at him and then used the remote to disarm and release the explosive collar clasped around his neck. The device clicked and fell harmlessly to the ground, the red light once more pulsing slowly, “alright. You can go now.”

“What about our weapons and armor?” the irritated earth pony asked.

“You mean my weapons and armor,” I corrected sternly, not letting my smile waver as I continued to look directly at the unicorn stallion, “it’s a new ‘idiot tax’ I’m enforcing. Spread the word: the next one of you bastards I catch putting a slave collar around a pony’s neck gets to wear it for the rest of their life. However short that might turn out to be.

“Toodles!” I raised my hoof and waved pleasantly at the pair.

“You’re making a big mistake, you fucking cunt,” the earth pony snarled.

The unicorn held up a hoof to quiet his companion, but he seemed to at least share the sentiment, “you haven’t heard the last of us,” he said in a cool tone. His horn glowed and lifted their unconscious third member off the ground and laid him across the back of the earth pony, “this is going to get bad for you. Lancers never forget.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll meet again someday, handsome,” I blew him a kiss, “wear something lacy under your barding for me next time. I like soft things.”

I watched the trio leave until their blips dropped off my EFS. Once the coast was clear, I gathered up all of the gear that they had left behind and flew to where I had stowed the ponies that I’d rescued. I was actually surprised that they’d stayed put, but they were clearly relieved to see me as I was gliding in.

“You two alright?”

“Thanks to you,” the unicorn mare sighed with relief, “thank you so much! I don’t know what would have happened to us if you hadn’t come by…” she leaned down and gathered her little filly in close to her side, “how can we ever thank you?”

“You just did,” I smiled wanly at the pair. Seeing them safe and together…I wish there’d been somepony nearby when my family had been attacked. I cleared my throat and fought back the lingering sadness those memories still triggered. In an effort to change the topic, I continued, “what are the two of you doing out here, anyway? Especially unarmed like this?”

The mare’s expression faltered, “our caravan was attacked,” she replied dourly. The filly sniffled and buried her face in her mother’s side, “we only barely managed to get away.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that,” I cringed at the news. That was all too common of a story in the Wasteland.

“We’re usually pretty safe at night,” the mare went on, “they came from everywhere at once…a dozen of them, maybe more. They were the biggest unicorns that I’ve ever seen…” her words trailed off as the recollection of the recent tragedy overwhelmed her and she embraced her daughter, who was sobbing quietly as she too relived the trauma.

My mind caught a headwind though as what the mare said finally penetrated, “big unicorns?” I murmured. More audibly, I asked, “how many horns did they have?!”

The orange unicorn mare balked and blinked at me, “what?”

“Did you see their horns? How many did they have?”

“I…I didn’t count,” she admitted, still sounding very confused by what I was asking, “I assume they had just the one? I didn’t get a very good look at them, because they were so far away. But they were using magic, so they had to be unicorns…”

“Were they using energy weapons?”

“…yes?”

I jabbed out my left hoof and tabbed over to the screen of my pipbuck that showed the map of the valley, “do you know where this happened?”

The mare glanced at the map for a few seconds, and then poked at it with her hoof, “right there. That’s where we stop whenever we make the Seaddle-Reino run.”

I pulled the screen in close and placed a marker where the mare had indicated the attack happened. If it had been those unicorns…Foxglove and I needed to go there first thing in the morning and see if we could find any more clues.

Of course, I still needed to wrap things up here first. I looked back at the mare, “thank you. Here, I figure you can use this stuff,” I waved at the pile of gear that I’d brought with me, “I know it’s not much, but it should get you a little something to get back on your hooves. I suggest taking the barding to a pony named Repo. He doesn’t ask questions when it comes to the barding the mercs around here wear. He doesn’t care for them much,” I looked over the pile of equipment and collected the collar and detonator. If I ran into any more misbehaving ‘guards’, it might come in handy to have.

“That’s…” the mare said breathlessly, “…I don’t know what to say.”

“You already said, ‘thanks’, I don’t think there’s really anything else,” I shrugged and smiled at the mare, “I sure don’t need this stuff, but if it helps somepony else…”

“Are you really a Wonderbolt?”

Both the orange mare and I looked down at the young cyan filly who had been silent up to this point. Her eyes were red with recently shed tears, but they seemed to be clearing up now. She peered up at me expectantly with her large silver eyes.

“What?”

“A Wonderbolt,” the filly said again, gesturing at my barding. I looked down at myself and only then realized that I was still wearing the Old World barding that I had tried on in my motel room, “you look just like the ponies on those billboards. Are you here to save the Wasteland?” she sniffled again, “I don’t want those bad ponies to get my mommy.”

I blinked at the little blue pony. Then I smiled and crouched down until I was level with the young filly, “don’t worry, I won’t let anypony hurt your ma. I’m going to find the ponies that attacked your caravan, and I’m going to stop them.”

“You promise?”

My smile grew broader, “I don’t need to promise. I’m a Wonderbolt, remember? Stopping bad ponies is kind of our thing,” I winked at the filly, who seemed to surprise herself with a smile of her own.

I sat back up and looked back at her mother, “I’ll walk you back into town.”

The filly, Dewdrop, received a very special treat, to her mind, in the form of a leisurely night flight to the boundaries of New Reino. She was a sweet kid. It broke my heart to know that she’d just lost everything, save for her mother. I could certainly relate. In a way, I suppose she had actually gotten off better than I did. If a little filly like me could make it, then I was confident that Dewdrop and her mother would be fine. The orange unicorn, Summer Glade, assured me that would be the case as well. She apparently had a few contacts in New Reino that she’d made of the years her family had traded with them.

Once I knew they’d be okay inside the city, I flew back to my room. It turned out that I needed to go in through the window, as my door was still locked, and I’d left the key inside when I left. I touched down in front of the mirror and looked myself over once more.

“Wonderbolt, huh?”

Initially, I’d just been humoring the filly in order to help lift her spirits. The more I thought about it though…I mean, it wasn’t like the Wonderbolts even really still existed. There wasn’t anypony out there who was going to jump down my throat for impersonating a member of the group of ancient aeronautic aces. If I wanted to call myself a ‘Wonderbolt’, then who was going to stop me? Especially since I did have the uniform…

Besides, what I’d just done tonight…it had felt amazing! The last time I’d felt that good about rushing into a dangerous situation like that was when the three of us had rescued Homily and her team from those raiders. I didn’t even feel that same urge to drink that I usually did when I wiped out some bad ponies. Though, I suppose that was probably because I didn’t actually ‘wipe out’ anypony. They’d been lucky I didn’t have my weapons with me; and I’d been luck that it worked out.

Both Jackboot and Foxglove might have a point when it came to rushing in to things. If there had been more of them, or if it had been daylight hours, that might not have been as much of a rescue as it turned out to be. Still, it had been fun toying with those stallions like that.

There were probably going to be consequences, that unicorn stallion had been right about that much. I’d embarrassed their organization, and no group of mercenaries could let things like that go unanswered for very long before it started to make them look weak in the eyes of their competition. I was going to need to keep on my toes for a little bit while operating around New Reino.

Of course, I did have some new developments to look into that were likely to take me out of the city for a while. I glanced at the pipbuck on my leg, noting the map marker. It wasn’t all that far away from New Reino. Actually…

I fiddled with the map’s settings and started looking around the valley at a tighter angle. I traced the route that Foxglove and I had taken when we’d followed the bounty hunters that had captured Jackboot. Then I moved it further along until I found Wind Rider’s Wagons and Freight. There had been another caravan that we’d found in that area which had been struck. At the time we hadn’t realized it was those strange unicorns, but there had been too much in common with Stable 137 for that not to be the case. Once I found the approximate location of the site of that caravan, I marked it and then went looking for the stable.

Once I had all three locations plotted on the map, I reset it to display a much larger area. I scrutinized the three markers that showed sites I knew those unicorns had struck. I noticed that they weren’t in a direct line, but were sitting along more of a curve…

On a hunch, I traced an imaginary line from each point so that they all met somewhere out in the Wasteland, with each of those lines being the same length. I studied the area of the map this pointed to, noting that I was familiar with that region. It lay directly off of the old road that I’d discovered when following their tracks from Stable 137. I hadn’t known which way to go at the time, or how far I might need to travel, but now I had a much better idea of where these strange ponies were coming from. In fact, I was confident that I’d be able to find their source.

I grinned at the map on my wrist, “oh, you bastards are so mine,” I said quietly to myself.

Footnote:

CHAPTER 25: IT IS NO SECRET

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“Restoring the greatest country in the world to its former glory, well, heh heh... Well, that takes time...”

This first excursion was just going to be to track down whatever lair those strange unicorns operated out of. After all, they'd managed to overrun a whole Stable with very little effort; going up against that sort of of an opponent with just myself and a wrench wench was only going to end one way: quickly. Once we knew where they were coming from, we could start recruiting the necessary help to wipe them out for good. That was certainly a prospect that I wasn’t looking forward to. Finding the funds to hire that many mercenaries…it'd be a wonder if we could pull it off before they wiped out the whole valley.

All of that was Future Windfall’s problem though. Right now, Present Windfall just needed to get herself to the markets to gather enough supplies for the trip and make sure that Foxglove understood why I was changing our plans. Present Windfall was also faced with a minor dilemma in the form of selecting the barding that she was going to wear for the trip. I frowned as I surveyed the two options laid out before me on the bed.

There was my relatively recently acquired leather barding that I’d been wearing for really about a week after having to hock my old armor to pay for Jackboot’s medicine. It was light, but allowed for a lot of maneuverability while in the air, which was a fair trade in my opinion. There was a lot to recommend it in that regard. It was also the barding that I’d been wearing when Cestus…

A shudder rippled down my spine. I wasn’t going to even be able to look at this stuff without feeling that bastard’s lips and hooves all over me. So, I guess that meant I was going to have to get rid of it; and it sure wasn’t going to net me a huge return at the market stalls.

Which sort of left me with the one other option unless I came across something more suitable today while shopping. That was unlikely. There wasn’t exactly a huge market for barding cut to fit a young Pegasus mare in the valley. What I usually picked up in the past often had to be modified, and I didn’t want to take the time going through that process right now. Of course, there were a couple of drawbacks to the Wonderbolt barding that was lying on the bed. It was flashy, it was lacking in basically any worthwhile protection, and it was very recognizable. Perhaps not an ideal quality once those stallions from last night spread the word around the Lancers about the little filly that showed them up and robbed them.

It did have enough of those loose straps and metal D-rings that hooking my battlesaddle up to it wouldn’t be an issue though. The portions around the legs even already accommodated a pipbuck. That wasn’t a lot to recommend it, but at least my skin didn’t crawl when I so much as looked at it. Some heads were certainly going to turn though.

As I drifted through the air about the crowded streets of New Reino, I found that I was able to deal quite fine with the turning heads. The snickering got on my nerves a little bit though. I was very seriously considering slathering the barding with a color scheme that didn’t make it look like I was some sort of street performer by the time I finally landed in the market.

“W-Windfall?”

My head turned at the familiar voice, and I spotted a violet mare walking towards me. Her rifle and lance were slung across her back in their respective sheaths and her own utilitarian barding was bristling with a few new tools and trinkets that I didn’t recall noticing before. It seemed that the unicorn had already been quite busy with some shopping.

Her emerald eyes were looking me up and down, ending with a questioning look, “laundry day?”

I rolled my eyes, “yeah, yeah…change of plans: you know those ponies that wiped out that Stable? I think I found where they’re coming from. We’re going to go check it out.”

Foxglove was already having some pretty obvious reservations even without hearing any of the details, “what? I thought you lost their trail back when you tried to follow it a few days ago; what changed?”

“I met a couple of ponies last night,” I decided that it was probably best to omit the details about how this meeting had involved my beating up three members of the mercenary gang that nominally ‘guarded’ the city and stealing all of their stuff, “they told me how they recently survived an attack on their caravan by a bunch of big unicorns with advanced tech,” I flashed her a knowing look, “sound familiar?” I took out my pipbuck and showed the map to her, along with the markers that I’d placed on it, “when I compared that attack with the other two we already knew about, I got a better idea of where they might be coming from.”

Foxglove studied the map with a frown, “I can see where you were going with it…” I heard a ‘but’ in there, “but…” yep, “you’re making a lot of assumptions. We don’t know that these attacks were at any sort of extreme range for them.”

“But if we assume it is, it actually lines up with the tracks I was able to follow last time,” I pointed out to the violet mare, “maybe I’m wrong,” I conceded, “but if I am then all we’ve done is lost a few days wandering around the Wasteland. No big deal. We can just go on our way to Shady Saddles or something,” my lips curled into a wicked little smile at the thought, “but if I’m right…”

“If you’re right, then we’ll be walking into a lot of trouble,” the unicorn pointed out sternly.

“This is just to see if they’re even there,” I said, “if they are, we pull back quick and come up with a plan. If they aren’t, no big deal either. In and out either way. We’ll be fine.”

Foxglove clearly still maintained some minor reservations, but she eventually nodded her head in acquiescence, “alright. In and out,” then she sighed, “I guess that means that we’ll need to pick up some provisions. I was looking forward to a few more nights in a real bed…”

I could certainly empathize with that sentiment. I wasn’t completely recovered from the trials of the last few days; and a week or so of rest would have done me no end of good in that regard. However, I doubted that I was going to get a peaceful night’s rest until I knew one way or the other if those unicorns were really out there. Ponies were in danger as long as they were allowed to roam the valley, and I wasn’t willing to let myself rest until they’d been taken care of. After all, Jackboot hadn’t ever rested when I was in trouble, had he? Come to think of it, I thought with a glance at my barding, it was my understanding that another group that had never rested when threats loomed were the—

“Wonderbolt! Mommy, look! It’s the Wonderbolt!”

Both Foxglove and I whipped out heads around in the direction of the outburst. I immediately spotted a familiar pair of ponies across the market. The smaller of the two was galloping our way, while a mildly exasperated mare trotted after her wayward foal. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught my unicorn companion looking at me with a questioning gaze.

The little pony clamped onto my leg, looking up at me with big round eyes, “hi, Miss Wonderbolt!”

“Hey there…um, Dewdrop, right?” I said as I subtly tried to pry the equine limpet from my leg. Her mother was along in a few more seconds and seemed quite adept at removing her foal, fortunately.

“Sorry about that,” she apologized. The mare looked at me for a second, and then started rummaging through her saddlebags. She emerged with a pouch that jingled with the familiar sound of caps, “I know you said you didn’t want anything; but please take this,” she held the bag out to me.

I didn’t want to take it. Last night hadn’t been about rewards or anything like that. Three assholes were abusing a pair of good ponies, and I wasn’t going to let that happen—I couldn’t let it happen. Taking the caps would just feel wrong to me…

…but I could sense where the mare was coming from. She was—or had been—part of a merchant family. Their types probably didn’t particularly like the feeling of being in somepony else’s debt without making an effort to cover it. She needed me to take those caps in the same way that I’d needed to help her last night. So, as much as I might not have liked the notion, I reached out with a wing and politely took the offered pouch. My eyes widened slightly when I felt the actual heft of the bag.

A message flashed across the upper left corner of my vision, and I gaped when I saw the number. I looked back immediately at the mare, “whoa, that’s way too much!”

The mare smiled, “compared to how much I’d like to be able to give you for what you did, it’s not nearly enough,” she shrugged, “but there’re only so many caps that somepony can safely carry around in a place like this.”

“You lost everything last night,” I pointed out, “I’m sure you need this money more than I do…”

“We’ll be fine,” she insisted, “my husband was a smart stallion when it came to investing,” her eyes grew sadder at the mention of her late spouse, who doubtlessly was lost in the attack on their caravan, “he…well, he knew something like this could always happen. He made sure we’d be looked after if it did,” she nodded at the pouch, “that’s most of what I got for the barding and weapons you gave me last night. The rest will get us back to Seaddle safe and sound.”

She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, that much was clear at this point. Fine then. I wasn’t going to waste these caps though. They wouldn’t be used to buy booze or anything like that. As far as I was concerned, this pile of caps was seed money for when we’d inevitably need to hire those mercs to take on the ponies that had slaughtered this mare’s friends and family. This money would help her whether she liked it or not.

“Alright,” I slipped the pouch into my own bags, “I wish you well.”

“Will we see you again Miss Wonderbolt?” the foal piped up once more.

I bent down and patted the little pony on her head, “it’s a small Wasteland out there, squirt,” I beamed kindly at her, “I’m sure we’ll meet again. Keep your ma safe until then, okay?”

The little filly straightened up and snapped an awkward salute, “yes, ma’am, Miss Wonderbolt, ma’am!”

The mother bid their fairwells and the pair walked off, disappearing into the crowd, leaving me alone once more with a violet unicorn mare that was eyeing me rather curiously, “I take it they were the ponies you ‘met’ last night?”

“Yup.”

“…are you going to tell me what exactly happened during that ‘meeting’?”

“I’d really rather not.”

The unicorn closed her violet eyes and took a deep breath, “Windfall…”

“I was only outnumbered three-to-one,” I defended quickly, “and it was dark out, so they couldn’t even see me!”

“That’s not the point!” she hissed, “you can’t just keep charging into trouble like that—”

“And, what? I was just supposed to let those two get grabbed up and taken who-knows-where to have Celestia-knows-what happen to them?” I snapped back at the mare.

“That’s not fair,” Foxglove replied in a reproachful tone.

“Neither was what was about to happen to those two,” I pointed out, “you’re just going to have to accept that I’m not the type to sit on my wings and let shit happen to good ponies.

“If I was, you’d still be locked up in a cage somewhere.”

Maybe that was a low blow, as the unicorn’s dour expression suggested, but it was the truth. When I’d first spied her running through the valley with a host of stallions in hot pursuit, I hadn’t hesitated to swoop in and save her. Jackboot would have urged caution, or even that we not get involved at all. It wasn’t that he was a bad pony who didn’t care; he was just very leery of getting in too deep when he didn’t know what he might be going up against. That wasn’t the sort that I was though, and I doubted I ever would be.

“So, let’s get some food and Sparkle Colas. We’re going to have a long trip ahead of us.”

Two day later, it was the pipbuck that alerted me to something peculiar before I actually saw anything. A notification—which was something I was slowly starting to get used to—popped up before my eyes that alerted me to a local broadcast of some sort. I very nearly ignored it at first, since I was seeing such alerts quite often as I drifted in and out of range of various radio signals from a myriad of Old World sources. This one caught my attention though, since the label that my pipbuck assigned to it was, ‘encrypted broadcast’.

I tuned my pipbuck’s radio to the prescribed frequency, and was immediately assailed by a torrent of whistles, wails, and static that hurt my ears. I very quickly turned down the volume and descend down to Foxglove so that she could help me to make sense of the noise. Unfortunately there wasn’t anything that the unicorn could do as far as decoding the broadcast, but she did tweak my pipbuck’s settings enough to allow me to hone in on the source of the signal.

An hour later, I found myself perched low on a rocky outcropping as I looked out at a rather grim scene. I’d found them. Well, some of them, at any rate. This couldn’t possibly be anywhere near all of them, since I could only make out about a half dozen individual ponies walking around outside; and the structure that they patrolled couldn’t have held many more than the same number comfortably. What really set my blood boiling was the pile of black pony-sized sacs piled into a neat stack about a hundred yards away from the structure. There must have been hundreds of bodies in them.

Even without the sight of the body bags, there was little doubt that these ponies were part of the group that was terrorizing the valley. They weren’t any sort of rag-tag group either, though that much I had learned from their raid on Stable 137. These ponies were very organized. Each of the ones that I could see was wearing a set of heavy black barding that was emblazoned with the number ‘128’, and was armed with some sort of magical energy rifle. They were also, rather eerily, nearly the same color as well: a steel gray or shade thereof; and their manes were all bleach white. That was quite odd, actually. About as odd as the two horns on each of their foreheads.

I’d glimpsed the video feed from Stable 137. It was different seeing it in real life than it had been on the fuzzy screens. The second horn was significantly smaller than the primary one, lying just below it on the bridge of the nose of those ponies. It had to be some sort of mutation or something from exposure to radiation; but it was strange that all of them would have that exact same deformity in exactly the same way…

Although…it did occur to me now that I was seeing them with my own eyes: maybe these weren’t actually ponies after all. It was entirely possible that we had been wrong and that these weren’t ponies, but that they were actually robots. That would explain the freaky nearly identical colors, and how all of them were so large with their weird horns. Maybe that other little horn was actually an antenna of some sort?

That broadcast I was picking up could be a control frequency…

If that was the case, and there was a lot of evidence to suggest that it was, then maybe I could shut down this little operation with some sort of surgical strike. If I took out the source of the signal that was controlling them, then I wouldn’t need to fight anything, and I could get all the answers I wanted by looking around.

The radio transmitter wasn’t exactly hard to spot, since it was sitting in plain view on one corner of the structure that the six unicorns were patrolling. The building itself was very clearly something that these ponies—er, roboponies—had set up, and not a pre-war building that they were occupying. There was a single small door in the front of it, but no sign of any windows. A generator of some sort was humming along outside near the radio tower.

Maybe if I could take it out, I’d shut everything down…

I looked over my shoulder at the violet unicorn who was currently making her way towards me. She could at least spy the tip of the transmission tower from where she was, and clearly didn’t like the idea that we were so close to these ponies. In fact, she was quite clear on what she wanted to do right now when she got up next to me, “great, they’re here. Can we go now?”

“Not yet,” I whispered back, not that I thought any of those things would really hear us from this distance even if we spoke in our normal voices. It seemed to at least make the unicorn feel better though, “I think we can take them out.”

“Windfall!” the mare hissed, “you promised me ‘in and out’! That isn’t ‘in and out’.”

True, but, “I think they might actually be robots,” I told her, “look at them,” I nodded my head over the outcropping of rocks and Foxglove reluctantly took a peek, “regular ponies don’t act like that, or look that identical.”

“No,” she conceded reluctantly, “they usually don’t. How does that change anything?”

“What if they’re controlled by that radio tower?”

“What if they’re not?”

That was also a fair point. However, I did have a rebuttal as I pointed a pinion at my submachine guns, “then I’ll just hammer them with pulse rounds. Too easy.”

“Windfall, please. In and out; you said that was all we’d do,” the mare pleaded with me, looking more concerned as she took a second look at the ponies below, “there’s too many of them down there; and we don’t know how many more are inside!”

I craned my head and squinted at the lower bar hovering in front of my eyes, “…three. There are just three more red blips and,” my eyes went wide. Something had moved inside the building and revealed that crimson blips weren’t the only markers that existed in the area, “yellow blip!” I hissed at the mare, “there’s a yellow blip! Somepony’s still alive in there.”

Foxglove bit her lip, taking a third look at the building; but it was clear that she recognized how any further protest she could think to give would be a wasted effort on me. She’d be right, of course. I couldn’t just stand by and let that yellow blip turn into another black bag in that distant pile. There wasn’t any telling what sort of time there was left to act either. The unicorn sighed and her horn started glowing green as she unslung her rifle, “I’ll cover you from here if things get out of hoof.”

I grinned and patted the mare on the shoulder, “thanks, Foxy. I’ll nip in, blow up the generator, and that should take care of everything. You just sit tight and I’ll…” I poked my head back over the edge of the rocky protrusion and my voice trailed off. At least for of the large ponies weren’t walking around the building anymore. They were looking at us. Not merely in our general direction, but exactly where the two of us were crouched out of sight. That was impossible, wasn’t it? How could they possibly have known where we were?! They couldn’t see us through solid rock!

…a pipbuck could though, I realized with a sinking feeling in my gut. All of these things were from a stable, weren’t they? That would mean…

My eyes darted to the leg of a couple of the visible unicorns. They did, in fact, have pipbucks strapped to their legs. If they were showing up as blips for me, then it only stood to reason that Foxglove and I were showing up for them.

Well…horseapples.

“Foxy,” I whispered, “it’s about to get very, very, loud.”

The violet mare quirked her brow, “what are you—” then the outcropping began exploding in an ongoing torrent of dust and gravel as brilliant lances of piercing green light struck our cover, “—holy fuck!”

I didn’t waste any time and bolted upward. As soon as I was off the ground, I arced my wings and started corkscrewing off at an oblique angle to the unicorns firing at us. One or two kept the violet mare pinned down, but the other four followed me through the air. Viridian beams of crackling energy danced around me as I maintained my dizzying ballet in an effort to keep them from scoring a hit. With this Wonderbolt barding, even a glancing strike would be enough to put me on the ground.

Leveling out in an effort to execute a strafing run on these ponies was going to be hard with all of them shooting at me like this. I did have other options though, and to that end I ripped away a grenade from where it had been held in the pouch on the barding’s exterior that had been designed to retain the little apple-shaped orbs. With a flick of my head, I whipped the now armed explosive at a group of three of the unicorns. Unfortunately, one of them saw it coming and briefly shifted their aim to track the incoming grenade. It detonated harmlessly in the air, leaving behind a cloud of gray smoke that started to dissipate quickly.

Okay…Plan B.

I tucked my wings into my sides and allowed myself to begin falling back towards the ground in what looked to be an uncontrolled descent. This was essentially because it was an uncontrolled descent. I fell through the air as quickly as gravity would accelerate my body, watching streams of emerald energy pass above me as four of the ponies tried unsuccessfully to track me. With a few careful flicks of my wings I was able to orient myself until I was facing the ponies shooting at me.

Once this was done, I grit me teeth and issued my opening commands, “load pulse rounds,” I felt the servos engage, “continuous cycle. Both barrels. Fire!” I rolled out of my dive at the same moment that they began to spit sapphire pellets at the unicorns arrayed before me. My wings splayed out to either side as I streaked along the ground, swerving from side to side at random intervals while throwing in the occasional aileron spin. All the while, a constant stream of blue darts sprayed over the trio of unicorns. Most of the shots went wide, but I did notice that at least a few hits were scored, sending thin tendrils of crackling magical energy rippling over their bodies.

Two of them dropped their energy rifles as a result of the strikes, while the other retained control of theirs; though the weapon itself in that case suffered at least one direct hit and ceased functioning. The hits didn’t seem to actually take out any of the ponies though. I couldn’t say that I was necessarily surprised by that. It normally took quite a few solid hits to disable a robopony with these rounds, and these things were wearing some pretty substantial barding that was probably mitigating the energy a bit. That was fine. I had something to deal with that now that they couldn’t shoot.

I detached a pulse grenade from my barding, hearing the spoon spring off as I yanked it from its carrier. My wings flared out as I stalled and gained a little altitude. My armed grenade continued on though and landed in the midst of the trio of unicorns. All three peered at the little blue-banded device the seconds before it burst and enveloped them in a curtain of magically imbued electricity.

That should take care of those three. Foxglove was still keeping two of them ‘occupied’ for the time being, which just left one other pony focused on me. I was confident that I could avoid the shots from a single attacker long enough to take out the generator. With a powerful sweep of my wings, I lifted quickly back upwards in order to gain some altitude and room to maneuver. I also needed to take care of something else.

“Load explosive,” my submachine guns shifted away from the now dry magazines that had held the pulse ammunition and chambered the emerald rounds Foxglove manufactured for me. Time to hit their power source.

Emerald beams zipped around me from the unicorn that continued to fire at me, but I was able to keep them from getting any hits with the occasional juke one way of the other. When I was close enough, I rolled up and over, issuing the order that set my guns blasting away at the little generator. The minute explosions from the impacts tore divots into the steel casing until a couple of them got lucky enough to strike whatever it was that had been passing for its power source. A rainbow-colored explosion erupted out of the device, and took a corner of the building out along with it.

I zipped away, my eyes watching the twisted remains of the radio tower fall away in the wake of the explosion. Well, that should take care of—horseapples!

A green bolt of energy passed by my face so close I actually felt the heat on my cheek.

Frantically, I beat my wings and started dashing about once more in order to make myself a harder target. How could they still be shooting at me if their control signal was gone?! Taking out that generator should have solved this problem!

Obviously that was not the case though. Fine, whatever. If they wanted to do this the hard way, we could to it the hard way!

It wasn’t just that one unicorn either. As if to add to my consternation, two of the targets that I had enveloped with that pulse grenade had resumed shooting at me too. The only reason that the third wasn’t seemed to be because something had gone wrong with their weapon. They were addressing the problem though, and I couldn’t count on it being out of action forever. Honestly, I should have been able to count on those three having been disabled by a grenade hit like that. This just wasn’t fair!

If I was back to numerous tough things shooting at me, I couldn’t keep dancing around up here in the sky. I needed to get in close where they’d have to be careful lest they risk hitting each other with a reckless shot. That meant that I was going to have to close with them all over again.

…Horseapples.

I groaned and looped back towards the trio that I had faced earlier. It was probably best that I use a new trick this time, since I didn’t want to have to rely on them falling prey to the same tactics twice in five minutes. To that end, I curled up into a tight ball, ripping away two more standard grenades with the pinions of my wings. I flipped myself over in a midair somersault, flinging out the pair of grenades at the conclusion of the roll. As was expected by those able to use telekinetic fields, both explosives were caught in golden fields of magic. Almost immediately, the armed unicorns each took aim and shot the threats out of the air.

This left a duo of gray clouds of smoke between myself and them.

With a vicious sneer, I righted myself and dove for the cloud on the right, “Armorpiercingfiveroundsbothbarrelsfire!” I got the words out a little quick, but the weapon system seemed to understand me. Steel slugs flew through the air and into the dissipating haze only a second before I followed them in. While I might not be able to see the unicorn itself, I could see the red blip. I emerged out the other side on the trail of my volley in time to see my target crumple to the ground.

I ducked low as the other unicorn tried to track me with deadly green beams. A roll and a flip placed me safely on the back of the third unicorn that was still trying to get their own weapon to work. As expected, the incoming fire abated as neither of the attackers shooting at me desired to strike one of their own. I, on the other hoof, felt no such restraint.

A fierce salvo ripped through the second unicorn’s barding. They jerked several times as the rounds passed through them before crumpling into a heap on the ground.

My eyes caught sight of the still as yet disabled weapon being wielded by my impromptu mount as it hurled towards me in an effort to club me over the head with it. I wrapped my right wing around the remaining unicorn’s neck and deftly slipped off their back and down the front of their chest. Being this close to them certainly gave me an appreciation for exactly how much bigger they were than any pony else I’d ever met. For Celestia’s sake, this thing was three times my size!

I ducked between the unicorn’s forelegs as a second swing of the rifle barely missed me. They were dancing around now, trying to get away from me and leave me in the open. I wasn’t going to have any of it, of course. The shooting had stopped, and I intended to make it last as long as possible. Well—more accurately—the shooting at me had stopped. Those other two unicorns were still busy eroding Foxglove’s cover.

A cringe creased my features as I beheld the pile of rubble that had once been several large boulders. I hooked my wings into the unicorn’s barding and issued a quick order to my weapons. A short burst cut down a third unicorn, and drew the other’s attention. It seemed that they had all realized that the mare who was actively shooting and killing them was more of a threat than the one cowering behind what remained of her cover. It was adorable to see them learning.

It looked like my current strategy had run its course though. There were only so many of them that I was going to be allowed to kill before they decided that it was better to cut their losses, it seemed. Emerald bolts began to fly towards me once more. With a surprised ‘eep’, I swept around to the far side of the unicorn that I’d commandeered just as several of those shots struck my unfortunate cover. The air around me was suddenly filled with the overwhelming stench of melting nylon and burning fur.

…wait, fur? Robots didn’t have fur.

The body that I had been hiding behind collapsed, and I crouched beside it. There wasn’t much of it left to provide cover, but what there was of it finished shredding all of my previous theories about what I was going up against. This had indeed once been a genuine living pony. That certainly posed quite a few other tantalizing questions, but they would have to wait until much later. Right now there were still a couple of armed ponies shooting at me.

The thunderclap of a gunshot range across the field. It certainly stood out crystal clear among the sizzling sounds of magical energy crackling through the air. One of the two unicorns staggered immediately after the sound of the gunshot. I seized upon the opportunity and darted out from behind the remains of the carcass that was all that was left of the unfortunate pony and once more focused on not getting shot. Another gunshot sounded, and again the same unicorn reeled. Their barding seemed to be up to the task though.

I knew that the steel-cored rounds I had could defeat it though. Redirecting my path, I arced around and sent out another short burst. This time the unicorn went to the ground. Their partner was now the last remaining pony I could see, and they seemed to realize that too. Instead of standing their ground, now that it was they who were outnumbered, they started hastily making their way for the building. All the while they were putting down a sporadic stream of suppressing fire to keep me from getting too adventurous.

Things would get a good deal more difficult if I let them get to the cover that the building provided. Nor did I envy trying to fight them in such cramped quarters where I would find myself deprived of the option of flying away if things took a turn. Fortunately, Foxglove seemed to be of a similar notion, and she wasn’t letting up with her own fire. She landed another solid hit on the unicorn’s barding, and he stumbled. Seizing upon the chance to catch up, I winged it over at my top speed, closing the distant between us in a couple heartbeats.

My compact forty-five was in my mouth as I arrived, and the nose of the pistol was resting against the side of his neck by the time he’d regained his footing. The grip bucked twice in my mouth. I flinched as a bloody mist sprayed over my face, but the stallion went down in a heap.

This was only phase one, of course. My eyes immediately went to the structure and the four blips inside. Though my thoughts were of the single yellow dot, my gaze rested on the three remaining crimson dashes that I would be removing very soon.

I leaped into the air and made my course directly for the door. A well-timed flip coupled with a double-buck to the latch sent the barricade flying inward, even though I was fairly certain that it had been designed to swing outward.

The sight inside stopped my heart. I wasn’t certain what I had been expecting to find, but it would never have been this. Four steel-framed examination tables stood in the room. Upon each of them was the flayed and mutilated corpse of a pony. Their flesh had been peeled back from their torsos, exposing their organs. It was…horror. Pure, unadulterated, horror!

A blur of movement to my left caught my eye and I fired reflexively at the red hash mark. The pistol in my mouth bucked three times. Each round found its mark on the unicorn mare wearing a white jumpsuit. The magical energy pistol floating in front of her fell to the ground, no longer held by the magical telekinetic field she had been holding it with.

My eyes then went to the remaining two unicorns. One of them was standing in front of a computer terminal, not even looking in my direction. However, the other was drawing a pistol of their own. An arcing leap sent me up and over the tables and their grisly contents to land on their back. I placed the muzzle of my pistol at the back of their head and pulled the trigger. Brains and fragments of bone burst over the nearest disected pony corpse.

Before the body of that unicorn hit the floor, I was already back in the air and heading for the last remaining unicorn. No, they weren’t unicorns. That gave them too much credit. They were butchers—monsters! At my approach, the last monster alive spun away from the terminal that he had been at and backed away. There wasn’t anywhere for him to go though, and he almost immediately found himself backed into a wall. Meanwhile, I was standing in front of him, my forty-five held in my trembling jaw as I glared at this abomination of a pony.

Come on, you bastard, draw a weapon. Make me kill you, you piece of shit!

He wasn’t going for a weapon though. He was just standing there, glaring at me. Wasn’t that rich, I thought, this creature glaring at me like I was the bad pony here! I tightened the grip on my pistol and raised it up, taking aim at the stallion’s head. Still he didn’t flinch away or make an effort to arm himself. My sharp gaze took him in as he stood there, facing off against me. He stood head and shoulders above me, looking back with brilliant golden eyes. His slate gray coat paired well with his platinum mane and ivory coveralls. He looked just as strong and well-muscled as all of the other unicorns that I had just finished fighting outside. In fact, he looked like her could have been their brother or something. Even the other two dead ponies could have been relations.

Then my expression formed into a derisive sneer as I watched his blip slowly shift from a hostile red color to an non-threatening yellow. He wasn’t going to fight me. This stallion was surrendering! That wasn’t fucking fair! He wasn’t allowed to surrender like this; I had to be allowed to kill him!

Realistically, nothing was stopping me from putting the remaining rounds in the pistol into his face; I knew that. I just…I…

“Arrgh!” I growled, sheathing the pistol. I glared fiercely at the stallion. If he tried anything—and I really hoped he would—I could still gun him down with SATS and my submachine guns with a mere thought. Still, there was at least the one other matter that needed to be attended to, “where are they?” I snarled at the stallion, “where are they?”

The stallion continued to keep me fixed with his dismissive golden eyes, but he responded to my question, “whom are you looking for?”

“The survivor!” I yelled at the unicorn. His tone had been remarkably calm and controlled, despite his having watched me just gun down his two companions; and he had to know that the rest of his friends outside were dead too. He had a pipbuck, he knew what blips were left around him, “where’s the survivor?!” even as I spoke, I was looking around.

Then I froze when I beheld the source of the yellow dot. No…that wasn’t possible…

I moved my head slightly and even took a few steps to be sure. The yellow blip followed what I was looking at, confirming that I was indeed looking directly at the source of the blip. Only, that couldn’t possibly be true. They were…they had to be…dead.

In point of fact, they had to be more than dead, since ‘they’ were little more than a pair of lungs, a heart, and some blood vessels. There just wasn’t anything else left of whoever—or whatever—they had been a part of. A machine was quietly beeping off to the side, pumping rhythmic breaths into the lung while a set of diodes shocked the heart into beating.

“Ah, I see,” the stallion remarked, “if I may?” he carefully gestured at the machine. Still stunned from what I was looking at, I merely nodded and watched the unicorn approach. He reached out and pushed a button. The machine chirped and then slowed to a stop. A moment later, the blip vanished, “pipbucks have unfortunately specific requirements when it comes to identifying entities,” the unicorn explained, “for most organic targets, it merely seeks confirmation of cardiopulmonary activity.

“I’m afraid there are no living subjects here for you to rescue,” he went on, still speaking in his clinically impassive tone, “which, I assume, was the purpose of this intrusion?”

Oh, Celestia, I so very much wanted to kill him. If for no other reason than because he just wasn’t allowed to talk like nothing at all about this whole operation wasn’t an abomination that should be burned to the fucking ground with him inside. What the fuck was this place anyway? What could possibly be the reason for something like this?

“Why?” I asked, feeling the word crack in my throat as I bit back my rage. I tried not to look at the tables and their contents, “why?”

“I was conducting an assessment of the efficiency of the gas exchange in the alveoli,” the stallion began simply, “we detected several genetic markers that suggested these samples were better capable of—”

“Tests,” I said quietly, feeling my teeth grinding over the word, “you killed these ponies to run tests?”

“Of course,” he wasn’t even the least bit sorry, “it would be unethical to do it while they were ali—”

Before the word was completely out of his mouth, I had launched myself the couple yards between us and drove my elbow up into his throat, cutting him off. My wings continued to beat furiously, driving the two of us back until I had him pinned up against the wall. He was a lot larger than I was, so it took more than a little effort on my part, and I actually doubted that I would have been this successful if the unicorn had been resisting. For whatever reason though, he was not. His blip remained yellow, despite my assault. It wasn’t fair! I needed to be able to kill this fuck!

“Ethical?! There is nothing ethical about murdering innocent ponies!” I screamed in the stallion’s face. He sealed his lips and refrained from responding as I continued my tirade, “these ponies had families! They didn’t deserve this,” I jabbed my hoof at the tables, “nopony deserves this!

“You went out and slaughtered hundreds of good, decent, ponies just to run some fucking tests?!” I grit my teeth, pausing as I tried to get over my seething rage. It was so hard, “how would you like it if I cut you up like them?” I growled. Would I do that? Could I do that?

Of course I could. I was Windfall; and my talent was killing. I could murder this unicorn like nopony had ever murdered anypony in the history of the Wasteland!

The amount of booze I’d need afterwards would probably kill me too though…

“I do regret the need for this,” the stallion said quietly, “but it is for the good of Equestria.”

I gaped at the slate gray unicorn with dismayed eyes, “the good…? How is murdering everypony you come across going to help anything?!”

“Because it is allowing us to become better ponies.”

My expression blanked at the response, and the patent absurdity of it. I couldn't even for a coherent response to the stallion as my brain worked its way through how that answer could have even been an answer to the question that I had asked. Then the terminal that the large unicorn had been working at issued a harsh tone, drawing our attention. I glanced at the screen for a brief moment and saw the flashing message: ‘DELETING FILES…’ but before I good fully grasp what was happening, they shifted slightly, ‘FILES DELETED.’ Then the computer’s screen blanked out completely and the whole system shut down.

That was what he had been so intent on doing when I'd busted in here; he’d wiped away every electronic trace of what had been going on.

“Foxglove!” I called over my shoulder, backing off from the stallion and once more lining up the barrel of my pistol. A moment later, the violet mare was inside with me, and I heard her sharp intake of breath as she beheld the macabre scene that surrounded us. She’d have to be sickened by in later though, “the computer,” I flicked a wing at the terminal, “see if you can rover anything. He just deleted some stuff,” I used the gun and several sharp jerks of my head to encourage the larger gray pony to give my companion room to operate, taking him to the other side of the room while she worked.

The stallion cooperated, though his expression still remained impassive. His blip was also stubbornly retaining its yellow color. I felt my teeth grinding on my pistol’s grip as I regarded the overlay of my pipbuck. A small part of me would have preferred that the stallion follow the example set by his comrades and try to kill me so that I could put him down as well. I was also aggravated to find that a much larger part of me was grateful that he hadn’t, and that I wasn’t going to need to kill any more ponies than I already had.

How much I agreed with that little mote of sentiment actually surprised me. Killers weren’t supposed to be glad that they didn’t need to kill.

While Foxglove plied the computer for information, I decided that I would seek answers of my own from the alternate source which had presented itself, “what is this place?” I flipped a wing at the surrounding tables and the bodies that they contained, “why are you killing ponies?” exactly no effort was made to conceal the fact that there was likely to be no answer that I could have found acceptable. Frankly, depending on precisely how unacceptable the response was, it might very well be the strange unicorn’s last words anyway. There had to be limits to mercy, right?

Those golden eyes retained their steely gaze through several seconds of silence, to the point where I was almost certain that he was going to say nothing at all. Then, “I have my doubts that you would be capable of understanding what is trying to be accomplished here,” he said, sounding far more condescending than I cared for, “I will not waste the effort trying.”

I felt my teeth grinding on the grip of my .45 as his condescending tone rolled over me. That’s how he wanted to do things, huh? Alright. I squeezed the trigger.

The stallion screamed in pain as his left leg buckled out from beneath him. He recovered rather quickly, clamping down on his groaning and straightening up his posture in only a few seconds. It was all I could do to keep the abject surprise off my face lest he see precisely how startled I was by the swift bounce-back. The stallion was clearly in a lot of pain, and his shin was oozing a steady stream of dark blood, but other than some slightly heavier breathing and an intense glare, there wasn’t much of an outward sign that I’d just maimed him. His initial outburst seemed to have been born more out of surprise than anything.

“Feeling more talkative yet?” I quipped, concealing my own growing concern. He really should have been hurting more than he was for that sort of wound, “or do I have to shoot you again?” I could feel Foxglove’s look of concern from behind me, but I ignored it. She didn’t approve of torture and, as a rule, neither did I. These were extenuating circumstances though.

“If you goal is to apply physical torture for information, you will be unsuccessful,” he insisted, “perhaps you should just kill me and be done with it.”

Stubborn asshole, wasn’t he? Well, two could play the ‘bravado’ game, “nah, I think I’ll just keep shooting appendages until you run out. That’ll give me a total of five before I have to get creative,” I noticed his confused little quirk of his brow at the number and grinned sinisterly around the pistol, “which is more than the four I get with mares…”

That seemed to get the message across and earned me a some widened eyes from the unicorn—as well as another worried glance from Foxglove.

“But, if you tell me what I want to know, then I’ll finish you off clean. So what’ll it be?”

“Windfall, you can’t be serious!” the violet mare hadn’t been able to contain her surprise this time from her place in front of the terminal, “we can’t just kill him,” she protested.

“I’m sure as shit not going to let him go,” I snarled back at the unicorn mare, “just keep working on that terminal and let me take care of this piece of shit.”

“I can’t do anything here,” Foxglove glanced at the console, “he wiped out everything. Even the OS is gone,” she stepped up beside me, casting wary eyes at the bodies on the exam tables. The mare leaned in close while gazing at the stallion and whispered, “maybe we can work out a dialogue…”

“Talk?” I snorted, “we are talking. We’re talking about how many times he’s going to get shot if he doesn’t start answering my questions,” my attention was once more focused fully on the stallion, “so?”

The gray pony winced slightly as he flexed his bleeding limb, and then, “very well: this is a field facility where we sift through promising subjects in order to carry out our directive. Satisfied?”

Hardly. That didn’t tell me a damn thing, “what ‘directive’? And that still doesn’t explain why you’re killing so many ponies.”

He was a little more forthcoming this time, “our Stable has been tasked with rebuilding Equestria and ensuring that another Great War cannot happen.”

I felt my level of frustration starting to grow. He was avoiding the question again, “what does that have to do with killing ponies?”

The stallion snorted derisively, “because it was your kind that started the war in the first place! Only by removing the lingering weakness before resettlement can it be assured that the past will not repeat itself.”

I blinked, astonished by the admission, “you’re killing innocent ponies because you think there might be another war someday? That’s insane!”

“It is prudence,” the stallion argued sternly, “only by the grace of the Princesses did our ancestors survive the last war. Another could be the end of everything on Equus.

“It cannot be expected that a simple mind like yours could hope to recognize what is truly at stake,” I didn’t much care for that appraisal, and briefly entertained the notion of shooting him in another leg on principal, “you have your answer,” the stallion sneered as he composed himself a little straighter, “now let us be done with this.”

His gaze was unflinching as he invited me to execute him, but I wasn’t quite satisfied yet. I accepted that his comrades were killing off ‘inferior’ ponies—there were groups out here with much more petty reasons to kill, after all—but that didn’t explain everything, “so why all of this,” I gestured at the room, “if you just want to kill ponies. What’s the point of bringing any of them back here?” they had left behind enough bodies at that Stable we’d found.

“…we are preserving desirable material,” he replied after a brief pause, as though he was reluctant to answer at all. Odd, since he couldn’t possibly be concerned about repercussions. He expected me to kill him no matter what he said. Could he actually be embarrassed about the reason?

‘Material’? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? They certainly weren’t keeping any of these ponies alive as slaves…though I suddenly had a very grisly thought where certain portions of the ponies on these tables was concerned. Searching for confirmation of my fears, I turned to Foxglove, only to find her mulling over the implications as well.

However, she came to a slightly different conclusion, “genes,” she said quietly at first before looking up at the larger stallion and increasing the volume of her voice as she sought confirmation, “you’re talking about their genes,” she held the other pony’s gaze until he issued a hesitant nod and averted his eyes. He was actually embarrassed about that. Hell if I understood why though. I barely understood what Foxglove was even talking about.

Fortunately, the unicorn mare began to elaborate without needing to be prompted, “that’s why they wanted the medical records from the stable,” she explained, “they were after the genetic profiles of the ponies there.”

“What does that have to do with—”

“They’re using them,” the violet mare explained, “altering themselves somehow,” upon seeing what was undoubtedly a very dubious expression on my face, she sought confirmation from the stallion, “that’s it, isn’t it?” the stallion didn’t nod this time, but he certainly wasn’t denying anything, and Foxglove looked back at me, “that’s why they’re all so big and have almost the same coloring and shape,” she went on, “they’re designing themselves!”

My eyes widened now with sudden comprehension. That was really something that ponies could do? What a silly question, of course it was—or had once been in the Old World. If even half of the rumors I’d ever heard about what went on in Equestria during the Great War were true—and I’d seen enough weird shit to believe they were—the idea that ponies could be ‘designed’ was pretty tame.

I wheeled back on the stallion, “you’re using pieces of these ponies to build more of you?” that was horrifying!

I became suddenly aware that both the gray unicorn and my violet companion were regarding me with mirrored expressions of confusion and exasperation. Apparently, I had misconstrued a few things. Foxglove beat the stallion to the explanation though.

“That’s not how it works,” she said, managing not to sound quite as patronizing as she could have, “they wouldn’t need actual pieces. A little bit of blood, spit, or even some mane clippings would be enough to give them what they needed.”

“They’re clearly taking more than some ‘clippings’ from these ponies!” I snapped, waving a wing at the mutilated corpses around us.

Foxglove chewed her lip as she too once more looked over the sight before returning her gaze to the stallion, “…just because it looks good on paper…” she sighed and looked back at me, “it’s like when I’m designing a new piece of machinery: the plans might look good, but I can’t know for sure how well it’ll work until I build a prototype.”

She waved at the stallion, “they won’t know how good a those genes really are until they see them in action. A stronger heart, better liver, you’d need a close look to be sure it’s what you were after. Isn’t that right?” she looked once more to the stallion.

“This is where promising material is evaluated, yes,” he confirmed, “you have all of your answers now. End this.”

I was still reeling from what I’d just learned. These ponies had all been butchered…just so that this stallion and his friends could see how they worked on the inside? And that was just so they could make themselves a little stronger? The scale of the carnage that was going on in this place, coupled with the idea that it may even just be one of many such places, turned my stomach. How many thousands were dead because of these ponies?

…It was probably nothing when compared to how many more would die if nothing was done to stop them. Not that I had any delusions of grandeur where that was concerned. I’d gotten lucky here. The ponies that could raid a whole stable, and set up facilities like this, had the resources that a pair of ponies like Foxglove and I couldn’t hope to overcome. Not on our own, at any rate.

We would need a lot of ponies and material for something like this. There was no way that we’d be able to come up with the capital needed to get it on our own either. That would take us years, maybe even a decade or more. The whole Wasteland might be wiped out by then.

What we needed was the backing of a group that already had a lot of weapons and combatants. The trouble there was that any of the ones that had what we needed weren’t going to just lend it all to us on our word alone. They’d need proof of the threat.

Proof like a stallion who was incontrovertible evidence of the existence of the threat and what they were capable of. I fished a wing into my saddlebag and withdrew a rather recently acquired treasure, passing it to the violet unicorn, “collar him,” Foxglove glanced down at the explosive accessory for a blank moment until comprehension dawned on her face and she took it in the emerald glow of her telekinetic field.

I watched as it floated over and affixed itself to the stallion’s throat. The gray unicorn balked, glancing down at the device as it chirped to warn of its activation and the slowly pulsing red light became solid, “what are you doing?”

“You’re coming with us,” I informed the stallion, finally holstering my pistol, “you’re going to tell the NLR exactly what you’ve told us. Maybe the Steel Rangers too,” I added after a moment’s thought.

“And if I refuse?”

I shrugged, “I mean, I guess I don’t really need you to say anything. They have doctors and stuff. Once they’ve sliced you open like you did to them,” I nodded at the exam tables, “they’ll know what’s going on. Talking’ll keep you alive though.”

“Perhaps I would prefer death,” the stallion quipped.

“Then take off the collar.”

Both unicorns blinked at me again. I simply shrugged, “no, seriously. Now’s your chance. Try to take it off, set off the collar, and blow off your own head. You’ll be dead, just like you want. We’ll just haul your carcass back to Seaddle or wherever and let somepony look over your corpse,” I rolled my eyes, “it’ll be a hassle, but if that’s what you want…”

The stallion said nothing, and nor did he make any effort to remove the collar. He simply stood there and glared at me.

“S’what I thought,” I smirked at the stallion, “you don’t really want to die. If you did, you would have charged me like the others.”

“Do you think that I fear the likes of a pathetic nothing like you?” he snorted.

“No,” I admitted. He was a lot bigger than I was, and he had the benefit of magic. In a straight fight, he might very well be able to beat me, even if his comrades had been less fortunate, “but I do believe that you’re the only pony from your stable who knows what happened here,” I nodded to where the radio tower had once been, “and that you might want to warn them that their existence is about to be revealed to the whole Wasteland. Both of us know that the only way that’s going to happen is if you can escape from us. You can’t do that if you’re a corpse.

“That means that you’re going to do what I say, when I say it, so that you stay alive as long as you can,” I smiled thinly at the stallion, “all the while hoping that I fuck up bad enough to give you a chance kill us and make your escape.”

Foxglove was looking very nervous right now as her gaze drifted between me and the unicorn stallion that towered over the both of us. It wasn’t like I was really giving the stallion any new ideas. Indeed, if his own vaguely surprised expression was any indication, it was exactly the train of thought that he’d already been following. All that I had done was to let him know that I was well aware of what he was going to be up to, and that I’d be ready for anything that was half-assed. Hopefully that meant that he wasn’t going to even try and escape if he had any doubts about it succeeding.

The downside was that when he did finally try to get away…well, I’d just have to make sure he never saw a decent enough opportunity to make to attempt.

“So,” I went on, “I’m not sure exactly what the range on these collars is, but Foxglove and I are going to start heading for Seaddle. I suggest you keep up,” I jabbed a hoof at his leg, which had stopped bleeding on its own without the need of either a healing potion or bandage. It was actually rather impressive, given the nature of the wound. He clearly was not a normal pony, if I needed more than his dual horns to tell that much, “it looks like that shouldn’t be much or a problem.”

I turned and started heading for the exit without another word to the stallion. Foxglove quickly scampered to fall into step beside me, casting nervous looks in the direction of our newly acquired prisoner. She leaned in close, “Windy, I don’t know if this is such a good idea…”

“You can go back there and shoot him if you want,” I nodded at the rifle slung across the mare’s back. The mare’s expression made her distaste for that idea rather clear, and I rolled my eyes, “so then what?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “but what if he tries something?”

“Then he dies, and we’ll have to drag his carcass to Seaddle. Hopefully we can get it there before it rots too much,” I wasn’t being nearly as candid or quiet with my comments as Foxglove was. I very much wanted the stallion to know where I stood on the matter. In fact, “tonight I want you wire the detonator into my pipbuck,” I was making no secret of this plan either, “if it comes off, or if I die,” I glanced back to ensure the stallion heard that particular qualifier, “I want the collar to go off. Got it?”

The stallion glared at me as he trudged along behind. He was still slightly favoring the injured leg. Foxglove looked over my pipbuck, considering if my plan was workable, and then nodded, “it shouldn’t be too hard,” she informed me, “it’ll cost you the slot where a Stealthbuck would normally go though,” the unicorn cautioned.

“Do I look like I care about hiding?” I indicated the brilliant blue and gold barding that I was wearing. I cast another glance over my shoulder and fluttered up into the air to keep a look out for threats, “don’t lag too far behind, um…you got a name, or do they number you guys?”

My response was an initial sneer, followed by, “Arginine.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be hard for a ‘simple mind’ like mine to remember. I’mma just call you ‘RG’. So, come on, RG; we're gonna take a little walk north.”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 26: INTO EACH LIFE, SOME RAIN MUST FALL

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"It's obvious that kindness and good temper aren't part of this religion."

RG seemed to take my words to heart during our trip north. While it was clear that the robust unicorn stallion greatly resented the two of us for a whole host of reasons that didn’t just have to do with us holding him prisoner, he was quite cooperative all the same. I couldn’t tell if he believed that he was going to be able to genuinely lure either me or Foxglove into a false sense of security with his behavior, or if he just wasn’t the sort to derive satisfaction from pissing us off on principal; but either way, he wasn’t going out of his way to be antagonistic. Well, not overly antagonistic at any rate. The slate gray pony had a great many derisive observations about the two of us that he wasn’t shy about sharing when the opportunity arose.

Oddly enough, I think I would have been a little more tolerant of his verbal abuses if they were the sort that I would have expected to hear from a typical raider or other criminal type that I might have captured out in the Wasteland. Threats about what somepony would have liked to do to us if they ever got free, promises to ravage our bodies and flay our hides, hints that they had friends who were prepared to inflict unmentionable suffering on our friends if they ever got word out, that sort of thing. I was ready to handle that sort of banter and brush it off as the idle prattling of a pony who knew they were powerless to actually do anything. The ramblings of a bruised ego that had no other outlet.

This unicorn though…he was different. There was no—or at least hardly any—personal malice behind the sort of stuff he was saying to us. His comments were more…clinical, and somehow that made them very unsettling in their own right. Perhaps it was a little because he never said anything about either me or Foxglove specifically, but directed his remarks towards all of ponykind in general. Or, as he often referred to them: ‘the chaff’. Foxglove had asked what he meant by that label, but my agricultural background had allowed me to supply the answer for her. As far as RG and his fellows were concerned, the ponies of the Wasteland needed to be collected, sifted, and then disposed of appropriately, like a farmer might do with so many bushels of wheat.

His cold dispassion with regards to how he viewed the lives of others chilled my gut. I’d known psychopaths in my time in the Wasteland, but even this was very different. Your typical crazed bandit who enjoyed killing genuinely enjoyed killing. They regarded other ponies as playthings that were meant to be used for their own sadistic amusement. That wasn’t how things were with RG. The unicorn didn’t talk about it as though it were some fond pastime. For him, it was more of a duty—a noble crusade—that he had undertaken for the good of the world.

It was a flavor of crazy that I had yet to encounter before, and so it was very hard for me to just brush it off and ignore. As such—and despite my better judgement—I often found myself actually engaging our prisoner instead of avoiding his jabs like I should have. I just needed to understand why he was doing any of this; how anypony could have reached the state of mind that he had and not come off as certifiable. I mean, he was crazy, no doubt about that, but it wasn’t the kind of crazy that I could understand.

…if that makes any sense.

“…what does that even mean, ‘invalid’?” I sputtered in response to Arginine’s latest comment.

“It means that no care at all was taken by your progenitors during your creation,” the unicorn informed me in a bored sounding tone that I had come to recognize as his ‘let me explain again why I’m superior to you’ voice. I felt my frown deepening, “which is only to be expected, as they would have had no access to the equipment to sequence out proper offspring.”

“Proper-!” it took a lot of effort to cut my outburst off, but I somehow managed it. Before I said another word, I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down a little bit. It wasn’t easy, “you don’t need to be ‘sequenced’, or ‘designed’, or whatever, to be a ‘proper’ pony,” I insisted through gritted teeth, “ponykind has been around for, like, ever without needing all of that.”

“Yes, and things went so well,” RG noted, casting a surreptitious eye out over the sprawling desolation around us.

“It was a war, and the zebras were involved too. What did it matter what kind of ponies we were?”

“It could have mattered in all sorts of ways,” the stallion explained, “had we been stronger, we might have won before balefire or megaspell technology was even developed. Had we been smarter, we might have devised alternative energy sources for both ponies and zebras that took coal and gemstones out of the equation. Had we been better ponies, there might have still been an Equestria today,” his tone had become rather somber as he’d talked, until it bordered on maudlin.

“Even all of that overlooks the conflicts that threatened our race so many times before; some of them internal in nature,” he went on, “with matters left in the hooves of invalids, an event like the Great War was inevitable. Only by becoming better ponies can we avoid them in the future.

“We have very nearly perfected ponykind,” Arginine asserted firmly, “soon we will be ready to remove the inferior strains such as yourselves and rebuild, and never again will our race know such tragedy.”

“Because genocide wouldn’t be ‘tragic’,” I quipped at the unicorn which earned me a cringe from him this time, “you can’t seriously be suggesting that you killed all of those ponies to help ponykind!”

“You seemed to be quite willing to kill the other day when you believed that you were helping other ponies.”

My jaw slammed shut with an audible sound. I stared down at the unicorn from where I was hovering above. I was silent for several long seconds before I finally found my voice again, “that was different.”

“Of course it was,” he nodded, “you killed to save what you thought was a single pony. We are working to save the entire species,” he glanced upwards and held my gaze for a moment, “clearly, it is we who are in error.”

Foxglove joined into the conversation now, “if you’re kind is so damn clever, why can’t you come up with a way for us all to work together instead of getting rid of us?”

Arginine didn’t seem to be the least bit phased by the violet mare’s piercing question, “for the same reason that you would not allow a worn out piece to remain a part of a larger machine: when it finally breaks, the machine will be useless. You must swap out the defective part for a more functional one, or it will only lead to disaster.”

It seemed that Foxglove didn’t have much to say in response to that. Unfortunately, neither did I. He was clearly still wrong, and had a warped view of how the world should work; and I intended to work very hard to stop all of the other ponies like him, but I was hard pressed to find any way to make him see how wrong he was and why. It was looking more and more like there wouldn’t be any way to reason with this pony or his comrades, which meant that violence might be the only option that was going to be left to me when it came time to deal with them.

I didn’t want to have to kill them all, but if that was the only way to save the Wasteland…

Another chill ran down my spine as I noticed how very similar my train of thought was mirroring the words that the slate gray unicorn stallion had just spoken to me. I refused to admit that it made us the same though. For one thing, I wasn’t the aggressor in this case. I hadn’t found some group of ponies and just brazenly decided that they needed to die off because that was what I believed would help the rest of the world. My response was reactionary in nature: I was defending others against a threat that had made the first move. If Arginine and the other ponies from his stable were willing to stand down and leave ponies alone, I’d let them be too.

If they persisted…well, I guess that I’d just have to go on doing what I knew I was good at; whether I liked it or not. These unicorns were clearly very dangerous. Ignoring the threat that they posed really wasn’t going to be an option.

Not for somepony who was playing at being a Wonderbolt, at any rate.

“I’m going to scout ahead,” I said, ignoring the irritated look from Foxglove as the mare recognized that I was rather unceremoniously ejecting myself from the debate and leaving her to mind our prisoner on her own. I wasn’t overly concerned with her ability to guard herself against physical danger. The both of them were unicorns, so she should be able to hold her own for at least a brief amount of time against any sort of magical assault from the stallion, and she was armed with her lance as well if things went south. Besides, I was the one with the detonator for his collar, and RG knew that. If he wanted to survive an escape attempt, I was the pony that he had to neutralize, not Foxglove.

A few deft flaps of my wings propelled me further ahead of our small troupe, as well as granting me significantly more altitude to get a better lay of the land. I kept the other two in sight, but only barely, as I loped through the air. This verbal sparring match had just been one more in a long line since the three of us had set out for Seaddle. Unfortunately, it had also ended rather typically for such exchanges, with Arginine emerging as the ‘winner’ of the argument by means of running Foxglove and I out of coherent rebuttals.

In fairness, the stallion was arguing from a position of many years of whatever indoctrination was drilled into his head, while the violet mare and I were still probing out the specifics of that indoctrination. Until that time, we probably were going to end up losing our arguments, but only until we figured out exactly how to present our perspective in a way that the stallion couldn’t refute. It was going to take some time, and I understood that, but that didn’t mean that it still wasn’t frustrating to lose out in the meantime.

I found myself wishing—not for the first time or the same reason—that Jackboot was still around. If anypony could debate the merits of killing, it would have been that weathered old stallion. After all, he’d been a White Hoof. Who knew about slaughtering other ponies more than they did? He might have been able to put himself on RG’s level and shut him down. I couldn’t quite do that.

What I could do was relax with a little music.

I looked down at my pipbuck and began to fiddle with the controls to bring up the radio function, when I noticed that there was a new frequency listed on the display in addition to the expected station hosted by the far off Manehattan disc jockey. What was more was the name that my fetlock mounted device associated with the new signal: Neighvada Valley Radio. Curious, I maneuvered the pipbuck’s dial and selected the peculiar broadcast.

The speaker came alive with the closing chords of a Flanky Valli number that I recognized. A few seconds after the last notes died away completely, there was a subtle burst of static, and then the sound of somepony manipulating a microphone. My ears perked as a familiar voice propagated from the pipbuck’s speakers, “oh, uh, welcome back listeners! That was, ‘Cherry’ by the Four Phases. I, um, want to once again say a big ‘thank you!’ to everypony out there listening to our inaugural broadcast! Also, please spread the word around to anypony who might not yet know about us. Nothing against DJ Pon3, but sometimes it’s nice to hear about what’s going on right here at home, and not about some mare who crawled out of a stable near Manehattan, am I right?

“So that’s why I, Homi-uh…I mean, Miss Neighvada, am here to let you ponies know what’s happening in our beloved little valley!”

I blinked at the pipbuck. I knew that I’d recognized the voice of the mare crackling over the speaker. It looked like Homily had finally gotten the radio tower in McMaren up and running again. I canted my wings and started arcing around in a wide perimeter of our group to ensure nothing was coming up behind us either while I continued to listen to the broadcast.

“Starting off—I mean, this just in,” the mare stressed, “it looks like some White Hooves are raiding along western route between Shady Saddles and Seaddle. Travelers are encouraged to use the east road through Santa Mara until further notice. We’ll keep you advised when the trouble’s cleared up, so stay tuned!”

I frowned. It sounded like the White Hooves had managed to reorganize themselves rather quickly despite everything we’d done to them recently. That was troubling. It sounded like we’d want to be detouring as well, since that was the road that I had planned to take us along after leaving Shady Saddles. Diverting east was going to add nearly a whole week to our trip, but I really didn’t want to tangle with a band of White Hooves with a prisoner in tow.

“In other, more positive news—depending on what kind of pony you are—it’s sounding like Manehattan might not have a monopoly on aspiring heroes,” my ear twitched as I found myself paying more attention to the broadcast now, “according to some contacts that my associates have in New Reino, there’s a costumed crusader going around the area helping ponies in need.

“I know, right? New Reino, of all places has a genuinely good pony in it; who knew? Of course, if there’s any place in the valley that needs a good pony or two, it’s that place!”

That was welcome news actually, I thought to myself. Between ponies like Tommyknocker and griffons like Scratch, that city definitely needed a pony hanging around who could balance out the scales and do some good. The next time I found myself back there, I’d need to make a point of finding them and shaking their hoof. Maybe even ask if they needed any help.

Curious that I hadn’t heard anything about them while I’d been there though. Not that I’d really been looking, but you’d think that I’d at least have come across some sort of clue in passing.

The next words out of Homily’s—I’m sorry, Miss Neighvada’s—mouth nearly made me fall out of the air, “apparently she calls herself ‘The Wonderbolt’, and according to the rumor mill, she dresses the part too! Far be it for me to criticize anypony’s fashion choices, especially when they’re going around helping mothers and their fillies get away from mercenary ‘guards’ who lack any scruples, but I’ve got to say that it takes a brave mare to run around saving lives and making enemies while wearing a uniform.

“If you’re listening, Wonderbolt, my hat’s off to you—not that I wear a hat. Stay safe out there, and keep up the good work!” there was a pause, and then, “that about wraps up the news we have right now, so I’ll bring back the music, I guess. Once again: keep listening and tell your friends!” there was the faint sound of somepony rummaging around on a desk and then music began to play. However, it was quickly silenced. There was a hushed, “dammit!” that I was sure had not been intended to be heard over the broadcast and then Homily came back on over the speaker, “And now, The Ink Plots!” again there was rummaging and the music returned where it had been abruptly paused.

I wasn’t even listening to the music though. My mind was busy racing as I processed through what Homily had just informed the whole valley. It wasn’t any sort of concern about her having possibly put a target on my flank or anything. I was doing that all on my own well enough just by wearing the Wonderbolt barding. My trepidation was more borne out of a sense of discomfort at having been branded as a ‘hero’ at all. That wasn’t how I thought of myself. Indeed, I was still very much grappling with the whole ‘my destiny is to kill ponies’ thing. Not for a single moment had I thought that I could approach any sort of notion of being a savior of ponykind. Or, for that matter, a genuine Wonderbolt.

That position was best left to better, more deserving, mares like the Mare-Do-Well from long ago.

I’d need to catch one of DJ Pon3’s broadcasts sometime too in order to find out what that ‘stable mare’ thing that Homily mentioned was about. Given what I’d just learned about the sorts of ponies who could dwell in those pre-war bastions, I couldn’t help but be concerned about the notion that RG’s might not be the only Stable with ‘kill all surface ponies’ directives.

Still in a bit of a daze at the idea of becoming a mare of note in the Wasteland, I veered back towards the others and started to descend. From the sound of things, Foxglove was in the process of losing yet another argument about the morality of mass murder with the stallion. The violet unicorn mare certainly seemed happy to see me return at any rate.

“How’s it look?”

“All clear,” I assured her, “but it sounds like we’re going to be taking the long way to Seaddle,” at the mare’s questioning look, I held up my pipbuck and elaborated, “just heard a news broadcast: White Hooves are between Shady Saddles and Seaddle.”

Foxglove frowned, “great. Well, there’s no help for it, I suppose.”

“White Hooves,” Arginine mulled the name of the tribe over in his mouth for a few seconds, his gaze suggesting some deep thought on the matter. Then he glanced up at us, “the invalids with the bonemeal markings? An entire society devoted to destruction and mayhem,” he regarded Foxglove with a satisfied smirk, “yet one more example of why it is best to remove obsolete strains from the world.”

Clearly the large stallion was seizing on something that he felt was relevant to whatever discussion he had been having with the violet mare before I arrived. For her part, Foxglove’s grimace suggested that it was not the first such allegory that she had fielded during their discussion. She glared at the stallion, “that has nothing to do with genetics!” she snapped in response, “they’re raised to be like that! They are perfectly capable of being decent ponies.”

“Yeah,” I chimed in, feeling rather qualified to weigh in on this specific topic, “in fact, the stallion who raised me used to be a White Hoof! Jackboot might not have been perfect, but he still helped ponies when he could, and he never did anything like the other White Hooves did after he left,” I looked to Foxglove for support of my assertion, and was a little surprised to see her hesitation. I knew that the two of them hadn’t gotten along at first, but clearly they had made up at some point. It was puzzling to see her trepidation upon being put in a position to endorse the stallion that had quite apparently become her lover at some point.

Eventually she did offer up some praise for him though, “he gave his life to save us. He even turned on other White Hooves to do it,” she confirmed to our prisoner, “and even you have to admit that sort of thing is an admirable quality in a pony.”

The admission didn’t seem to cause Foxglove any actual pain; though it was hard to be certain given how strained the words had been. I frowned slightly at the mare. We’d need to talk about this later privately, because her reserved attitude didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me at the moment. I wanted to chalk it up to some form of grief, but that wasn’t really the sense I got from her posture. She was talking like I would have been if somepony had asked me to list the qualities I admired about Cestus.

“Oh, but of course,” there was no missing the mocking note in Arginine’s voice, “our stable is always looking for those who are willing to betray their own in order to aid outsiders.”

“What?” I snorted in disgust, “are you saying that Jackboot was wrong to turn against the other White Hooves? You just got through talking about how they’re bad ponies! Doesn’t that mean that Jackboot did the right thing?”

“The morality of his actions don’t factor into it,” the stallion sighed, as though he were a teacher having to lecture a mentally deficient pupil, “as Miss Foxglove pointed out, morality is taught, not bred,” before the unicorn mare could jump in and seize upon his minor concession, he pushed on with a caveat, “however, what does have genetic components are concepts of loyalty and devotion. Hormones and neurochemicals produced within the body in specific and proper proportions can make ponies more or less likely to support the society of their birth.

“As our desire is to create a whole and peaceful Equestria, we obviously want to select against any ponies who are likely to lack a strong sense of allegiance to ponies in general. So,” he looked at me, “yes, in that regard: this ‘Jackboot’ of yours is not the sort of pony that we would have found desirable, no matter how ‘good’ he may have been later in life. That radical shift in personality suggests an instability that could have made him capable of nearly anything.

“Physiologically speaking, there would have been nothing to keep him from regressing back to whatever violent and psychopathic mindset he possessed earlier in life,” Arginine snorted, “frankly, he’d have been just as likely to rape you as save you in that sort of manic state.”

“You’re wrong,” I growled at the stallion, “Jackboot wasn’t like that. You didn’t know him. He was a good pony.”

Once more I looked to my violet companion for support, but she wasn’t even paying attention to our conversation anymore. Her gaze was directed far into the distance, as though she was actually forcing herself not to acknowledge me or this conversation. Again I frowned at the mare and redoubled my resolve to find a private moment to talk to her. Being so obviously divided like this in front of the prisoner wasn’t likely to keep him from feeling doubtful about his chances of escaping. If he saw an opportunity to turn one of us against the other, he was smart enough to take it; and he might even be clever enough to exploit it somehow.

I certainly wasn’t going to give him any help; but I wasn’t feeling nearly as confident about Foxglove at the moment, given how little she was working to support me against the stallion even now. I’d already seen her opinion of Jackboot shift rather dramatically in the past from a hate-to-love relationship.

Like Arginine had just said: some ponies were just prone to experiencing drastic changes in perspective under the right circumstances. Was Foxglove another one of those sorts of ponies? Was there a chance that she could start to sympathize with our captive in the not-too-distant future?

The prospect of having to watch over the both of them for signs of trouble didn’t exactly fill me with a sense of relief.

“I will concede that I do not have all of the variables to consider,” the slate gray stallion nodded, “but if his shift in allegiance was as drastic as you suggest, it still makes ponies like him undesirable for the purposes of my Stable’s efforts.”

“You mean genocide?” I snapped, “I’d think you and the White Hooves would get along great in that case. They love senseless violence just as much as you do.”

This retort earned me another eye-roll from the stallion, “There is nothing ‘senseless’ about our efforts. They are meticulously calculated. Our directives come down from Stable-Tec and have been soundly planned out for nearly two hundred years by the brightest minds that our Stable could produce.”

Foxglove wheeled around and glared at the larger pony, “you keep talking about ‘Stable-Tec’. Do you really expect me to believe that they ordered you to kill everypony?! That’s crazy! They were all about saving ponies, for Celestia’s sake!”

The violet mare sounded like she had taken personal offense at the notion that the Old World company might have been involved in something so sinister. I kept my mouth shut on the matter. In the years that I had traveled with Jackboot before meeting Foxglove, I’d seen a few Stables that hadn’t been quite as fortunate as the one of her birth. As best I could tell, not all of them were as happy and benign as the place that she’d come from. I wasn’t going to go so far as to label Stable-Tec as being outright ‘malicious’ when it came to the lives of the ponies who’d trusted them with their lives; but it was clear that certain…’liberties’ had been taken in a few instances.

That being said, I had to agree with Foxglove that the concept of a population that had been directed to exterminate all other ponies sounded more than a little counter-intuitive, even in the face of some of Stable-Tec’s more aberrant projects. Why bother saving ponies if you were just going to kill them all anyway? There would hardly have been any point to something like that.

Arginine smiled at us and held up the pipbuck on his leg, “perhaps you would like to hear the words straight from the Director’s mouth?”

Foxglove snorted, “So instructions from Director Scootaloo are behind what you’re doing? I don’t believe it.”

“May I?” the stallion glanced at me and motioned at the fetlock-mounted device. I nodded, keeping myself ready in case he tried anything. The stallion tapped through some files on his pipbuck. A short time later, we heard the familiar crackling of an audio recording playing.

The tired voice of a young mare began to speak, sounding worn and defeated; yet at the same time determined to get through what she clearly regarding as a difficult task, “Hello, this is Scootaloo. CEO of Stable-Tec,” her words up to this point sounded almost mechanical, as though she had recited these phrases hundreds of times. As she continued, I figured that she probably had, “I’d like to start off by congratulating you on your appointment as Overmare of Stable 128.”

There was a long pause, and a sigh could be heard through the recording, “it’s looking more and more like these Stables are going to be something that actually have to be used, and not just a precaution. If that really is the case―if you’re hearing this―then...I’m sorry―we’re sorry. We weren’t good enough―we made too many mistakes that can never be corrected.

“We’re trying to save as many as we can, but it’s never going to be enough,” the voice of Scootaloo gave a defeated sigh, “so, now it’s up to ponies like you. You’re the future of Equestria. I just hope...I hope that you do better than we did―that you are better. I don’t have the right to ask this of you; not after everything we’ve done,” under her breath she added more quietly, “after everything I’ve done…” then she cleared her throat and spoke more clearly, “but, please, for the sake of everypony―for the sake of Equestria―please...be better ponies.

“Please…”

The recording issued an audible ‘click’ and the pipbuck went silent.

“Be better ponies,” Arginine quoted in near reverence, “that was the primary directive issued to our Stable. We have worked and strived to become just that for nearly two hundred years, to the limit that the available resources of our Stable would allow. We are stronger, smarter, more magically powerful, than any pony that had ever lived.

“We are better,” he stressed the word proudly, puffing out his chest, “than any pony before us,” he said with a satisfied sneer at the pair of us, “and we will not stop until we have adapted ourselves to become the best that can possibly exist. That is the mission that was given to our Stable for the sake of Equestria’s future.”

“I’m going to keep in mind that this is coming from a stallion who is currently being held captive by a pair of ‘invalid’ mares who completely obliterated your whole operation,” I said to the stallion, sneering at him in mirthless glee. I was rewarded with a glower from the larger stallion.

“Data scatter,” he muttered with a dismissive wave of his hoof, “the end result will not be affected by this minor upset. We have already been operating for months without significant issues.”

“Well, all of that’s about to change when we get Princess Luna after you,” I shot back at the stallion, “unless you think your ‘perfect ponies’ can actually beat a genuine Princess,” I smirked at the gray pony, watching as his self-assured expression faltered for a brief moment, “she’ll send your whole Stable to the moon or the sun or wherever as soon as we tell her about what you’re planning.”

Arginine didn’t have a response ready for this little revelation, and that helped immensely to rekindle my determination. I could only wish that Foxglove had been an equally enthused. Unfortunately, once more the violet unicorn mare wasn’t looking quite as assured as I could have hoped. This was getting ridiculous!

“Hold up here, RG,” I nearly snarled at the stallion. If he found the edge in my voice out of place, the golden-eyed unicorn didn’t give any indication, “we’re going to rest for a few minutes.

“Foxy,” by now I was a little better at keeping the irritation out of my voice, but it wasn’t completely gone as I addressed the mare, “can we talk in private for a minute?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, Windy,” the mare nodded, following my slow glide out of earshot of our prisoner, “what’s up?”

“That’s what I want to know,” I said flatly, noting the confused look in her emerald eyes, “what’s with you? We have to be on the same side, here.”

“What are you talking about? I am on your side!”

“Then act like it,” I growled at the mare, glancing briefly back at the stallion to make certain that he wasn’t listening to us, “every time I try to gain some ground with this guy, you’re never there to back me up. Not on Jackboot, not about the whole ‘orders from his Stable’ thing; what gives?”

Foxglove winced and looked away, “yeah, sorry. It’s just…”

“What?” I was becoming more than a little frustrate by now. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten a straight answer out of the mare. It had probably been months by now! “Foxglove, for Celestia’s sake, if there’s something wrong, then tell me! This stallion is dangerous, and the two of us need to be on the same page and be able to really trust each other, or he’ll get the drop on us.

“So, out with it: what’s wrong?”

“Windfall, I…” the words continued to hang in the other mare’s throat, unspoken.

“Damn it, Foxy!” I snarled in frustration, “Out with it!”

“Jackboot attacked me! He tried to rape me!” she finally blurted, and then immediately clamped her hooves over her mouth like she hadn’t meant to speak at all. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes as she looked at me, awaiting my response.

I sat there, dumbfounded, my mind working futilely to comprehend what the other mare could have been talking about, “what? No, I saw the two of you in the Stable,” I glared at the mare, “you two were going at it, and it sure looked to me like you liked―”

“No, before that,” she shook her head fervently, “something must have happened to him in McMaren,” the unicorn continued, obviously not relishing this conversation, “he was...I don’t know, different. He was going to...do things to you,” she shuddered at the memories.

“What kind of things?” I wasn’t sure that I believed the mare at this point, but I was having a hard time trying to figure out what her angle was if she was making all of this up. Jackboot was dead, so what did she have to gain by tarnishing his memory like this if it was all a lie?

“The kind of things that a stallion like him shouldn’t be allowed to do to a young mare like you,” Foxglove said firmly, “he would have used you, Windfall, and trust me: I know what that’s like. I was trying to protect you, I really was,” my deepening frown was obviously making the unicorn a little less sure of herself in hindsight. It was only right that she should feel so uncomfortable, given how this conversation was going.

“Protect me from what? A stallion that cared about me?” I wasn’t quite seething, but I was well on me way to doing so.

“He didn’t love you, Windy, that’s what I’m saying! He just wanted to use you.”

“And when he let himself die so that you and I could escape the White Hooves,” I growled, “exactly how was he using me then?”

“I―” the words died in the other mare’s throat, leaving her mouth hanging open uselessly. Slowly, her gaping maw closed shut and she bowed her head.

I glared at the mare for a long, silent, while before speaking again, “it’s not enough for you that you got to know Jackboot in a way I’ve only ever dreamed about, but now you’re trying to destroy my memory of him too? Why? What sick game are you playing at? What kind of pony steals away a stallion that she knows another mare loves, and then―after he sacrifices himself to save them―goes around trying to destroy her memory of him?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Foxglove insisted, tears starting to stream down her cheeks as she once more fought to meet my gaze, “I swear, Windy, I’m not trying to do that! You just don’t understand―you didn’t know what he was really like!”

“I knew him for over eight years!” I snapped at the mare, shocking her back into silence, “you knew him for, what? Two months? Three?” the unicorn offered no response, bowing her head once more, “but, no, of course I’m not the one who knew what he was ‘really like’,” I scoffed, “you’re pathetic.”

“Windy…”

“When we get to Seaddle, you should probably leave,” I said in a cool tone.

“Windy, no, I―”

“Well, then tell me why you even want to stay?” I snapped once more, “so you can not support me in front of RG? So you can tell more lies about Jackboot? So you can keep questioning every single decision I make?

“What’s even the point of having you around?!”

Foxglove winced with each question, but when I finally paused long enough for her to answer me, she wiped her eyes and fixed me with all of the resolve that she could muster, “I’m not leaving, Windfall; because I know you need my help,” I rolled my eyes and snorted, but she remained unfazed, “it’s true! Whether you can see it or not, I really do just want what’s best for you, and I’m not going to abandon you.”

“Why do you even care so much?” I demanded of the violet mare, “what am I to you?”

“You’re a good pony,” she said quietly.

I blinked, not expecting the statement.

“But, sometimes,” Foxglove continued, “that’s not enough. Good ponies can make bad decisions―and that’s not their fault. Nopony’s perfect. I want you to keep being a good pony, because there are too few of them in the Wasteland. So I’m going to stay at your side and keep you flying straight, as it were,” the unicorn tried to muster a wan smile and very nearly succeeded.

“I’ll stop talking about Jackboot,” she went on, “we knew two different ponies where he was concerned. But, if his memory is what helps keep you centered, then I won’t say anything more about him.

“And, you’re right, we do need to stand united against Arginine. I’ll do better about that,” she frowned, “it was just...the message he played. The one from Director Scootaloo...that couldn’t be what she really meant, could it? I mean...she sounded so...defeated in that recording.”

“There’s more than one way to be a ‘better’ pony,” I insisted, feeling my ire beginning to ebb. I hadn’t quite expected Foxglove to feel the way about me that she had admitted. Coming on the heels of discovering that there were other ponies in the valley who were trying to put me forth as something of a public ‘hero’ gave her words a slightly different connotation too.

There were a lot of ponies starting to invest themselves in my own personal success. I wasn’t sure how I really felt about that.

“Yeah, I suppose there is,” she didn’t sound as though she had been completely convinced, but Foxglove was at least less unsure than she had been. She looked up at me, “so...I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“Alright,” I nodded.

“We good?”

“We’re good,” I reached out my hoof, and Foxglove tapped it with her own, “so are we ready to go and back that genocidal asshole into a metaphorical corner?”

Foxglove smiled and wiped away the last of her tears, “sounds like a plan.”

Shady Saddles. Sweet Celestia, it’s been...I didn’t even know how long it had been since I’d last been back here. Had I even met Foxglove yet? Jackboot and I used to come by here on an almost monthly basis back in the day. Hopefully the contacts that he and I had nurtured during our tenure in Neighvada hadn’t dried up since the last time I’d dropped by.

Not that I was planning on staying long or doing much during this visit. Top off on supplies, sell some of the tech and weapons we salvaged from RG’s friends, and try to get the latest updates on what was going on between the Republic and the Rangers. Getting either of them to help fight Arginine’s fellows would be good, but finding some way to broker even a temporary armistice between those two powerful factions while a much larger threat was dealt with would be infinitely better. Maybe I was dreaming too big for my own good, but after seeing what those ponies could do to someplace as defensible and well-equipped as a functional Stable…

The first order of business was getting ourselves some funds. Fortunately, I knew how to go about doing that while simultaneously getting the pulse of the area. It would just require a trip to the local tavern, and a visit with the proprietor, Sandy.

Shady Saddles wasn’t a large settlement, not when compared to places like New Reino and Seaddle. There might be two or three hundred ponies here on any given day; and half of those were merchants and their cohorts who were just passing through.

That being said, for such a lightly populated place, I certainly felt like there were a lot of ponies around today who didn’t have anything better to do than stare. It was even odds as to who was drawing the most attention: me, or RG. Certainly we each had our own merits where spectacles were concerned.

The brightly colored unitard done up in the brilliant blue and gold of the Old World Wonderbolts had been remarkably well preserved in the hidden bunker. As such, it shown rather brightly even in the muted light of the overcast sky. It was quite obviously atypical barding when it came to Wasteland protection. If anything, it looked for suited to performance work than any real utility. Combine that with the barding in question being worn by a stark white pegasus with an aqua and teal streaked mane and tail, and I was well aware of how colorful a figure I cut in a crowd, even among pastel ponies.

On the other hoof, the stallion walking at my side through the street was, well, walking at my side. I wasn’t exactly soaring high above the crowds while I was here―it just wasn’t the polite thing to do in town―but I didn’t have my hooves on the ground either. I was floating a comfortable distance above the ground, as I typically did, and yet RG’s head was level with my own. This didn’t even begin to address how high he was towering over all of the other ponies around us!

It wasn’t until this moment that I had truly appreciated the gray stallion’s size. Up until this point, I had only had myself and Foxglove to compare him to, and neither of us were large ponies when all was said and done. Foxglove was significantly bigger than I was―a fact that I attributed to her Stable upbringing with its better medical care and access to quality food―and RG was much larger than she was, but Jackboot had been bigger than either of us too. As had Cestus, come to think of it.

None of them would have compared to the genetically enhanced unicorn stallion though. Seeing him stand head and shoulders about even the most robust pony that we passed forced me to pause and consider his earlier assertions about being physiologically superior to the typically Wasteland inhabitant. He...wasn’t wrong. He was much larger, vastly more broad in the chest and flanks, his coat practically shimmered when compared to those of other stallions...he just looked better. The other ponies that we were walking past seemed to notice this also. No surprise there.

A few of them noticed the slave collar too.

That was actually a factor that I hadn’t considered, I thought as I nibbled on my lip. Slavery was nominally illegal in Luna’s Republic; and Shady Saddles was nominally a part of that Republic. Politically, things could get...eh, murky, when it came to that sort of thing, but the two places had codes of laws that basically mirrored one another in any event. That meant that slavery was illegal here.

Arginine was hardly a slave, of course. He was my prisoner. Not that I even remotely resembled any sort of law enforcement official that belonged to any of the various factions in the valley. I wasn’t very likely to be believed if I tried to pass that line off to anypony who challenged me; especially when that somepony was likely to be a member of the guard themselves…

It was a problem that I was unlikely to be confronted with by some random member of the public who were currently ogling us, but it was still something I needed to be thinking about before I was put on the spot. If a guard confronted me about RG’s collar, best case: I was simply forced to release the stallion. In which case, all I had to do was wait for him to go somewhere where I could safely nab him again and then drag him directly to Seaddle. It would be a pain, but not a situation I couldn’t recover from easily enough.

Worst case: I was arrested for practicing slavery. That could cause problems, not the least of which was allowing RG to get away free and clear and warn his Stable about their operation being discovered.

Glancing around, I zipped over to a small stall along the side of the road and made a quick selection before tossing an energy rifle into the lap of an understandably surprised old mare. I was easily paying a hundred times the value of what I’d just bought, but there was something to be said for peace of mind. A second later I was back with RG and Foxglove. I looped deftly around the large stallion’s head several time before settling back to where I’d been only a few seconds earlier. Both of my companions looked about in surprise, and that was when they both noticed the tartan-patterned scarf that was now loosely wrapped around RG’s neck, completely obscuring the explosive collar on his neck. It clashed pretty brazenly with the white jumpsuit that the unicorn was wearing, but adhering to the contemporary fashion trends hadn’t been high on my list of priorities when I’d grabbed it.

The new garment didn’t do much to dissuade gawkers either.

“Sandy!” I called out the moment the three of us entered the town’s only bar. Being that the day was soon to begin ebbing its way into the twilight hours, the main room was only just starting to show its first signs of life, with the patronage mostly consisting of those looking to catch an early meal before retiring early. The brown unicorn mare looked up from where she had been serving a couple of customers.

When her eyes found me, I saw them cloud with confusion briefly. No doubt, I was a far sight removed from how I’d looked during my last visit. I was also in considerably different company. Of course, how many pegasi could the bartender really know? So it wasn’t long before recognition finally did dawn on the mare’s face. At which point she smiled warmly, though a corner of her mouth was curled in clear consideration of the sight that she was seeing.

“Windfall,” she finished serving her patrons and walked towards us, letting her eyes wander first over my attire before venturing onto my companions, “digging the costume. Starting a traveling circus?”

“Ha ha,” I let out a mocking laugh before landing in front of the mare and briefly shaking her hoof, “I just wear it because it matches my eyes,” I futtered my eyes at the mare in jest and then looked down at my Wonderbolt barding, “this is just temporary. My other barding...wasn’t wearable anymore. I’m actually hoping you can help me with that. Some ammo and healing potions too, you know, the usual.”

“Indeed,” the brown unicorn nodded, “I’ll put word out for what you need. Cash or trade this time? Actually, I don’t suppose you came across any more Jennyson out there? That client who bought the last crate contacted me a few weeks ago. You won’t believe what he’s willing to pay for the stuff; it’s nearly Special Reserve prices!”

“Ooh,” my eyes lit up at the mention of the spicy beverage, “speaking of, I don’t suppose you sold all of that stuff, have you?”

“Sorry, girlie,” she shook her head with a wan smile, “long gone, I’m afraid.”

I frowned briefly and sighed, “oh well. Yeah, I’ll keep an ear out for that donkey stuff, but don’t get your hopes up. And it will be trade,” I motioned to Foxglove and the violet mare produced a half dozen energy rifles for the bartender. Sandy’s eyes widened as she collected one of the weapons in her own telekinetic grasp and examined it.

“Woah,” she exclaimed as she regarded the weapon, “I’ve never seen a design like this one before. Is this zebra tech, or...no,” she narrowed her eyes at the stock, “Stable-Tec? Since when did they build weapons like this?”

“Something tells me they weren’t pre-Wasteland designs,” I said, “but they work well enough. Interested?”

“I’m sure I can find a buyer,” she nodded, “how many do you have?”

“Seven, including that one.”

“Alright, I’ll have a price for you by nightfall,” the bartending mare assured me. Then she glanced around once more, trying to look past our trio, “when do you think Jackboot will be by? I had a pony in here a few weeks ago asking about him,” she said a little more quietly, “it sounded like trouble, and I wanted to give him a heads...up…”

Her voice likely trailed off in response to the expression on my face. She seemed to sense the revelation before I actually spoke it aloud, “he died,” I said simply.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sandy at least sounded genuinely sympathetic, “he was a good pony,” I caught myself glancing in Foxglove’s direction, half daring her to snort or otherwise express her disagreement with that assessment. Her expression remained impassive though, “but I guess that makes my warning moot,” she shrugged.

“Have a seat. First round’s on me.”

“Thanks, Sandy.”

The three of us settled around a table off to the side of the large room, and we soon found it host to four shots of Wild Pegasus whiskey. I smirked, in spite of myself. I suppose that it was no surprise that a pony who tended bar in the Wasteland in a place frequented by those who routinely braved its perils knew a thing or two about proper toasting to fallen comrades. It was soured only by the fact that RG wasn’t exactly a ‘comrade’ that I relished sharing a toast with.

Still, anything to maintain the fiction, I suppose. So I passed everypony their drink, leaving the fourth alone in the center. Looking at the violet mare, and once again daring her to renege on her earlier promise, I lifted my small glass, “to Jackboot.”

She didn’t say anything, but Foxglove did at least raise up his own glass in her magical green grip before setting it back down on the table. The gray stallion did and said nothing, merely staring intently at the glass and giving it a curious sniff. So I drank alone. It was actually fine. Of the three of us, I was the only pony qualified to appreciate the sort of stallion he was, wasn’t I? He hadn’t been a perfect pony, but who was? Whatever his faults, he made me the mare I was today, and that counted for a lot in my book.

I snaked out a wing and drew in RG’s drink too. I wasn’t even sure if his kind did drink, but I certainly wasn’t going to waste perfectly good alcohol on a monster like him. The guards in Seaddle could give him a stiff drink right before they walked him out to the headsmare when they were done interrogating him. That would be suitable enough for a pony like him.

Sandy came back by not long afterwards with some food and additional drinks, as well as to update us on our other orders, “so, the food and potions are done,” she confirmed, “and it’ll leave you with about six hundred bits left over, eight hundred in caps if you’d prefer?” I shook my head, “alright, bits it is. However, if you’re hoping for barding,” she eyed my wardrobe with an apologetic shrug, “I don’t think I’ll be able to find anything in your size―for a pegasus―on such short notice…”

“That’s fine,” I assured her, “I didn’t really expect you to. I’ll pick something up in Seaddle”

Sandy nodded, “that’s what I figured. Oh, if you didn’t already hear, one your way north be sure to―”

“―take the east route,” I finished for the mare, smiling, “I heard the broadcast.”

The mare smiled and nodded, “I don’t know why somepony didn’t try to set up a real local radio station sooner,” the bartender mare said, “nothing against DJ Pon3, and respects to the Princess’ broadcasts too, you know; but there’s something to be said for having a real news source in the valley. Information like that travel warning could save lives.”

"It is pretty cool,” I nodded in agreement, then smiled at the mare, “actually, Jackboot and I are the ponies that helped ‘Miss Neighvada’ get to McMaren to set up the tower,” I boasted, sitting up a little straighter in my chair, “Foxglove was there too,” I gestured at the violet mare who gave the barmare a little wave of her hoof and a wan smile.

“No foolin’?” she stepped back and looked me over, “the little filly who was knee-high to a rad-roach what seems like yesterday? You’re just making yourself all sorts of useful, aren’t you? Keep that up and you’ll make yourself into a bona fide hero,” she chuckled to herself and started to walk away before something made her stop. She looked back at me, her eyes scanning over my barding a little more closely than they had earlier. Fixing me with an accusatory look, her horn glowed and I felt one of my saddlebags start to lift up slightly while she peered beneath it at my flank. No, not my flank, but the winged lightning bolt that was sewn into the barding where a cutie mark would be on a pony.

Her eyes went wide and she let the back fall as she look back into my eyes, “you...you’re the―no!” her lips began to part in a look of disbelief, “you’re not―are you?”

I was sitting very still now, thrown off by the simultaneously bemused and surprised expression on the brown unicorn mare’s face, “not...what?”

Sandy leaned in very close, as though to keep our conversation between us, even though her voice was certainly loud enough to carry, “are you The Wonderbolt? The one that Miss Neighvada keeps talking about on the radio?”

“‘Keeps’?” I’d heard the broadcast a few days ago, but reception had been spotty in some of the places along our route. Plus, I’d been a lot more interested in finding out more about the new pony who was causing a stir in Manehattan. If there were other Stables like RG’s, I wanted to know as soon as possible. So far, it sounded like they were just another Mare-Do-Well or Lone Ranger stirring up trouble; and I fully expected them to burn out in the near future in a similar fashion.

The way Sandy was talking though, it sounded like Homily was out to make me a local version of those ponies, whether I deserved that sort of fuss or not.

“Oh yeah,” the brown unicorn went on, grabbing a nearby stool and sliding it over to make herself more comfortable while she chatted, “do you even realize who you saved in New Reino?” I shrugged my shoulders and looked at Foxglove, who had no help to offer either, though her meeting with the mare and her filly had been briefer than mine, “Summer Glade? As in the wife of Skinny Galician? Of the Galician Triplets?” my blank stare was the only answer I could give, which seemed to exasperate Sandy to no end, “oh, come on! They own 3-Some Caravans, and contract out to like half the independent caravans in the valley! They’re like the wealthiest family in Seaddle, and you saved the lives of two of their members!

“Windy,” Sandy was laughing now, spurred on by my ignorance, “The Wonderbolt saving Summer Glade and her filly is the news in the valley! When word got out what happened, the Lancers lost their contract with new Reino, since, you know, the Galicians have a lot of pull with the casino barons there―being the suppliers of most of their food and booze and all that,” she chuckled mirthlessly, “plus, the family’s put out an open invitation for ‘The Wonderbolt’ to come by their mansion in Seaddle anytime she wants.”

“You, my dear filly,” she poked my nose with her hoof, “are famous.”

I blinked―several times―before I was finally able to find my voice once again.

“Oh.”

Okay, so maybe that was a thoroughly underwhelming reaction to the news that Sandy had just shared with me. In my defense, I was still trying valiantly to process everything that she was saying and understand the implications. Part of me was also a little bit upset with Summer Glade for not having made any mention of who she really was―not that I’d cared to ask, granted. Admittedly, even if she had told me who her late husband had been, it probably wouldn’t have mattered much to me at the time.

Knowing the movers and the shakers in the valley wasn’t anything that I’d had to concern myself with. Jackboot was the one who had secured work for us, and I’d been perfectly content to let him deal with the details while I focused on what I was good at: killing things. That probably wasn’t going to be much of an option for me anymore, especially if my goal was to get powerful groups to work with me to stop the ponies from Arginine’s stable.

“‘Oh’, she says,” the bartender was shaking her head with a heavy sigh and a smile that could possibly have been described as patronizing, “sweetie, you’re adorable. Don’t ever change,” her attention then went to my companions, her eyes lingering a bit longer on the absurdly large stallion, “I don’t think I’ve met your friends,” she said, inviting an introduction.

“Right,” I gestured with a wing at the violet mare, “this is Foxglove. Jackboot and I helped her out a while back and she’s been tagging along ever since,” then I motioned towards the golden-eyed stallion, “and this is RG. We’re taking him to Seaddle,” I debated exactly how much detail I wanted to go into where the odd looking unicorn stallion was concerned. Of course, Sandy was a long-time business partner who had a lot of connects in Shady Saddles; so if anypony was in a position to offer helpful information and advice, it was her, “he’s part of a group that’s been abducting a lot of ponies in the valley,” I opted to leave out the genocide, lest I find myself having to actually defend the stallion against anypony who knew somepony whose death he might have been responsible for, “we’re going to deliver him to the Republic for questioning.”

Appropriately, Sandy’s expression, which had been one of curiosity previously, grew hard as she regarded the gray stallion. Doing as much business as that unicorn did with traders in the valley, she was very likely one of those ponies who, in fact, did know somepony that Arginine’s Stable had killed in their perverted quest for perfection.

“Saving defenseless fillies and mares, and cleaning up the Wasteland,” the bartender favored me with a smile of approval, “you are really are bucking to make a name for yourself in the valley, aren’t you?”

I felt my cheeks heating up slightly at the praise. I cleared my throat and offered a small shrug, “just helping out a little.”

“Uh huh,” Sandy held my gaze for a few moments longer, seeming to consider something. Then she said, “you’re heading Seadlle way, right?” I nodded, “I don’t suppose you can help out a friend of mine?”

“What kind of help?”

“Well, she’s in a ‘motherly’ sort of way―and far along at that,” the mare tapped her belly to emphasize the point, “honestly, she probably shouldn’t be traveling at all―not that she’ll listen to me,” Sandy added in a tone that hinted at many a futile conversation on the subject, “the father’s a city guard, and he just sent word that he can’t make it here for the birth after all; so she’s determined to go to him.

“None of the caravans are willing to take her along the way she is, and I’m not comfortable with her hiring some random merc to watch over her. I don’t suppose you’d be willing? She can pay, I’m not asking for charity; and I’ll do a little better on the price for your supplies too,” the unicorn mare regarded me hopefully, “what do you say?”

Jackboot would have said ‘no’ without a second thought. I could even see the uncertainty in Foxglove’s own expression. It was understandable. A pregnant mare was a liability in a lot of ways, especially if she was as far along as Sandy was suggesting. There were a whole lot of reasons to turn down the offer, no matter what the pay was.

“I really don’t think I can,” I began, “I’m going to have enough on my plate as it is watching this guy,” I nodded my head at the engineered stallion nearby, “we’re probably not the safest group for her to travel with.”

“I know I’m asking a lot,” the bartender agreed, “and like I said, I don’t think she should be going at all! She’s pretty adamant though,” she added, looking a little concerned, “I’m actually half worried that she’ll go off on her own if she can’t find anypony to go with her.”

Oh, horseapples. Foxglove was looking at me now, and I could see the conflict in her emerald eyes. Like me, she would just as soon have refused to take the mare along for the same reasons I was privately entertaining. On the other hoof, if the mare really did try to go it alone…

It wasn’t my responsibility to look after that mare, and if she did something stupid that got her killed, that was her own business. That’s what Jackboot would have certainly thought. I wasn’t Jackboot though, was I? I didn’t sit back and let things sort themselves out where ponies who needed help were concerned; no matter how ill-advised my interference was. It was arguably the whole reason that Foxglove was a free mare. It was also why RG was in my custody and would provide me with the leverage I needed to get the Republic moving against his Stable for the good of the Wasteland.

I needed to face facts: I was stupid and impulsive, and I had a real problem when it came to helping ponies without thinking.

I was pretty sure I’d heard somewhere that admitted that you had a problem was the first step on the road to recovery. However, nopony had ever gotten around to mentioning what the second step was―or if there even were any other steps involved at all. So, I guess I’d reached the end of the road to rehabilitation; and gone nowhere in the process.

“Fine,” I sighed in resignation, “where and when should we meet your friend?”

Sandy’s face brightened at my agreement to help out and she threw her arms around me in a brief but firm hug, “oh, thank you! You have no idea how relieved I am right now. She runs a little shop here in town, I’ll let her know the good news this evening and have her meet you right here first thing in the morning. Again, thank you!” she hugged me a second time, “are you hungry? I’ll be right out with something!”

Before I could get out another word, Sandy went cantering off to the kitchen in the back of the bar to fetch us something; leaving Foxglove and I to exchange looks while RG remained largely uninterested in what had been discussed.

“You know that’s not a good idea, right?”

I sighed, “yeah, I do. But she needs help, and we’re heading to Seaddle anyway.”

“That’s not the point, Windfall, and you know it,” the violet mare sighed. She jerked her head in RG’s direction, “she’s not safe with us.”

“You heard what Sandy said: her friend was going to end up trying to make the trip on her own! That’s got to me more dangerous than going with us.”

To this, the unicorn didn’t have an objection that she could voice. I agreed with Foxglove though: this wasn’t going to make our jobs any easier during the trip. It was the right thing to do though. It’s what the real Wonderbolts would have done.

At least, I liked to think so.

Sandy came through like a champ that evening, securing us a small pharmacy’s worth of medical supplies and enough food to feed a whole caravan on its way to Seaddle. Bullets hadn’t been nearly as plentiful, unfortunately. From what the brown unicorn mare said during the course of her apology for the shortcoming, it sounding like there was a general shortage of ammunition of all types afflicting the valley at the moment, especially in the Seaddle area. The reason was fairly simple: the New Lunar Republic was getting ready to launch a major offensive against the Steel Rangers and was buying up all of the warfighting supplies that they could get their hooves on.

Personally, I felt that it was about time the Republic got serious. The Steel Rangers had been a problem in the valley for over a decade by now, and had been in a perpetual state of conflict with the Republic since their arrival. It was like they had come to Neighvada specifically to fight with Luna’s newfound Equestria! I wasn’t going to pretend that made any amount of sense to me, since I was under the impression that Luna used to be in charge of the Steel Rangers way back before the bombs fell, but there you have it. If the Republic was really ready to get serious and finally push the Rangers out of the valley, good on them!

However, the related shortage of grenades meant that Foxglove was also short on materials with which to manufacture the specialty ammunition that I was growing attached to using. We’d just have to make due, and I was confident that we at least had enough to see the three―or rather four now―of us to the Republic’s capital. Once we were there, and I had a chance to talk with the Princess, I was hopeful that I could secure a steady source of supplies.

In the meantime, I was with Foxglove and RG in front of Sandy’s bar conducting my final inspections of my weapons prior to our departure when I heard the brown unicorn mare step outside. I looked up from my compact .45 to see that the bartender was not alone either. As I had been expecting, she had brought her friend―as promised. However, it was only now that I realized that I had been rather remiss in asking about any real details regarding this ‘friend’ of hers. Which would explain my look of surprise when I saw that Sandy was accompanied by a―as expected―visibly pregnant zebra mare.

Honestly, I hadn’t actually known that any zebras lived in Shady Saddles, much less operated any shops. Similarly, I could not recall ever seeing any zebra guards in and around Seaddle; and I’d spent enough time there to feel that I would have noticed such a thing.

Foxglove looked to have been equally surprised by the discovery, but it was the large gray stallion with us whose reaction bore the most thinking. If the genocide inclined unicorn had, up to this point, been affecting an air of indifference to how ‘invalid’ ponies like those who lived and worked in Shady Saddles went about their lives, his interest had become thoroughly piqued now. His golden eyes were the largest and most attentive that I’d ever seen them as he regarded the mare that we were to escort.

The zebra seemed to notice his rather intent gaze, which stirred within her some feelings that were competing rather brashly with her own reaction to seeing a pony as unique as Arginine was. She shied a little closer to her friend, “um, greetings. Sandy tells me you are Seaddle bound and willing to take along company, yes?”

“Yes,” I replied a little absently as I flashed the gaping stallion a glare of my own until he took notice and recomposed himself. Only then did I regard our new charge more amiably and offer her a warm smile, “sorry, yes, hi! My name’s Windfall. This is Foxglove and that’s RG,” I indicated each in turn with a wing. The violet unicorn mare smiled and waved; the stallion adopted his usual blank expression, “what’s you’re name?”

“Yatima,” the mare answered with a slight bow of her head towards Foxglove and I. Then her eyes went back to Arginine, with a side glance or two at her brown friend, “he is the...bandit?” she looked to each of us for confirmation.

I thought for a brief moment and then shrugged my shoulders. Close enough as far as the zebra was really concerned. There wasn’t much need to burden her with a whole lot of details, “basically. He’s our prisoner, yeah,” I hopped up into the air and tugged at the stallion’s scarf, revealing the explosive collar clasped snugly around his neck and then holding up my pipbuck, “but don’t worry, he’ll be on his best behavior,” I darted around in front of his face and glared into his golden eyes, “or else; isn’t that right?”

He returned a defiant stare of his own for several long seconds before responding with silence and a barely perceptible nod. It was probably the best I was going to get out of him for the moment, but it was good enough for me. I drifted down and smiled back at the zebra, reassuringly, “see? S’all good!”

“Is he a...pony, yes?” she inquired cautiously, looking over the odd looking unicorn stallion, “if so, I do not recognize his breed…”

“RG’s...a little mutated,” I said. Though I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel the stallion’s baleful glare upon me in reprisal for my answer.

“I see.”

I tapped my hooves together as the silence between all of us that followed Yatima’s words drew on longer than I was really comfortable with, “so...we should get going? You’re packed, right?”

“I am,” the striped mare indicated her saddlebags. She then turned back to the barpony and the two exchanged a brief hug, “thank you, my friend. This was very kind of you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Sandy insisted, waving her hoof at the three of us, “they’re the ones who agreed to do this. Otherwise I was of half a mind to close up the bar and take you myself! That’s my niece or nephew you’ve got kicking around in there, after all!

“Not that I’m any better with a gun than you are; so I’m sure we’d just both have ended up dead…” she added with a wry smile at the zebra.

“Indeed,” Yatima snorted. Then she looked up at me, “and I do thank you as well, Miss Windfall. You are doing me a great kindness. I know well the liability I am. I will endeavour to be as little a burden as possible.”

“We’ll keep the pace slow,” I assured her, “all I ask is that when the shit hits, you hug the ground until it’s all over, alright? Leave the heroics to the professionals.”

“Agreed,” the zebra bobbed her head.

On my own, I could have gotten from Shady Saddles to the Seaddle ruins in a little over ten hours; and that was at a relatively leisurely pace. Constrained by the speed at which most ground-bound ponies could maintain, I would have been looking at four days along the shortest route. Unfortunately, that route was―according to Homily―swarming with White Hoof raiders. Maybe if it had just been the three of us I could have convinced myself to say ‘fuck it’ with the risks and taken the west road anyway. After all, I was still a little aggravated where the topic of the White Hooves and their continued existence was concerned.

Much like with the ponies from RG’s Stable, I was quite confident I could kill vast quantities of those painted ponies and still have gotten a sound night’s sleep without needing copious quantities of alcohol to do it.

However, that wasn’t something I was going to risk with Yatima in tow. So, the east road it was, which would have been six days at a brisk pace. With the pregnant mare and the considerations for her health and comfort, we were looking at eight. Even that was assuming that we didn’t encounter anything the seriously held us up.

...Or I could kill RG, cut off his head, take it to luna as proof of the threat, and be back in Shady Saddles by this time tomorrow.

Ugh...even just thinking about doing that made me want a drink. I’d just pocket the thought for use as a threat against the stallion later if he started proving to be difficult. Given his reaction to Yatima, I was coming under the impression that was a distinct possibility. What had all of that been about anyway? He’d never looked at anypony that way before; not that I’d ever seen!

I asked him about it during the trip, while Foxglove was chatting up the zebra.

“I’ve never seen one before,” the stallion responded, a note of embarrassment sneaking through his otherwise flat tone.

“A zebra? Well, I guess they are pretty rare in Neighvada. I’ve only seen a few myself,” I said.

“I meant a pregnant mare,” RG corrected, his discomfort growing slightly. Then he added, “though, I have actually not seen a living zebra either. Only their pictures from our history texts.

“I thought they’d be bigger.”

I blinked at the gray unicorn, “whoa, wait. Back up,” I fluttered along next to the stallion’s head, fixing him with a dubious stare, “what do you mean you’ve never seen a pregnant mare before? How is that possible? You must have seen one; at least in your own Stable!”

Arginine frowned at me, “we do not breed as invalids do,” the unicorn scoffed, “even after so many decades of careful selection, there is too much detritus lingering in our genes. Until we have perfected ponykind, it would be detrimental to our efforts to allow for genetically inferior offspring to be born through random chance,” his face adopted a sneer as he spoke those last words.

I grimaced at the stallion’s rhetoric, “so then how exactly do they make little ponies where you come from? Or were you born an fully grown asshole?”

His amber eyes flashed at me before quelling and supplying a straight answer, “once a satisfactory genome has been sequenced, it is injected into a sterile ovum and incubated in a maturation chamber so that the developing fetus can be continually monitored for errant mutations of its cells.”

I blinked at the stallion, “you’re grown in a tube?”

Another brief glare, followed by a resigned sigh, “if that is the only way your inferior mind can comprehend the process, then yes: I was grown in a...tube.”

Well, in fairness to the stallion, I had sort of left him the opening for that little jab of his, so I was going to let it pass without retort. I wasn’t going to pretend that I understood everything that he had told me as fully as I might have liked, but I’d followed enough of it to get a good idea of what was going on. Which did leave me with another question though, “but you still have sex right?”

Arginine looked at me like I’d just slapped him across the face, with a mixture of horror and consternation. There was even a tiny mote of revulsion mingled in there somewhere, “why would we?”

Somewhere in the back of my brain I was distantly aware that my expression at that moment must have almost perfectly mirrored the one he had worn just a few seconds ago. Probably for much the same reason: the very nature of the question sounded patently absurd! Why would you have sex? Because it was sex! Okay, so, yeah, I’d never had it personally, but even I knew I wanted to have it eventually! Just about every other pony I knew had had sex at some point in their lives.

It was sex, it was what ponies did―and zebras, come to think of it! I was pretty sure every other race did it too, frankly. For fuck’s sake, even radroaches had sex!

A better, more realistic question, would have been, “why wouldn’t you?” Given the opportunity, of course.

Which was pretty much exactly how I ended up framing my response out loud. Not the most sophisticated reply, I was forced to admit, but it was about all I could manage when confronted with a good looking―that was an objective observation, not a personal appraisal mind you―stallion who looked positively confounded by the notion of engaging in intimate relations.

Arginine’s expression contorted into mild irritation, “we are engaged in a struggle for the very future of ponykind. We do not have the time for such distractions.”

I blinked at the stallion and frowned, “you mean to tell me that the Stable obsessed with creating a whole race of ‘super-ponies’ considers sex a ‘distraction’? I’d figure you guys would be all about popping out as many foals as possible.”

“In the fullness of time,” the gray pony sighed, “that will indeed be the case. However, as I have previously stated: our geneticists have yet to satisfy themselves with the sequences of the current population. Until such a time, future generations must be very carefully crafted. As such, we do not practice more...natural birthing methods.”

In its own little twisted way, that did make sense. But still, “and none of you even get...urges?”

“They were curbed during my sequencing,” Arginine said simply.

What a sad existence, I thought. It might explain a few things though, “well, we don’t have tubes out here, so pregnant mares are a thing. Get used to it, and stop staring. You’ll creep her out.”

“I was not staring,” Arginine insisted defensively, “I was merely intrigued by what I perceived to be a physiologically fascinating feature.”

“Well, do it with a little more blinking and a lot more subtlety,” I glared at the stallion, and was rewarded with seeing him blush slightly and avert his gaze. Good, that should head off any problems before they began and let me focus on our surroundings while Foxglove worked on keeping our charge at ease.

Though most of my attention was kept on Arginine, in order to make certain that he kept his gaze civil, his mouth shut, and his whole self distant, I did spare some time during our trip to get to know Yatima a little better. I couldn’t deny being a little curious about her myself, if to a much less creepy and disturbing degree than the engineered unicorn’s interest. Zebras weren’t what one could call a ‘common sight’ in the Wasteland, so far as I noticed. They were around, certainly, but they weren’t something you expected to really see anywhere all the same.

Kind of like me, in a way. Pegasi weren’t a bit a dozen either.

The difference was that I was at least a pony, and thus a native of the Neighvada Valley. Yatima would have had to have come here from somewhere else; and from what I knew, the zebra lands were way off to the south. She didn’t just wander into the valley on a whim; that mare would have had to go through a lot of effort to make it here; and while I was generally polite enough to let ponies keep their more painful secrets to themselves, that didn’t mean I stopped being curious.

As I sort of expected, Yatima was more than a little vague on the ‘whys’ of her journey north into pony lands. The ‘hows’ involved boats―whatever those were―and signing on to various caravans as a cook. She admitted that she didn’t know a whole lot when it came to weapons and fighting, but she was capable of taking all sorts of combinations of dregs that were dredged up from the ruins of an Old World pantry and turning them into a respectable meal. Given what she managed to do with our travel rations and a few sprigs of what I had written off as a few wasteland weeds that first night, I was inclined to believe her. Cram had never tasted like that before!

She was certainly a pony’s-pony, er...pony’s-zebra anyway. She was able to tell us a great deal about the other ponies that she’d traveled with since leaving the zebra lands. Looking back on things, she weaseled out quite a bit of my own life story while we were talking. Not that there was much I tended to hold back. Even those few topics that I had used to keep mum on, like my feelings for Jackboot, were fair game these days. It wasn’t like the old stallion was around to overhear me or anything; and Foxglove already knew nearly everything anyway.

What I did learn was that the guard who Yatima said was the father of her unborn foal wasn’t actually a zebra at all, like I’d assumed. He was an earth pony serving in the Lunar Guard. According to the striped mare, he’d actually grown up in Shady Saddles, which was where the two of them had met. He’d been a regular at the little cafe she’d set up, and had been quite the charmer. She’d responded to his flirting with extra servings of the day’s special, and one thing had led to another from there.

When Luna had returned, the stallion left for Seaddle to enlist and fight for her. Apparently, Yatima had been willing to close up her small cafe in Shady Saddles and go with him to the larger city, but he’d talked her into staying. At the time, the Steel Rangers had been attacking the Republic capital with regularity, and he’d believed it would be safer for her to remain down south. They saw each other every few months when his patrol routes took him through the smaller town.

Judging by her condition, the two of them had certainly made the most of those infrequent visits.

Yatima wasn’t precisely sure how much the addition of the new foal into their lives would affect the father’s opinion where their living situation was concerned; but the two of them were going to have some time to think about it, according to the zebra mare. Her foal was due in another four weeks or so, and she had no intention of traveling back to Shady Saddles until it was a couple months old, at least.

Our trip was going pretty well...up until the third day. That was when things got...complicated.

I think it was mostly my fault. I let myself get distracted while talking to Yatima. I was the pegasus, and even more than that I was the pony who was nominally there to do any of the fighting if a threat showed itself. My eyes should have been locked onto the Eyes Forward Sparkle of my pipbuck during the whole trip for when something showed up.

But I wasn’t paying attention, was I? I was gabbing away with a friendly mare.

They were almost on top of us when I noticed anything; and even then I didn’t realize that we were in trouble until a pair of stallions rose up into view ahead of us, and far closer than I liked.

“Y’all might want to go ahead and hold it right there,” A robust black stallion announced as he stepped out from behind a rocky outcropping. Another stallion, this one a unicorn, shimmered into sight next to him. Both boasted battle saddles bristling with automatic rifles. Even as Foxglove and I instinctively squared off against the pair, the violet unicorn mare placing herself between the stallions and Yatima, I could hear additional hoofsteps coming from behind us. Turning my head slightly, I saw two more ponies moving around to flank us.

We were in a lot of trouble; I could tell that instantly. But several little alarms going off in my head suggested that things were even worse than they initially appeared. On the surface of it, this whole thing might have looked like your typical Wasteland robbery, and it did have a lot of the hallmarks of one, that was true; but there were a few things about it that didn’t sit well with me.

The first thing was that these four had opted to talk first, rather than shoot. Looking at it from the point of view of these armed stallions, I could see why they might have decided that they could risk giving up their element of surprise if things devolved into a firefight. It was obvious to anypony looking at us that only Foxglove and I were armed in any way. RG might have been big, and I spied the two stallions behind us that were closest to him keeping wary eyes on the massive unicorn, but he lacked any weapons. On top of that, Yatima was also quite visibly pregnant. Realistically, they had us outnumbered two to one in a straight up fight. Corpses were easy to rob, but prisoners could easily be sold for more caps than whatever gear they were carrying was worth.

On the other hoof, I would have been a very tempting and logical target. Floating up in the air, armed to the teeth when compared with the others, and sporting a pipbuck on my leg. I would have represented a threat that should have been too big of a risk to deal with. The smart choice would have been to pop my oblivious ass in the head like I so richly deserved, and then confronted Foxglove four on one and forced a virtually guaranteed immediate surrender.

Experienced raiders didn’t run the sort of risk these fellas had that I might notice them with my EFS and give them a tough fight. Unfortunately, these guys didn’t look like amateurs either.

Amateurs didn’t wear matching barding like they were. The four stallions wore armor that looked very nearly like a professional uniform of some type. More than that, it was a color scheme and a design that I recognized; and that was when the knot began to take shape in the pit of my stomach.

These were Lancers.

The same mercenary group that Sandy had informed me lost its most lucrative protection contract recently, through the actions of yours truly. The idea that a group of the very ponies who had a bone to pick with me just happened to find me on the road being a coincidence didn’t even cross my mind. It wasn’t like I’d taken any efforts to mask my movements, not that there was much I could do to accomplish that. Catching up wouldn’t have been hard either, with Arginine and then Yatima in tow to slow me down. They had come looking for me, and now they had caught me.

These weren’t even just four random lancers either, I realized. Three of them, I recognized; and they clearly recognized me in turn.

“I told you you hadn’t heard the last of us,” the unicorn that had materialized seemingly out of thin air snarled, glaring up at me with deep brown eyes that I recalled peering into not so very long ago outside of New Reino, “now it’s your turn to do the smart thing and throw down your weapons.”

Despite my growing fear and anxiety at our obviously precarious predicament, I felt my lips cocking into a wan little smirk, “hey, handsome,” I said dryly, “you’re wearing something soft under that barding, I hope” this was hardly the time for jokes, but at the moment this little bit of ill-timed humor was the only thing keeping me calm enough to refrain from doing something rash and getting all four of us killed. If anything, it was going to buy us a little time. Time for what, I didn’t know; but extra time was never a bad thing under any circumstances.

“You wisecracking bitch,” an earth pony behind me snapped, “I can’t wait to shut you up, you fucking cunt!”

I glanced back at the irate Lancer briefly before addressing the unicorn once more, “he has a mouth on him, doesn’t he? Is he always like that?”

The unicorn shrugged, “you get used to it.”

“If you’re all done catching up,” the black earth pony that had spoken initially growled at the pair of us. The unicorn frowned and averted his eyes under the hard glare of the pony that I took to be the leader of this little band. Then the earth pony looked up at me and that cruel little smile he’d had when he introduced himself was back, “I take it you know why we’re here?”

“I have a theory or two,” I said evenly. Beneath me, I sensed Foxglove growing significantly more concerned about the ponies closing in around us. She was doing her best to shield Yatima, but it was difficult in our surrounded state. For his part, RG merely peered dismissively at the four ponies like he did when regarding any invalid. Given how hesitant these Lancers were being to approach his massive bulk and getting any closer than was required, I’m sure he didn’t feel very threatened.

I wish I could say the same for myself. Despite my bantering, I knew this was bad.

“You cost us a lot,” the black pony went on, “and that doesn’t even bother us near as much as the disrespect you showed the Lancers. Nopony pushes us around in this valley,” he said gravely, “in neighvada, we do the pushing.”

“So what do you want,” I was anxious for him to get to the point. That way I knew what sort of options I’d have in dealing with these ponies, “if you wanted me dead, we wouldn’t be talking, would we?”

The earth pony narrowed his orange eyes at me, “maybe I want you to know why you’re dying,” he suggested. After a brief, tense, moment, he smiled and shook his head, “you’re right. Killing a pony like you isn’t enough, Wonderbolt,” it was obvious from his dismissive tone that he didn’t think much of the monicker, “you need to become a lesson to others. A symbol of why you don’t mess with the Lancers. Kabar?” he glanced over at the unicorn standing next to him.

The unicorn’s hard started to glow and a slave collar floated out of his saddlebags, clasped in a mahogany magical aura, “I brought you some new jewelry,” then his eyes went to the other three ponies with me, “we even have enough so that you and your friends get to wear a matching set.”

“So drop your weapons and make this go smoothly,” the jet earth pony smiled confidently as he gave his commands, “and nopony will have to get hurt...too badly,” he added with a knowing look at myself.

I allowed myself to drift down to the ground and landed gently, “go on, Foxy,” I said gently to the very concerned looking unicorn, “do what he says,” I was already nibbling at the straps that secured my own twin submachine guns to my barding, “everything will be fine.”

“Not likely, you feathered whore,” that earth pony behind us spat, “ooh, I’m looking forward to giving you the fucking you deserved, you damn bitch!”

I flashed that pony a hard look, doing my best to keep myself calm in the face of those taunts. Of course, he was pretty confident about his position where the two of us were concerned, and so he wasn’t very intimidated. That was fine. Perhaps a different angle was called for in this instance, since overt aggression was just going to get us killed.

After all, the last time I’d gone up against these three ponies I hadn’t had any of my weapons with me. That meant that the couldn’t know about the rather unique modifications that Foxglove had made to my girls, and nopony could spot my compact .45 while my left wing was folded unless they knew exactly what they were looking for. There would also be a few things they probably didn’t know about Foxglove’s armament either.

I finished removing my battle saddle and held the pair of weapons out on my extended right wing, “Foxy,” I said very quietly so that only the unicorn mare and the zebra she was shielding could hear me, “keep you lance ready,” I then stepped away from the mare, slowly making my way towards the earth pony with the fowl mouth and his silent friend.

Be Pleasant!

I smiled sweetly at the pony, “you’re a real sweet-talker, you know that?” I didn’t sound that sarcastic, but he clearly recognized my lack of sincerity, “truth be told, I kind of have a thing for ponies that talk dirty,” he scowled skeptically at me, “it’s true. I used to hang out with this one White Hoof stallion; he had a way with words too.

“Tell you what,” I purred as I got closer. He didn’t take a full step back as I approached, but he didn’t entirely stand his ground either, wondering what my angle was. Both he and the pony next to him kept their weapons trained on me, “I’m going to let tall dark and kinky over there collar me,” I nodded at the unicorn stallion and winked before looking back at the verbally abusive earth pony, “but I figured you’d at least like first crack at the loot.

“These here are a very nice pair of submachine guns,” I said, holding the weapons a little higher so that the other ponies could get a good look at them, “ten millimeter, loaded with hollow-point rounds,” the two ponies looked mildly startled when they heard the sudden whirring sound come from the submachine guns. Of course, I wasn’t wearing them, and I had no trigger bit in my mouth, and clearly none of my pinions could be manipulating anything on the weapons. I continued speaking as though I’d heard nothing out of the ordinary, “fully automatic,” I said slowly and clearly, “for continuous...uninterrupted…” my blue eyes found the violet unicorn mare, and her wide emerald eyes and subtle nod confirmed that she understood what was about to happen, “...fire.”

Both barrels of the dangling weapons began slinging bullets.

Without the bracing afforded by the straps that would normally have secured them to my sides, there wasn’t a lot of accuracy or consistency in their stream of bullets. They just sort of saturated the vague region in front of them with lead; which was perfectly fine for my purposes. None of the four Lancers had been expecting anything of the sort, of course. Voice-activated firearms like these were hardly a staple of the Wasteland.

I had managed to get close enough to the earth pony stallion with the colorful vocabulary such that he was hit with the initial salvo of bullets with their specifically crafted tips. Holding the submachine guns up as high as I was, the hollowpoints missed his armored barding entirely and struck him in the head and neck. The results were...decisive.

As the weapons executed the verbal commands that I had surreptitiously issued and poured on their uninterrupted fire, I pivoted on my forehooves and flung out my right wing, casting that stream of fire in a wide, flailing arc of bullets. The other pony that had been nearby was struck by one or two rounds, but they caught him in the kevlar weave of his armor and the fragile lead rounds failed to penetrate and inflict any serious wounds.

Of course, merely getting struck by bullets of that caliber at such a close range, even if they didn’t pierce flesh, still caused considerable pain and surprise. It disoriented the stallion enough that I was afforded ample time to draw my concealed pistol and engage my pipbuck’s Sparkle Assisted Targeting System. Two round were cued up and had little trouble finding his temple at this range.

Foxglove had not been idle either. As soon as my weapons had begun firing, the black earth pony and his unicorn companion had locked their eyes on me and begun to bring their weapons to bear on the source of the gunfire. This meant that none of them were watching the unicorn that had already discarded her rifle and had been holding onto only a mere ‘staff’ when all hell broke loose.

The violet mare ignited the tip of her eldritch lance and hurled at at the earth pony. He must have noticed it out of the corner of his vision, because the black stallion made an effort to bat the staff aside with an armored hoof. However, he clearly had not recognized the weapon for what it truly was, and his action didn’t yield quite the results that he had hoped that it would. The brilliant tip of the cutting tool dimmed for a brief moment as it sunk effortlessly through the steel plating of his vambrace and the soft flesh beneath.

He didn’t even scream at first. The slice had been so quick and smooth that his nerves hadn’t had the time to let his brain know that things were going wrong before they were cut away. It wasn’t until his eyes noticed the outstretched limb drop away that he realized how much he should be hurting and the pain was finally able to manifest.

The black stallion’s horrified scream drew the attention of the nearby unicorn as well, who found himself caught between the known danger of a mare holding a pair of wildly firing automatic weapons and the mystery of whatever had afflicted his partner. He chose to ensure that whatever was harming the earth pony near him wasn’t going to be an immediate threat to himself. Which meant that he wasn’t moving to dodge out of the way of the hail of bullets I was sending their way.

Neither of the two madly sputtering weapons scored any direct hits; not at this range and with no effort to direct their fire. By the time they had run themselves dry, the only damage I had managed to inflict looked to be a single round that had skipped off a rock and shattered; a piece of which had caught the unicorn stallion in his hind leg and staggered him. That was more than I needed though.

Casting the spent ten millimeters aside, I flared my wings and swept them back in a powerful stroke that sent me rocketing towards the pair. The pistol in my mouth bucked continuously as I poured fire onto the distracted ponies. Most of the rounds embedded themselves in their barding, but a few penetrated through and caused significant damage. The unicorn collapsed with a groan just as his own rifles opened up briefly on Foxglove and the zebra mare. I heard somepony scream, but I didn’t have the time to spare a look if I wanted this fight to end.

I overshot the downed unicorn and wrapped myself around the black earth pony. Clamping my hooves around his head―Be Strong!―I wrenched hard with my legs as a well-timed beat of my wings lent themselves to the effort, and felt the telltale popping of several vertebrae in the stallion’s neck as they detached from one another. His pained scream cut out suddenly and the dead weight slipped out of my grasp. I remained there, hovering in the air above the scene, looking at all four Lancers to make certain that they had been dealt with.

Foul-Mouth was missing most of his head where the fragmenting rounds had done their due diligence. His partner was wide-eyed and still, a pool of blood growing around his head and slowly seeping into the dry, cracked, Wasteland soil. Blacky here sure wasn’t going to be getting up again with his head canted at a right angle like that. As for tall, dark, and magical...a pained groan suggested that he wasn’t completely down and out yet. I ejected the spent magazine from my pistol and loaded in a fresh one. The unicorn―Kabar, the other stallion had called him―was only just starting to struggle to his hooves by the time I had the slide forward again and the weapon pointed at his head.

“Don’t move,” I said around the grip in my mouth. He looked up at me, his brown eyes confused for a brief moment before he comprehended his new situation. He sighed and hung his head, holding up a hoof in a gesture token surrender, “Foxglove?” I called back over my shoulder.

“Yatima’s hurt!” the unicorn announced. A moment later, “she was shot in her shoulder. It doesn’t look that bad…”

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the unicorn, “alright, do what you can,” to the stallion I said, “this didn’t go as well as the first time, did it?”

“No,” he admitted, a wan little smile touching his lips as he glanced at the three corpses of his companions. I didn’t hear much malice in his voice, just resignation. He was a professional and experienced pony, after all. He knew when a cause was lost. The real question, was whether or not his comrades thought the same way, “is this going to be over now?”

He snorted and shook his head, “you know it won’t be,” he admitted, looking up to meet my gaze, still without any fire in his eyes, “before this,” he gestured at the dead stallion next to him, “it was just us being annoyed. Poaching ponies like we were was a violation of the protection contract we’d signed with New Reino. We knew that it was only a matter of time before we were found out and lost it,” he shrugged, “the Lancers have been going more thug than real mercenary for a few years now,” I didn’t miss the somber tone of the admission.

“You’re just the mare that blew the whistle on us first. So, yeah, we were going to get you back―it’s the principal of the matter, you know. But now? Wonderbolt, you just killed three of us, including Captain West’s favorite lieutenant there,” he jerked his head at the dead black stallion, “the others’ll hunt you to the ends of the valley for this.”

I felt my shoulders droop. The last thing I needed was to be hunted by a group of some of the best equipped mercenaries in Neighvada. It had been bad enough when it had been just the White Hooves out for my blood. At least they’d have to be careful about operating inside Republic territory. The Lancers could move unfettered, since they weren’t criminals―technically, anyway. My life had just gotten a whole lot harder, and it wasn’t even my fault.

I groaned, “is this really what I get for going easy on you before?” I glared at the unicorn, “if I’d killed you that first time, there wouldn’t have been anypony around to say who’d stopped you, would there?” Summer Glade would have known what happened, and her filly; but she’d also have known enough to keep quiet about the details. With the power and influence that she had, all she’d need to do was suggest the casino barons of New Reino hire on somepony else to handle the town’s security if they wanted to keep doing business with 3-Some Caravans. The Lancers would have lost their contract, and they’d have had a vague idea about why, but they’d never have known it was me.

“That’s true,” he confirmed with a nod, “you’d have been free and clear and we’d have been none the wiser.”

That wasn’t fair, I thought ruefully. I wasn’t supposed to be punished like this for being a good pony who didn’t kill when she didn’t have to! Was this really what I was going to get for letting some ponies live even after I’d clearly beaten them into surrender? What was I supposed to have done once I got them to drop their weapons and barding; kill them anyway?

Jackboot probably would have. I didn’t want to be that kind of pony though. I really didn’t want to be a killer.

It’s what my cutie mark is telling me, though. Isn’t it?

“I spared you,” I said, looking at the pony as I once more floated back to the ground, “you’d given up, so I spared you.”

He nodded, “you did,” his smile grew slightly, but it wasn’t a warm, happy, thing. It was resigned, “it was a nice thing you did for us. Rare trait in the Wasteland, kindness.

“I figure there’s a reason for that.”

“I could take you prisoner,” I said. Even as I made the suggestion, I knew it wasn’t feasible. Foxglove and I already had one pony to look out for, and Yatima as well. Besides, what were we going to do with him in the long term? If we handed him over to the NLR, they would just kill him as a raider or let him go due to a lack of evidence unless I felt like sticking around to serve as a witness in some kind of trial.

“Is that really what you’re going to do this time?” he looked at me, unconvinced. He saw my hesitation, “I didn’t think so.”

“I don’t like killing ponies.”

He snorted, “you’re very good at it,” the unicorn noted, once more pointing out the nearby corpse, “I don’t envy the next group of Lancers that finds you. They won’t have any idea what they’re really up against,” he let out a sad laugh, “I already fought you once and I wasn’t prepared!

“You’re going to make some real waves in this Valley, Wonderbolt. Part of me wished I’d be there to see it.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” and I really didn’t.

“And I don’t want to die,” he laughed dryly before his expression sobered up once more, “but nopony gets what they want in the Wasteland, do they?”

I looked at the unicorn for a long moment. I truly did want to spare his life. He wasn’t a bad pony, not really. Well, aside from the whole ‘trying to enslave innocent mares’ thing―I wasn’t going to nominate him for Princess any time soon. He just sort of...he had a way about him that made it hard for me to actually hate him. It was too bad he couldn’t have been more of an overt asshole like Foul-Mouth had been.

He was right though, ponies never got what they wanted in the Wasteland. Just look at me? I never got to be with the pony I’d loved. I didn’t get to keep my mother after finding her after all those years. I hadn’t gotten to grow up all safe and happy on our farm. Nothing I had in my life was anything that I’d ‘wanted’. I guess...I guess that was how the Wasteland worked. Jackboot had tried to teach me that, once upon a time. I suppose I hadn’t taken it to heart like I should have.

Fuck this place.

I depressed the trigger on the compact little pistol. The slide bucked in my mouth. Kabar’s body went limp, his brown eyes glazed over and looking out into the distant Wasteland without seeing it. Without a word, and fighting an urge to scream at the universe for making me be this kind of pony, I holstered the firearm and turned away from the defenseless pony I’d just murdered.

Without the unicorn to let any of his friends know what had happened out here, it could be weeks before I heard from any Lancers again. Here was hoping that they took the hint though and gave me a wide berth from now on. They wouldn’t though, probably…

Foxglove was staring at me, her eyes wide with surprise, “Windy...you―”

“How’s Yatima doing?” I really wanted to talking about absolutely anything else right now. I also wish I had thought to stock up on alcohol before leaving Shady Saddles. I’d correct that oversight at the next available opportunity.

I could see that the zebra mare was still laying on the ground, her face contorted by pain as she groaned through gritted teeth. I could see the crimson smear of blood on her striped coat that marked where she had been shot. However, it was clear that the wound itself had been treated, as I could spy no signs of a bullet hole and there were two empty healing potion vials lying on the ground nearby. There was even a syringe of Med-X, “what’s wrong with her?” she couldn’t possibly still be in pain from the wound.

“I don’t know,” Foxglove said in a frantic tone that was bordering on panic, “I’ve checked her all over, and there aren’t any other gunshots or anything! I don’t know where she’s hurt…

“Not..hurt,” the striped mare sadi through panting breaths, “the baby! It’s coming!” her face creased with deep lines as what looked like a spasm wracked her whole body. When she opened her eyes again, she was clearly terrified, “it’s too soon,” tears streamed down her face, “it’s too soon!”

Foxglove’s eyes went even wider and she looked over to me, “the gunshot...her body’s trying to get the foal out because of the shock!”

Oh, horseapples.

“What do we do?”

The violet unicorn mare threw up her hooves in surrender, “I don’t know!”

“Well...just, deliver it,” I ventured.

“Deliver it?! Damn it, Windy; I’m a mechanic, not a doctor!”

“Well you have to do something.”

“Me?! Why me?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. You’re the one who’s had sex and grew up in a Stable. I figure you know something about how making foals works…”

“I...ugh!” the mare threw up her hooves in surrender and crouched down next to the panting zebra, “um...do you feel okay? Maybe try not to breath so hard? You might hyperventilate. Maybe.”

“It’s too soon,” Yatima repeated between breaths, though much more quietly than before; almost like a mantra, “it is much too soon…”

“It’ll be alright,” Foxglove assured the mare, stroking her now sweat soaked coat, “we’ll do...something,” she then looked over at me, her expression betraying her clear lack of any notion of what that ‘something’ might be. I certainly didn’t have any notion. I knew less about how ponies worked than she did. Neither of us really knew anything about medicine or what made ponies tick beyond the basics…

...but Arginine did. My eyes went to the stoic gray stallion who I could not recall having done anything at all during the fight. He and I were going to talk later about his being more helpful in a firefight, but right now he was the closest thing we had to a doctor.

“RG, help her!”

The large stallion narrowed his golden eyes at me, “I do not know anything about birthing foals. I have explained this to you.”

“But you know how ponies work,” I countered, fluttering over and jabbing a hoof pointedly into his chest. I hated that I had to be hovering in order to do this, “you’ve taken enough of them apart,” I growled in a low tone, “so help her!”

He leaned his head to the side and looked past me at the quivering zebra. He studied her for a few moments and then returned his attention to me, “it is possible that a paralytic would stop the muscle contractions and halt the birth,” he suggested. Just as my expression began to become hopeful, he followed up with, “however, we possess no such pharmaceuticals. We cannot stop this.”

“What if we just...hold it in?”

The gray stallion arched his right eyebrow, but said nothing as he continued to stare at me. Yeah, that was a stupid idea.

“Um...guys? It’s coming…” Foxglove informed us, “I can see part of its mane...wait,” Arginine and I turned to look at the pair of mares, “no, it’s the tail,” the unicorn looked up at us, concerned, “I don’t think that’s right…”

Yatima shook her head, speaking between spasms, “no,” she confirmed, growing more anxious now, “it should be hooves first. Something is wron-aagh!” she screamed, convulsing in pain and unable to speak further.”

I swooped down to Foxglove’s side, looking between the two mares, “what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” the unicorn said, gently massaging the zebra’s belly while she glanced at beneath the striped mare’s tail, “but she’s right, I think foals are supposed to come out forehooves-first. That’s definitely a tail though. It’s backwards.”

“Is that bad?”

“Well, it sort of stopped coming out any further,” Foxglove bit her lip, “she’s pushing...but nothing’s happening anymore,” she looked at me, frightened, “I...think it’s stuck.”

“Please,” Yatima begged between ragged breaths, her features contorted with pain, “you must save it! Please!”

“I…” I had no idea what to do. This wasn’t anything that I had any experience with. I looked back at RG, “what do we do? How do we get the foal out of her safely?”

The gray stallion sighed, “I have told you―many times―I have no experience―”

“You know how ponies work!” I screamed at the stallion, zipping up to his face once more, “so let’s hear it Mister Super-Smart-Uber-Pony; how do we get the foal from inside Yatima to outside Yatima, if it’s stuck?”

Arginine glared at me for several long seconds. Indeed, that seemed like it was all that he was willing to do, and I was preparing for another tirade when he supplied an answer, “if the foal is indeed unable to pass through the natural passage, then an alternative is to simply extract the foal surgically.”

“Cut her up,” I said bluntly, looking dumbfounded at the stallion, “you want to cut her up to get it out? That is unacceptable! We’re going to find a way to save them both.”

“No, I think he’s right,” Foxglove said from behind us. I was about to give her a scathing lashing with my tongue for deigning to agree with the murderous mutant pony when she elaborated, “I knew mares in the Stable who’d given birth that way. I don’t know exactly how it was done, but sometimes doctors do have to go ahead and cut into the mare.”

“You can do that?” I asked the violet mare.

“I couldn’t, no,” she shook her head, “I’d have no idea what I was doing. I’d cut an artery or something.”

I looked back at Arginine. He certainly had experience cutting up ponies. The question was, “can you do it without killing her?”

“Hypothetically,” I didn’t like the way that the stallion was stressing that particular qualifier, “I would be able to excise the foal from within the zebra’s womb without causing any significant damage to either her or the unborn foal. Compared to some of the procedures I have undertaken, it would be a relatively simple undertaking.”

“Do it.”

“Why should I do as you command?”

“Because otherwise I’ll pop your head like a yukka-fruit,” I snapped, jabbing my hoof at the pipbuck strapped to my fetlock.

“If you kill me, both the mare and her foal will die,” he pointed out.

“They’ll die if you just stand there like a lump,” I shot back through gritted teeth, “but I’ll sure feel a lot better this way! The real question is if you’re willing to die just to try and spite me?

“I’ve seen ponies die despite everything I could do,” the image of my mother headless corpse flashed through my mind, enticing a tear to begin clawing its way from beneath my eye. I fought it back down, “I’ll get over it,” I continued on in an icy tone, “how well do you think you’ll get over being dead because you wanted to be a stubborn asshole for five seconds?”

The stallion held my gaze for several long moments, all the while my hoof was hovering just about the button that would end his life. Just as I thought he was about to make me push that button and kill my second helpless pony of the day, his amber eyes went to the violet unicorn, “I’ll need your lance,” he said evenly, “you may also want to administer additional doses of analgesic―the Med-X,” he added flatly after the confused look he received from Foxglove.

She picked up her eldritch lance in her magic, but looked to me for final confirmation before actually passing it to the stallion. I nodded and kept back from the trio of ponies. I wasn’t going to be able to be any help here; and I intended to be out of immediate reach of the stallion if he took this as an opportunity to become suddenly treacherous.

Arginine ignited the tip of the lance and studied the glowing cutting implement, “can this be made more precise? The cuts must be kept as narrow as possible if they are to be closed later.”

“Um, yeah, here,” the violet unicorn mare’s horn glowed as she made the adjustments. I saw the glow shrink down into a mere point of light, “that’s about as low as I can go with it and still be stable,” she informed the stallion, “it’s meant to cut metal, not precision surgery.”

“Obviously,” the gray pony frowned, studying the implement closely, “I shall make do,” then he glanced over his shoulder, “but I make no guarantees about the results under these circumstances.”

“Just save them,” I said. If Yatima did end up dying, I probably wouldn’t kill RG. At the end of the day, what was happening right now wasn’t his fault. He was, however, her only hope.

“Injections here, here, and here,” the stallion directed the Med-X syringe that Foxglove had clutched in her emerald magic. The mare gave the injections as indicated, and then the larger stallion set about making his incisions.

I watched as, even with the proportionally comically large cutting tool, the white-maned stallion made quick, deft, slices into the striped abdomen of his impromptu patient. Yatima was still breathing hard and fast, but her groaning had subsided since the last round of painkiller had been administered. Foxglove divided her time between helping Arginine and comforting the distressed mare.

Seeing ponies getting cut up in such a fashion, I learned, was very different from seeing them getting cut up by whirling machetes and flying shrapnel. I was hardly any stranger to blood, guts, and entrails. Disemboweled corpses didn’t even impact my appetite anymore. But watching RG slowly working his way deeper into Yatima’s insides turned my stomach. Perhaps it was because of the dispassionate way the stallion was doing everything. I understood that in Arginine’s case, he truly didn’t care for the zebra or her foal; but it was a little unnerving all the same.

“Cutting into the uterine wall―ugh, naturally,” the stallion gave an exasperated sigh.

“Oh Sweet Celestia!” Foxglove gasped, and hurriedly dove into her saddlebags and began tossing out her cleanest rags and towels and zipping them to the zebra’s abdomen with the telekinesis.

“What?” I perked up, suddenly very aware of how much more anxious the violet unicorn had gotten. I drifted over to get a better look and my heart caught in my throat at the sight of the massive quantity of blood flowing from the zebra, which Foxglove was frantically trying to staunch with her makeshift bandages. The stallion seemed rather nonplussed by the whole affair, “shit! RG, do something!”

“There is nothing to do,” he replied, “it is a placental rupture. It will abate. The zebra is in no danger.”

Foxglove paused, “no danger? There’s blood everywhere!”

“And most of it has already be cleared away, with little returning,” the stallion pointed out. Indeed, I could see that the amount of bleeding had subsided quickly, and was now little more than a trickle, “there was a significant chance of this happening without access to the proper scanning equipment. The procedure is nearly done,” Arginine set back into the mare, the lance bobbing in his golden magical grasp as he continued to enlarge the incision he had made into the uterus, “that should suffice.”

He set the eldritch lance aside and began to gently part the two sides of the cut he had made with a delicate touch of his hooves that I would never have expected from so large a pony. Something from within the opening began to glow with a soft amber light that matched the magical aura around RG’s horn. A few moments later, a tiny pony shape began to emerge from the opening. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t look much like a zebra. It was striped, to be sure, but instead of being white, the little foal’s primary coloration was a deep rust color. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t really have assumed that Yatima had met a zebra out here in the middle of pony territory, should I?

Arginine floated the newborn foal over to Foxglove, who quickly took hold of it in her own magic and sought something clean and dry to wrap it in. Meanwhile, the stallion was sorting out several healing potions, dribbling their contents along the seams that he had cut as he carefully merges both ends together in a makeshift suturing technique, “there will be a significant chance of rupture,” he cautioned, “She should not walk for several days to be safe,” he checked to be sure that I had been paying attention, “I rarely put my patients back together, you understand.”

I grimaced at the reminder, “right. We’ll build something to carry her with,” I started looking around to gauge what we’d have work with where building a carrier was concerned when Foxglove spoke up once more.

“Um, guys? He’s not breathing,” she announced anxiously.

Yatima craned her head around, her eyes wide and frightened “what? No...spirits, no!” She tried to paw her way up onto her hooves to get at the tiny bundle that Foxglove was cradling. Arginine effortlessly kept her down with one powerful hoof on her side, “let me up! Let me up, curse you!” she snapped at the stallion.

“If you move, you will begin to bleed internally and you will die,” he stated firmly, “Miss Windfall had stated that that is an undesirable outcome,” he glanced up at me, seeking confirmation that I wanted him to keep the distressed zebra restrained.

My attention was on Foxglove and the newborn foal though. Dead? It was really been born dead? My heart sank. This was my fault, I realized. She’d gone into premature labor because of a gunshot wound that she’d received when I resisted the Lancers. If I’d cooperated with them…

Yeah, they were going to do all sorts of things to me, and probably Foxglove too, that I didn’t care to think about too in depth, but Yatima probably would have been left mostly alone, being so far along like she was. If for no other reason that because her foal would have represented yet one more pony they could have sold as a slave. Things would have sucked―a lot―but the foal would have lived. My mother survived years as a slave in the clutches of the White Hooves. Surely I could have made it long enough to find a chance to make an escape that wouldn’t have endangered others.

I hadn’t been thinking about that though. I’d just been thinking about how I could get away safely. I’d almost completely forgotten about how vulnerable the zebra was in her condition.

This was my fault.

...I really had killed two innocent ponies today.

No. I wasn’t going to let this happen, “save it, RG,” the stallion quirked a brow and looked at me, “I said: save it!”

He frowned, “you cannot honestly expect―”

“You will shut the fuck up and do what I tell you or I will blow you up right now you piece of shit!” I screamed at the stallion, “you know how ponies work, so make that one work!”

If two ponies were going to die today, what did a third really matter? “Now, RG!” my hoof hovered ominously over the detonation controls on my pipbuck.

The stallion glared at me, keeping his hold on the anxious striped mare, “Miss Foxglove? Please restrain the mother. Then pass me the foal,” The violet mare complied, wrapping herself comfortingly around Yatima and cooing at the frantic mare as she levitated the unmoving foal to the gray stallion. Arginine peered down and began to examine the little lifeless pony.

“Apneic...no flexion,” he mumbled to himself, and then took on a pensive expression, “but...not cyanotic. Hmm,” he bent his head down and placed his right ear to the foal’s chest; an ear which effectively covered the newborn’s entire chest. After a few seconds, he straightened up and then kissed the foal.

No...that wasn’t it. At least, I didn’t think so. For a brief moment, his mouth covered the foal’s whole muzzle and he gave a brief light puff He did this two or three times before pulling away again and vigorously rubbing the little colt between his hooves. As great as the size disparity was between Arginine and the foal, I was once again impressed with how light the stallion’s touch could be.

As I watched the stallion work, I became aware of somepony sobbing nearby. It was Yatima, weeping into Foxglove’s chest, repeatedly stating how much of a fool she had been for leaving Shady Saddles. She wasn’t wrong there. She really should have listened to Sandy and stayed put; but even I knew this was hardly an ideal ‘I told you so’ moment. She’d suffered enough for her mistake, in my opinion. The hard part now was going to be keeping her from finding some way to kill herself before we got to Santa Mara. If she really wasn’t going to be able to walk anywhere for a few days, we certainly weren’t going to take her with us all the way to Seaddle. I hoped she knew somepony in the little waystation of a village who could look after her. Because Foxglove and I weren’t going to be able to just hang around twiddling our hooves while she recovered. We would need to keep going so that we could deliver Arginine’s head to the Princess and get her to commit the Republic to fighting the stallion’s stable.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So, between the Lancers, that little foal, and now Arginine, I was going to be responsible for the death of six ponies today. I guess, on the average, that was close to a typical body count for me on the days when I had them.

So much from trying to fight fate.

My hoof began to manipulate the controls on the collar’s transmitter that would set off the charges, just as I had promised I would if Arginine failed to revive the foal.

Then I heard a faint little cry.

I perked my ears up and looked at the stallion. He was no longer rubbing the foal, but instead staring at it as the tiny little hooves slowly flailed in the air and its cries grew steadily louder. Foxglove and Yatima were looking up at him as well. The zebra mare was still crying, but her tears had made a rather sudden shift from despair to joy as she extended her hooves eagerly towards her newly revived foal. A golden glow gently deposited the little colt into them and both mares held each other close as they gushed over the little pony.

Arginine looked up from the heartwarming sight, holding my gaze, “satisfied?”

I reset the commands and removed my hoof from the detonation controls. On the whole, no, I wasn’t anywhere close to satisfied. But, right now, at this exact moment, under the circumstances, “it’ll do.”

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Smooth Talker - +1 to Intelligence for the purpose of dialogues.

CHAPTER 27: MOONLIGHT SERENADE

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"Now what do we have here? I've been told you wish to divulge information of the utmost importance."

It wasn’t too hard to convince Yatima to remain in Santa Mara with little Baraka―which was what she had chosen to name her colt. Not only was moving about much still very unwise for the new mother, but our little tussle with the Lancers seemed to have rather firmly cemented in her mind exactly how dangerous the Wasteland could be for even the most experienced and adventurous ponies. Neither attribute being a fair word that anypony could use to describe the zebra mare.

We set her up as best we could in the tiny little settlement. It had not ever been intended to serve as anything more than a waystation, and even then it was a fairly new one―only five years had passed since its founding. There was a well, a couple of stalls that offered prepared meals of dubious quality, and an ‘inn’ only in the loosest sense of the term. We managed to find her a ‘room’ with a bed and worked out a deal with one of the ponies who actually lived there to come by and keep an eye on her from time to time for a modest―exorbitant really―fee. The money I had no issue spending, since I found myself with a good bit of it at the moment and nothing worthwhile to spend it on. I just wasn’t entirely comfortable trusting the zebra and her colt to the care of complete strangers.

Fortunately, thanks to Homily’s broadcasts, I was becoming a pony of note in the wider Wasteland. Nopony was throwing themselves at my hooves in exultation or laying flower petals in my path; but they seemed to take me seriously when I promised to be back in a week to make sure things were still on the up-and-up―and the suggestion there might be ‘reprisals’ if they weren’t. Pawning off those four sets of bloody Lancer barding to help offset the cost had probably gone a long way to giving those threats credibility.

We made one contrition of course: we promised to tell the father of Yatima’s foal where she and his newborn colt were. What neither Foxglove and I were prepared for was the shock at learning exactly who that father was.

“He is an officer in the Republic guard,” that much we knew from Foxglove’s chats with the zebra mare during the trip, “his name is Ramparts. He has a―”

“―Brown coat,” I finished, my own eyes widening in surprise, “sandy colored mane? Green eyes? Lieutenant?”

“Um...yes, actually,” the zebra mare confirmed, caught off guard by my ability to describe her colt’s father in such detail, “you know him?”

I exchanged a brief glance with Foxglove, “we’ve met, yes.”

“Briefly,” the violet unicorn confirmed even as she frowned.

“That is good news!” Yatima smiled, “you should have no trouble finding him then!”

“Turns out,” I nodded, smiling at the striped mare. It could have been mistaken for a pleasant smile, I suppose; but such a description would not have accurately described how I was feeling at the moment. Given the circumstances surrounding my first brief encounter with the Republic officer, knowing that he was the very pony that we had to meet up with wasn’t doing a whole lot to enthuse me about our return to Seaddle.

The stallion had been gracious enough to omit encountering us from any report that he might have made to his superiors in light of Jackboot’s and my help fending off a Steel Ranger attack at my family home―or so he had assured us. That being said, he had made it clear that both Jackboot and Foxglove were ponies-non-grata where the Republic capital was concerned. Indeed, he had revealed that Foxglove was marked as a wanted criminal within the city for having aided in the escape of a known White Hoof from custody.

She would probably not be his favorite pony; though I’m sure the unicorn mare would earn some points with him once it was revealed that she had been on hoof to help deliver his colt and get his mare-friend safely to Santa Mara. Maybe he’d be willing to ‘forget’ that he’d seen her a second time.

That would be a hurdle that we’d have to overcome when we came to it though.

Topped off on water, food, healing potions, and a half dozen bottles of Wild Pegasus―one of which was emptied before we made it out of town―we were ready to make the rest of our trip to Seaddle by the next morning.

Our pace improved dramatically now that we were divested of the formerly pregnant zebra. It took us only three more days to reach the capital of the New Lunar Republic in the later morning hours. The guards on duty at the main gate leading into the city at the heart of the ancient Old World ruins didn’t give us much trouble. There was a brief bit of surprise and suspicion regarding Arginine, mostly resulting from his brutish size I suspect. He was without weapons though, so I guess that must have made them feel a little better about it.

They didn’t even seem to take any particular interest in Foxglove. Which both surprised and relieved me. I had expected that I would need to do a lot of fast-talking―and maybe a little hoof-greasing―to get the mare through the gate. Granted, judging by the myriad of flyers and pamphlets I noticed hanging in the guard shack detailing known or suspected ponies of interest, they would have been hard-pressed to keep up with every wanted criminal who passed them by. I didn’t even actually notice one detailing my traveling companion. Either that Republic officer had gone an extra step on our behalf and fudged her description in his report, or the months since our departure had been long enough for the guard to lose interest in apprehending her.

I did approach one of them though in the hopes of getting a lead on where I might find Ramparts. Once we got our promise to alert him out of the way, I could focus on petitioning Princess Luna for aid.

“I don’t know any Lieutenant Ramparts,” the first guard admitted, looking to his companion for confirmation and getting a shake of the head from them as well, “is he on the perimeter detail?”

“Um...I don’t actually know,” the organizational paradigm of the Republic’s military was not a topic that I was well versed in, “I’ve seen him out in the Wasteland with a squad of soldiers though,” I offered helpfully.

The two exchanged glances and frowned at one another. Then the first guard looked back at me and gestured to his barding, “was he wearing barding like this?”

I shook my head, “no, it was different. It had black instead of silver.”

“Ah, he’s not a regular guard then,” the pony informed me, “he’s a Courser,” at my quirked brow, he explained, “they’re soldiers that do special missions for the Princess. I don’t know where you’ll be able to find him exactly, but there should be somepony at the Southern Barracks who’ll know how to reach him. That’s where the Coursers bunk down when they’re in town.”

That wasn’t very far from the palace itself, which was where we were going to need to go in order to petition the Princess for the Republic’s help. I was glad to learn that doing Yatima her favor wasn’t going to delay us much at all.

It was a little strange being back here without Jackboot. He was the one who’d brought me to my first really big city. Heck, I hadn’t even ever left the farm before meeting him. Whenever we were here, Jackboot was the one who called the shots and set our schedule so that we could get our business taken care of before heading back out. Now, I guess, that duty had fallen on my withers.

I soon noticed an interesting contrast between the ponies of the small village of Shady Saddles and the packed masses of the Republic capital: their reaction to Arginine. While the massive pony had turned a lot of heads and prompted quite a few whispers among the ponies we’d walked by in the more sparsely populated town; here, only a few ponies even so much as looked up from whatever they were doing to notice that he was around.

As big and imposing as the stallion was, and in spite of his odd double horn, he really wasn’t that unique of a sight where this bustling city was concerned, I suppose. While not common certainly, there were times when other rare sights could be seen here: minotaurs, zebras, sane ghouls. Most of the local population was largely desensitized to the sights of the obscure. That wasn’t to say that the residents weren’t inclined to give the stallion a wide berth as the three of us made our way deeper into the city.

Luna’s Palace.

Once upon a time in an era before the world had been reduced to so much ash and cinder, the building had been a concert hall. The Stable Ponies that emerged and made the center of the ruined remains of Seaddle their new home had immediately seized the giant building for use as the seat of their government, capitalizing on the ease with which it could be used to house a large population for town hall meetings and hosting important deliberations.

Luna had conscripted it for use as her private residence upon her unexpected return. The ponies that served as delegates in parliament now met to hash out future policies and laws in an old schoolhouse. Only the Princess, her Prime Minister, Ebony Song, a few aides, and the Princess’ Own Guard remained within the palace now.

Before heading into the palace proper, we did swing by the barracks that the guard at the gate had mentioned. Unfortunately, this was where we ended up hitting our first snag. They knew who Ramparts was at least, and while they insisted that they couldn’t tell us either where he was, what he was doing, or when he could be expected back; they informed us that he wasn’t in Seaddle at all, but that they’d gladly pass on our message. It wasn’t exactly what I’d promised the zebra mare we’d do, but it looked like it was the closest that I was going to get, and I didn’t have the time to waste hanging around Seaddle waiting for the stallion to eventually show back up.

So we now turned our attention to getting an audience with Princess Luna.

I didn’t expect that was going to be very easy. She was the princess, after all, and a very busy pony. It wasn’t like she was the sort to just drop everything that she was doing and talk with a bunch of random ponies that showed up to where she lived. However, I did know that ponies could get brief appointments with her. All they had to do was ask to be put on the waiting list and they’d be seen during one of her daily afternoon Petition Hearings. Maybe we wouldn’t get into today’s―it was almost time for this afternoon’s session to start and I was under the impression that slots filled up fast. But, I was confident that if we got our names put on the waiting list now, we could easily get in tomorrow.

One more night wouldn’t hurt anything.

A pair of soldiers who were quite obviously part of the Princess’ Own guard detail stood guard at the front door. Their barding wasn’t the same leather and ceramic plate combination that most of the regular guards in the Republic wore. The barding of these ponies was composed of pieces of thick steel, with dual layers of kevlar and even actual chainmail protecting their joints. They were also some of the largest stallions that I’d seen―excluding Arginine of course―and I found myself wondering if their size hadn’t been a contributing factor in their selection for the detail. Their armament was equally as intimidating, each of the two guard wearing a battle saddle that had a minigun hanging off of one side, and the large steel case for the ammunition that fed the ravenous weapon on the other.

We were asked to leave our weapons at the door, and I wasn’t very inclined to argue with the pair.

Inside the lobby of the opera-house-turned-palace there was a short line of ponies waiting patiently to be seen by a unicorn mare dressed in a very neat and clean midnight blue business suit. The next pony in line would simply walk up, say something to the mare, and then she would reply and hastily scribble something into a ledger before smiling back at them and passing over a little ticket of paper. The whole process took just a little over a minute. Even with a dozen other ponies in front of us, it wasn’t long at all before we were at the front of the line and called up to the desk by the unicorn receptionist.

“Purpose of visit?” the older mare asked politely enough, though her eyes indicated that she was a little bit put off by our attire. In her defense, we certainly weren’t dressed at all like most of the other ponies that had come before us, nor any that had filed in to stand in line behind us. I suspected that Seaddle denizens made up the vast majority of visitors here, and not Wasteland adventurers. Granted, even by the standard of the types of ponies that spent a lot of time outside the city’s walls I hardly looked typical in my brilliant blue and gold outfit.

Maybe I should really consider getting some more subdued barding while I was here. I enjoyed looking like a Wonderbolt, and the recognition I gotten from Sandy back in Shady Saddles had felt really nice, but the flashy barding really wasn’t very practical. Or subtle.

“We’d like to see the Princess,” I said after clearing my throat, “she’s still doing that thing where she’s sees ponies in the afternoons, right?”

The unicorn’s expression was polite and professional, despite the faintly audible resigned sigh in her voice, “Her Royal Majesty does hold Court to hear petitions from the public three times a week, yes,” she confirmed. She glanced briefly at her ledger, made a note with a stylus and then passed us a small scrap of yellow paper, “here is your admittance ticket. Please return on August twelfth to have your case heard by the Princess,’ she smiled once more and nodded her head before looking past us to the next pony in line, “next!”

Huh, that actually went pretty smoothly, I thought to myself as we started heading for the exit. I brought up my pipbuck to check the date. It was the tenth now, so two days wasn’t really all that bad, I supposed. Considering the number of ponies that I’d seen passing through here in just the brief twenty minutes that we’d been waiting to get our names on the list, I should count myself lucky that we were able to get seen so qui―

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I read the rest of the date on the Old World device. That couldn’t be right, could it? I glanced at Arginine, “uh, RG? What month does your pipbuck say it is?”

The gray stallion glanced briefly at his own pipbuck, “May.”

“Three months?!” I hadn’t meant to yell, but the revelation had taken me by considerable surprise and I wheeled back around to stare wide-eyed at the receptionist who was already returning an annoyed frown at the disturbance that I was making. A few of the other ponies waiting weren’t looking very pleased at my having interrupted the otherwise smoothly running process either, “we have to wait three months? I can’t wait three months!”

The unicorn behind the desk took a deep breath, appearing to be rather experienced at dealing with upset citizens. I imagined that an outraged pony or two had to be a daily occurrence is they were told they had to wait months before their problems could be heard, “Her Royal Majesty is very busy with matters of state,” she replied in a tone that didn’t quite make it sound like she was reciting a well-rehearsed speech, “which consumes most of her valuable time. However, out of love and respect for her loyal subjects of the New Lunar Republic, she insists on holding Court as often as those pressing matters of state permit. Though she wishes fervently that she could see everypony and give them the aid and counsel they desire immediately, the reality is that she is but a single princess, and there are thousands of subjects seeking her guidance.

“Rest assured, though the wait may be longer than you had hoped, Her Royal Majesty will address whatever issues you have upon hearing them and resolve the matter fairly. The wait will be worth it.”

I wasn’t sure who came up with that little monologue of hers, but had the reason for my visit been even the slightest bit less urgent than the impending slaughter of everypony in the Neighvada Valley, I would almost certainly have been properly cowed by that explanation. However, the circumstances being what they were, her very cogent and well-argued reason for the wait was nevertheless unacceptable, “you don’t understand,” I said, trying to make myself sound not as much like a raving lunatic as I might have come off as, “there is an army of very power Stable Ponies who are planning to wipe us all out! I know where to find them, but I need the Republic’s help to do it!”

“Ma’am,” the receptionist repeated, now starting to sound and look much more annoyed with my refusal to relent and simply leave like I was supposed to, “I understand your concerns, but no exceptions to this policy can or will be made for any reason. I assure you that Her Royal Majesty is aware of the dangers and is already working to address them. The Republic is prepared to meet every threat and defend the Princess’ loyal subjects.”

“She can’t know about this, because we’re the only ones that do!” I insisted, motioning to the three of us, “please, there has to be somepony we can talk to!”

The unicorn took another deep breath, frowning, “I can schedule an appointment with Prime Minister Ebony Song, if that will suffice,” I let out a relieved breath. That would work, “he’s free in late July,” or not, “shall I pencil you in?”

“You have got to be joking!” I groaned, “there’s gotta be something you can do,” I insisted, not quite pleading with the mare, “I need to see him sometime this week!”

She shook her head, “that is simply not possible. The Prime Minister is in negotiations with Three-Some Caravans for the next several days. These talks cannot be interrupted and for that matter neither can any of the Prime Minister’s other appointments. So, Ma’am, if you will kindly―”

“Wait,” my ears perked up, “which caravans?”

The unicorn frowned, “Three-Some. As you can imagine, the matters that they and Her Royal majesty’s government are discussing are of the utmost impor―”

“Thanks, bye!”

Finally, some light at the end of the tunnel! As I left a rather confused receptions in my wake and collected my weapons from the guards outside, I was finally starting to feel positive about our efforts again. It had been disappointing enough to learn that things weren’t weren’t going to be as straightforward as I had originally anticipated, but I suppose that was what happened when you didn’t fully understand the scope of what you were getting involved with.

In the back of my mind, I realized that it was pretty silly of me to think that I’d simply be able to waltz into Seaddle and ask to see Princess Luna face-to-face and then get that meeting immediately. If the casino bosses in New Reino worked through third parties and intermediaries all the time, then surely the most powerful pony in the whole Valley would too! I just hadn’t expected that the wait would have been so damn long. What, did everypony in the whole Republic have problems that only Princess luna could possibly solve? That was ridiculous.

Fortunately, it looked like I was going to be able to cut to the front of the line―after a fashion. It just so happened, that recent events had provided me with a rather highly placed contact within Three-Some Caravans who owed me a favor. Hopefully I wouldn’t be overreaching by asking for what I had in mind.

It only took a little asking around to find out where the Galician residence was. No surprise that it was on the wealthier side of town, as they did run one of the biggest trading companies in the valley. In fact, it was one of the few purpose built homes that existed in Seaddle, and not simply a refurbishing of one of the buildings that had survived the Great War. That said a lot of optimistic things about the amount of influence they might have in the Republic.

Hopefully, I thought as I looked between the other two ponies and myself, Summer Glade was actually here as well and recognized me. Given how we appeared to onlookers, it wouldn’t have surprised me terribly if we got told to go take a long one-way hike into the Wasteland if I asked to come inside without anypony here to vouch for me. I elected to disarmed and retired my submachine guns to my saddlebags to turn down the intimidation factor all the same. Foxglove’s own lance and rifle were already tucked out of the way across her back and Arginine didn’t have any weapons, so we were about as friendly-looking as we could manage.

I raised up my hoof and knocked on the door. A little less than a minute later, I heard a latch disengage and the solid wooden portal opened inward just enough to expose a burly looking blue unicorn stallion dressed in a suit jacket and tie. I noticed that there was a discretely holstered pistol strapped along his side though, covered enough by the jacket to not be blatantly obvious, but visible enough to let anypony with less-than-honorable intentions to know that any hostility could be answered in kind if need be.

His pale amethyst eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the three ponies that had arrived on the doorstep of the manor house, “...yes? Can I help you?”

I overlooked the tone that indicated he was prepared to seal the door and send us on our way the moment it became obvious we were here to waste his time and nodded, “My name is Windfall. Is Summer Glade here?”

“Do you have any business with Miss Glade?” it sounded very much as though the stallion was familiar with his mistress’ schedule, and he was setting me up to call me on my bullshit the moment I gave him cause. Which was fine, I didn’t need to smooth talk him or try to con my way in. All I had to do was tell the truth and just...be pleasant.

“Not really, no,” I said, shaking my head and smiling at the stallion, “I’m a friend. We met a couple weeks ago outside New Reino. Please, if you could just let her know that I’m here?”

“Hm,” the unicorn grunted, frowning slightly, “very well. You said your name was, ‘Windfall’, was it?”

“Yes―actually,” I corrected quickly, only just now realizing that my meeting with Summer Glade hadn’t been a very typical one and a few details might have been overlooked at the time, “um...could you tell her that the, uh, Wonderbolt is here, instead?” boy, that sounded cornier out loud. Judging from the raised eyebrow and deepened frown on the blue stallion, he was of a similar mind on that point.

“...right,” his violet eyes looked over my colorful barding. I got a sickening feeling in my gut that this might not go as smoothly as I hoped, as the stallion sighed heavily, glaring down at me “look, no reward was ever mentioned, so if you’re here looking for a payday―”

A mare’s voice from inside cut off the rest of what he was about to say as he took his gaze off of us and turned his head to regard the new arrival, “Sten? Who’s at the door?”

“Another batch of―”

My ears perked up in recognition of the mare’s voice, and before the stallion barring our way was able to finish his dismissal, I had hopped up into the air to be seen over his head and waved excitedly at the familiar orange unicorn mare, “Summer Glade! Hi, it’s me!”

The orange mare balked for a brief moment when she finally caught sight of me. Then recognition dawned across her features and her face broke out in a broad grin, “you’re the Wonderbolt! My goodness, I suppose who must have heard one of those broadcasts that nice Miss Neighvada was doing for me,” she trotted up and brushed aside the gruff unicorn stallion, “Sten, please go and tell Endo we have guests, will you? That’s a dear,” I watched the doorpony shoot me one more suspicious look before nodding towards his employer and disappearing deeper into the large mansion of a home, “don’t mind, Sten,” Summer Glade assured us, stepping aside and waving us in, “we’ve just gotten some...interesting visitors, let’s say, since those broadcasts started.

“Of course, nopony seems to have any idea of what you even look like in the slightest, so they’ve been pretty easy to spot,” she sighed and rolled her eyes, “oh! I know somepony else who’ll be delighted to so you too―oh, Dewdrop! Come say ‘hello’ to our special guests!”

I stepped in through the threshold, taking note of the contrast between the interior and exterior of Summer Glade’s home. Certainly when compared to the typical slapdash hovel that somepony might throw together in the Wasteland and call a ‘house’ the mansion I was in now stood in a category all its own. That being said, it still bore the scars inflicted by both the ancient war and the centuries that had passed since then. However, when compared to the interior...well, there really wasn’t a comparison I guess. Somepony had obvious found some plaster and half-decent paint―or at least improvised a substitute―and remodeled the interior to a point where I was willing to hazard a guess that this was what the house very well might have looked like when it was new.

Everything wasn’t quite perfect. The lighting had clearly been added later, salvaged from whatever had survived the war and powered by spark batteries with wires being carefully run along the walls and ceiling so as not to be too obvious. The furniture was in interesting collection of ancient pieces which had been restored using salvaged material and newly crafted items that had used broken up pieces of unrepairable furniture as their primary source of construction supplies.

All of that said, the place still looked very nice, and it did a proper job of letting anypony who was a guest here know just how affluent the residents were. I knew that I was certainly impressed!

My gaze was drawn by the movement of a little pony on the far side of the room. The little filly’s eyes lit up the moment they spied my brilliant blue barding, “Miss Wonderbolt!” the little pony’s hooves scattered on the matte marble floor as she proceeded to gallop directly for me, clearly intending to leap into my chest. It was an adorable gesture, and I smiled at the filly as I bent down and prepared to receive her.

Then, quite suddenly, the little earth pony’s eyes grew wide and filled with fright. She let loose an ear-splitting scream as her legs backpedaled madly in an attempt to abort her run. I noticed that her’s was not the only expression which had undergone a sudden shift in mood. Summer Glade had also visibly paled and she’d taken a number of steps back. Her lips were quivering as she began to sputter out the name of the unicorn guard that she had dismissed in progressively louder volumes.

I looked in the direction that both mother and daughter were staring and quite quickly realized what had set the two of them off: Arginine. These were the two ponies that had let me know that his stable was active in the area again, and had seen enough of what happened when they’d attacked the caravan they were a part of to confirm their identity. They recognized Arginine as looking exactly like one of the attackers that had slaughtered their husband and father, as well as the rest of the ponies working for them on the caravan that had been sacked.

“Whoa!” I immediately spoke up, leaping in front of the large gray unicorn and waving my hooves to get them looking back at me as I explained, “it’s okay! He’s safe!” My wings flipped out from my sides and I darted up to Arginine’s neck, tugging back the scarf that he wore and exposing the explosive collar concealed beneath it, He’s my prisoner, see? He won’t hurt anypony here, I promise!”

Summer Glade was holding her daughter close, and she was only just starting to compose herself again when another pair of ponies burst into the room. The unicorn guard was among them, a submachine gun of a much sleeker and more easily concealed design hovering in front of him and leveled at Arginine, Foxglove, and I. Beside him was was a golden earth pony stallion who was holding out a little snub-nosed revolver of his own.

“Whoa! Whoa!” things were quickly escalating out of hoof, and the continuous screeching from Dewdrop was helping to soothe these frayed nerves that everypony was feeling.

Unfortunately, it seemed that between the screaming filly, terrified looking mare, and the sight of untrusted armed ponies inside the manor, the unicorn guard was inclined to draw some understandable conclusions. He opened fired.

Horseapples!

He was barely twenty feet away, and as spacious as the room was, it was far too confined for me to effectively evade his gunfire. My barding wasn’t going to offer any sort of protection either. In short: I was dead.

At least, I should have been. Nopony was more surprised than I was that I wasn’t, I can assure you! There certainly wasn’t any way that he could have missed me. In all honesty, I suppose he hadn’t really. If those golden ripples were any indication, most of the unicorn’s automatic gunfire had been impressively on target despite the recoil of the lightly built weapon. The issue was that none of those lead slugs managed to make it all of the way to my flesh. Instead, they simply stopped rather abruptly a scant foot away from my chest and hovered there completely still.

The unicorn seemed to realize something was up and ceased firing. The altercation was enough to spur Summer Glade into action though, and she managed to interject before the bodyguard could devise some other method of neutralizing us that might have been more effective.

“Wait, stop!” the orange earth pony mare yelled, charging between us and the irate black unicorn, “that’s the mare that saved me and Dewdrop!” she wasn’t saying this to the guard. Instead, her attention was directed at the golden stallion with the revolver. I saw his eyes widen slightly, and then he nodded to the black unicorn, who―very reluctantly―lowered his weapon once more.

When it was clear that nopony was going to shoot at anypony else―for now―the bullets floating in front of me ceased their hovering and rained down to the floor with a melodic clinking. Curious, I looked around, and found that Arginine’s horn was only just now starting to lose its amber glow that heralded his use of magic. He’d interjected to save our lives.

Before I could remark on it, the golden stallion was addressing us, “is that true? You’re the ponies that rescued my niece and sister-in-law?” he’d holstered his revolver, though I noticed the guard next to him kept his own weapon trained on us despite the assurance that we weren’t a threat.

I floated down to the floor and nodded, “we are,” I extended a hoof towards the stallion, “Windfall. This is Foxglove,” I nodded towards the violet unicorn behind me, “and this is RG, he’s our prisoner and yes,” I confirmed with a look towards Summer Glade, “he is a member of the group that attacked your caravan. I tracked them down and killed them. Well...some of them. There are a lot more though, and I need help to finish them off.

“That’s why I’m here,” my gaze was on the golden stallion once more, since he was clearly the pony in charge, whoever he was, “I have to talk with Princess Luna so I get the Republic’s help dealing with them before it’s too late. They aren’t just going to stop at raiding caravans; they want to kill everypony in the Wasteland.”

The stallion’s eyes had widened again at this revelation, “well...and here I thought this was just going to be another boring day. Clearly there’s a lot for us to talk about. Sten, have refreshments brought to my office,” he said to the still obviously unhappy unicorn, “the rest of you, come with me.”

Getting Dewdrop calmed down again took the better part of an hour, and even when she stopped screaming, it was clear that she wasn’t going to ever really ‘relax’ again until Arginine was long gone. I made the suggestion that perhaps the little earth pony filly should leave the room while the rest of us talked things through, but she wouldn’t hear it. Instead the young pony attached herself to her mother as though her intent was to merge the two of them into a singular being and continually glared at the massive stallion standing apart from the rest of us.

Endo Galician, the brawny golden earth pony stallion with a titanium white mane that was slicked back into what looked like a shiny silver cap sat in the office’s largest and most comfortable chair. He was Summer Glade’s brother-in-law and―I learned―the current head of the Three-Way Caravan Company. The third of the set of triplet brothers who’d founded the sprawling merchant empire, Gordo, was currently ‘negotiating’ with the casino barons of New Reino. As I understood it, the key sticking point in those ‘talks’ was deciding which of the casino owners was going to be held personally responsible for their city’s guard forces trying to enslave the wife of their recently deceased brother if New Reino ever wanted to see another supply caravans ever again.

It seemed that while Three-Way wasn’t the only outfit that traded with the southern settlement, they had enough pull, and more than sufficient wealth, to essentially buy off all of the other major outfits in the valley and stage an effective boycott of New Reino. Sure, there were smaller, independent, traders who were now more keen than ever to trade with the casino barons since they could charge nearly ten times their usual prices, but the volume of supplies moving into the city was a shadow of what it took to keep the place afloat. It would be only a matter of weeks before the place was essentially strangled to death by the lack of provisions and merchant goods.

The casino barons were beside themselves with terror and outrage at one another for allowing themselves to have been put in a position like this; and they were very eager to make amends.

The preference had been for the leadership of the Lancers themselves to be brought in to account for the actions of their organization, but it seemed that the group had made itself scarce soon after learning what had transpired. That left the ponies who’d employed them holding the bag, and it didn’t sound like either of the remaining brothers were inclined to let the trespass slide unanswered. Somepony was going to be punished for what had been done to their family, and Endo didn’t seem too particular on the exact ‘who’ of the matter, so long as they were actually involved in some way.

I imagined that the deliberations between the casino barons as to who would ultimately be the one to have the blame laid at their hooves had become quite...lively.

Of course, the caravan owner also knew that it had not been the Lancers which had actually killed his brother and wiped out his wagon team. The frequent cold stares that the golden stallion flashed in the direction of Arginine suggested that he strongly desired to get some satisfaction out of him as well. For the moment though, he seemed content to let me keep custody of the unicorn.

“Words,” the well-muscled earth pony was saying, “can’t express what you’ve done for my family, Miss Windfall,” he nodded his head toward his niece and sister-in-law, “without your help, I might never have seen them again; and I would also never have learned what happened to Skinny and his team,” once more his hateful gaze flickered to Arginine before returning to me and softening once more, “I suspect you have some notion of what my family can do to repay you?”

I nodded, “I need to speak with Prime Minister Ebony Song,” I told the caravan boss, “that attack on your brother’s caravan was just a probe,” I jabbed a hoof at the large gray stallion, “his Stable plans to launch a full-scale invasion of the Wasteland, and they’re not looking to take prisoners. I know where they are, but I’ll need help―and a lot of it―if I’m going to stop them.

“I need the help of the Republic’s soldiers. If we move fast, we can catch them by surprise and defeat them before they’re ready,” from the corner of the room, I heard Arginine’s soft derisive snort. He clearly had some doubts about how effective ‘invalid’ forces would be against the might of his own kind. I was half-tempted to pointedly remind him what a pair of ‘inferior’ mares had managed to do to the ponies that had been charged with safeguarding his own little operation.

Endo nodded, “it will come as no surprise to you, I’m sure, that I have actually secured so time with the Prime Minister,” he looked at me while wearing a wry smirk and I shrugged, “perhaps I can convince him to set aside a few moments for you to make your case to him.

“I have heard that it can be quite a long wait for less well-connected ponies to get even a minute of the Honorable Ebony Song’s time.”

“Three months,” I grumbled.

“Well, in light of what my family owes you, I must say that this feels like rather trivial compensation,” Endo Galician sighed, “and yet you ask for nothing else?” he let the question hang, as though providing an opportunity for me to amend my list of demands.

I shrugged, “I mean, I guess a lot of ponies would have asked for a wagonload of bits or weapons or something like that,” to which the golden stallion nodded, clearly having expected just that sort of demand, “but, the truth is, that I wouldn’t have anything to spend that money on anyway,” that certainly earned me a few curious looks from Summer and her brother-in-law, “food, water, and healing potions aren’t super expensive,” I pointed out, “and those are the only real expenses we have, apart from ammo.

“Although,” I added after a brief moment’s thought, “if you know where I could get a crate of Wild Pegasus Special Reserve…?”

Endo chuckled, “I’m sure that something can be arranged,” he took a deep breath and sighed, “in any case, I insist that you stay here as my guests, and I implore you to abuse my hospitality as much as possible so that I don’t feel like I’m taking such advantage of your own kindness. Anything you want, ask my staff and they will provide it for you,” I looked to his bodyguard, Sten, who gave us a reluctant nod.

“Though…” the golden earth pony added, “you’ll forgive me if I do add a caveat of my own: your...prisoner will be quartered in the basement, under guard by members of my own personal security,” his cold gaze was leveled at Arginine, “I hope that is acceptable to you.”

Fair enough. It was pretty clear that the ponies in this house didn’t exactly feel a lot of warm and fuzzies where Arginine was concerned, and I could appreciate that. Besides, it would be a relief not to have to be the pony keeping an eye on him throughout the whole night. In fact, this was shaping up to be the first full night’s sleep I was going to have in...damn, I didn’t even know how long! Did I even know how to sleep without waking up every couple of hours?

“That’ll be fine,” I assured the stallion, “he won’t give you any trouble,” I looked back at the large gray stallion, “will you, RG?” I surreptitiously tapped my pipbuck. He snorted, glaring at me with his topaz eyes, but he didn’t say a word, “thought so.”

“So,” I was once more looking between the Galicians, “about that hospitality...when’s dinner?”

Arginine, not surprisingly, was not invited to dine with us. Endo had been inclined to get the rather intimidating stallion locked away out of sight as quickly as possible, and so he’d been shuffled off to the manor’s basement while Foxglove and I were shown to a lavishly furnished dining room. For all the spread had been presumably put together without a lot of notice, it was some of the most amazing food that I’d ever had in my life!

Jackboot had always made it a point to order up something fresh whenever we were in a town, even if doing so had been a bit more costly than chowing down on Cram or snack cakes. He mentioned a time or two how that sort of thing just hadn’t existed out east the same way it did in the valley. While you could get fresh food there, it was a luxury commodity with a price that made it little more than a dream for most ponies. While it wasn’t exactly dirt cheap everywhere in the valley either, a full meal of fruits and vegetables that were grown in this century wouldn’t break the bank either.

This was a whole different level though. What the Galician household served us wasn’t just fresh food, but dishes that had been cooked and prepared using things that were still a significant rarity: seasonings. It took a lot of effort a resources to grow even staple foods in the valley. Between fighting a lack of adequate rain, and a perpetual overcast, the quantity of arable land was scarce, and those scant few acres that would actually take seed couldn’t be haphazardly squandered on such trifles as ‘weeds’ whose only purpose was to add flavor to things that already tasted so much better than two century old alfalfa chips.

Of course, everything had a price in the Wasteland, and so there were farmers that were willing to grow things like sage and rosemary. What they charged for those herbs was tantamount to outright theft considering the little dried up sprig that you got for your sack of bits, and most of that was up front too. The last thing the farmer wanted was to have wasted their valuable land and time growing a weed that it turned out nopony wanted anyway; and, generally speaking, demand for seasonings outside the upper-crust was non-existent. The common pony had little interest, time, or inclination, to appreciate something as useless as basil to the point where they were willing to pay extra for it. I had been a part of the population that shared such a mindset.

After tonight though, I was of a mind to reevaluate my own stance on the matter. I’d always been a personal fan of radroach stew. It was something that always seemed to taste delicious, no matter who was making it. Today, however, was the first time that I had ever tasted it when it had been prepared using something called ‘bay leaves’. In hindsight, this had probably been a mistake. Having now experienced the culinary orgasm that was a stew made with those leaves, I knew that I would forever been left unsatisfied by any dish made without them.

And don’t get me started on pepper! Oh, sweet Celestia, why had nopony ever told me about pepper?!

In addition to the excellent food, there had also been some rather engrossing conversation too. Most of it had been Foxglove and me―mostly me―telling Dewdrop harrowing tales of our previous adventures in the Wasteland. The little filly seemed to have been particularly enthralled by the stories I told her of my early years at Jackboot’s side.

It was...nice, actually. Truth be told, I was entirely certain I was ready to tell those stories, given how recently the rust colored stallion had been taken from me. Certainly I didn’t talk about the day that he died―there was a lot about that day I was still wrestling with deep down. But those first few adventures: helping out Miss Vision, exploring the old stable crawling with ghoul ponies, those were memories that I was able to look back fondly on, and I enjoyed sharing those tales with the little filly. She seemed especially enamored with the fact that I hadn’t been that much older than she was now when I’d undertaken those adventures.

I noticed that I had Foxglove’s attention too. The violet unicorn had not been privy to many of the details about my early life with Jackboot. Not that I’d been keen to keep them a secret or anything. She’d never asked about that period of my life, and I hadn’t really felt that inclined to merely offer up those details unsolicited. Perhaps I should have.

I’d always known that Foxglove must have made some assumptions about my relationship with Jackboot that hadn’t painted the older stallion in a flattering light. Most of that had been because of her own personal experiences which she’d allowed to color her perceptions. I couldn’t honestly fault her for thinking along those lines, but that hadn’t stopped me from resenting her for thinking so little of the pony who’d raised me.

Now though, listening to what he and I had gone through before we’d crossed paths with the unicorn mare, it was clear that Foxglove was reevaluating some of those assumptions. Not all of them, I was sure. Given some of the things that she had told me regarding alleged personal interactions with the stallion, and what I’d seen of the two of them personally, I knew that she’d never look back on Jackboot ‘fondly’ the way that I did. However, I suspected that she was going to find it a lot easier to keep her promise to me about not talking down about him while I was in earshot.

That stallion that the violet unicorn had met? I’d never known him like that. I couldn’t say which of us had met the ‘real’ Jackboot, and I didn’t really care. Yeah, the two of us had hit a rough patch or two along the way, but when everything was said and done: I was the pony I was today because of him. He’d taken care of me, and I’d loved him. Telling other ponies about the amazing things that he and I had done together made me feel good.

It was nice seeing Dewdrop take a liking to the stallion through my stories as well.

After dinner and dessert, and a couple more stories about our exploits, it was time for a very excited Dewdrop to the ushered off to bed by a mother who looked to be both grateful to see her young daughter looking so relaxed and happy given what the little pony had gone through recently; and less than enthusiastic about the prospect of trying to get the excited foal calmed down enough to actually sleep in anything like a reasonable amount of time. Endo remained for a short while longer to once more express his gratitude and remind us about his desire for us to abuse his generosity so that he could sleep more easily as well knowing that his family’s debt had been amply repaid.

Foxglove was quite eager to avail herself to a genuine bed that promised to be far and above the quality that was typically found in the motels and inns we tended to stay at while we were out and about. There was also a mention of ample quantities of heated water for a bath, and that was the last I saw of the violet unicorn mare that evening. Frankly, I felt her notion was a good one, and I intended to follow her example, but only after I’d satisfied myself that Arginine wasn’t going to get into any mischief while I slept.

Sten, who had relaxed considerably throughout the course of the evening, escorted me down to where the large gray stallion was being quartered. That wasn’t to say that he’d become any more talkative. That just wasn’t the kind of pony he was, I guess. However, he was no longer as suspicious as he had been when we’d first arrived. He even issued a glib apology for nearly killing me earlier! Given the stoic disposition I’d seen him in during the evening, I got the sense that that had been just a step or a half below outright flirting where the grim unicorn was concerned.

The Galicians weren’t the sort to have a genuine ‘dungeon’ or anything like that to keep Arginine in. However, they were an affluent merchant family, so they did own quite a few expensive and exotic wares that were best left secured. It was in one of these pseudo vaults that they’d stashed the large gray stallion in for the evening. Its usual contents had been displaced so that he couldn’t get into mischief and a simple bedroll supplied for his comfort. The two ponies stationed outside his ‘cell’ to ensure he behaved himself, at Sten’s curt command, let me in to check on him. They even allowed the two of us a margin of privacy, which was rather considerate of them, I felt.

It was immediately clear that Arginine’s supper hadn’t been on parity with the one that Foxglove and I had enjoyed. I couldn’t tell what had been served initially, but what remained was a glass of water that was of questionable purity and half a can of Cram that probably had been opened a long time ago. What should have been a pinkish hued meat-based paste was a rather disquieting shade of green...and a little fuzzier than it should have been. I suppose that I shouldn’t have been surprised, given what his kind had done to their family.

At the moment, Arginine was lying on the ratty threadbare bedroll, looking up at me with the same dispassionate look he tended to favor everypony around him with. His face was set in stoic lines that suggested he was expecting some more not-quite-so-passive abuses this evening. He said nothing.

“I just wanted to thank you,” I said, quietly, “for earlier,” Arginine continued to glower at me without saying a word, “when you saved my life.”

Finally the stallion broke his silence, “I did not do it for your benefit. As you have reminded me, repeatedly: my continued existence is tied to your own,” he inclined his head towards my pipbuck even as he tapped a hoof against his collar.

“Right,” I cringed slightly, “still...I’m glad you didn’t just let us both die out of spite,” which he certainly could have.”

“‘Spite’ is pointless, and beneath my kind,” he scoffed, “only invalids would be capable of such a thing,” I noticed his eyes darting briefly to the meager ‘meal’ that had been provided for him, “that your mind works along such lines is only more proof of your inferiority, and how unfit your ilk is to continue existing.”

I wasn’t sure how much more flattery I could take, “I don’t suppose that you’ve considered that ponies might treat you better if you stopped talking about how much you want us all to die?”

“Is your insinuation that lies and deceit on my part will be rewarded?” he arched a brow as he watched me grimace, “should I consider what lies behind the mindset of somepony that would suggest such advice?”

“Your kind started this,” I shot back, “don’t talk to me like I’m the bad pony here! I could have killed you back in the house of horrors you called a ‘lab’ and put you out of all of our miseries.”

“In point of fact: you have the ability to end my life even now,” Arginine said coolly, holding my gaze with his amber eyes, “you do not, on the pretext that I can be plied for information useful to you.

“Yet I have noticed that you have never asked me to divulge anything of a tactical nature,” he let the observation hang in the air between us for a moment, “one has to question what your true motive is for keeping me alive.”

I blinked. He was right, of course: I never had asked him anything about the plans that his Stable had for the Wasteland; not in any detail, at any rate. Numbers, technology, plan of attack; I’d never even suggested I wanted any hints about those things. Honestly, I hadn’t been thinking quite that far ahead. What good did it do me to know exactly how many soldiers they had before I knew I had access to any real resources to fight them? Details were for later.

Besides, “and you expect me to believe that you’ll just give me that sort of information?”

“It is not in our nature to deceive.”

“Bullshit!” I snarled at the pony, “I saw the footage of what you did to Stable 137! You lied to them and made them trust you before you slaughtered all of them.”

“On the contrary,” Arginine responded matter-of-factly, not rising to meet my accusatory tone, “we were honest and direct with those ponies. We approached them and asked to trade for their medical records in order to aid in our research efforts. They gave the information to us freely, in exchange for pieces of our technology.”

“You slaughtered all of them!”

“Later,” the stallion nodded, his tone still calm and unperturbed, “but at no point did we make assurances of continued peaceful relations. Their inclination to trust us was their own mistake.”

“They thought you were good ponies. Their ‘mistake’ was thinking that you really were ‘better ponies’ and not just common raiders out to take what you wanted from them by force and killing anypony that wasn’t of use to you.

“‘Better ponies’,” I scoffed with a derisive snort, “I’ve got news for you: ponies like you are a bit a dozen in the Wasteland. There’s nothing special about you. You’re just raiders and murderers hiding behind some sort of ‘divine mission’ that’s one big excuse to justify your murdering. Well I’ve killed hundreds of ponies like you! Most of them are actually honest about what they are though. They don’t hide behind bullshit like you. They’re upfront about their murdering and why they do it.

“‘Not in our nature to deceive’, ha! You’re deceiving yourself if you actually believe the crap you’re spewing,” I glared at the stallion. Even though he was laying down, I found myself still having to crane my neck up slightly, so it was hard to look as intimidating as I would have preferred, but I did have the satisfaction of seeing some of that smugness ebb from those amber eyes of his.

“Enjoy your dinner. Try not to choke on your bullshit while you’re eating it,” and with that I turned and left, the guards securing the door behind me as I went back upstairs.

Endo Galician came with me to the meeting with the Prime Minister of course. As important as my own reasons might have been for talking with Prime Minister Ebony song, the owner of the valley’s premiere caravan company wasn’t going to simply give up his own precious time with the New Lunar Republic’s chief administrator. Frankly, I was glad to have the stallion with me, since I had basically no experience dealing civilly with ponies in power. Between Tommyknocker, Scratch, that demon pony queen thing, and Whiplash, I had been at least partially or totally responsible for the deaths of just about every important pony I’d ever met, now that I thought about it.

Probably best not to bring that up…

When I noticed that we were being led out into the main auditorium, which served as the site of the actual throne room for the Republic, I felt a rise of excitement at the notion that I may actually get the chance to meet Princess Luna herself! Unfortunately, it looked like she must not have been in attendance at the moment. Her throne was there, which I noted was much larger than would have been required for any normal sized pony, but it was vacant. However, there was a unicorn stallion sitting nearby in a chair that was much smaller, but nearly as grand looking. Though I had never met him personally, I did recognize the Prime Minister from a few posters around Seaddle that bore his likeness.

The dark pony noticed our approach and smiled, “Mister Galician! My aide passed on your message,” his expression faltered ever so slightly when he saw me as well, but his smile could have passed for welcoming to a pony with moderate vision problems. I wasn’t going to hold that against him just yet. I was essentially an uninvited guest who had just jumped the line, “this must be the, ah…Miss Windfall, was it?”

I confirmed the prime minister’s guess with a nod of my head, “yes, sir.”

Ebony song looked between Endo and myself, before clearing his throat and straightening himself up in the chair, “then I suppose that we may as well begin with your issue...madam.”

I probably should have worn something a little more proper for the setting than my Wonderbolt barding, I thought. Given that both Mister Galician and Ebony Song were dressed in neatly composed suits, my brilliant blue barding that was, admittedly, little more than a performance costume, did look very out of place. Not that I really owned anything else...I seriously needed to reevaluate my wardrobe. However, that was a consideration for later.

“It’s kind of related to what Mister Galician wants to talk to you about,” I began, “I know who’s been responsible for a lot of the attacks on caravans in the valley, and they’re not real raiders or the White hooves. It’s ponies from this Stable out in the mountains out west. They have this really twisted idea about rebuilding Equestria with only ponies from their Stable, and they’re planning to wipe out everypony else in the Wasteland to do it.”

Judging from his expression, I had clearly piqued the prime minister’s interest, but I could still spy a dubious glint in his eye, “that’s a rather unique claim,” he said carefully, “I don’t suppose that you have any proof of this?”

“I actually have one of the ponies from the Stable in my custody. He’s admitted to all of it.”

“I see. I would be very eager to speak with this pony and learn more about this threat. It does sound like a matter of genuine concern for Her Majesty’s Republic,” why did I sense that there was a ‘but’ coming after this? “But,” ah, that was why, “and as I have tried to explain to the good Mister Galician as well,” Ebony Song added, bowing slightly to the earth pony, “the Republic’s resources have been stretched to their breaking point by Her Majesty’s righteous struggles against the treasonous Steel Rangers that have threatened us for so long. It has taken the bulk of her loyal soldiers to keep those traitors at bay, leaving far too few of her forces to adequately protect her citizens.

“Princess Luna is very much aware of this, and the suffering of her subjects that results from these difficult choices pains Her Majesty greatly, let me assure you,” he shook his head sadly, “I would like nothing more than to send a force to deal with this threat you have told us about, and to assign a squad to every caravan to ensure their safety during their perilous journeys through Her Republic,” Ebony Song added with an apologetic look towards Endo, “but such deployments would leave the city vulnerable to an attack from the Rangers.”

“There’s gotta be something you can do? Come on! If we wait for these ponies to launch their invasion, then the Republic will be trapped between them and the Rangers! You can’t tell me that’ll be better somehow than doing something about them now!”

“Indeed,” Ebony Song conceded, “you are correct. Her Majesty’s Republic would be in dire straights in such an event, I don’t doubt it. However, you are asking for Her Majesty to ignore the enemy that is even now at the gates of her Republic to fight ponies whom, as you have said, are merely only preparing for an attack against us. Out of curiosity, do you know when they are planning to make their move?”

I did not, I was forced to admit. Even RG himself probably wouldn’t know the exact date that his Stable was going to launch their assault. He suggested that his Stable would be moving on the valley ‘soon’, but I couldn’t be certain of how much of that was just him posturing. There was the possibility that it could actually be years before his Stable made a move. They’d already been conducting their probes and abductions for who knew how long. I very much doubted that it would be years though. They had the forces available already to assault other Stables with, after all. How much longer could it reasonably be before they were confident that their own armies could deal with the remaining ‘invalids’ on the surface?

“Then I’m afraid that Her Majesty simply won’t be able to justify jeopardizing the safety of the ponies she is sworn to defend at this time.”

“Please! There has t―”

“Unless...” the Prime Minister interrupted, looking at me intently. He was silent for several long seconds, as though debating whether he should even continue with the alibi. Finally, he went on, “some time ago,” Ebony Song began, “an expedition to the north turned up a bunker built during the final years of the war. In this bunker they found a weapon prototype. They lacked the expertise to conduct a more thorough investigation and locate the main cache where the rest were located. A follow-up was planned, but...well, then the war with the Rangers broke out and the mission was scrubbed.

“The prototype was analyzed, however, and its power suggests that if the Republic were to come into possession of these weapons, that the war could be ended almost immediately. In fact, they should even be able to make short work of this Stable you’ve mentioned.”

I cringed slightly, “so...you want me to go out and find these weapons for you, and then you’ll be able to force the Rangers to stop the war with the Republic and fight Arginine’s stable?”

The stallion nodded, “exactly. You would be performing a vital service to Her Royal Highness, and ensuring the safety of Her Republic. You would be a hero.”

“I don’t care about that,” I insisted, shaking my head, “I just need you to promise that the Princess will stop that Stable from hurting anypony else.”

“Of course.”

“Then we have a deal,” I nodded towards the prime minister, “just tell me where I need to go.”

Ebony Song favored me with a broad smile, “Perfect…”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 28: IF I CARED A LITTLE BIT LESS

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"Look, buddy my job here is to keep the peace, and if I have to break a few heads to do it, then a few people are going to be hurting."

By the end of my talks with the Prime Minister, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the prospect of wandering off into the northern mountains in search of some Old World armory just so that Ebony Song would ‘consider’ bringing up my ‘concerns’ with Princess Luna. This was ridiculous! I had even brought him proof later that day in the form of an obviously not very normal looking unicorn stallion, and he’d seemed to hoof-wave Arginine aside as though seeing ponies as mutated as he was wasn’t something super unusual. Two horns, the size of a hell hound, and each and every one of them looked to have had pretty much the same coat and mane colors. Granted, I wasn’t able to verify that last point, but the other two should have served as pretty big clues that our stallion prisoner wasn’t just a one-off Taint product.

His offer to keep Arginine in custody and ‘interrogate’ the stallion while Foxglove and I were away had been...almost tempting. Given what I knew the stallion and his comrades had been doing to ponies for only Celestia knew how long, leaving him behind to be tortured was an option that I had briefly entertained as a form of richly deserved justice. However, as much as Arginine might have deserved it, I wasn’t positive that I could trust the Republic not to end up killing the valuable stallion. What he knew could still prove useful.

I was also the only one who knew how dangerous he really was. If those Republic ponies let their guards down for a even a moment, he might find some way to get away and warn his Stable that somepony was trying to get the valley to move against them.

It was just safer to take him with us. Well, I used the word ‘safer’ with more than a few caveats attached to it. He was powerful and clever, and he was watching me like a damn hawk for any sign of weakness or complacency. If I fucked up, me and Foxglove would both pay the price with our lives, and the rest of the Wasteland would fall soon after.

No pressure, Windfall!

I flicked on the radio on my pipbuck and let the music distract me from my progressively more melancholy thoughts. The voices of stallions and mares who were centuries dead swirled around me. They presented a curious mixture of sobriety and optimism. I wasn’t a huge history buff, so I couldn’t be sure, but I sort of wondered if there would have been a correlation between the general emotional tone of the music as the war had progressed. Like, did the ponies start out all optimistic and full of hope, believing that the fighting would be over before they knew it; and then when the years dragged on, and the death toll mounted, did they begin to despair?

One moment there would be a song about a stallion pursuing his first crush, and I’d find myself smiling a little. Then the next song would come on, and it would be a mare, pining for the return of her husband from the fighting and her anxious desire for him to survive to come back to her. Then, to complete the mood whiplash, the song that followed that was about a pony feeling nostalgic for what he’d considered ‘better days’ as he pointed out what could have been considered amusing antics that ‘modern ponies’ performed.

Homily, I love you, but you really need to learn how to put together an order that makes some sort of sense. You are playing with my emotions something fierce right now.

With a shake of my head, I tuned the pipbuck’s radio to the station hosted by DJ Pon3. Maybe the news wasn’t quite as relevant, but at least the Manehattan stallion knew how to arrange songs so that they flowed better.

As it happened though, I managed to catch him in the middle of one of his news broadcasts, “―vening wastelanders!” the rich baritone of the radio personality blared out, sounding far happier than I thought most ponies should in this day and age, “How’s every pony doing? Got some great news for you today!” oh? “Remember that little Stable Gal who took on the slavers of Appleloosa and saved all those ponies? Well, don’t ask me how, but she survived taking a nosedive off a cliff in a speeding train. That’s right fillies and gentlecolts, she’s back!”

I blinked at the news. Who in the Wasteland could he be talking―

Then I recalled the broadcast that I’d heard Homily make a week or so back. She’d mentioned that a mare from a Stable out east had been making some waves. DJ Pon3 must have been talking about her. I had to admit though, this wasn’t the sort of news I expected to hear with regards to a mare who’d grown up in one of those underground shelters. Foxglove was hardly the sort of pony to go looking for trouble she didn’t need, after all.

“And what’s she been up to now, I hear you ask? Well, sit down an’ put on your listening ears, cuz it’s time for DJ Pon3 to tell you a story. Ready? Good. This is the story of a little filly named Silver Bell…”

My ears perked up as I listened to the Manehattan stallion launch into his recounting of a little unicorn mare from a Stable and how she had essentially rescued and rehabilitated a lost little filly that had endured more than her fair share of strife. As I heard some of the details about what had happened to this Silver Bell though, I felt my insides tighten.

She’d watched her family get slaughtered by raiders, huh? It sounded like it drove her off the deep end for a good while there. I could relate to that. Sometimes I did find myself wondering how I would have turned out if I hadn’t had somepony as stable as Jackboot looking out for me. Even then, I knew that I was a very different sort of pony than I’d have grown up to be if the White Hooves had never attacked my home and destroyed everything I’d held dear.

That first part of the broadcast though, that had me wondering about this Stable Dweller...took out a whole group of slavers and managed to survive a horrific crash, huh? Considering the only other Stable mare I knew, that little unicorn must have been made of some pretty stern stuff. It also sounded like she was on something of a crusade to clean up the Wasteland, the way that DJ Pon3 was going on about it. Of course, I’d heard that sort of story before from the radio jockey. Every time, it had ended in a less than stellar fashion.

Frankly, at this point I was wondering if I should follow this mare’s exploits just so that I could place a private bet on how long it would be before she was either slaughtered like the Mare-Do-Well had been, or just simply snapped in the face of the futility of it all like the Lone Ranger.

Wasn’t that a depressing thought?

I wish you luck, Stable Dweller, I really do; but I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for you to fix everything.

Then I found myself chuckling mirthlessly. Just who was I to talk? The pegasus who was still a mere filly in the eyes of most ponies in the valley trying to almost single-hoofedly avert an imminent invasion by a horde of mutant super-ponies? The filly who was fashioning herself to be a ‘Wonderbolt’. The Stable Dweller was at least limiting herself to killing slavers and helping troubled fillies. Ah, the good old days…or last week, heh.

Still, I guess in some odd way, it was reassuring to know that I wasn’t the only pony in the whole Wasteland trying to do some good. Maybe I’d track her down when this was all over and we could exchange notes or something. Perhaps we could even recruit other ponies and form some sort of group that went around protecting good ponies and punishing the bad ones out there; like a...Justice squad, or―

A notification appeared in the upper left corner of my vision. My pipbuck was informing me that it had just picked up a new radio transmission source. I squinted at the label that the old world device had assigned to it and frowned. It looked like a nearly random collection of numbers and letters. Curious, I began tuning the radio once more, honing in on the new signal.

“―ay, mayday!” a mare was screaming in near panic, immediately grabbing my attention, “this is Sentinel Dopple-Two, we are under heavy fire; repeat: heavy fire! We are being engaged by heavily armed Steel Ranger forces and have taken casualties. Requesting immediate assistance and evac! I say again: Dopple-Two needs extraction now! We’re located at―” the transmission cut off suddenly in a burst of static.

Simultaneously my attention was drawn from my fetlock mounted device as the sound of something that sounded very much like a distant thunderclap rumbled across the wasteland. Far to the right of our current course, I spied the outline of a small town in the distance, and a fresh tendril of smoke that was growing up into the sky which had not been there a couple of minutes ago.

I turned my face back to the now silent pipbuck, staring at it blankly. I was pretty sure that I’d just listened to somepony die while calling for help.

Then I heard the radio crackle once more and a stallion’s voice came over the speakers, “Dopple-Two, this is Watch Tower, we did not copy you last transmission,” there was an edge in the radio operator’s voice, but he was doing a good job of keeping himself composed enough to make himself clearly heard as he tried to get the information he needed, “please repeat your location and strength of the enemy forces. Over.”

There was a long pause where nopony spoke. Then the stallion came back, “Dopple-Two, do you copy? Over.”

“Dopple-Two, respond. Over,” I heard the resignation in the stallion’s voice this time. I felt my own heart sinking as the other end of the line remained silent.

“...Watch Tower, out.”

I was about to turn the radio off completely when my ears swiveled towards the column of smoke, and the faint crackling of gunfire. My eyes went wide and my head whipped around. Somepony was still alive and fighting over there! The radio remained silent, and I had to wonder if the surviving ponies in that distressed group even knew that their call for help wasn’t going to be answered. As far as Watch Tower seemed concerned, everypony was dead and there was no longer anything that they could do. Frankly, as bad as it sounded like the situation was over there, I very much doubted that any reinforcements that could be mustered up would have any hope of making it in time to rescue whoever was still alive.

On the other hoof, me and my companions were in the area, and we could be there in minutes. If Dopple-Two had any hope of surviving, it was probably going to lay on our shoulders.

Taking on a group of Steel Rangers was no small task though. I recalled vividly how much firepower just three of them could lay down. If not for a very risky move on Jackboot’s part, we’d probably all have been killed right then and there. Could a juvenile pegasus, a unicorn who was still new to the whole ‘fighting’ thing, and their prisoner really serve as viable reinforcements against a force of battle-hardened ponies wearing powered armor?

My brain issued a resounding, ‘fuck no’ in answer to that question.

Was I going to be able to live with myself if I just sat back and let a bunch of ponies get killed when there was at least the tiniest little chance that I might have been able to help them in some small way? Would a real Wonderbolt just hover out here and watch while ponies were in trouble?

I liked to think that the answer to that was ‘no’ too.

My wings folded to my sides and I dropped down to the pair of ponies below. Both of them had heard the commotion as well and they turned their heads to look at me, “what’s all that about?” Foxglove asked.

“Some ponies are being attacked by Steel Rangers,” they were probably Republic soldiers, I guessed. It wasn’t unheard of for the Steel Rangers out here to attack mercenary groups and such, but those radio transmissions sounded a little too professional to be some sort of contract outfit. At least, I hoped I wasn’t about to rush in and rescue a group of Lancers. Wouldn’t that be awkward…

“I’m going to go help them,” I added, bracing for Foxglove’s inevitable reaction.

As expected, the violet had some reservations about my plan of actions, “are you crazy, is that your problem?!” she sputtered.

“They’re in trouble,” I pointed out, “and I don’t like turning a blind eye to ponies in trouble,” I held the unicorn’s gaze for several long moments. Foxglove bit her lip, remembering how my propensity for charging in to save random ponies in trouble in spite of a whole list of reasons not to get involved had resulted in her own salvation not so very long ago. As much as she may not like the notion, it would have been fairly hypocritical of her to admonish me for my decision too harshly.

She did have some valid concerns though, “Windy, we’re not equipped to take on Steel Rangers!”

“We weren’t last time either,” I pointed out, already arranging the grenades on my barding and making certain that I’d have fresh magazines ready to load into my submachine guns when the need arose. It might be a tough fight, but I was going to at least try and be as prepared as I could be.

“Please, Windy, we can’t―”

“You’re staying here,” I said without even looking up at the unicorn, “where it’s safe. If RG and I don’t make it back, it’ll be up to you to get the word out about what his Stable is planning. We’ve got enough money that you can probably hire some mercs or something to raid that bunker Ebony Song was talking about.

“Talk to Summer Glade and see if she knows anypony that’s trustworthy for that sort of thing.”

“You are taking me with you?” the gray stallion sounded surprised.

I held up the pipbuck, “proximity detonator, remember? You get too far away, and your head goes pop,” the unicorn did not seem the least bit amused by this reminder, “and I figure you’d want to make sure I survive. Your collar is also tied to this thing’s health monitor; I die, you die,” his scowl managed to deepen, “so, I mean, I guess I’m not really ‘taking you with me’, per say; but I figure you’ll want to come along anyway,” I smiled at the stallion. It was not a pleasant one.

“Will you at least provide me with a weapon?”

“What? But aren’t you some sort of super-tough, ultra-strong, perfect pony?” I snorted, “what do you need a weapon for? Those Rangers are just a bunch of invalids, right?”

If I had ever wondered if it were possible for a pony to glower so hard that their face would literally implode, I had my answer: not quite. It seemed that there existed a point of what I was going to call ‘Peak Grimace’ wherein a pony’s facial muscles hit their limit and all that was left with a look that perfectly summed up the thought: ‘I want you to die in such a manner that it will forever redefine what it means to have died, and be deserving of its own special name in order to even approach doing justice when describing the horrors which you suffered on your way to death’s door.’

I looked back at Foxglove and passed her all of the caps and bits that I had on me, “I hope I’ll be taking this all back, but, you know...” I shrugged at the mare and took off into the air before before she could respond.

Arginine hesitated for a brief moment, seeming to debate precisely how much he was willing to put up with before death seemed like a viable alternative; but he eventually started galloping after me. His large size and long gate allowed me to fly much faster that I would have it Foxglove had been with us, which I certainly appreciated.

My mind was now free to focus on the upcoming ruins, and the fight that awaited me. Foxglove had not been wrong: I didn’t have the hardware to make this an easy little assault. My supply of those pulse rounds was extremely limited. Mentally, I berated myself for insisting on not delaying even for a couple days in Seaddle; at least long enough for Foxglove to work her magic and restock my supplies of that special ammunition of hers. I had a decent number of armor piercing rounds at least.

That being said, my submachine guns fired 10mm pistol cartridges. Those steel-cores did fine against hardened leather and even thin ceramic barding, sure, but the kind of stuff that the Steel Rangers wore was on a whole other level. My rounds would put some dents into their suits, and enough of them would probably penetrate, especially around joint areas like their necks and hips, but even then I’d have to make sure I was getting in solid strikes that were almost completely dead on. If my angles of fire were too oblique I might as well just be throwing Sugar Apple Bomb cereal at them for all the good it would do.

I had a pair of those blue-banded pulse grenades, which would help out a lot. My quartet of the standard frags would do a number on them if they detonated nice and close as well. Realistically, I guessed that I could take out about six or so Rangers, assuming I wasn’t too wasteful with the bullets and my grenade drops were on point. I didn’t know exactly how many of the armored technophiles I was going up against, but I sincerely hoped it wasn’t too many more than that.

Hopefully, if I took out enough of them, I could convince the rest to turn tail and run. I doubted that the Rangers would be the type to accept that sort of offer, but it was still a nice thought…

The gunfire was growing steadily louder, and every few seconds, an explosion rocked the ruins; which, it turned out, didn’t belong to a town at all, like I’d thought. It was actually some sort of factory complex. A large sign had managed to keep itself affixed to the side of one of the larger buildings. ‘Arc-Lightning, LLC.’ was written a large golden flowing text above the cyan silhouette of a pegasus mare. At the bottom, in smaller black letters was the tag line, “Leave Your Competition in the Dust!’

My EFS started populating with blips now. My stomach clenched as I saw their color: amber. Every blip that I could see was amber. None of these ponies considered me a threat or bore me any ill-will, according to the pipbuck; and why should they? Each side was a whole lot more concerned with fighting each other than some random little pegasus that flew in from the Wasteland. It wasn’t like either side in this fight were genuine raiders or anything. Granted, the Steel Rangers weren’t the friendliest ponies in the valley where the Republic was concerned, but I didn’t exactly look like a Republic soldier, or even a typical citizen, now, did I?

In the same vein, I clearly wasn’t a Steel Ranger either, so why would the Republic soldiers shoot at me?

I wasn’t anypony’s enemy in this fight.

...yet.

Could I do it? Could I open fire on ponies that weren’t after me like this? The Republic and I had had our issues in the past; and they were in a state of war with the Rangers. This wasn’t a band of raiders attacking an innocent caravan. These were two groups who had gone into this knowing there was going to be a fight. Was I really going to start killing ponies because of part of a radio call I’d accidentally intercepted? Was that what a Wonderbolt did?

If I’d intercepted a distress call from the Rangers, would I still have come?

Fuck me, I’m an idiot. Windfall, you naive little filly; of course life isn’t this simple. If Jackboot was here to see you, he’d tan your flank for being such a moron.

But you’re here now, aren’t you? Did you really fly all this way to flap around and watch a bunch of ponies kill each other?

No. That was not why I was here. I was here to be a Wonderbolt and to save ponies. It just hadn’t occurred to me at the time what that really meant. Now I had a slightly better idea.

I sighed heavily and shook my head. This was going to be, hooves down, the dumbest thing that I’d ever done. Which, looking back over the past month or two was really saying something! Someday I’d stop trying to one-up myself like this. But today was not that day.

From where I was, I could see that things looked to have reached a tentative stalemate between the two sides at the moment. The Republic soldiers had taken refuge inside the factory’s offices and were currently fending off the Steel Rangers from behind the remains of the first story’s brick wall. Meanwhile, the power armored ponies were engaging those barricaded defenders from the parking lot, using the remains of old carts and wagons as cover while they launched barrages of heavy ordinance. It was clear that the Republic’s forces weren’t going to be able to hold out for very long―and neither was that wall.

Detaching the four fragmentation grenades from my barding, I angled my wings for a low pass in between the two firing lines of ponies. Pulling the stems, I tossed down the explosives, sending them out in a line as I made my first pass. A series of nearly simultaneous detonations erupted in my wake and I doubled back the way that I’d come. As the smoke from the grenades started to ebb away, I landed right there in between the two groups of fighting ponies, staring out at the Steel Rangers.

I wasn’t sure what made everypony stop shooting at that moment. Maybe it was the brief confusion that both sides experienced upon seeing the explosions that clearly had not been triggered by either of them. Perhaps it was finding themselves staring at an ivory pegasus dressed in brilliant blue and gold barding who had wandered into their lines of fire for some baffling reason. In any case, I was grateful for the lull.

My eyes were drawn to the sound of a very unamused Arginine cantering up to me, his eyes surveying the forces arrayed around us. He came to a stop at my side, swiveling his head in all directions in a vain effort to keep all of the potential threats in sight.

Things felt every tense as the seconds of continued silence drew on. I was waiting―dreading, really―for the moment when one of these ponies decided to take advantage of the confusion and resume shooting so that they could capitalize on the surprise. As the lull grew longer and more pronounced, I was more certain that things wouldn’t spontaneously descend back into bloodshed―for the moment, anyway.

Well, I certainly had everypony’s attention. Now for the hard part: making this impromptu cease-fire last long enough to not get everypony killed.

My attention was drawn to a Steel Ranger, their foreboding grim helmet accented with dark green markings, as the walking tank of a pony advanced towards me from their firing line. A robust belt-fed grenade launcher was mounted on what seemed to be a small turret that rested atop his spine. More concerning was the fact that it seemed that wherever he looked, the barrel of the imposing weapon pointed; and right now he was looking at me.

Oddly enough, their armament and the coloration of their barding weren’t the characteristics that set them apart from all of the other Steel Rangers that I could see. No, that award went to their height. They were, hooves down, one of the largest ponies that I had ever seen; second only to Arginine. Theirs was a different sort of ‘largeness’ though. They weren’t very broad, even with the powered armor that they were wearing, they were simply tall. They didn’t even seem to have the same proportions of a pony, with most of their height being possessed in their legs and neck. The lanky armored figure stepped out well ahead of their Ranger brethren and came to a halt, staring at me expectantly with their grim helmet.

Swallowing back my reservations about how bad a plan this really was, I walked as steadily as I could managed towards the Ranger. Under my breath I said, “load pulse rounds,” and felt my nerves calm ever so slightly as I heard the weapons at my side lock in the sapphire-tipped anti-magic rounds that would be my best hope against the armored pony if things went sour. Arginine started to walk with me, by I motioned for him to stay put with a wing. This Ranger was coming alone, and so would I. Maybe there would be something that we could work out after all.

“Star Paladin Hoplite,” the mechanically augmented voice of a stallion said through the speaker of their helmet, “of the Neighvada Chapter of the Steel Rangers.”

I inclined my head slightly and forced myself to speak up and sound as self-assured as I could manage in the face of so much firepower all around me. The lack of any real protection being offered by my barding was something that I was very keenly aware of at this precise moment, “Windfall. Nice to meet you, Hoplite.”

The Ranger cocked his head, “what business does the Enclave have here, pegasus?”

Well, so much for being friendly, I guess. The tone of his question also suggested that this conversation could turn ugly in very short order; if the only reason that the Rangers had stopped shooting―and the Republic soldiers too, perhaps―was because they thought that the third, and rarely seen, great technological power in the Valley had decided to make an appearance and neither side was inclined to draw a third side into this little war of theirs.

Did I lie and try to play myself off as a representative of the pegasus nation? A little orange pony that bore a strong resemblance to a statue I’d seen before didn’t much care for that notion. The fact was that the Steel Rangers and even the Republic soldiers behind me knew a lot more about the Enclave than I did. I’d never even met a pegasus from the Enclave before. If I said the wrong thing this Paladin Hoplite would immediately know I was trying to put him on and I didn’t see how that could possibly go well for me.

No, honesty was my best policy here. I just had to remember to tell the truth and Be Pleasant!, and everything would be alright.

...Maybe.

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head, “I’m not from the Enclave. I’m sort of just here representing myself,” I offered a wan smile at the Ranger, wishing that I could see his expression to be able to gauge how he was taking the news. As it was, the only thing I had to go on were the blips overlaid on my EFS, and it might be too late to fix things if the first I knew that they’d gone sour was when their blips went crimson and they started shooting at me.

“I’m just sort of really hoping that there’s a way for everypony here to walk away alive…?” I felt my smile straining slightly as my tone crescendoed into a hesitant question near the end. Way to sound self-assured there, Windfall. You’re just exuding confidence. I bet this guy is really intimidated right now.

“If the Republic soldiers are willing to lay down their weapons and surrender, I can guarantee their safety in one of our work camps out east,” Star Paladin Hoplite informed me.

Oh. I’m sure the Republic soldiers who have sworn to fight to the death in the service of Princess Luna will be willing to accept those terms. Or…

“Look, I don’t believe that you’re doing all of this just to take prisoners for a work camp on the other side of world,” I said, waving my hoof around at the destruction that surrounded us, “and I don’t mean just this fight. I mean the whole war. Maybe if you tell me what it is you’re after, I can help? I know a lot of ponies in the Republic, and I might be able to work out some sort of deal…?” Windfall, super negotiator pony!

“We are trying to retrieve an advanced weapons system that Ebony Song stole from the Steel Rangers,” Hoplite responded in a flat tone that did little to hide his doubt in my ability to resolve the situation. Now that I’d heard it, I shared those doubts, “if you can manage to persuade him to return it, then we’ll leave your little, ‘Republic’ in peace.”

You don’t need to sound quite that dismissive, I thought at the Ranger. I mean, yeah, there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to manage that, but still. Okay, so, I wasn’t going to end a war that had been waging for over a decade in just a single afternoon. Fair enough. Could I at least get him to go away though?

“Okay, I get it,” I assured the stallion, “but everypony here killing each other isn’t going to do anything about that, is it? It’s not like they have the weapon you’re after,” I motioned towards the bunkered down Republic soldiers, “all that’s going to happen here today is a lot of ponies are going to die, and I doubt they’re all going to be Republic soldiers, are they? Are the lives of your ponies really worth throwing away in this useless little skirmish?”

“We pledge our lives to the Cause,” Star Paladin Hoplite replied cooly, “and any one of my knights would be willing to lay down that life in pursuit of it,” horseapples, “you’re wasting your breath, little filly. You’d best get out of the way before you regret getting involved.”

This was my chance to just fly away and let these ponies kill each other. It wasn’t my fight, and it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t have anything to do with the war, and I didn’t put any of these ponies in this position.

Ooh, that’s a dangerous line of thinking there, Windfall, and you know it. You didn’t have anything to do with Foxglove either, and if you’d thought like that back then she’d be...well, you don’t want to think about that now, do you? Homily and her friends weren’t your problem either, were they? You could have turned down that contract; but look what’s happening to the Valley because you didn’t? Ponies have news that they need, and it’s going to make a difference in the lives of everypony in Neighvada.

What if Jackboot had left you to your fate with the White Hooves? Or had just walked away from you the day he found you and you’d begged him to help you?

Sure, I could just turn around and walk away. I could tell that RG would have very much liked me to do just that. Even Foxglove would be telling me to do that right about now.

You just have to ask yourself one question, Windfall: is your life worth risking for a bunch of ponies you don’t even know, and who don’t give a fuck about you?

Be Unwavering!

The hard fact was that my life wasn’t worth any more than anypony else’s. That wasn’t the point though, was it? It’s not about the ‘worth’ of a life―death was cheap in the Wasteland, after all. What mattered was what I did with my life, and nothing else. I had to be able to live with the consequences of my actions, and that was all that truly mattered.

And I knew that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I turned my back and a bunch of ponies died because I did it. If I had a chance to stop ponies from dying, then I was going to take it. And maybe, if I was really lucky, I wouldn’t even have to kill a bunch of ponies to do it.

“This is what’s going to happen,” I told the stallion evenly, fixing him with my unblinking gaze, “I’m going to go over there,” I nodded my head in the direction of the fortified Republic soldiers, “and I’m going to march those ponies out of these ruins and tell them to go back to Seaddle. I’m going to do that; and you, and your Rangers, are going to stand right here and let us all leave.”

I heard a derisive snort from within the confines of the green-tinged helmet staring at me, “if you think that we’re just going to let all of you leave here then―”

“The fight is over,” I snapped at the armored stallion, “look around you. Nopony’s fired a shot since I landed. It’s done, and you’ve won,” I swept the scene around us with my wing, “this place is now yours to loot and fortify all you want as far as I’m concerned; and I’ll make the soldiers over there accept that.

“They don’t have your weapon, and killing anypony else today won’t change that either,” I glared at the Star Paladin, “there’s no point in continuing; so let them leave.”

“I cannot do that,” the stallion insisted, and I felt my despair growing. I didn’t want to have to kill anypony today. Please don’t make me have to kill anypony, “they know our position and our numbers. We can’t let that information get back to Seaddle.

“They either surrender...or they die,” my heart sank, “if you truly care about saving lives, you will convince them to lay down their weapons. I will give you five minutes to talk with them, and then my knights and I will assault their position. It would behoove you to be elsewhere when that happens, little filly,” with that, the Star Paladin turned and started walking away.

I heard Arginine step up beside me, “we should leave and let them settle their own affairs,” he said.

“It’ll be a bloodbath,” I whispered, “on both sides…”

“How is that any of your concern?”

“Because I know about it,” I responded, forcing a wan smile as I heard the stallion echo my own private thoughts allowed. The look of confusion on his face prompted a sigh as I turned and started walking towards the factory’s offices. An irritated gray stallion followed behind me, “if I don’t like the idea of your Stable going around killing a whole bunch of ponies, why do you think I’d be okay with anypony else doing it?”

“They are your own kind.”

“That’s supposed to make it okay?” I frowned at the unicorn, “ponies’ll still be dead, you know. Why should it matter who’s doing the killing?”

“Because stopping this will require you to kill other invalids.”

I nodded, “yeah, and you just saw me do everything I could to try and keep that from happening, didn’t you?” I glanced briefly at the line of Steel Rangers as they organized themselves for the resumption of hostilities, “I don’t want to fight, and I don’t want to kill; but that doesn’t mean that I won’t if I have to.”

“You don’t have to. You are choosing to,” Arginine reiterated.

“Your Stable doesn’t have to wipe out everypony in the Wasteland, either,” I shot back at the unicorn, relishing the rebuked expression on his face, “you’re choosing to; because you think that’s how you can make the Wasteland a better place. Am I right?” the gray stallion gave a slight nod, but said nothing, “well, here’s my method of improving the Wasteland: try to keep as many ponies alive as I can, even if that means that I may have to kill a few of them to do it.

“I may not be ‘perfect’, like you, but I am trying to be a better pony.”

I turned my gaze now from RG to the half-demolished first floor of the office building that the Rangers had taken refuge in. I waved a friendly hoof, “heya! I heard your message on the radio; figured I’d lend you fellas a hoof.”

A pony peeked their head out from behind what was left of the brick window they’d been taking cover behind. My eyes widened slightly as a glimmer of recognition flickered across my mind, “hey, you’re...Picatinny, right?” I trotted up to the bemused looking Republic soldier and extended a hoof, “I’m Windfall, we met outside my family’s old house a few months ago?” I actually managed to genuinely chuckle now, “helped you out with a Steel Ranger problem then too, as I recall…”

The pony blinked several times, and then their eyes widened, “Wind…? You were with that White Hoof we were tracking down!”

“That’s right,” I nodded. Then I looked around, “does that mean Ramparts is here too? Ooh! I have some good news for him!” I looked like I was going to be able to deliver Yatima’s message in the flesh after all!

“...Lieutenant?” the pony called out with a note of uncertainty, “Somepony’s here to see you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Pica―you?!”

The familiar brown earth pony stallion popped into view, descending from a set of stairs that led to the floor above. He had been carrying a roll of wire in his mouth; a roll which fell out when his jaw went slack upon seeing my smiling form waving at him.

“S’up, Ramparts! Long time, no see. Oh, and have I got some good news for you!” then I grimaced, “but...maybe first we should talk about your Ranger problem.

“So, um, I just had a chat with them, and they’re willing to accept your surrender,” I didn’t even bother to wait for an answer. I had fully anticipated the looks of disgust that I received upon even deigning to make mention of the term, “but since that’s not going to be an option, I figured you guys could use another gun; and I brought a pair of ‘em,” I lifted my wings and showed off my armament.

“They’re also going to start shooting in, like, two more minutes, so...what’s the plan?”

The lieutenant and each of the other four ponies who were set up on the firing line were all staring at me now. Ramparts was the one who managed to recover first, “um...the plan is win the fight and not all die.”

“Good plan,” I nodded, “I like it,” I paused for a beat, “...how?”

“By falling back and luring them inside so that their heavy weapons are mostly negated,” he explained, still eyeing me with a little a curious look, as though he couldn’t quite decide if having this young little pegasus ‘helping’ him and the rest of his squad would actually prove to be an asset in the fight, “we have three more floors of hallways and offices to work with before we reach the roof. We’ll draw them into as many fatal funnels as we can and hold them there until they finally push us back to the next one.

“We should be able to whittle them down enough that they’ll eventually be unable to get through. At that point, we can try to go for a breakout and get out of here.”

I felt myself frowning. Ramparts sounded like he was expecting the fight to go very poorly, honestly. I could see why too. His plan was effectively just a series of delaying actions while they kept falling back until they had nowhere else left to fall back to; all the while hoping that they killed enough of the Rangers to even out their odds. In fact, the only way that this ended well for the Republic forces was if they managed to kill somewhere near three quarters of the Rangers who would be attacking them; and I doubted that those armored ponies were going to just throw themselves down hallways full of bullets and explosions like a horde of ghouls.

Honestly, if I was on the Ranger’s side, I’d refuse to play their game. I probably wouldn’t even have to if I had the sort of gear that they did. Experimentally, I trotted over to a nearby interior wall and gave it a stiff buck. As I pretty much expected, my hind hoof went clean through the ancient half-rotted drywall. I peered at the small amount of destruction that I had just wrought and then glanced at Ramparts.

“This isn’t some sort of fortified bunker,” I pointed out, “this place is ancient, and it’s falling apart. Those Rangers could literally just walk through any wall in here that they wanted with that barding of theirs. They aren’t going to just trot down any trail you leave for them to follow.”

The Republic officer looked at the hole that I had just made, his expression sour as he realized that his whole plan had just had its legs taken out from under it. His eyes went back to me, “I take it you have a better plan?”

I looked around at the crumbling lobby that we were standing in and nodded, “like I said: this place is falling apart. We may as well help it along,” I smiled at the dubious soldiers around me, “let them get to about the third floor or so, and then take out the supports holding everything up. Send them crashing to the ground and bury them in the rubble.”

There were a few hopeful expressions that I could see appearing on their faces, but Ramparts himself was still a little skeptical, “with their power armor, are you sure a fall like that will kill them?”

“Probably not,” I admitted. Personally, I was kind of hoping that most of them would actually survive the collapse with only mild injuries, if that. Killing a whole bunch of ponies wasn’t my goal here, “but it’ll stop them long enough for you to get your ponies to safety,” I pointed out, taking a much sterner tone with the office, “I’m just your friendly neighborhood Wonderbolt here to help you all get out alive, not win your damn war.”

Lieutenant Ramparts grimaced at that revelation, but after a few moments of thought, he finally nodded, “it’s not like I’m in a position to turn away help,” the stallion admitted, “fine. We’ll do things your way. Take charge of things down here,” he turned his head back up the stairs, “change of plans, corporal! Rig the charges on the inner supports,” he trotted up the stairs, “we’re going to do some remodeling…”

I blinked and glanced around, aware that many of the other ponies that had been maintaining the defensive firing line on this floor were now looking at me expectantly. They were waiting for me to give them their new assignments, I realized. Had I...just been given a battlefield commission?

“So―” I cringed at the slight crack in my adolescent voice that had yet to fully settle into its new range and cleared my throat, pretending that I’d always sounded this deep when I spoke, “so, yeah, change of plans. We’re still going to need to draw the Rangers inside, but we won’t be trying to hold them in one place for too long anymore. The trick is getting them to follow us up, and get them where we want them.

“Way I figure it, we want them thinking you’re all running scared the moment they start things back up. So you ponies need to panic,” I rolled my eyes at the mildly disgusted looks I was getting, “no, seriously, you all need to freak out and run for the hills. They’ll chase after you, thinking they got you good and scared. Then, once we’ve got them where we need ‘em, you’ll turn around and hold that line like you’ve been doing here.

“They’ll be so surprised that they’ll hold up long enough for us to drop the building out from under them,” I smiled, seeing some of the soldiers looking a little more satisfied with the new plan, “once they’re down and out, you can all make a clean getaway back to Seaddle or wherever.”

“Or we could go down there and finish them off,” one of the soldiers suggested, receiving several grunts of agreement from her comrades, and a stern glare from me.

“No!” I snapped at the mare, ignoring the looks of consternation I got from those that had found her notion amenable, “I am here to help you get back to your families, not murder helpless ponies,” that’s my job, I thought to myself as my mind replayed what I’d done to that Lancer stallion, “once they’re down, you get out. End of discussion. Got it?”

There was grumbling―a lot more of it than I liked―but nopony voiced an overt objection, so I took that as a win. My eyes then went to my pipbuck’s clock, “we should get ready,” I muttered, “they’ll be starting up again in―”

My head whipped up as a piercing whistling sound carried through the air. Somepony was considerate enough to shout, “get down!” just before the missile struck the side of the building. I, however, was far to slow to react, and could only watch in horror as a torrent of brick and debris arced towards me…

...only to bounce around and away from me amid a pool of shimmering golden light as those fragments of wall were deflected by a magical barrier. I blinked and looked around, my eyes falling on the large gray stallion standing behind me, his horn flaring with a bright amber aura as his critical eye glared at me. Arginine had just saved my life, I realized. Again.

“Thanks,” I said meekly to the stallion.

He snorted, “if you die, I die,” was his tart reply, which prompted an internal wince.

The air around me was saturated with smoke and dust left over from the explosion. All around, gunfire crackled, even as crimson lances of magical light pierced through the smoky haze, gouging charred craters on the walls and pieces of ancient furniture behind us. Republic soldiers were on their hooves, battlesaddles and floating weapons spitting back bullets at the advancing armored ponies. The disparity in firepower was profound; the mechanically augmented barding of the Old World relics allowing them to support much more destructive weapon platforms. Yet, even in the face of that devastation, the Republic soldiers held their ground and continued to fire back at the enemy.

It was commendable.

It was also not part of the plan. These ponies were reacting to the threat on instinct, I realized. They’d been shot at, and so they had to hunker down and shoot back and not give up any ground that they didn’t have to in the face of their adversary. It was what those who had pledged themselves to Princess Luna were expected to do, after all; even unto the last pony.

Not today though, “fall back!” I screamed at the top of my lungs so that I could be heard over the din of the battle raging around me, “upstairs, now!”

I hopped up into the air and commanded my own weapons to load my preciously scarce explosive rounds as I took up position to cover the retreat of the Republic ponies. Overlayed at the bottom of my vision was a scattering of crimson blips that corresponded with the armored figures charging towards me. I was committed now, it seemed. With a grimace at the wastage, and a sharply issued order, I swept the ground in front of the line of advancing Steel Rangers, creating bright green geysers of explosive energy to erupt in front of them. Many of those armored ponies balked at the sudden appearance of the strange new weapon, which bought us the precious seconds that we needed to get up the stairs.

Arginine and I were the last up, the large gray stallion erecting his shield once more as the Steel Rangers recovered from their initial shock and resumed shooting. The otherwise invisible barrier shimmered and sparkled with such ferocity that I was certain that it would give out at any moment. Judging from the strained expression on the unicorn’s face, it very well might have. Finally the Republic soldiers ascended to the second floor, and the pair of us were able to follow after them.

We charged up the stairs, only to find that the uniformed ponies had set up a small firing line, much like Ramparts’ original plan had called for. I snarled in frustration, “we have to keep going!”

The lieutenant’s head popped out into the hallway, followed soon by the rest of him, “the charges on this floor aren’t done being set yet,” he explained, “they have to be placed right, or it’s not going to work,” he quickly checked the magazines feeding into twin automatic rifles mounted to his battlesaddle and took up a position with his other ponies.

This hall was so narrow, and the Republic ponies so exposed, that there was no way most of them weren’t going to be obliterated by the first Steel Rangers to run up the stairs. I looked back around at Arginine, “put your shield up again and protect them,” I told the slate gray stallion.

His golden eyes narrowed at me and he said, “I care nothing for these invalids,” a sneer creased his features, “it’s your own death that affects me, not theirs’.”

I blinked at the stallion and then glared back at him. Without saying a word, I slowly and deliberately fluttered in front of the line of ready soldiers, placing myself between them and the soon-to-be-appearing Steel Rangers. The Republic ponies looked concerned and confused, while RG favored me with a baleful expression of his own. However, I did see his horn begin to glow. Satisfied, I nodded my head and fixed my gaze down the hallway, straightening up and throwing my wings open to either side.

“The rest of you should pull back as far as you can,” I warned, “this might not last very long.”

There was a long pause, and then Ramparts’ voice spoke, “into the cube farm,” he said in a low tone, “stay out of sight until it’s time to move up to the next flight.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” I heard the lieutenant ask in a louder voice meant for me.

I turned my head back and flashed the group of soldiers a wry smile that didn’t accurately reflect at all how I was feeling about this moment, “um, professional Wonderbolt here? I know what I’m doing,” I have no idea what I’m doing. This is so stupid.

“Let’s move, ponies,” Ramparts barked, and the group of soldiers cantered quickly out of sight, leaving only me and the large white-maned stallion standing in the hallway.

“Even my own powers are limited against the weaponry they can bring to bear,” RG cautioned me through gritted teeth, “I can hold the shield for only a few seconds if they start shooting.”

“‘Perfect pony’,” I scoffed at the stallion, though I was keen to keep his warning firmly in mind. To that end, I plucked one of the blue-banded grenades off of my barding and held it firmly in my mouth so that the Rangers wouldn’t miss sight of it. If anything should give them pause, it should be one of the few weapons that could quickly and effectively render them impotent in their magically-powered barding.

A pair of the armor-clad ponies charged up into view, energy weapons poised and primed to fire as they emerged into the hallway. However, they quickly skidded to a halt when they found a sight they hadn’t quite expected: a lone filly and an unarmed unicorn standing calmly in their way.

“This is your last chance, fellas,” I said around the stem of the apple-shaped grenade clutched in my teeth, “turn back now, or things’ll go bad for you.”

Another pair of Steel Rangers appeared from the lower floor, followed almost immediately by the uniquely proportioned Star Paladin Hoplite in his green accented helmet. He seemed rather curious why his other Rangers weren’t shooting at anything, and then he spotted me.

“You were foolish to remain, little filly,” the augmented voice grumbled as the barrel of the grenade launcher trained itself on my head, “and you should not have thrown your lot in with these Republic fools.”

“I haven’t thrown my ‘lot’ in with anypony,” I insisted, shaking my head before returning a defiant gaze at the towering armored figure, “I’m here to try and keep everypony alive. Go away, and you can help me do that, Hoplite. I don’t want to hurt any of you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.”

Oh, horseapples!

I flinched away as the Star Paladin’s weapon opened up, raking Arginine’s defensive barrier with a hail of fire. While his shield may have stopped the explosive rounds and kept the more lethal effects of their detonations from shredding the pair of us into pony mulch, they did shake the entire building. A wall of dense smoke formed, borne from the myriad of grenades. This cloud of smoke began crackling with red lightning shortly afterward as the other rangers opened fire with their energy weapons.

Then, with only a pained grunt as my warning, Arginine’s barrier disintegrated. A grenade whistled past me, missing my head by only a fraction of an inch. The cavitation of the air made me flinch all the same as my breath caught in my throat. That instinctive reaction may well have saved my life, as the sudden change in the position of my head meant that the bolt of crackling scarlet death that would have struck me squarely in the center of my forehead instead merely seared the right side of my face.

Even though I had not been directly struck by the lance of magical destruction, several scalding tendrils of the bolt reached out and raked themselves along my cheek and brow. My teeth clamped down as I snarled with the pain of it all in an effort not to openly scream and drop the spark-grenade clutched in my teeth. I flicked my head, my right eye squinted shut, as keeping it open caused only further pain, and felt the blue-banded grenade fly free of its stem.

“RG, go!” I yelled even as I let my body continue to spin with the throw of the grenade and flapped my wings fiercely to propel myself down the hall. Explosions rang out all around me as Hoplite’s grenades ricocheted off the walls and ceiling and eventually careened into something else at an angle sharp enough to trigger their detonators.

A low-frequency ‘THRUM’ and the sensation that every single strand of fur on my body was suddenly standing erect announced the detonation of the spark grenade, and for one blessed moment, the maelstrom of thunder and ruby lights abated. It lasted long enough for us to whip around through the same doorway that the rest of the Republic soldiers had used, and then I could hear Hoplite yelling out orders for additional Rangers behind him who had not had their barding momentarily disabled to advance onward.

I darted around the twists and turns or the maze of office desks and cardboard walls in what I sincerely hoped was the direction that the soldiers had gone in, Arginine cantering hot on my heels. His efforts to stay out of sight were laughable, of course, as the broad stallion towered over everything in the open area. It explained how the Rangers were able to so easily concentrate their fire on us as we ran.

Cubicle walls disintegrated, and computer terminals erupted into fountains of sparks and molten plastic as crimson bolts or energy sought us out amongst the office furniture. This was quickly answered by the familiar rattling of rifle rounds. The speedy orange darts of tracer rounds arced back over out heads in response to the Steel Rangers’ energy weapons, causing their shots to abate somewhat.

“Wonderbolt!” I heard Ramparts’ gruff voice yelling above the din, “this way!”

Taking a pretty significant risk for the sake of time, I leaped into the air and darted over the tops of the remaining cubicle walls. Arginine’s efforts to expedite his own withdrawal were just as effective, if far less graceful, as the large stallion simply charged through the aging barriers, tearing cleanly through them as he followed me.

The three of us galloped up the stairs in quick fashion as I fished the second of my two spark grenades from its retaining pouch on my barding. I then flipped out my wings and hopped back up into the air, flipped upside down and crouching down against the ceiling. Don’t ask me how exactly this worked, because I wasn’t an expert on what pegasi were capable of, oddly enough. I just sort of had the ability to ignore gravity when I placed my feet against a surface and put my mind to it. More than a few raiders had fallen victim to the concept of never bothering to look up when they were sure everypony would be at ground level.

I silently urged everypony else on ahead as I prepared the grenade and waited.

Two armored figures came into sight, charging up the stairs. I pulled the pin on the grenade and held it aloft, ready to drop. Then I was keenly aware of somepony’s head being very close to mine. Taken aback, I looked to the side, and saw the painted green helmet of Star Paladin Hoplite looking back at me. Right. He was a big pony.

“Uh...hi!” I waved the tip of my wing at the Steel Ranger, feeling my lips spread out in a strained grin even as I noticed the automatic grenade launcher pivoting in my direction, “You are, like, really tall,” he wouldn’t really fire that thing at this range, would he? He’d have to be crazy to―

Oh, right, the spark grenade!

The thought had barely formed in my head when the blue-banded bomb erupted while still being cupped in my wing. My whole body jolted from one end to the other and I found myself no longer able to maintain my precarious perch upon the ceiling. I tumbled down to the stairs below and managed to somehow not shatter my spine when I landed. I did hurt though, all over, and the scent of singed feathers filled my nostrils. I gave my wings a cursory glance with my good eye and confirmed that my previously pristine plumage was charred and blackened. Whether this was a superficial condition or a more serious injury was a determination that I was going to have to make much later. Right now, it was time to run!

The armored ponies around me remained motionless, sealed in their temporary steel-plated statues. I scrambled to my aching and tingling hooves and skittered down the hall in the direction of the others, whipping around into this floor’s array of small offices. Once more, I saw several ponies with their weapons trained on the doorway as Ramparts and another unicorn busily went about attaching what looked like bricks of clay to several columns.

I caught Arginine gaping at me and cocked my head, “you are injured.”

I arched my wing around and looked it over. It really didn’t look all that bad, and it barely hurt at all past what I could feel through my tingling nerves, “eh, I’m sure it’ll buff out. At worst I’ll just preen them and let new ones grow back in,” I said with a shrugged, tucking the blackened limb back into my side, “I’ve had worse.”

“Not your wing,” the unicorn corrected, shaking his head, “your eye.”

It was then that I recalled the near-miss with the magical energy beam. Cautiously, I tried to epon it, and almost immediately clenched my jaw and hissed as even that modest effort sent tendrils of pain radiating throughout my entire head. I reached up with a tentative hoof and began to gently prod around my right eye, noting the faint crackling sound, like wrinkling paper, that the touch created. There wasn’t any pain caused by my hoof brushing the surface, but the moment I applied even the slightest pressure, it was as though my face was on fire. I dipped my uninjured wing into my saddelbag and took out a healing potion. The pipbuck’s indicator didn’t suggest that I was all that badly hurt, but the purple fluid should help with whatever was wrong with my eye all the same.

I downed the potion, and I felt the discomfort ebb significantly. However, I still wasn’t able to open my eye successfully. Frowning, I grunted and put my mind to other things. There would be time enough later to worry about the damn eye. For now, I had more pressing concerns: like an squad of very pissed off Steel Rangers who would be coming into the room any minute.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, Ramps, but sooner would be better than later,” I called out the the earth pony lieutenant, “I’m out of spark grenades.”

“We’re going as fast as we can,” the Republic officer snapped, turning to glare at me. However, when he saw my face, whatever else he might have been about to say died away and his expression shifted to one of concern. Did I really look that bad? It was just a graze, I was fine. The earth pony swallowed, “almost done,” he nodded, turning back to help the unicorn he was working with place the finishing touches on that explosive and run over to another column.

I looked to Arginine, “put up one of your barriers over the doorway,” I jabbed my hoof back the way that we had come. The stallion frowned and shook his head, which prompted a growl from me, “do I have to stand out there in front of Celestia and everypony again? Because I will if you don’t cooperate and―”

“It is not a question of my unwillingness to cooperate,” the large gray pony said with a sharp sneer that curled his lip back, “my magic is exhausted for the moment save for the simplest of spells. Even my superior arcane abilities won’t last long against firepower of that magnitude!”

I grunted in frustration as I looked around the office for other options. My eyes swept over the collection of desks, chairs, and filing cabinets, “the furniture,” I said, “everypony pile the desks and stuff in the doorway, now!” it might not be magical, but enough outright crap in their way should at least delay the Rangers for a short while.

I hope…

We had only precious seconds to throw as much junk as we could get our hooves on at the opening leading to the corridor before the Rangers managed to reinitialize the powered armor that their peers wore. Once that happened, those mechanically assisted suits of steel were going to have little problem ripping through the mass of half-rotted wood and brittle plastics that we were cobbling together. It didn’t need to keep them out forever, of course. In fact, my plan sort of required the Steel Rangers to make it through and keep chasing us up at least the one more story before we could put them out of commission in a more permanent fashion.

Once the impromptu barricade was in place, the Republic soldiers took up firing positions further back. I joined their ranks, and reluctantly loaded those precious steel-cored rounds into the pair of submachine guns at my sides. Thus far, I had counted it as a small moral victory to have not killed any of the Steel Rangers thus far, and I was fairly confident that my plan to drop them down to the bottom of the building wouldn’t be especially lethal either. I wanted to get everypony out of this alive.

My ears perked as I heard the now all-too familiar whine of magical energy weapons discharging from beyond the pile of office furniture. I could feel the ponies to my left and right tense up noticeably, their mouth chomping at the triggers attached to their battlesaddles in anticipation of the impending firefight.

Then one of the ancient desks blew apart in a shower of splinters and smoke. Gunfire erupted to either side of me as the Republic ponies poured fire into the hole that had just been created. Flares of bright sparks announced the dozens of lead slugs that found their mark on the steel barding of the armored Rangers beyond. Lances of crimson light responded in kind, briefly illuminating the dim office interior with piercing ruby light before those deadly bolts gouged divotes in the wall behind our firing line.

For several long seconds, I simply stood there, watching it all happen. The raucous din of the automatic rifles to either side of me all but deafened my ears. Staring into the brilliant flashes of the energy weapons momentarily dazzles my vision with every bolt. It was one of the most disorienting moments that I had ever experienced in my entire life, and the anxiety was palpable. I was trapped inside of the cramped building, ponies to either side of me, and the threat of certain death darting past us, missing by mere inches, every half second. All it was going to take was for one of those bolts to strike a warm body, and it would all be over.

I engaged SATS.

The world around me slowed to a crawl. Scarlet beams of energy that would have normally crossed the room in less time than it took a pony to blink now moved at a leisurely trot. Brass casings tumbled casually through the air one after the other in some sort of oddly mesmerizing ballet. I moved my head slightly to the left as a bolt that arced particularly close to me meandered by, and I watched it etch a blackened divot into the plastered wall behind me.

Then I directed my eyes back at the Steel Rangers that were only barely visible through the smoky haze of the barricade’s remains. Ineffective orbs of semi-molten lead smeared themselves over their barding before sliding around and deflecting into the floor or ceiling, their barding completely unimpressed with the soft metal’s attempt to inflict harm. My own hypersonic pointed slugs of hardened steel would reap significantly different results if I used them on the Rangers. Those armored ponies were standing brazenly in the line of fire, in defiance of the efforts of these Republican ponies. There was every chance that the heavy rifle rounds could find the less well protected articulated joints, or even the anti-ballistic glass of their helmet’s visor; but those chances were small on the best of days. In this dimly lit room, through the obscuring haze that existed here and now, they were right to feel invulnerable.

But I could end more than a few of them. Under these same circumstances, I estimated that I had the rounds available to me to kill at least four of those Rangers. Nearly a third of Hoplite’s whole group. Killing was what I was good at, after all. Killing ponies was what I was born to do. My cutie mark told me so.

I queued up as many rounds as my pipbuck’s targeting system would allow me to. Then I paused for half a heartbeat...and fired.

Next to the thunderous pounding of the high-powered rifle rounds of the soldiers nearby, the higher pitched popping of my own weapons sounded positively anemic. Of course, it wasn’t the volume of your ‘boom’ that mattered, it was how sharp you ‘stick’ was; and mine had quite the point indeed. I watched, grimly, as my guns fired, tracking the ripples of cavitated air that the discharged rounds left in their wake. I watched as those steel cores shucked their softer copper sleeves as they hit and continued on through their targets as though nothing had been there to stop them at all.

Ravaged steel and plastic housing exploded outward. Gemstones shattered and spilled to the ground. In a few instances, there were even small magically charged eruptions that left little more than dust behind in their wake. In all, I succeeded in either completely destroying or at the very least disabling five of the Rangers’ energy weapons.

My destiny be damned. Today, I was going to be The Wonderbolt, and not Windfall the Born Killer.

The suddenly silenced energy weapons, and the couple of outright bursts of energy seemed to give the Steel Rangers pause enough to pull back out of sight while they sorted themselves out. I very quickly ordered my weapons to swap over to my sapphire tipped ammunition. I had very few of those rounds left, and they’d only inconvenience the power-armored ponies, but I was completely out of my explosive rounds, and now I had only a couple dozen of the armor-piercing variety left. Once these spark round were exhausted, I’d be left with only my own ball rounds and some hollow-points. Both of which would do less than nothing against the barding that I was up against.

“We’re good!” Rampart’s voice announced over the now more sporadic suppressing fire from the Republic soldiers, “everypony move out!”

We pulled back up the stairs as quickly as we could. I felt an immense wash of relief as we made it to the top floor of the office building. We would soon be done with the fighting.

Unlike the other floors, this one was not a collection of cubicles and communal offices. This was the floor that had been reserved for the company’s bigwigs. Spacious personal offices with placards that boasted impressive sounding titles ringed a massive conference table that was surrounded by what had once surely been very plush and comfortable chairs. Though, after two hundred years, a significant amount of rot and decay had set into the upholstery.

The earth pony officer barked out orders for his ponies to spread out and make certain that they stayed clear of the middle of the room. Most of them took shelter in the enclosed personal offices. This included myself, RG, and Ramparts, who sequestered ourselves in the office that was placed opposite the entrance to the floor. I glimpsed the placard on the door as we darted through it: LIGHTNING DUST, CEO

We closed the door behind us. Ramparts leaned up against it, craning his head so that he could peer through a gap in the frosted glass of the door. In his hooves I could see a device with a glowing red light that reminded me of the detonator associated with Arginine’s collar. All we had to do now was wait for the Rangers to charge up here, and then bury them in the building’s rubble.

I let out a breath that I hadn’t realized that I’d been holding and felt a lot of tension flow out of my joints. I could leave everything else in the hooves of the Republic soldiers from this point on. My eye wandered over the interior of the office that had once belonged to the pony that run this place. It had the expected trappings of a sedentary work environment that weren’t all that surprising. However, there was one particular item that did grab my attention.

At the far end of the office was a tall glass enclosure which contained what appeared to be a set of robotic wings with what I could only describe as rockets attached to them. They looked utterly ridiculous. Naturally, I needed a closer look at them. On my way to the display case, I noticed several framed pictures that had been prominently hung on the wall nearby. Every single one of them featured a teal pegasus mare with a golden streaked mane grinning at the camera, and she was frequently holding up some award or medal of some sort. I had to stop and stare more closely at one of the pictures, which showed the mare wearing Wonderbolt barding. There was only the one though; she was without the uniform in all of the others. In fact, now that I was looking more closely at them, I noticed that the pegasus appeared much younger in nearly every single one of those pictures than she did in the one where she was a Wonderbolt.

Only one other photo pictured her at around that same age or older, and it was an image of the mare standing with a group of other ponies in business suits above a headline that announced the opening of the factory that we were all currently standing in. There was also one other detail I noticed about that teal pegasus in the photo: she had only one wing.

My eyes went to a glass cupboard located behind the spacious desk which held all of the physical awards which were pictured in these frames. After a brief scan, I found what I had half expected to see: a purple heart with the embossed golden portrait of Princess Celestia, ‘For Wounds Received in Service to the Princesses’. I could only guess at how short Miss Lightning Dust’s military career had been. It seemed that she had at least moved on with her life though. Good for her.

Again I looked to the metal wings which held a place of prominence in the office. This was surely the culmination of a great undertaking by this company to be featured like this. I stepped closer and examined them, noting a simple engraved placard at the bottom: ‘Gale Force X2000WP’. I presumed that was the name assigned to the contraption before me. The I noticed that there was a picture near that placard showing Lightning Dust herself with this device strapped on.

So, these were supposed to be something that allowed an otherwise flightless pony to get into the air, huh? I frowned and narrowed my gaze at the device. No, that wasn’t...entirely accurate. There were clearly visible straps on the underside of the steel pinions which clearly could only have been meant to be attached to the natural wings of a pegasus or maybe even a griffon. In any case, this wasn’t explicitly for earth ponies or unicorns. It wasn’t just a set of wings either, there was a whole lattice of claps and wires that were intended to be attached to a pony’s forelegs. What they were for, I could only guess. It was clear that this had been intended as more than a simple prosthesis though.

My attention was suddenly drawn to Ramparts as I noticed the earth pony suddenly grow more tense. His hoof hovered over the button for the detonator, his eyes glued to his peephole. My ears perked as I heard the heavy metallic sounds of the Steel Rangers outside walking around.

Then Hoplite’s deep voice drifted through the door, “spread out and find them! Bring that damn pegasus to me; I’m going to pluck that filly myself!”

I frowned. Seriously? ‘Plucking’? Why did that seem like the go-to threat that ponies used when plotting ways to torture me? I could think of, like, a dozen other things that would be a whole lot worse than having my feathers ripped out. It’s not like I didn’t lose most of the damn things every year when I molted anyway. If they really wanted to hurt me, they could―

“Then I’ll rip her wings off and make an earth pony out of her!”

...yeah. That would do it. I would definitely not like that very much. Well played, Hoplite. Well played.

Mister Hoplite was not doing much to endear themselves to me right now, “any time you’re ready, Ramps,” I murmured to the brown earth pony, drawing a brief look of annoyance from the stallion before he grunted and depressed the button on the transmitter that he was holding.

There was a deafening explosion, that shook the building, and I felt the whole floor beneath my hooves heave. Then there was a half a heartbeat of silence and stillness that lasted just long enough for me to begin to wonder if something hadn’t gone wrong with the detonation. Then there was a second, much more violent, explosion that threw wood and plaster and bits of conference table into the air around the Steel Rangers. The floor beneath them vanished, swallowing the armor-clad ponies down into a dense cloud of debris. It wasn’t just the Rangers that were drawn down either.

The three of us scrambled back away from the door as the office floor beneath us began to sag. The door and most of the wall leading to the conference area outside disintegrated and collapsed, leaving us to stare into the cavernous emptiness that now existed where the interior of an office building had been. Ors was not the only hiding place to suffer either. The face of nearly all of the enclosed offices had been peeled away, allowing us to see the surprised and concerned expressions on the faces of all of the Republic soldiers.

What I couldn’t see were any Steel Rangers. Cautiously, I crept to the edge of the abyss that had just been created and peered down. The air was still churning with so much dust that I couldn’t actually see anything of note through it, but my pipbuck’s overlay allowed me to glimpse the status of the Rangers that had fallen. I had never bothered to take a hard count before, and a couple of the blips were too close together to even get a firm number now; but it was clear that at least most of the ponies had indeed survives. I couldn’t fathom any of them getting up anytime soon though.

“I think that did it,” I noted, glancing back briefly at Lieutenant Ramparts as he joined me at the lip of the casm.

“You might be right,” the stallion nodded. His eyes scanned the scene below with a scrutiny that suggested he could make out a lot more detail than he should have been. Then I recalled that this pony also wore a pipbuck. He could see the blips just as clearly as I could.

“This is your chance to get your ponies out of here,” I pointed out, “they won’t be down for long. If you’re far enough away, they probably won’t go after you.”

“Probably,” he nodded. Then he glanced across the gaping hole, “Picatinny! Find Cypher’s radio and see if you can get a message out to Watch Tower. The rest of you, get down there and secure those prisoners!”

“Prisoners?” I gaped, caught off guard by the order he had given, “hey, wait a minute, I didn’t do this so you could take prisoners! You’re supposed to get away and go back to Seaddle!”

The brown stallion looked at me, “I’m grateful for your help, but I’m not going to throw away an opportunity like this. One of those Rangers is a Star Paladin. Their barding will have the latest encryption codes for their comms and their most recent deployment plans. That’s in addition to whatever they may know personally. I can’t let this chance slip through my hooves. It could turn the tide in the war,” he edged closer to the hole and searched for a way down, “you had a good idea there, kid. The Republic owes you a great debt.”

My heart sank as I watched the stallion leap down. This wasn’t what I had intended. Nopony was supposed to be anypony’s prisoner. Everypony was supposed to get back home.

“You do not looked pleased.”

I glanced back at the large gray stallion standing behind me, “I’m not. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“You achieved victory over a superior enemy force and sustained no casualties and only moderate injury to yourself,” Arginine noted, “this was a commendable achievement. It could not have gone better, in my estimation.”

“The Republic soldiers were supposed to go home,” I said, “not take the Rangers prisoner.”

“They seek to learn from their foe.”

I winced, recalling how the stallion’s own kind sought to ‘learn’ from the ponies who dwelt in the Wasteland. Given what I’d learned from Foxglove of the state that she’d found Jackboot in when she’s rescued him from Republic captivity, I idly wondered how differently these soldiers were likely to go about ‘learning’ from the Rangers.

My head hung low. I’d just...I’d wanted things to be better for everypony. Why couldn’t they be better…?

“Hey, watch out!”

The surprised outburst was followed almost immediately by a few sporadic gunshots and then the sound of something soft and fleshy being dropped from a tall building. I snapped my head up just in time to see a Republic mare go sailing through the air, vanishing beyond my line of sight into one of the offices, followed by the shattering of glass and furniture. My eyes wide with surprise, I looked back down into the cavernous opening that had been created. The dust had since settled, and I could now clearly see three uniformed Republic soldiers circling around a lanky figure clad in power armor, wearing a painted green helmet.

Hoplite was not the sort to be kept down for long, it seemed.

His barding was scuffed and dented in ways which it had not been before, and the Ranger’s automatic grenade launcher was a complete wreck. However, that did not seem to be of any concern to the absurdly tall pony, who was taking full advantage of the close quarters and his hydraulic-assisted limbs. The three soldiers with him, which included Ramparts, were scrambling to get out of his reach, but the uneven terrain presented by the mound of rubble the collapse had created was severely hampering their efforts. As I watched, one unfortunate stallion was swept aside, their body colliding heavily with one of the few remaining intact columns holding up the building. He fell limply to the floor and did not make any move to get back up.

They were going to be torn apart, I realized.

I had to act fast, “load spark rounds five round burst both barrels fire!” the servos of my weapons whirred and whined as they worked to comply with my orders, and then ten tiny sapphire motes of light splattered themselves all over Hoplite’s right hindquarter. The joint seized up for a brief few seconds, instantly hobling the lanky stallion.

Ramparts seemed to have recently acquired enough discretion to not want to push his luck any further than he just had. He and the other soldier scampered out of the Steel Ranger’s reach, collecting their fallen comrade as they went. Meanwhile, the Star Paladin turned his helmet’s stern gaze up to me.

Well, at least I was up here, and he was all the way down there. Realistically there shouldn’t be any way for him to get up here―

Hoplite raised an armored hoof. A moment later, a quartet of articulated digits sprang out from well-hidden recesses in the barding. Every other limb followed suit, and then he launched himself at the side of the casm, and began to claw his way up to me.

“Oh, come on!” I cried out in consternation. That was cheating!

My outrage was short lived, however, as it seemed that the Star Paladin could move in this fashion with startling speed. I had only enough time to process my sense of aggravation at the discovery of the previously hidden ability before the armored pony’s head and upper torso shot up in front of me.

“Your interference stops here, pegasus!” the distorted voice snarled just as one of them articulated hooves shot out and wrapped their strong steel digits around my throat. Another arced out and took hold of my scorched wing, twisting it up painfully. He really was going to rip off my wings!

“Furlarughfur!” I gurgled in an effort to issue an order to my guns. Of course, even as I got out the garbled words, I knew that the command would go unheeded. Before my panic could overwhelm me, I engaged SATS and bypassed the need for audible orders by using the mental ones that the pipbuck processed instead. I wasn’t going to be able to empty the magazines like I had initially intended, but a couple dozen bullets were better than none!

Indigo bursts peppered the Star Paladin’s chest, but it did nothing to release the grip that he had on me unfortunately. I did notice that most of his body seemed to have seized up though. The muffled screams of outrage that were echoing from the confines of the green helmet without the aid of the speaker system suggested that I had disabled quite a few of the Ranger barding’s systems.

I mentally cocked my head. Was it me, or did Hoplite’s voice not sound nearly as deep as I had expected it to?

The floor started creaking, which drew my thoughts back to more pressing concerns. The Ranger might have been frozen still, but it seemed that they were still going quite a bit more moving than I would have liked. Specifically, the floor was about to give way and send us both off the edge. While Hoplite would certainly be relatively unscathed, encased in his armor like he was, I was less optimistic about how I would fair from the experience.

I backpedaled as best I could, but there was simply no way that I was going to be able to hold up what was more than likely over a thousand pounds of Steel Ranger power armor all on my own. This...was going to be painful.

My vision filled with a golden aura. Metal screamed and protested as those articulated digits were folded back off of my throat and wing. Then a brilliant topaz ball slammed into the Steel Ranger’s chest and sent Hoplite tumbling back down the chasm. I looked back in the direction that the large glowing orb had come from, and spied Arginine, panting and glaring in the direction of the hole.

“Thanks,” I nodded. I bit my lip, looking out to where Hoplite had fallen. He wasn’t going to be down for long. I needed to get down there while I could and―ouch!

I hissed, looking sharply at my contorted wing, which had sent spasms of pain through my body just as I’d started to flex it in anticipation of gliding down to the rubble below. I wasn’t going to be doing any flying on this thing, and there was no way that I intended to fight Hoplite without being able to dart through the air. This wasn’t the sort of thing that a healing potion was going to be able to cure either. The amount of Med-X that I’d need to dull the pain enough to be able to use my wing would also make me too numb to be able to fly, so that was out. Unless I could locate a new pair of wings around here somewhere, I was grounded!

I looked back at the glass case. Gale Force X2000WP, huh? Well, I sure hope those things went through some product testing, “RG, help me get into this thing,” I trotted over to the display and shattered it with a deft punch.

“Do you even know how to operate it?” the large gray stallion asked as he stepped up beside me and picked up the contraction with his telekinesis.

“They’re wings, I’m a pegasus, I can figure it out,” I assured him, though Arginine’s expression suggested that he was less than sure about my line of reasoning. Seriously though, this thing should be simple enough to figure out. It used magic or technology or some combination thereof to help ponies fly. Considering that they seemed to have been designed by a pegasus to be used by other pegasi, I could only assume that she would make it a fairly intuitive process.

I had to sacrifice my submachine guns to fit the thing, but considering I was just about out of all of the varieties of ammunition that would help me in this fight, it wasn’t a huge loss. I hadn’t quite figured out how I was going to fight Hoplite without guns, but that was a problem to solve once I was airborne. When the last of the straps was tightened, and everything seemed to have been fitted properly, I looked around to appraise the setup. I had initially thought that the wings were made of steel, but they felt way too light for that to be the case. Foxglove would probably be the pony to ask if I wanted to know what they were really made out of.

The two rockets or engines or whatever were nestled up on my back, cradled between the joints of the metal wings. They seemed to be mounted on some sort of pivot as well, and not fixed in place. I wasn’t perfectly clear on how I was supposed to control them, and I didn’t see how actually flapping these wings was supposed to be any better than using my own natural wings. Never mind that the whole idea was that I couldn’t flap one of them. Come to think of it, that Lightning Dust mare couldn’t have either. So then how…?

“Are you ready for it to be turned on?”

I blinked at the stallion, “it needs to be turned on?” yeah, okay, that sounded a lot more stupid out loud than it had in my head. I winced and nodded, “go for it,” I locked my gaze straight ahead and spread out my legs to give myself a more stable platform. I wasn’t entirely sure what was going to happen after all.

The moment Arginine activated the device, I felt the metal wings stiffen and spread out to their full width. At that same moment, there was a hushed whining sound that grew louder and louder until it had nearly passed beyond a frequency that I could hear.

That was it.

Nothing else happened. Frowning, I craned my head around and examined the contraption. It was illuminated with a lot of flickering lights now, suggesting that it was powered up. Whether or not it was working properly, I had no idea. I reached up with one of my forehooves to pat down the straps and make sure everything was in place. This thing might have some sort of safety or―

My right wing curled around in front of me. I froze in place and blinked. Cautiously, I put my hoof back on the ground again, and watched the wing slowly straighten out once more. Okay. So that explained how they moved, I thought, looking down at the harnesses encasing my forelegs. But how does it actually fly…?

Experimentally, I hopped up into the air. Instantly, the metal wings were enveloped in blue light and those engines on my back thrummed to life like they hadn’t before. Arginine took several prudent steps back, looking rather concerned, “I would appreciate it if you would see fit not to get yourself killed,” I looked back at the stallion and cocked an eyebrow. Was he concerned about me? “It seems unfair that I should die because you are inexcusably reckless,” nope.

I grinned at him, “relax, I’ve got this!” I raised my hoof and threw a mock salute at the stallion...which promptly set me rolling in place as my wing folded in and one of the engine’s pivoted. I immediately shot the leg back out into a neutral position, but even in that brief second, I had managed to roll myself nearly a half dozen times. The rest of the world took a little longer to settle down again. I smiled sheepishly at Arginine. The stallion swallowed and went to go sit down.

In any case, I had an absurdly lanky pony to take down before he killed everypony. Now…‘forward’ should work like...yup!

I slowly extended my hooves in front of me and felt myself moving forward. Sure enough, this was going to be a sinch! I put my legs out fully straight ahead―and very quickly regretted it.

That Lightning Dust had either been completely insane, or else she’d had a fucking death wish! Before I had time to realize that I’d made a aeronautical error, I was on the other side of that damn gap in the building and heading for a wall at the speed of ‘SPLAT!’ It was a straight up miracle that I’d managed to get myself turned around and tuck into a ball before impact, forcing the flight suit to take the brunt of the impact. When I was brave enough to open my eyes again, I was cradled in a newly formed nook in the drywall that was perfectly Windfall sized. With only a moderate amount of struggling, I was able to popped myself out of the impromptu cubby and get back onto my hooves.

Okay. So...never do that again. Got it.

The sound of straining hydraulics and shifting rubbled rumbling up from below suggested that Hoplite’s barding had finished sorting itself out. I could have done with a few more hours―or more preferably weeks―of learning how this damn death trap worked, but it turned out that I lived in an imperfect Wasteland.

“Alright. Let’s try this again, and without the crashing this time…” I grumbled as I hopped up into the air once more and felt the wings engage to suspend me above the floor. I prodded my forelegs forward and was gingerly propelled out into the open area where an office building’s interior had once been.

Hoplite was indeed once more mobile. His long neck craned around and the Star Paladin peered up at me. Even through the opaque visor, I could feel the pony’s raw hatred for me. Well, I’m not feeling particularly fond of you either, asshole! In fact, a lot of ponies had pissed me off recently, truth to tell. Time to take out a little of that mounting frustration.

I tucked in my wings and dove at the Steel Ranger. He lunged for me with those articulated hooves of his, but it was filly’s play to weave in between his cumbersome thrusts. I zipped past him, delivering a couple of bucks to his barding as I swooped past. I cringed, feeling the reverberations in my bones and knowing already that simple hoof-strikes weren’t going to me enough. I whirled around and my expression blanched as I saw an armored hind hoof coming at me. Right. Really lanky pony. Really long reach. Oops.

Reflexively, I brought my forelegs up in front of my face to fend off the blow. Looking back, the instinctive block would just have meant that all of the bones in my arms were going to be broken when the strike landed. Fortunately, I had a new set of metal wings that moved to curl in front of me as well. They resisted the impact with a resounding ‘CLANG!’ and I felt the thrusters on my back flare up as they poured on the extra power needed to keep me soundly in place. The result was that it was Hoplite who was staggered by the blow instead.

I blinked, lowering my hooves, and looking out at the consternating Steel Ranger in front of me who was struggling to regain his balance, “this is awesome!” I said, executing a brief twirl as I looked at my new wings, “I am so keeping these thi―uh oh!”

Hoplite went sailing through the air where I had been only a second before. I, on the other hoof, ended up embedded in the ceiling amid a collected of foam tiles and light fixtures. Alright, so these wings weren’t perfect. The accelerator was a little touchy, for one thing...but, beggars couldn’t be choosers, could they? I pried myself out of the drop-ceiling and peered at the ground. Hoplite had recovered from the near-miss as well and was currently clambering up the side of the chasm with startling speed. What the hell kind of pony was he, anyway?!

More importantly: how was I supposed to stop him?

I darted down and zipped away from the Star Paladin. My hooves weren’t going to do anything at all, but I couldn’t just keep this up all day either…

Hoplite stopped mid-climb, turning their head to glare at me through their helmet, “you can’t keep this up forever, little filly!”

“Stay out of my head, creep!” I shot back. To further accentuate my point, I cocked my hooves back in the fighting stance that I had developed for myself, based off of the many lessons that Jackboot had taught me, but tweaked for an airborne pony. A pair of servos engaged to either side of my head, and I felt something move through the wings. I glanced out of the corner of my eyes and felt my expression shift slowly from curiosity, to surprise...to mirth.

“Sooo...awesome!”

I shot my hooves out and darted at the armored pony. He lashed out with a hoof, but I rolled casually around it and drew up just short of his chest. Then, with a deft twirl, I raked his barding with the edges of those alloyed wings...and the foot and a half long razors that had extended along their edges. Metal screamed and sparks flew as those honed edges met the sturdy power armor. Hoplite made another grab for me, and I looped around the steel-encased leg, gouging it as I did so.

Unfortunately, the effort to damage the Ranger’s barding meant that I was improperly positioned to evade the third strike. Something big, heavy, and metal, caught me in my side and sent me tumbling through the air. I skipped off the rubbled twice before I was able to right myself. The engines on my back flared, holding me aloft and I spun to face Hoplite once more. I could taste blood beginning to pool in my mouth. Hopefully, it was just from a split lip.

My eyes studied the Steel Ranger’s barding. I could see the grooves that I had carved into their armor with my cuts, but they didn’t look particularly deep. Judging by the glistening cloudy fluid trickling down their left leg, I had at least managed to nick something mechanically vital there. I couldn’t keep up this sort of exchange though. I was hurting pretty good.

“It’s over, Hoplite!” I snarled at the armored pony, “you’re squad’s buried under a whole damn building, and the Republic soldiers are escaping!” I really hoped they were, at any rate…

“Just stop!”

“Never!” the Ranger screamed. He charged at me, his stride hobbled slightly as the damaged limb of his power barding refused to function properly. He was still frightfully fast in this crippled state though, and I was hard-pressed to evade his lunge. I delivered a couple of passing cuts as he passed, and only just managed to duck beneath a kick that could have put me out of the fight, “I won’t be defeated by a mere filly who thinks she is something she’s not!”

“And what do you think you are?!” I snapped back, soaring up as high as the confines of the building’s interior would permit, “that looks like the symbol of a dead relic from the Old World on your flank. You don’t actually think you’re fighting for what they represented, do you?”

“We are rebuilt,” the Star Paladin snarled, glaring up at me, “with a new purpose! We will prevent the Wasteland from making the mistakes of the past. You wear one of those mistakes even now,” he chided, launching himself up and grabbing onto the crumbling walls as he climbed higher towards me, “do you even realize what it is that uniform represents?”

“They were heroes,” I said defiantly, floating carefully out of reach of the ascending stallion, “they pledged their lives to protect ponies. They’d never fight a war against them, like you’re doing!”

“Pfft!” the armored pony scoffed derisively, “they were fools! They cared more for flashy suits and acrobatic prowess than skill at arms. When it came time to save ponies from even the most basic of threats, they faltered at every turn! They had to be disbanded because their name was so tainted with failure in the opening days of the war!”

Hoplite leaped up at me, and I slipped out of the way. However, they did not arc back down towards the ground immediately, instead latching onto the ceiling. They kicked out with their hind legs, and I only just barely managed to cover myself with my alloyed wings before the blow landed. It glanced off, sending me twirling through the air, and I only managed to stop myself just before I hit the ground.

When I looked up, the Star Paladin was falling straight at me. For half a heartbeat, I thought about evading, but dismissed the notion. I wasn’t going to win this fight by running. Instead, I covered myself with my wings and threw out my hooves. The engines mounted on my back roared and I shot up to meet the incoming armored pony. We collided in midair with a deafening ring of metal on metal. The straps holding my into the harness strained audibly as momentum worked against them.

We fell as a single entity, crashing into the rubble below. I groaned, and tried to stand up and depart so that I could reform a strategy to use against the stallion. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it very far. While Hoplite had clearly suffered for the blow as well, he was able enough to latch onto one of my hind legs with his left hoof and keep me from getting far.

I turned my head around to glare at the armored stallion, “then I guess I’m just ‘rebuilding’ them,” I said through clenched teeth, With a few desperate swings of my alloyed wings, I slashed at the exposed and slightly more thinly armored belly of the lanky Steel Ranger. Gouges appeared, but I still wasn’t able to fully penetrate through to the pony beneath the barding. Then another limb snaked around me and clutched me up against the armored chest, restricting my movements.

“You, like they, are a failure, little filly,” the distorted voice whispered in my ear, “you will rebuild nothing!”

Any retort I might have come up with was killed in my throat as the Star Paladin compressed my chest too tightly for me to breathe. He was going to literally squeeze the life right out of me, i realized! I struggled and squirmed as best I could, but I couldn’t hope to overcome the mechanically assisted grip of the Steel Ranger. It wasn’t very long at all before I felt my vision starting to blur and darken due to the lack of air. The pipbuck’s overlay was starting to flash with all sorts of warning as well. There just wasn’t anything I could do though! Hoplite had me dead to rights, pressed with my back up against his chest like it was…

...the engines!

I threw out both of my hooves.

There was a roar, and my backside suddenly felt very hot. Behind me, Hoplite let out a scream and the arms that had been holding me immediately released me. I was free to make my escape!

Or I could end this fight, I realized.

I latched onto the Star Paladin’s foreleg, much to Hoplite’s confusion, I’m sure, and extended only a single hoof. The left engine thrummed to life and I heard the Ranger cry out once more through the speaker system of their helmet, even as it was enveloped with blue fire from the powerful thruster mounted to my back. I maintained my grip as long as I could; all the while Hoplite made numerous attempted to scrape off the little annoying filly that was roasting his face. An alarm started the blare in my ear. I idly pondered what it could mean when, a moment later, the engine died out and the wings suddenly felt a lot heavier.

My pipbuck flashed a massage in the upper right corner of my vision: ‘GALE FORCE X2000WP: POWER DEPLETED’

Well, horseapples.

One of Hoplite’s hits finally dislodged me while I was distracted by the unhappy message. A solid strike to the side of my face concussed me enough that the Ranger was able to throw me aside. I didn’t even manage to prevent myself from tumbling through the rubble. Groggily, I clambered back up onto unsteady hooves and shook my head, wincing at the pain that caused. I took up a defensive posture and glared in the direction of the Star Paladin.

He didn’t seem to be particularly interested in fighting me at the moment though. Instead, he was busily clawing at his helmet with his hooves. I could imagine why: that thing was glowing orange in a few places, and looked considerably warped from how it had appeared before. Those thrusters seemed to have done a number on it. Too bad I wasn’t going to be able to repeat that performance. It looked like whatever it was that had powered all facets of these wings was done for. They didn’t even move with my hooves anymore. The blades were still extended though. I guess there hadn’t even been enough juice left to retract them.

Only the one wing would move without painful protest though. I let it hang limp at my side while I kept the other ready to shield me from Hoplite’s next attack. Grounded and crippled. This was not an ideal tactical situation.

The Star Paladin finally managed to get their destroyed helmet removed. This was my opportunity, I realized! I finally had access to the vulnerable pony within the armor! As their helmet came away, I charged ahead. By the time to useless hunk of slag that had been protecting their head was tumbling along the ground, I was at their side, my good wing pressing the sharp blade of my alloyed wings against the throat of the…

...huh.

I blinked several times as I stared at the face of Star Paladin Hoplite, who, it turned out, was not a pony stallion like I had initially thought. Indeed, I got the impression that they weren’t actually even a stallion.

“You’re a ghoul…”I found myself saying quietly. For now that I had a look at the being beneath the armor, there was no doubt as to what the leathery flesh and scattered patches of fur around those milky brown eyes could mean.

“And you’re very observant,” Hoplite responded in the gravelly voice typically associated with her dedicated ilk, but it was too high a pitch to have been from a stallion, “any other ‘revelations’ you’d like to share?”

“You’re a mare.”

“Two for two,” she answered caustically, “though I think I should feel insulted by that one,” her hard milky gaze shifted slightly, “care to go for the hat trick?”

“You’re...not a pony,” for there was no way that she could be one. If anything, her ghoulish looks confirmed that beyond any doubt. The proportions of her face were all wrong. Her muzzle was too long, and her cheeks too narrow. Either she was more of a mutant than Arginine was somehow, or Hoplite simply wasn’t a member of any of the pony races.

The Star Paladin snorted, “that’s a foul tip, at best, filly. Too bad; you were on a roll,” her eyes darted briefly to the keen blade that was being pressed rather pointedly up beneath her jawline, “so...now what?”

I still had more than a few questions, but they could wait, “now it’s over,” I said simply, “you lose, I win. Now I get to set terms,” Hoplite’s eyes narrowed, but she raised no overt objections to any of those statements, “you, and all your Rangers: leave. Agreed?”

The not-a-pony took several long, deep, breaths, her eyes looking between me, the honed blade against her throat, and the ruined office building around her, before she finally sighed and nodded her head slightly, “...agreed.”

I retracted my wing from her neck and took a few steps back from from the lanky ghoul. Then my hackles shot up on end as the sound of a rifle cocking echoed across the rubble. I cautiously turned my head to see Ramparts and one of his soldiers standing a few yards back, their weapons trained on us. No, that wasn’t right. They were trained on Hoplite.

“The Republic thanks you, Wonderbolt. Now, please, step aside. We can take it from here.”

The Star Paladin stiffened, and I could feel her baleful glare upon the three of us. I hadn’t said anything about surrendering to the Republic, and now she was feeling rightfully betrayed. Given the position I’d had her in, I could likely have gotten her to agree to an unconditional surrender, but that wasn’t what I had asked for, was it? I turned around and stepped directly in between the pair of uniformed soldiers and the Ranger, narrowing my gaze at Ramparts.

“Drop your weapons,” I growled at the pair of soldiers, “now!”

The earth pony officer balked at the command, “...what? No,” she shook his head, returning a stern look of his own, “the Republic has jurisdiction here. We are taking these prisoners back to Seaddle. Now, stand aside, or we’ll have no choice but to take you into custody as well.

“I don’t want to have to do that.”

To Ramparts’ credit, that last comment at least sounded like it could have been sincere. I sneered at the pair of Republic ponies, “‘take me into custody’?” I snorted, “after everything you just saw here, do you really think you could?” I noticed the mare beside the lieutenant shift uneasily on her hooves at my words. I seized the opportunity.

I charged ahead at the pair of armed ponies. The mare bit down on hit trigger bit, more as a gut reaction to danger than in any sort of malice directed at me specifically. I flipped an armored wing in front of my face, and felt the copper-jacketed slugs ricochet off of the alloyed metal and go zipping harmlessly off into the distance. The moment the burst of gunfire ended, I flung both of my wings out to either side, the adrenaline rushing through my veins dulling the pain in my injured wing down to barely tolerable levels. I hopped up and flipped over the mare, slicing at her withers with the blades attached to my wings. I continued the acrobatic maneuver, rolling up into Ramparts’ side in a singular fluid motion that ended with my right wing curled around the back of his neck, and the edge of the keenly honed edge digging pointedly into his jugular.

I jabbed a pinion at the mare, who was looking blankly at the pieces of her battlesaddle and the rifles that it had held laying at her hooves, “don’t move a muscle!” I snapped. The mare closed her gaping mouth with an audible chomp, and nodded curtly. Then I leaned in close to Ramparts, who was starting to angle his chin up into the air to relieve the pressure from the sharpened edge poking into him. I simply tightened the grip with my wing and made sure he stayed mindful of the threat, “are you ready to talk about this like a rational pony now; or do we have to do this the hard way?” I asked through gritted teeth.

Ramparts’ throat visibly bobbed and he choked out a, “we can talk,” he did not sound particularly happy. Tough. I wasn’t happy with anypony here either.

“Good,” I loosened my grip, but before I stepped away completely, I swiped at his side with my wing and watched the battlesaddle fall away. I heard the crumbling of wood and plaster, and saw that a couple of the other Steel Rangers were just now starting to recover from their ordeal. A few, I noticed, seemed to have their own armaments intact.

“Hoplite, are you’re Rangers going to be a problem as well?” I asked, pointedly flexing my bladed wings.

The Star Paladin flashed a wry smirk, as though she was tempted to capitalize on her forthcoming reinforcements. Fortunately, she seemed to at least have a modicum of honor about her and she raised up an armored hoof, “Rangers, stand down,” the few armored ponies that had pried themselves from the rubble seemed unsure at first.

“Why don’t you help the rest of your buddies while the grown-ups talk,” I snarled at those uncertain Rangers. That seemed to do the trick, and they diverted their attention to sifting through the rubble for their comrades. I looked between Ramparts and Hoplite, “can we talk like grown-ups now? Is that a thing we can do?”

I was met with silence from both ponies, which I actually took as a good sign. As vocal as this pair had been up until now, I was fairly confident they’d speak up if they felt I was treading on sore hooves, “alright then, here’s the deal: I get that none of you likes the idea of surrendering to each other. Fine. The way I see it, you both just surrendered to me anyway. Which means I get to set the terms of your release.”

“Now wait just a―” the mare beside Ramparts began to protest, but it was actually her own lieutenant that raised a hoof and silenced her.

“We did just sort of surrender,” he nodded back at their discarded weaponry. The mare huffed but said nothing else. The earth pony stallion nodded for me to continue, as did Hoplite.

“Awesome,” I said in a flat tone, sparing a brief glare at the mare that had interrupted, “here are my terms: you both leave. Each of you collects your respective ponies, and you go to your respective homes. Full Stop. End of story,” I didn’t see any particularly rebellious looks from any of the ponies, not even the Republic mare. Now let’s see if that held true for the second part of my ultimatum.

“Furthermore,” already I had drawn a couple of frowns, “this little war of yours? It stops,” oh yeah, there was some serious frowning going on now, “this valley has enough problems without you two going at each other’s throats,” I shot a piercing look at Hoplite, who looked like she was going to be the first to voice an objection, “yeah, I get it, they stole something very important from you,” I jerked my head in the direction of the Republic soldiers, holding up a pinion to forestall their own rebuts. I’d get to them soon enough, “and like I said before: I’ve got some pull in Seaddle, and I’m going to see what I can do about it. Tell your boss or whoever that the Rangers need to stay away from Seaddle until they hear from me, okay?

“And you,” I turned now to look at Ramparts and his subordinate, “you’re going to tell Ebony Song that my price for the mission he sent me on just went up! We’ll work on the details when I get back, but if he wants his ‘special weapons’, that audience with Princess Luna isn’t going to cut it anymore. And, just like the Rangers, the Republic is staying put in Republic territory, got it? No more of this recon bullshit!

“This valley has much bigger things to worry about than this little squabble you two have going on, got it?!” I favored all three ponies with a glare, “the fighting will stop, and there will be peace; even if I―”

The high-pitched whine of a discharging energy rifle ripped through the building. My head whipped around just in time to see the brilliant crimson bolt streaking towards me. Moving at the speed of light, I wasn’t going to be able to avoid it in time.

It turned out that I didn’t need to. A veil of gold descended in front of me, and that deadly lance of magical light dissipated harmlessly into the ether. From his high vantage point, still overlooking the rubble pile below, Arginine must have seen what was about to happen long before I did.

My cold gaze fell onto the Steel Ranger that had fired the shot. Why? Why would you do that? I was standing here, talking with both your leader, and the leader of the enemy force that you’d been fighting with, trying to get everypony back home to their loved ones safe and sound. I was trying to help you, asshole! I was trying to create peace! Peace in this valley, even if I…

Even if I, “...have to enforce it myself!” I snarled.

“No!”

Hoplite might have been yelling at her own Rangers, or perhaps even at me. I didn’t care to check which. My world, at that moment, contained only me and the Ranger who had been stupid enough to piss off a pony whose talent was dealing out death to anypony she felt like.

The tip of his rifle glowed with a crimson pinprick of light. I saw no golden aura materializing to surround me again, which suggested that Arginine was still hitting the limits of what his magic was capable of today. That was fine. Something told me the alloy in these wings was good for deflecting more than just bullets. The Ranger’s weapons spat out another bolt of energy, and I threw my right wing in front of me, waving the shot aside. My wing felt suddenly hot, and then it got really cold. I could smell charred feathers. Okay, maybe not as laser-proof as I hoped, but it hadn’t penetrated and killed me.

A third shot, and this time my left wing took the brunt of the hit. The armored pony didn’t get a fourth shot off. I was on top of him now. I delivered two rapid left crosses, bending their head down in preparation for the uppercut with my right. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable feeling, striking metal like this, and the braces on my forehooves didn’t do much to abate the discomfort I was feeling as a result, but I was willing to endure it right now.This pony had just tried to kill me after all.

The Ranger’s head snapped up at the third strike. I spun around, extending my wing and its bladed edge. This was a part of Hoplite’s barding that I hadn’t ever gotten a clear shot at: just below the jaw line. The armor there wasn’t much tougher than standard anti-ballistic barding; which did almost nothing to stop knives and similar weapons. I could feel, and hear, the alloyed edge biting deep into the thin metal of the Ranger’s neck. It cut deeper than just the barding.

Something warm splashed across my face and dribbled down my neck. The armored pony staggered, their hooves clawing uselessly at their severed jugular that was out of reach of their armored hooves. I stood there, in silence, watching the Ranger collapse to their knees, and finally fall over onto their side. One of the other armored ponies whose weapon I had destroyed earlier, or was destroyed in the collapse later, took a step to help their comrade, but I shot a glare their way and arched the bloodied wing that had killed their fellow Ranger. They froze in their tracks and looked on helplessly as the downed pony eventually stopped moving.

I looked around at the other Rangers, and even at the Republic soldiers, resting my eyes finally on Hoplite. The ghoul Star Paladin’s face was a mask of grief, and her murky eyes regarded me with a cold mixture of loathing...and acceptance. Her Ranger had disobeyed her order to stand down. Why? I would probably never know. They probably thought that they’d be doing their commander a favor by removing the only thing stopping them from carrying the day and capturing the rest of the helpless Republic soldiers.

Again I glanced down at the dead Ranger. I tried to be nice. I tried to be a good pony.

Is this what I get for ignoring my destiny? Do I have to kill to get my way? I looked down at my barding, and the crimson stain that was already darkening as it seeped into the once brilliant blue fabric.

“Like I was saying,” my voice was cold and gruff. I cleared my throat and proceeded to shake some of the blood that hadn’t yet dried off of the alloyed wing. I wonder if this stuff rusts? “You can either stop fighting on your own, or I can stop it for you.

“As you can see: my way can get messy,” I flipped my wings closed and tucked them into my sides as I headed for the exit of the building. I’d done what I came to do here. Frankly, I was fed up with all of these ponies, and it was best I got them out of my sight before any more of them tempted fate like that, “spread the word.”

I paused as I was passing Ramparts, “ah, right, I have a message for you from Yatima,” the stallion’s eyes widened at my mention of the name, “congratulations, ‘Dad’. It’s a colt. They’re in Santa Mara when you get a chance.”

I continued walking, leaving the stunned lieutenant in my wake to finish pondering my words, “RG! Grab my shit, we’re leaving!” it was a few minutes before I heard the large white-maned stallion cantering up to me. I suppose that he’d had a harder time getting down from the top floor than I’d had, “help me get this damn thing off,” I told him, extending my wings so that he’d have an easier time of undoing the straps that were holding the whole thing in place.

Arginine frowned, but he complied with the task. I suppose it wasn’t wholly proper for me to treat him like he was my servant or whatever, but I didn’t have anypony else around to help me, and he and I weren’t exactly ‘friends’, so…

I hissed as the alloyed wings and their associated engines were removed from my body. I could even hear the sickening sound of tearing flesh as those portions of the wings that had been struck by the Ranger’s energy weapon were pulled away. I gave the wings themselves a cursory look to see how they’d fared through that onslaught. There was some scoring, and some mild discoloration which suggested the metal itself had been warped or damaged, but nothing had penetrated all the way through. It had certainly done a number on my own personal fleshy wings though…

“Healing potion and Med-X,” I said to the stallion. He rolled his eyes, but obediently fetched these from my saddlebags as well. The potion I drank, and the numbing agent I had him spread between both wings. I wasn’t going to be flying with these for a day or two, that was for sure. The damage was all superficial though, so I at least had that going for me.

It seemed, however, that I wasn’t going to be able to say the same for my eye though. I’d figured that it was just swollen or irritated or something, but that wasn’t the case after all. Arginine was ‘gracious’ enough to conduct an examination of the damage that had been done, and the verdict that he’d delivered was less than uplifting.

“Your eye is irreparably damaged,” he concluded, “the thermal damage to the conjunctiva and sclera is such that…” it was at about this time that the stallion must have noticed my blank stare and sighed, “the front of your eye got too hot and scarred over. It doesn’t work anymore.”

“Can you fix it?”

“My ‘medical’ training primarily involved dissection and examination,” Arginine responded with the tiniest hint of sarcasm, “I can easily extract your eye. However, even if a suitable replacement could be located in good condition, I have never before had the need to reattach one before. Success would be...unlikely.”

Great. Hopefully Doctor Lancet would be able to do something about it, “does it look bad?”

“The injury is quite noticeable.”

In the interests of keeping Foxglove from freaking out too much when we got back, I opted to have the wound wrapped up with some gauze that we had. The violet unicorn mare was sure to be a little concerned about the need for the bandage, but it would at least spare her having to see the wound and hopefully mitigate the worst of her fretting, fawning, and ‘I-told-you-so’ing. I just managed to keep well over a dozen ponies from killing each other. In my book, that level of success was worth what could, in the fullness of time, prove to be only the temporary loss of one of my eyes.

“Do you truly believe that they will stop fighting?”

“Hmm? Oh,” I glanced back towards the factory briefly, “those ponies in particular? If they know what’s good for them, I think they’ll abide by the ultimatum I gave them. As for anypony else involved in the war? Probably not,” I shrugged, “but I bet they’ll think twice if I disrupt a couple more of their fights and word starts to get around,” I idly wondered if there was a way to get word to Homily so that she could have ‘Miss Neighvada’ broadcast The Wonderbolt’s terms to the valley at large.

“Are you not concerned that all you will accomplish is to get them to band against you personally?”

I found myself letting out a mirthless chuckle as I recalled the about the fate of the Lone Ranger. That was how he’d gone out, wasn’t it? He’d pissed off enough ponies to the point where they all worked together to take him down, “at least they’ll be working together,” I replied, flashing a wry smirk at the stallion, “that’s a kind of peace, when you think about it.

“After all: I just want to get them working together long enough to stop your stable anyway. After that?” my wan smile died away, and my tone became more dour, “they can wipe each other out to the last pony, for all I care.”

“That is odd to hear you say, considering how hard you worked to keep both parties alive just now,” Arginine pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, I worked hard alright,” I nodded, not bothering to veil my sarcastic tone, “risked my life a dozen times over―yours too―to make sure everypony got to go home.

“How’d they repay me again? Oh, right! One of them tried to murder me when my guard was down.

“Fuck ‘em.”

The stallion was silent for a long while. Then, “data scatter,” I cocked my brow and frowned at the pony, “I counted seventeen ponies between the Republic and Ranger forces. Only one of them broke faith with the truce you’d imposed. It appeared they also did so against the will of their leader, and without the aid or consent of their peers.

“They were data scatter: their actions should not be considered when judging the results of your efforts.”

I had no reply to this. He was right, I suppose. Only that one Ranger had taken a shot at me, and even after I struck him down none of the others tried to stop me again.

“I recovered these from the office we were in,” Arginine went on, changing topics of conversation so quickly that he about lost me, “I suspect they are related to this device, and may give you insight into its operation, capabilities, and...limits,” he added, eyeing the scoring where I’d tried to use it to deflect energy bolts. I rolled my eyes, by took the data records all the same to review them later in my pipbuck.

“This was with them as well. I am not aware of it having any intrinsic relevance, but I assumed its association through proximity.”

I looked over, and very nearly tripped over my hooves when I saw what the stallion was holding out now. It was a tiny statue of a pony, of the sort that I was familiar with. Exactly how many of these things were there? I reached out with one of my aching wings and took possession of the little cerulean figurine. This one was a pegasus, and her I instantly recognized from the many billboards encouraging pegasus enlistment: Rainbow Dash. Engraved on the base of the smugly posed flier were the words: Be Awesome!

I stared at the figurine as I continued walking. This was the pony that had led the Ministry of Awesome through the Great War. She had been a Wonderbolt, and eventually went on to found the Shadowbolts, the premiere pegasus strike group in Equestria’s war against the zebra threat. This mare was everything that I aspired to be...and she was a testament to how far I fell short. My gaze shifted to the rusty stain of the dried blood on my Wonderbolt barding. Perhaps Hoplite had been right: I didn’t know what I was playing at trying to be one of them.

Sorry, Dash. I promise that I do try to be a good pony sometimes. It’s just...it’s just really hard fighting your own destiny sometimes. If you’re the kind of pony who has a cutie mark that tells her she’s supposed to kill, well, it’s impossible to really be ‘good’, isn’t it?

You can’t fight fate.

My ears were drawn by the sound of hooves clattering along the hard scrabble of the Wasteland. Oh, you have got to be kidding, I sighed. Was I really going to have to kill somepony else already?

I drew out my compact pistol and wheeled around to confront the pony bearing down on us. A brown stallion wearing the barding of one of Luna’s Coursers and carrying the tattered remains of a battlesaddle across his spine drew up short, skidding to a halt, “whoa, whoa! Peace!” his rump slammed to the ground hard and he threw both of his hooves up into the air in surrender.

I blinked, “...Ramparts?” I heaved a heavy sigh and holstered the weapon, “what do you want?”

The stallion relaxed noticeably once the pistol was tucked away again, “first, I want to apologize. You saved our flanks back there...twice, and I tried to take advantage of it...twice,” his soured expression suggested that the lieutenant wasn’t feeling all that good about himself now that he’d had a chance to review what had happened, “that was wrong of me, and it almost got me and my ponies killed.”

“Twice,” I added with a wry smirk.

Ramparts winced slightly, “...yeah. So that was the first thing. The second―”

“Really, it’s sort of the third time if you count Jackboot and I saving you from the Rangers back at my old house.”

The brown earth pony took a deep breath, “...the second thing, is that I wanted to thank you. Those Rangers had us dead-to-rites, and you pulled our flanks out of the fire. We owe you. Not the Republic,” he stressed slightly, “but me personally―I owe you―and so do the other ponies you saved.

“It’s not the first time you’ve done that either.

“Which brings me to the third thing: I’d like to come with you.”

Arginine and I exchanged glances. I regarded the earth pony carefully, “don’t you have a newborn colt to go see?”

Ramparts smiled sadly, “I care about Yatima, I really do; and I can’t wait to see my foal,” he nodded, “but if I went to them without doing...something to pay you back for everything you’ve done...I’d resent being with them while I knew you were out here on a mission for the Republic. You’re the whole reason that colt still has a father, after all!”

“I can’t promise you’ll make it home to them if you come,” I said to the stallion, “I don’t have a habit of going to anywhere peaceful and quiet.”

“I’m a Courser,” he smirked, “my whole career is about going places that aren’t ‘peaceful and quiet’.

“Besides, Courser or not, I’m just a lieutenant. If I go back to Seaddle and report that some crazy pegasus filly is insisting that the Republic and the Rangers maintain an indefinite cease fire because she says ‘or else’, nothing’s going to change,” I honestly expected as much, “but,” Ramparts added, “if I get this weapon or whatever with you, and go to that audience with Princess Luna? I can personally vouch for you and maybe it can really happen.”

Having a member of Princess Luna’s military at my side sure couldn’t hurt my efforts, I decided. Of course, if this stallion really was going to come along, then he was going to have to abide by a few conditions, “Alright. However, ‘Lieutenant’: keep in mind that I’ll give the orders around here, and you’ll follow them,” I said, holding the brown stallion’s gaze with my remaining good eye.

He returned the steady gaze for a few long seconds before finally cracking a smile and nodding, “that’s fair enough,” Ramparts admitted, “alright, Wonderbolt, it’s your rodeo. After what I saw today, I can’t question your abilities.”

“Cool. Oh, and feel free to call me ‘Windfall’,” I reached out a hoof to the stallion, and he took it.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Demolition Expert - Explosives do more damage and always detonate on time.
Explosives skill at 50.

CHAPTER 29: SOMEDAY I'LL MEET YOU AGAIN

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"We live in an age of poverty, greed, violence, destruction...How did it come to this..."

It was amusing, in a mildly cruel sort of way, watching Foxglove try to make up her mind about what she wanted to berate me for first. Between the blood splattered across my face and barding, the blackened scorch marks on my wings, the bandages obscuring my right eye, and the brown earth pony stallion dressed it beaten and scuffed barding that marked him as a soldier of the New Lunar Republic, the poor mare wasn’t certain sure what she was supposed to start yelling at me about when the three of us returned to where Arginine and I had left her. In the end, she seemed to settle for sputtering out half-completed questions about everything in turn before cycling back around all over again.

As humorous as the sight was, however, enough of the day had already been wasted as far as I was concerned, and it would be nice to make at least a little more progress towards our goal before nightfall, “the blood’s not mine, the black stuff will brush out, and I’ll have Lancet look at my eye when we get back to Seaddle,” I eventually informed the mare, hoping to stem the tide of questions I was being battered with. Then, as an added distraction, I gestured to the courser lieutenant, “this is Ramparts, he’ll be coming along to help. Ramparts, Foxglove. She’s better with a wrench and screwdriver than the average pony is at breathing.

“Let’s walk while you two talk,” I turned north and set a decent pace.

I left the storytelling to Ramparts, and let him explain to Foxglove what had happened at the Arc Lightning facility between us and the Steel Rangers. At certain instances, I suspected that this may have been in error, as there were a couple of points where I felt that the stallion was painting a much grimmer picture than had actually been the case. To hear him tell things, I’d been a one-mare wrecking crew, and not spent most of my time basically running and hiding while only fighting when I’d had to.

The instance at the end of everything where I had cut down a Ranger where he stood also remained―I felt―conspicuously absent from the accounting. I was fine with that. Frankly, it was the one part of the whole day that I’d just as soon forget myself. To help facilitate that, I drew out a bottle of Wild Pegasus and took several long pulls of the harsh amber fluid.

In order to further distract myself from those creeping memories, I took one of the recordings that Arginine had brought to me from Lightning Dust’s office and played it.

“Today marks a turning point for Arc Lightning, LLC!” a mare’s voice crackled over the speaker, sounding quite pleased with herself, “after years of R&D and testing, we finally have our prototype flight assistance module, the Gale Force! It gives any pegasus the ability to produce a force of two thousand wing power with a flick of their fetlocks. Ultra-light titanium alloy, integrated levitation talismans in the wings to allow for carrying heavier loads, and twin turbines for near-instantaneous acceleration! This thing is going to revolutionize the weather industry, mark my words! I’ve called a meeting of the shareholders for tomorrow, with a press conference scheduled to follow it. There’s no way I won’t get the green light to debut this masterpiece.

“I can’t wait!”

The recording clicked, signalling the end of the file. Well, from everything that I’d experienced first-hoof, I’d have to admit that the whole getup had lived up to this mare’s expectations. It sure had a lot of power behind it. Frankly, it probably was a lot more potent than was prudent, considering how quickly it accelerated. You’d have to be some sort of maniac to want to be able to go that fast that quickly!

I scanned over the other two recordings and played the next in the sequence. This time, the mare sounded considerably less elated, “ingrates,” she muttered sourly, “they’re all ingrates. Do you know what the shareholders told me? They said: ‘Lightning Dust, the Gale Force is too dangerous. You have to scale it back. Why not make it a flight assistance platform that just helps commuting pegasi fly long distances without getting tired? Maybe even as an aid to help crippled pegasi, like yourself! We’ll be able to sell thousands of them that way.’

“I didn’t pour tens of thousands of bits and years of my life into making a fucking crutch, you morons!” the mare spat viciously. Then she took a deep breath and continued her recording in a slightly calmer tone.

“This is ridiculous. I mean, I get that they haven’t seen the numbers that I have, but come on! They’re there if anypony feels like taking the time to look for them.

“Seventeen thousand,” she stated flatly, pausing for a moment before elaborating on the apparent non-sequitur, “that’s the magic number. It takes seventeen thousand weather ponies―minimum―to maintain Equestria’s climate.

“You want to know how many pegasi are in the Weather Service as of three days ago? Hmm? According to my father, who works in personnel management for the Weather Service hub in Cloudsdale, there are sixteen-thousand, four hundred, and seventy-one ponies on weather detail. That number is already less than what’s needed―at a minimum!―and even more pegasi are getting drafted for the war every month! We’re already starting to see reduced crop yields because they can’t keep up with rainfall requirements. It’s even worse, since a lot of the ponies who do the actual farming have also been drafted.

“We’re right on course for the first famine that Equestria’s seen since...since the fucking Wendigos! Like, we’re going back into myth and legend territory here; that’s how absurd this is. Which is why nopony wants to hear it when I try to explain to them why I’m developing the Gale Force explicitly for the Weather Service so that even a few of them can do the same amount of work as hundreds.

“Well,” the mare paused again, and then spoke in a slightly more hushed tone, as though she were imparting some sort of secret that she didn’t want getting out, “that and the fact that nopony in the news has even so much as mentioned how few pegasis are keeping Equestria’s weather going, or how food production is declining. The reports exist, of course, because the government is tracking that sort of thing; but those trends are exactly the kind of thing that somepony would expect to hear being reported in the media. Except that I’ve been told that the Ministries of Image and Morale are keeping a tight lid on that information. There are even rumors that anypony who isn’t deemed as being discrete enough gets what they know about it sucked right out of their heads!

“I’m at my wit’s end,” she sighed, deflated, “I don’t know who I can turn to. The board won’t sign off on a press release, and I had to tell a whole room full of reporters to go home because our project ‘encountered an unanticipated setback’. I don’t even get to announce what the Gale Force can do until I have it completely redesigned as some sort of fucking recreational vehicle! This thing is suppose to keep us all from starving to death, for Celestia’s sake.

“Maybe if I can get a message right to Luna about what I’m trying to do…

“I’ll probably just end up getting my brain sucked dry too, but I don’t know what else to do. Wish me luck.”

Well...that didn’t sound ominous at all. I was now quite curious to hear what was on the third and final recording.

“So...I woke up this morning to a message on my private terminal...from Ministry Mare Rainbow Dash, of all ponies. I don’t know how she found out, but she knew all about the Gale Force. It sounded like she’d even gotten her hooves on the technical specifications, because she was asking a lot of questions about the alloys we used...and how well they’d hold up under battlefield conditions.

“I told her that, hypothetically, the metal would stop most lighter rifle rounds, and was resistant to energy weapons―”

“Lies!”

“―and she seemed to like that. I told her that I didn’t recommend military applications, since the Gale Force only had enough power to last a few minutes, at most” okay, yeah, that would have been a very good piece of information to have right there before I’d taken those things into battle against Hoplite. If anything, ‘a few minutes’ was being very generous with the endurance time, “but, she said that could be taken care of, whatever that means.

“...and then she ordered five thousand of them, and included a short list of modifications,” I could hear the mixture of dismay and confusion in her voice, “I kept telling her that she wasn’t going to be able to integrate the Gale Force with that Shadowbolt barding her troopers wore, but she didn’t want to hear it. She also didn’t want to hear me tell her that my shareholders weren’t going to let me build it the way it was anyway.

“I don’t know how she did it, and I think I don’t really want to; but I got a call that afternoon from the chairman of the board: we were okay to start production immediately, and that collection and shipment of finished units had already been arranged through Wind Rider’s Wagons and Freight. All I had to do was call down to Reino and everything would be taken care of.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Rainbow Dash, but...okay, I’m in.

“Now to get ahold of my engineers and see what would need to be done to make those changes Rainbow Dash wants. If we can retrofit the prototype, that should save us some time getting the revised model into full production...

My eyes were rather narrowed by the end of that recording. There was something about this that struck a familiar chord with me, but I couldn’t quite put my hoof on it…

“She’s not wrong.”

“Gghh!” I jumped a fair distance into the air, whipping my head around to glare at Foxglove for having intruded so suddenly on my thoughts.

“Sorry,” she didn’t sound very sorry. This was likely the unicorn mare taking some measure of revenge for my having made her worry, “I was just saying that this thing really isn’t ideal for a fighting pony. But I think you figured that out,” she said, eying the blackened portion of my wing, “I mean, the power supply alone...it just uses a standard spark-pack, but with the sort of thrust that these turbines can put out, this thing would burn out almost immediately!”

“Yeah, it lasted maybe two or three minutes for me,” I confessed.

“And you were just flying around in a confined space where you couldn’t go very far. Imagine how short that thing would last in the open sky? In fact,” the unicorn paused, tapping her chin, “knowing the joules in a fully charged pack, and the wingpower these engines put out...you’re looking at something close to ten seconds, give or take, at full power.”

“What could a pony possibly do in ten seconds?” I asked, feeling my face contort in confusion. Rainbow Dash had ordered several thousand pairs of these super wings that would spend themselves completely in not much more time that it would take me to empty the magazines of both my guns? That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard!

Foxglove could only shrug. She had exactly as much insight into the mind of a pony dead two hundred years that I did. Though I was confident that she might be able to provide more assistance with contemporary matters, “I don’t suppose you can rein that thing in a bit? I like what it can do, but I could really use more than a couple minutes of use out of it. I certainly don’t need that much power all at once! Maybe, like, a tenth of that?”

She studied the set of alloyed wings that were floating in her magical grasp, “I can see what I can do. It’s going to depend a lot on how this thing is wired…”

“Well, I’d appreciate it. I, um, also wouldn’t mind another couple magazines of spark and explosive rounds when you get a chance,” I added with a little more trepidation. I was well aware of the production constraints that were placed on the mare where my ammunition was concerned. She needed both materials and time to carefully craft the specialized rounds. Neither of which I had given her in several weeks. In my defense, I was sort of up against the clock here where Arginine’s stable was concerned, and I had no idea how close to zero the countdown was…

“...I’ll add it to the list,” the violet mare assured me in a tone that indicated that she was irked by the growing length of that list.

By evening, I had decided that walking sucked, and I couldn’t understand how unicorns and earth ponies dealt with it. I stayed off my hooves as much as possible most days. Why bother walking when you could just fly everywhere? I had easily walked further in that one afternoon that I had in the past several years combined.

On the bright side, we had somepony else to cover a shift tonight, “Alright, Ramparts; you’re the new guy, you get first shift. Then Foxy, and then yours truly,” I said, culminating with a yawn.

The brown courser cocked his head and nodded at Arginine, who was himself already bedding down for the evening, “what about the big guy over there? Why isn’t he pulling a watch?”

So that’s what I’d forgotten to mention to our new traveling companion! Well, I’m sure this wasn’t going to make things awkward at all, “ah, right, yes. Well, you see, RG there is actually sort of, technically, my prisoner. Kind of,” I motioned at the large gray unicorn and pointed at my throat, “RG?” the stallion sighed and pulled at the scarf that concealed his collar, revealing the explosive device to the Republican pony. Ramparts’ was taking the revelation rather well. So far at least.

“You’re traveling with a convict?” he clearly expected a very good explanation. Boy, was he in for it!

“Technically...no. Not that kind of prisoner,” I corrected, gently tapping my hooves together, feeling like a filly who’d been caught filching sweets before a meal, “RG is from a stable full of ponies who have been mutating themselves into ‘perfect specimens’ and see everypony else in the Wasteland as being completely useless and inferior, and so they’re planning to slaughter us all so they can rebuild society themselves.

“Does that about sum it up?” I looked in the engineered stallion’s direction, meeting his cool amber eyes.

“It would take me most of the evening to correct all of the inaccuracies in your statement, and you would ignore everything I said anyway.”

I nodded, “I’m glad to see we understand each other,” I then looked back at Ramparts, “and so I’m dragging him along because I’m trying to convince the Republic to help fight them off, and I’m going to use him as a source of information so the Republic can plan their assault.

“Don’t worry though,” I assured the concerned earth pony, “he’s on a short leash. That collar is hooked up to my pipbuck here. If anything happens to me, or he gets too far away, or I just push the right button: POP!” I made a little exploding motion with my hooves. Then I dutifully kept my macabre little smile firmly in place even as my head flooded with images of my mother’s headless corpse slumping down to the ground. My wing very smoothly and nonchalantly reached into my bag and withdrew my whiskey bottle for a couple of slow sips.

“That being said, let me know if you see him do anything,” I said to the lieutenant, “he’s a genuinely smart pony, and the more eyes watching him, the better off we’ll all be until I can let him be the Republic’s problem.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ramparts said, his now much more suspicious gaze going to the unicorn, “is that why he looks so different? I assumed it was radiation or taint or something…”

“Nope, his kind did all that on purpose. That’s what a perfect pony looks like, don’t you know?” I took another long sip of the burning liquid, and relished it almost as much as the sharp glare I drew from Arginine. I put the bottle away and rolled over so that I wasn’t looking at either of them, “G’night!”

I stood looking into the gaping maw of the Old World bunker, my eyes keeping a close watch on the pipbuck’s overlay that was forever etched across my field of vision. No sign of any threats that the ancient fetlock-mounted computer could detect. Ambient radiation levels were notably higher than they tended to be in most places. There was little wonder why that was the case; the entrance to the bunker lay a scant few hundred meters from the edge of a crater that was clearly not a natural formation. Two more were visible further out to either side along the mountain range, but both close enough to suggest that they had been seeking the bunker as their intended target given that there was scant little else in the area to warrant any such strikes. This had been the site of multiple balefire missile impacts two centuries ago in those final hours of the Great War.

The revelation evoked a frown that creased my features. Most of those sorts of impacts in the Wasteland tended to be around major cities and those military facilities that the zebras had considered to be of tactical significance. I suppose that, in a way, an old armory could have fallen into the latter category; but a stockpile of weapons shouldn’t have been the sort of target that justified three of the massively destructive weapons the zebras employed. Only one had been used to devastate the entire city of Seaddle after all.

The zebras had wanted this place gone. The only thing that looked to have saved the installation was that it was housed within a mountain of solid rock, and that it seemed the zebras had not known the precise location of the entrance. They’d clearly known that the facility existed though, and its vague location, and that knowledge had angered them significantly.

What could possibly have been kept here to evoke such a reaction from the zebras? Ebony Song had told us only that there should be information inside that would lead to a significant weapons cache. Had this site been the location of that cache, then I would have understood why so many missiles had been used. Any weapons system potent enough to give the Republic a decisive advantage in their fight against the Steel Rangers would have been something that would concern the ancient zebra nation and prompt them to want to deprive any surviving enemy forces of their use.

But those weapons weren’t actually here, so why all of the special attention from those missiles?

My eyes darted briefly to Ramparts, but I suspected that the Courser lieutenant wasn’t going to have any answers for me. He hadn’t even known that this was the place I was coming to, and I could read on his face that he had no idea what to make of the surrounding landscape’s features either. Fine. It’s not like I wasn’t going to learn a thing or two in an hour anyway.

I conducted a quick cursory check of my weapons and made sure that the remaining pair of green banded grenades strapped to my Wonderbolt barding were secure and accessible. Then I looked over my shoulder, “Foxy, you’re behind me in case we need to get through any active terminals,” and her lance would make short work of any doors that were otherwise barred, “RG, you’re next. Ramparts, you’re the rear guard,” the earth pony stallion frowned in response to my order. He clearly wasn’t entirely comfortable being the subordinate in the group, despite his earlier assurances. I suppose that the habit was going to be harder to break than he’d initially suspected. Tough. This was my show, and he was just along for the ride.

Not that I didn’t appreciate having another armed pony along who knew a thing or two about fighting. At this moment though, much like RG, the earth pony was still a largely unknown quantity when it came to motivations and inclinations. I knew what he’d told me, sure; but I also knew that he was a member of an organization that I wasn’t entirely sure I trusted as much as I would have liked. I may have technically been a Republic citizen, and I was thankful beyond words that Princess Luna had returned to Equestria after so long and had chosen Seaddle as the site from which to start rebuilding Equestria…

...but ponies were still ponies, and I still remembered what the Republican Guard had done to Miss Vision all those years ago for the ‘crime’ of not having a place to sleep. I’m sure that there were genuinely good ponies who were serving in the NLR military, and I had seen that Ramparts in particular had a sense of decency about him under the right circumstances. I just wasn’t positive whether that had been the exception, or if it was indeed the rule where the stallion’s mindset was concerned.

I received confirming nods from the other three ponies as they took their respective positions. I took a deep breath and activated the pipbuck’s light as I passed through the cog-shaped opening.

Looking around, the first thing I noticed was that this bunker had not been opened through the ‘proper’ means. I was a veteran explorer of Stables, and I knew a thing or two about their basic operation―not nearly to the level that Foxglove did, of course―and it was clear that the massive slab of steel alloy that was the bunker’s door had been cut down, and not opened by way of the industrial sized drill mounted within the interior. Judging by the vast amount of scoring on the electrical panels on the interior of the entrance, I suspected that the reason the door had needed to be forced had less to do with a lack of permissions to access this bunker by the ponies who had looted it, and more to do with a failure of the local systems that should have otherwise been operational.

More often than not, even the abandoned Stables were still functional enough to open and close the entrance. Of course, I hadn’t yet encountered one which had been the target of this many balefire missile strikes. Dislodged ceiling plates and small piles of rocky rubble suggested that those nearby detonations had severely tested the durability of this facility. That being said―and given what I’d seen outside―I was suitably impressed with the skills of the engineers that had built this place.

On the opposite side of the room was an open shaft which had once upon a time been a lift. Judging by the warped state of the shaft, it seemed that this elevator had been a true casualty of the missile strikes and had either fallen to the bottom at the time of the detonations, or had been purposely scuttled by the ponies that had been here before us. In either case, we had not been left without a means of descent, as a rope ladder had been left for us to use. Well, left for the other three to use, anyway. I simple flipped out my wings, which were sufficiently healed for a little light fluttering at least, and drifted down the shaft.

It went down a good bit further than I would have expected. A typical Stable’s floors were pretty close together. This first shaft must have gone down a good thirty or so feet before I encountered the first level of the actual facility. Unfortunately, it was pretty clear that the front entrance of the bunker wasn’t a good indicator for how badly this place had been wrecked by those balefire bomb strikes. In fact, it wasn’t until I drifted down another two levels that I found a mostly intact portion of this place.

Here too were signs of ponies that had come before us. Like the massive cog which would have sealed the main entrance to the bunker, the doors that used to be here to keep unwary ponies from wandering into the deep shaft had been cut away and now lay in pieces in the corridor beyond. With a glance upward to ensure that everypony else wasn’t having any particular difficulty making their way down, I alit inside the dark passageway and began to look around.

Visible on a nearby wall was the faded image of the winged cloud and lightning bolt that was the emblem of the Ministry of Awesome. This was certainly the right place, it seemed. Though, I guess I really would have expected the Ministry of Wartime Technology to have been the mastermind behind any sort of high-end weapons development, it wasn’t all that surprising that the same organization which oversaw the crack flight elements of the ancient Equestrian military might be involved in the independent manufacture of arms for those soldiers.

I continued slowly down the corridor, mindful of my steps. A few meters further down, I drew up short, my eyes squinting at a placard mounted on the wall beside a door. Considering where I was, it seemed quite out of place.

MoP LNO: TREEHUGGER

I studied the nameplate for several long seconds, feeling my head beginning to cock to the side in confusion. While I wasn’t positive what ‘LNO’ might have stood for, the trio of butterflies that accompanied the other acronym left no doubt at all that ‘MoP’ referred to the iconic Ministry of Peace, whose logo could be found on just about every first aid supplies container one might stumble across while perusing the Wasteland.

Why would the department in charge of producing medicine be involved in creating weapons?

My curiosity getting the better of me, I tried my hoof on the doorknob, and frowned when it proved locked. With a grunt, I turned around, cocked my hind legs back, and delivered a fierce double-buck into the door. The aged wood shattered easily beneath the blow and I strutted in with a satisfied smile.

The interior of the office was just as dark as the rest of the complex seemed to be. The desiccated remains of several plants could be seen crumbled around their planters on and around the office’s desk. The terminal sitting on it was without power unfortunately, so I wasn’t going to get anything out of it, but I did spy a filing cabinet in the back of the room. Pulling open the drawers and pawing through the contents, I found quite a few aged files filled with all sorts of charts and records. It was the sort of thing that looked like it belonged in a hospital, and not a military bunker, but I supposed that even weapon designers got sick or hurt on the job. Maybe this was some sort of nurses office then?

Odd that there wasn’t any sign of a clinic on this level though. Odder still was that I noticed the information on one or two of those old files indicated that they were associated with foals. Surely there hadn’t been any children living here…

The thought still weighing on my mind, I left the out-of-place office and continued to wander through more of the facility. The rest of this segment of of the bunker looked to be dedicated to additional offices and conference rooms. Some of them were locked as well, but most weren’t, and none of them piqued my interest nearly as much as that first room had so I didn’t waste my effort searching them.

It was on the next level down that things got interesting.

Around the time I found some stairs and headed down the other three finally caught up with me. We’d still yet to come across any sort of threat, and I couldn’t see any red blips appearing on my EFS, so we were a little less on our guard. Honestly, I was starting to feel like this whole trip had been a waste of time. Even if there were any records here that told us where the cache was, I felt like that sort of information would have been stored on a computer terminal somewhere, and there wasn’t a single volt of power to be found in this whole place.

At least, there hadn’t been until Foxglove had caught sight of a faint green speck of light. Leave it to that unicorn to find the only piece of working equipment in the place.

It was located behind a collapsed segment of ceiling panels that had to be cleared away with RG’s telekinesis. Whoever had been here first appeared to have gone right past without catching sight of anything. When the debris was finally cleared away, the source of the light was revealed to be the controls for a hydraulically operated sliding door of the sort I was used to seeing in old Stables.

This was also the first sign of anything being powered that we’d yet found in the bunker. Feeling a little more optimistic about this trip, I depressed the button below the glowing light and stood back as the groaning machinery came slowly back to life. The door crawled reluctantly back up into the ceiling and revealed the first lit room that we’d come across. Though I suppose that calling the cavernous area beyond the door ‘lit’ might have been misleading. Three faint red lights glowed from above, bathing the room in a soft crimson glow that was only slightly better than absolute darkness.

Though, once again, I found myself thinking that this seemed to be a rather out-of-place room to find in an Old World bunker. The rest of this level had looked to have been living quarters up until now, containing bunk rooms and common areas of the sort I’d seen before in above ground barracks. Clearly, this was the level of the facility where the ponies that had worked here retired whenever they were off duty, but had been styled to specifically not look like they were living in a fortified facility underground. This room, however, looked like the same sort of utility or industrial complex that I’d come to associate with Old World shelters. Massive power conduits ran along the walls and ceiling. Convoluted webs of pipers and hoses flowed everywhere, feeding themselves into two rows of metal tables.

No...those weren’t tables, I realized upon closer inspection. I wasn’t sure exactly what they were, but there were a lot of wires and piping leading into each one of them. Even Foxglove, who was usually good about being able to parse out the function of any contraption she came across could only shrug at their purpose.

“There are panels and controls on the sides,” the violet unicorn mechanic noted as she inspected the first of them, “but it doesn’t look like they’re powered,” she frowned in frustration.

“Well, there’s electricity coming from somewhere,” I nodded my head back at the door that we’d come in through, “maybe you can find a way to divert it into one of these things so that we can find out what they’re for? These might even be what we’re after,” I noted, running a hoof around the side of one of them, “it looks like they can open…

“Some sort of high-security lock-box?”

“Maybe,” Foxglove nodded, though there was a note in her voice that suggested she wasn’t completely convinced about that. She squinted at some more of the machinery and motioned for me to bring my pipbuck’s brighter light over for her to use to get a better look at the equipment, “...that looks like a condenser...and this is some sort of pump…” she frowned, “if these are for storage, then they’re meant for something that needs a very specific environment.”

“Food?” Ramparts suggested, “giant refrigerators?”

“Kind of a waste, don’t you think?” I asked, “two hundred years later and we’re still eating Cram and Fancy Buck Cakes.”

“Something tells me they didn’t exactly plan for that stuff to last this whole time,” the Republican soldier pointed out. A point that I had to concede. But, even then, this seemed like a lot of effort to go through just to preserve some food for a bunch of ponies who weren’t even here.

That thought perked my ears up as I realized something which had been nagging quietly at the back of my mind, “...where are the bodies?”

“Huh?”

I looked around me, even though I was pretty certain I wasn’t going to suddenly spot a corpse nearby which had somehow gone unnoticed, “this place was sealed up, remember? So, where are the bodies?”

“They could have left and just closed the place up behind them,” Foxglove pointed out, “if somepony turned off the power here deliberately, that would explain why nothing’s running.”

“So...they turned off everything but the refrigerators when they left?” I cokced a brow at the mare and saw her nod her understanding, “I don’t think the power went out on purpose. You see how banged up this place is,” I waved a hoof towards the corridor and the debris that we’d had to move to get in here, “and all those craters topside. The offices look recently used, and the beds look slept in. Ponies were in here when the bombs fell; and I doubt they would have closed everything up the way they did if they really left without ever meaning to come back.”

“You think they got trapped in here when the power failed,” Foxglove said, rubbing her chin as she considered the theory.

“Well, maybe not exactly,” I corrected, “the door to this room still had power, so obviously not everything is dead. Maybe there were other things still working immediately after the missile strikes. In any case, there’s nopony alive here now, and I haven’t seen any bodies or anything.

“So where’d they go if they didn’t just leave?”

Foxglove looked around and nodded slowly, “this...could be a morgue,” she reasoned, “that would explain the machinery that looks like it’s supposed to control temperatures and stuff,” then her expression soured and she she shook her head, “that can’t be right,” she insisted, “it makes no sense!”

Ramparts looked at the unicorn, “what do you mean? A lot of places have morgues.”

“Well yeah, but,” the mare sighed, “look at this place; the main reactor is obviously offline,” she pointed out, pointing at the lights, “whatever’s keeping those lights on and powering that door has got to be some sort of redundant backup power supply.

“But why put one of those in a morgue? Besides, it looks like this was the only place that anypony did put in a backup. The front door, the elevators, none of those had reserve power supplies; just this room. Why would anypony go out of their way to build in emergency systems in the room where you’re going to keep the dead po...nies…”

Foxglove’s eyes suddenly grew wide and her head whipped around the stare at the nearest container. My own mind suddenly caught up with the unicorn’s train of thought and I too looked to the nearest sarcophagus. For that was what these things had become, wasn’t it? Foxglove was right: you wouldn’t create alternate power supplies to maintain dead ponies.

These poor souls had been alive when they went in.

Everypony was suddenly very quiet as we looked around the room which quite likely was indeed an unintended morgue now.

Ramparts spoke up first, “so, what? These things were supposed to keep ponies alive or preserved or something?”

The violet mare shrugged, “if it was possible to do that, I could see it making a lot of sense,” she said, “you wouldn’t need a lot of waste recycling systems or a lot of space allocated for food production. You could build much smaller Stables and still house a decent population. Not this bunker in particular. I only count twenty containers,” the unicorn shrugged, “I’ve never heard of it personally, but that doesn’t mean that somepony back then couldn’t have. In theory.”

“If anypony is interested,” the three of us were draw by the sound of Arginine’s voice, which was coming from the far end of the room. The large gray unicorn stallion was peering down at one of the containers. From here I could see a dim green glow reflected on his face, “it would seem that one of these units is still functional.”

I blinked, as did Ramparts and Foxglove. All three of us exchanged brief looks and then bolted for where the amber-eyed pony was standing. I was the first to arrive, utilizing a few deliberate strokes of my wings. Sure enough, I could see that, unlike the others, this contraption was still possessed of a glowing display panel and several pulsing lights of various colors. There was even a quiet humming sound coming from the associated machinery.

My eyes went to Foxglove, “are they still alive?!”

“Indeed,” it was the genetically engineered stallion who provided the answer instead, prompting an irritated frown from me. However, I suppose if anypony was qualified to assess somepony’s medical status, it was the pony who knew about pony physiology. Even if that knowledge had been gained through morally depraved means, “their health is reasonable, under the circumstances. I am not familiar with the protocols involved with such a procedure, but the breathing and pulse rate are steady; if very slow.”

He looked over at me, “though I should point out that power levels are reported to be dangerously low. This machine will not last for more than another month or two.”

“We have to get them out,” I said immediately looking between the pair of ponies, “tell me you can do that.”

The pair exchanged looks, “Without knowing the proper procedures, it would certainly prove fatal to try and bring this pony’s vitals back up to normal levels,” Arginine cautioned the violet mare.

“It has to be mostly automated,” she countered, regarding the machine with a practiced eye, “otherwise how were they going to wake anypony up if only somepony who knew what they were doing was required? Who wakes up the expert waker-upper?”

The large stallion considered the point and the then nodded his assent. Meanwhile, the unicorn mechanic set about scrutinizing the machinery and mumbling to herself, “somewhere around here there should be a...ah! Here we go,” she began examining a small control panel, “huh. Just one giant lever. That’s pretty simple alright,” she looked back up that the gray stallion, “just, keep an eye on things. This thing’s pretty old, and it might not work perfectly,” he nodded and turned his golden eyes to the display, watching it carefully.

“Here goes nothing,” Foxglove sighed and flipped the switch.

The device began buzzing loudly for several long seconds, drawing an anxious look from myself and Foxglove. Arginine’s eyes didn’t waver from the readout that he was watching. The sharp hissing of gases and whirring of motors started, and still the large stallion didn’t make a move. I blinked as an amber blip materialized in front of me on my pipbuck’s EFS. The stallion’s brow arched, “vitals...normalized,” he looked towards us, “their heart rate and blood pressure are consistent with those of a sleeping pony,” he confirmed, “respirations are nominal.”

A clicking of metal drew my gaze back to the container, and I watched as the top of it lifted suddenly an inch into the air, releasing a cool foggy mist of air. A moment later it slowly began to slide back into the wall. Approaching slowly in case there was any more to the procedure, I peered my head over the side and looked in.

There was indeed a pony in there. A rosy pink unicorn mare with a deep purple mane which contained a pair of teal highlights. She was laying peacefully on her belly, her head cradled in the crook of her forelegs. She was wearing a pristine blue jacket that was similar to the style worn by residents of Stables. Except that, instead of displaying a number that would have associated her with one of the Old World refuges, the back and collar of the garment was emblazoned with a purple six-pointed star that was flanked by a pair of wings and crowned with a silver horn. It was the mark of the Ministry of Arcane Science.

I found myself studying the symbol for several long seconds. Again, wondering why, if this was a bunker built and run by the Ministry of Awesome, members of other ministries were present? Even more thought provoking was that, unlike the office set aside for the MoP I had spied upstairs, I had seen absolutely no signs that MAS personnel had been working in this place in any capacity. Hopefully, this mare would be able to provide some answers to the questions that were buzzing around inside my head when she finally regained consciousness. I was just about to ask Arginine how long that was be when a soft moan from within the pod drew my attention.

The mare stirred ever so slightly, sighing. The four of us were crowded around the opening, looking inside, none of us certain exactly what we were supposed to do now that she was starting to wake up. No matter how I ran through it in my head, introductions were going to be...awkward, to say the least. I watched as the unicorn groggily lifted her head up from where it had been nestled in her folded legs and start to look around, and was about to introduce myself when her sapphire eyes suddenly snapped wide open with a jerk.

“Moonbeam!” she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright with such speed that all four of us recoiled back instinctively in surprise. The recently awoken mare looked around at us, “is Moonbeam alright?!”

“Uhh…” the question caught me off guard, since we were already so far off script from anything that I had managed to put together in my head about how this would go. I tried to get out some words, but I wasn’t fast enough it seemed, “who―”

“The lights,” she interrupted in a panicked tone, snapping her head upward, “power failure? But that’s…” she shut her eyes tight, bit her lower lip, and then vanished in a flash of cyan light, leaving behind an empty pod and four very confused looking ponies.

“What...just happened?” Ramparts asked, looking around the room as though he expected to see the mare nearby.

“I have no idea,” I admitted, looking around as well. However, unlike the Courser officer, my gaze wasn’t actually focused on any point in the room we were in. I was instead tracking the EFS floating in front of my field of vision. Finally, I found the direction of the yellow blip that didn’t correspond to any of the others, “she’s this way,” I informed the others, jogging for the doorway. It didn’t take very long to realize that the mare wasn’t on the same level that we were. The only question was whether or not she had gone up, or down…

A faint sound echoed through the silent corridors of the defunct bunker coming from off to my right, and a set of stairs that only led down. That seemed to settle that question and I motioned for the others to follow me as I alit and zipped through the narrow metal confines of the facility.

I maneuvered through a couple turns in the hall, finding the pink unicorn tearing apart a room that looked similar to the one that we had discovered her pod it. Only there were no contraptions like that one that had contained her. There were a variety of conduits and cables lining the walls, but they all seemed to end in empty alcoves. The mare was just finishing using her magic to rip the doors off of a final cupboard, snarling in frustration when she discovered that it, like all of the others, contained nothing inside of it except for a few dangling cables.

She then wheeled on me, her blue eyes cold as they narrowed themselves at me, “where is she?! Where’s Moonbeam? Where did you move her to?!”

“Look,” I began frantically, trying to redirect the situation onto a less irate track. She was clearly upset, and I just wanted to get her to understand that, whatever her frustrations, I had nothing to do with them, “I don’t know who―”

“Don’t play games with me, you MoA piece of shit! I have told you time and again that you will not make her part of your sick little project!” the mare snarled, advancing on me with such ferocity that I found myself taking several steps back, “tell me what you did with her, or I swear to Celestia, I will pluck every feather from your body and stuff them so far up your ass you will cough pillows!”

Wow. That was actually a very interesting―and vivid―new twist on what I had thought was a tired and worn out threat. Bravo, ma’am.

Wait, ‘MoA’? Why did she think I was―oh horseapples. The Wonderbolt uniform! If she really was that pissed off at the Ministry of Awesome, and was holding them responsible for whatever had happened to whoever this ‘Moonbeam’ was, then I might actually be in trouble. I really didn’t want to have to hurt somepony that I had just rescued; that felt like something I’d need to take a drink for later.

Three sets of hooves clattered in the doorway behind me, and I saw the unicorn’s eyes flashed towards them now. First there was the same rage that she had directed at me, and then confusion as she took in the way that all three of my companions were dressed, “who are you? What’s going on?” her eyes locked back on me again and became more focused as she cast her gaze over me, “you’re not MoA…”

“No,” I sighed with relief, finally seeing some progress being made here, “I’m―”

Before I could get another word out, the mare vanished in another sphere of blue light. Behind me I heard Ramparts groan, “oh, you’re shitting me; where is she now?!”

“Well,” Foxglove sighed, “this is the bottom floor, so ‘up’, I’d guess.”

Rolling my eyes, I hopped back up into the air and winged my way back up to the second level, tracking the position of the teleporting unicorn with my pipbuck. I discovered her back in the same room that she had woken up in. She was dashing between the other still-sealed pods, tapped futilely at their dead displays and snarling in frustration. Her eyes flashed to me once more when she noticed my approach.

“What’s going on here? Where’s everypony else, and who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Windfall, and I don’t know what really happened here two hundred years ago,” I explained, speaking quickly so that I could get everything out before the unicorn interrupted me again, “we only got here a few―” I wasn’t successful.

“What do you mean: ‘two hundred years’?” the mare said incredulously, “that’s not possible,” she insisted.

I managed not to let out an exasperated sigh as I took advantage of the opportunity to answer that the unicorn afforded me, “I know it’s hard to believe, but―”

“No, it’s not ‘hard to believe,” the mare corrected in an annoyed tone, glaring at me, “I said it was ‘impossible’, and that’s what I meant. It can’t have been two hundred years, because this bunker isn’t designed to last that long. This is a short-term sheltering facility only,” she explained, “five year lifespan on the main reactor, and a five year battery backup for essential systems. Ten years, max. That’s it.

“So try me again, but without the lying this time,” the mare glared at me.

“I’m not lying,” I insisted, returning my own fierce glare at the aggressive pink mare, “I’m telling you, it really has been two hundred years since the war!”

“And I’m telling you,” the unicorn shot back, stomping her hoof in frustration, “that I know for a fact that these hibernation chambers only have enough power to last a maximum of ten years! There’s no way for them all to have lasted for two hundred,” she jabbed a hoof at the one nearest her, “and all of the rest of them are powered down, so that means that they’re all awake somewhere, and I demand that you tell me where they are and where you’ve taken Moonbeam!”

“Look, I get that this is a lot for you to take in,” I said, reminding myself that this mare was a little out of touch with current events, and that what was going on had to be a bit of a shock for her. It wasn’t easy though. She was not a very friendly individual, “but I swear to you that it really has been two hundred years since the war. I can’t explain how your pod was still working if it’s only supposed to last for ten years, but it was.

“I don’t know where ‘Moonbeam’ or anypony else is,” the last was said with a note of uncertainty unfortunately, as I did have a few theories regarding her fellow bunker-dwellers.

The unicorn latched onto that trepidation, “where. Are. They?”

A little orange earth pony mare regarded me with a sympathetic expression and gave me a little mental nudge. I took a deep breath, “we think...well, we don’t think the rest of these pods are empty,” I replied softly, “I’m sorry.”

The mare’s eyes grew wide, first with confusion, and then with denial. Finally I saw the fear within them as she went to the closest of the pods and began to frantically manipulate the controls. Then they failed to respond, she became even more agitated and her horn began to glow. A matching aura enveloped the top of the pod and the room filled with the sound of protesting metal as the hatch was peeled away the lid on a can of Cram. My eyes widened at the feat of magical strength and I felt myself taking a step back.

Her eyes locked on the contents of the dead pod, and then her head began to shake slowly as she backed away, “no...no, that’s...that’s not possible,” she insisted in a voice that had suddenly lost all of its edge from before. Her head turned to the other sealed pods, and I could see the simultaneous desire to confirm the fates of their occupants, and the fear of discovering yet more of her dead comrades. Finally her blue eyes made their way back to me, “there’s a fail-safe...” she said in a meek whisper.

She was suddenly a very different mare from the unicorn that had been tearing this place apart and threatening me only moments ago. That was fair, I suppose. She had just gone from believing that the ponies she knew had simply been somewhere else to learning that they were all in fact dead. I took a deep breath and looked sympathetically at the unicorn, “I don’t know what happened here,” I told her once more, “but I am sorry.”

“I just...I don’t understand what went wrong,” she insisted, all of the strength seeming to leave her body as her hind legs collapsed out from beneath her. Her eyes quivered as she searched through her thoughts, “there was an alarm...another drill,” she winced, “at least, I thought it was a drill. I went down and a got Moonbeam secured…” her gaze widened and her head snapped back up, “she’s not here! She was here when I went into hibernation, but she’s not here now; somepony must have taken her!” she insisted.

To this I had no answer, “I don’t know who Moonbeam is,” I told the mare apologetically, “and if she’s not where you left her...then maybe some of the ponies here did wake up and leave,” I was doubtful, given the state of things in the bunker and the fact that she had been left here. I didn’t have any other explanation though if she was right about somepony else having been in this bunker who wasn’t here now.

Judging from the unicorn’s expression, I was of a mind to believe that she was sharing the same doubts that I was based upon the available information, “it still doesn’t make sense,” she said quietly, “how could my chamber have lasted for two hundred years if nopony else’s did?”

“I...might have an answer to that,” Foxglove said gently from the doorway. The pink unicorn and I both turned to see the other three ponies watching us. Our eyes were on the violet mare, “there was still some power in that other room, and a terminal,” she pointed downward, indicating the chamber that we had found the unicorn ransacking earlier, “does the phrase, ‘Tortoise Protocol’ mean anything to you?”

Initially, there was a blank look on the pink pony’s face, and then her expression blanched with fear, “oh, Celestia…” she whispered breathlessly, “she wouldn’t have...” her head started to shake in denial, “she couldn’t have,” then her expression hardened once more, “Rainbow Dash, you fucking bitch,” she ground her teeth and snarled up at the ceiling, “you bitch, you knew!”

Upon seeing the looks of surprise and confusion on our collective faces, the other unicorn took a deep, rattling breath, through her resurgent rage and explained, “the Tortoise Protocol means that the MoA determined that whatever attack the zebras were launching wasn’t something that Equestria would be able to stop. A full scale balefire deployment.

“Facilities subject to a Tortoise Protocol were supposed to go dark for as long as possible, or until they received the ‘all clear’ from an approved MoA source. Most of the places where this could happen had long-term support infrastructure, like a lot of the Stables and a few other key installations,” she seethed once more, “but Rainbow Dash knew that this wasn’t one of them!” her eyes closed tightly and she bowed her head, “the Protocol would have overridden the fail-safes on the hibernation chambers...instead of opening all of them after a maximum of ten years and letting us all out, the system would have started...triaging.”

The mare seemed unable to speak for a long while.

Foxglove stepped up beside me, and at my questioning look supplied the rest, “the computer showed me that it began cutting power to the pods, one at a time, based on the position and skills of the occupant,” my eyes widened in horror, “it didn’t open them,” the violet mechanic continued, “because a living pony in the bunker would have needed power to keep the air clean and water filtered; so the pods just...stopped keeping them alive.”

The other unicorn nodded, “this place wasn’t supposed to be a Tortoise facility,” she insisted quietly.

We were all quiet for a long moment. Then Ramparts cleared his throat, drawing our attention, “not that I don’t sympathize,” he said quietly, stepping over and leaning towards me, “but we do have a mission here.”

I winced. The Courser was right, and as much as I really didn’t want to have to bring up ‘business’ with this mare who had just started to come to terms with the fact that everypony she had ever known was dead and gone for centuries, there were a lot of pressing matters going on in the Wasteland above, “yeah,” I swallowed and spoke a little louder, “hey, um...look, I get you’re going through some stuff now, but this is kind of important: we need to know where the weapons you guys were building here were stored at. The fate of, well, the whole world sort of might depend on it.”

The pink unicorn looked up, a confused expression on her face, “weapons?” she snorted, “they weren’t building weapons here,” she insisted.

Uh oh. Ramparts and I exchanged glances before I looked back at the mare, “what? No, we were told that this place designed weapons for the MoA and that we’d be able to find out where they were kept. Look, I get that there was probably a lot of ‘hush-hush’ stuff going on back during the war or whatever, but we really don’t have time for that sort of crap. The war’s over, everypony’s dead, and we need those weapons to stop another war between a bunch of crazy technophiles and Princess Luna so that we can keep everypony else from being slaughtered by a bunch of Stable ponies who have some warped concept of ‘racial purity’. So, please, help us out here.”

Even as I recounted the situation to the mare, I couldn’t help but think of a time when all that had concerned me was tracking down the next band of raiders and removing them from the Wasteland. When had my life become so...weird?

The other mare blinked at me several time, and I could see her thoughts trying very hard to keep up with everything that had been covered in my statement, “techno...Luna...what?” finally, she shook her head and frowned, “look, I don’t know what to tell you: they didn’t build weapons here. This is the primary installation for Project Egghead: a joint MoA/MoP venture designed as a sort of...rehabilitation program for those suffering from severe mental impairments. The idea was to use artificial intelligence programs developed by the MAS to help them function again,” she explained, “in theory,” she stressed the word carefully, her eyes darting to the mark on the flank of my barding, “ponies with those new those intelligence programs could be used to control weapons platforms on a level close to something like a crusader mainframe, but the MoP refused to participate if that happened, so Rainbow Dash agreed to back off on that application.

“She was also supposed to not subject this facility to the Tortoise Protocol, but you can see how that went,” she growled. Then the mare took a deep breath and continued in a slightly steadier tone, “this was just a place where they were looking for ways to help really sick ponies get better,” she shrugged, “I’m sorry, but whoever sent you here was mistaken.”

Again Ramparts and I looked at each other, “could he have been wrong?” I asked the stallion.

The Republic officer frowned, “the coordinates he gave us led to this exact facility,” he pointed out, “how could he have been right about the location, but wrong about what was inside of it, especially when he’d sent a team here once before?”

“Wait,” the pink unicorn interrupted, “you’re not the first ponies who’ve been here?”

“No,” I admitted, “we’re a follow-up team. We were told that the ponies who were here before us found a powerful weapon prototype. We were sent to find out where the rest of them were being stored,” I frowned and looked between the other three members of our group, “Ramparts is right, this has to be where they went, so it has to be where they found the prototype,” I glanced back at the unicorn, “you’re sure that there wasn’t anything here that could have been used as a weapon?”

“Positive,” the mare insisted with a firm nod of her head, “the Ministry of Peace would never have joined in on the effort if that’s what was going on here, and Deputy Treehugger was adamant about that stipulation. We only worked on artificial intelligences and a few android bodies for the ponies that needed them, and none of those were even armed.”

I felt myself deflate. A dead-end. Great. My eyes darted briefly towards Arginine. The stallion didn’t look smug, exactly, but I could see that he was as satisfied at the stoic stallion ever looked at the news. He knew as well as the rest of us how important finding the tools that the Republic needed to fend off the Steel Rangers was integral to gaining Princess Luna’s help in fighting his Stable. No weapons, no help; unless I found some way to get to the Princess herself and beg really hard…

“What did those first ponies take?” the pink unicorn demanded.

Actually, “I don’t know exactly,” those details hadn’t really been anything that I’d thought to ask about. Ebony Song had said ‘weapons’ and there hadn’t really been any pressing need to seek any elaboration on that point, “but whatever it was, we were told it could be used as a powerful weapon.”

“Are you sure none of the androids were armed in any way?” Ramparts asked.

Again the mare shook her head, “no weapons of any kind; that was the rule.”

Crap. Still, we’d come all this way, “I’d still like to take a look around anyway. Maybe we’ll find some sort of clue or something. We’d appreciate your help, seeing as how you used to work here.”

The mare was silent for a long while, and then she gave a little nod, “very well. I can show you where the android bodies were kept. I suppose it would have been possible to connect weapons to them after the fact. Some of the designs the MoA sent here to test were rather...robust,” she said with a slight frown, as though a few theories were only just now occurring to her.

“Thanks. That’ll be a big help. Hey, um...my name’s Windfall, in case you didn’t catch it earlier. These are Foxglove, Ramparts, and RG,” I pointed a wing at each pony in turn.

The mare followed my pinion and nodded to everypony, “sorry about earlier. I’m...just a little worried about Moonbeam, she’s...she shouldn’t be left on her own for very long is all,” her body tensed up initially, but she quickly suppressed her growing anxiety and forced a pained smile, “my name is Starlight. Starlight Glimmer.”

I flashed her a much more reassuring smile. She wasn’t having a very good day. She’d just found out that everypony she ever knew was dead and gone, and didn’t have any clue what exactly had happened to this ‘Moonbeam’ of hers. Frankly, I was of the mind that they were dead too, but I doubted that was something this mare wanted to hear right now, “nice to meet you, Starlight. Tell you what, when we’re finished up with what we’ve got going on here, we’ll see if we can figure out where your friend is, alright?”

The pink unicorn swallowed, and nodded, “thank you.”

The five of us walked outside into the ruined corridor, and the recently resurrected mare faltered. Not because she had lost her footing, although Foxglove had moved in close to her side for support all the same. No, what had just happened was that the mare finally saw the state of the facility she had gone to sleep in. I was certain that it look very different from how she remembered. Her wide cyan eyes scanned over the collapsing walls and molding floors that had not weathered two hundred years of neglect well. Eventually she managed to overcome her shock and make her way forward again under her own power, but her gaze wandered continuously all the while.

“Um, Starlight,” I ventured, hoping to keep her mind off of her troubled thoughts in some small way by providing the distraction of questions to answer, “you were with the Ministry of Arcane Sciences, right?”

“Yes, I am, um…” she cracked a wan smile, “I guess ‘was’ is the right word actually. I take it the MAS doesn’t exist anymore?” I shook my head, and the pink unicorn nodded slowly, “makes sense.”

“Anyway,” I went on, “you said this place was run by the MoA and MoP. Why are you here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Her smiled soured significantly, and her eyes looked fretful again. Good going, Windfall. Way to put her at ease with small talk, “I’m here as a, um, consultant, sort of. For a specific project. It’s, um...a personal interest really. I was here on vacation, actually,” she let out the emptiest laugh I’d ever heard, and her eyes were anything but happy, “I was originally going to go to the Crystal Empire, but I though: ‘hey, Starlight, just swing by Neighvada this time. It’ll be nice.’,” a lump was fighting a valiant battle in her throat, and it was unclear which way the outcome would eventually swing.

Horseapples. I really screwed this up somehow. Great going there, Windy. Want to just go ahead and trip the mare and give her a good swift kick up her nethers to round this whole mess out? Yeah, I could do that, or I could Be Pleasant! Today for once, and say the right thing, “believe it or not, I know what it’s like to wake up and find out everypony you loved is gone,” I said softly to the mare, drawing her bleary gaze, “it’s never really going to stop hurting, and I’m sorry for that. It’s not fair, and nopony deserves to have it happen to them.”

“So what do you do,” she asked in a shaky voice, “to make it stop?”

“You take it one day at a time. You set a goal. When you achieve it, you set another,” I shrugged, “it’s not a perfect plan, but it’s gotten me through the last eight or so years. Want to give it a try?”

The mare gave a little nod.

“Alright. Your goal for today: find out where Moonbeam went,” I folded a wing over the unicorn and gave her a firm squeeze, “after that, we’ll make another goal. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good,” a little yellow pegasus seemed to approve as well. My eyes looked back up at our surroundings, noting that we were back on the lowest level again already and heading for the room with the working terminal that Foxglove had found.

The violet unicorn motioned to the console, “I couldn’t get very far, I’m afraid. I wanted to see if you knew how to access the system before I tried getting around it and risking being locked out entirely.”

Starlight stepped up to the terminal and began tapping at the keys, “they gave me a fair bit of access. I think my MAS clearances should count for something too. Just give me a...there we go,” she glanced back at the violet mare, “what would you like to check out?”

“How about those android bodies,” Foxglove suggested, “you mentioned that some of them were fairly advanced. Maybe the Republic is using them as weapons somehow.”

“Alright,” the pink unicorn turned back to computer display and navigated her way through the directories. Everything seemed to be going well until she grunted and frowned, “odd...why is there a ‘restricted access’ marker on this file? I’m already pretty far in, there’s no reason additional clearances should be required. Hmm,” she tapped out a furious series of commands and was immediately rebuked by a sour pair of notes coming from the terminal, “‘authentication denial’? What?”

“You don’t have access to the files?”

“No…” the mare corrected, sounding slightly perplexed, “if my clearance level wasn’t high enough, the system would have said, ‘insufficient access’, and if I did something wrong, it would have said ‘authentication failure’. ‘Denial’ means that somepony is blocking me specifically from getting at this file.”

“Would it be because you’re just consulting?”

“There’s no reason for them to put a block like this in place to stop a member of any ministry with my authority from accessing files at a facility like this one,” the mare sneered at the screen as though it were offering her a personal insult, “only a few ponies in Equestria even have the authority to do it...Dash, what did you do? What were you doing with Moonbeam?” she once more set her hooves to the keyboard, her cold cyan eyes boring holes in the monitor before her.

Then she suddenly drew up short, “wait...that’s not...those numbers are wrong.”

“What numbers?”

“The ident code for the projects,” Starlight said, sounding much more distant and confused, “this file has the wrong numbers for…somepony must have gotten them wrong”she leaned in closer, her features contorting even more, “but this is the master copy. It hasn’t been altered in months...er, centuries, I guess. But the months before I arrived anyway,” her eyes closed and she bowed her head, “they lied to me...the whole time.”

I exchanged looks with Foxglove and Arginine as the three of us waited for any sort of explanation from the pink unicorn, but when nothing was forthcoming, I decided that we’d have to ask for her to elaborate directly, “bad news?”

Starlight sighed and looked back at the terminal’s display, “two hundred years, you said?”

“Give or take,” I said, nodding hesitantly.

“Then they’re all dead anyway. It doesn’t matter,” her expression was hard as she peered at the screen, “according to the system there were a half dozen different android bodies in the Workshop. I know where that is,” the unicorn stepped away from the terminal and walked past us, “follow me.”

I stared after the departing pony. I had seen the mare go through a wide range of emotions in the last fifteen minutes since we’d woken her up, from anger and rage all the way down to deep depression and sadness. Yet, just now I had seen her display a rather troubling degree of numbness. Troubling because I knew that there had been times in my own life when I’d felt that exact way before; and I wasn’t always proud of what I’d done under those conditions. On the bright side, the unicorn wasn’t visibly armed. Of course, I had no idea what sort of spells were in her magical arsenal, outside of the ability to teleport.

Well, the Workshop was certainly underwhelming…

We stood in the dark room, the only sources of illumination were the lights from our three pipbucks. The soft white glows swam over the contents of the room, painting a fairly clear picture of how little reward our foray into this bunker was going to reap. At least we had finally learned what the Republic’s team had initially found during their trip here all those years ago.

Of course, this only stood to raise more questions than it answered really, since everything that had been left behind by the Republic’s retrieval team looked unremarkable. This was just a room filled with typical examples of the sorts of roboponies that we’d all seen a hundred times in the Wasteland during our lives. There was nothing to suggest that these specific examples were particularly remarkable.

Though, I suppose that might have explained why they were all still here. Indeed, there was only one location where it looked like anything was missing. I inquired of Starlight whether there was anything to suggest what might have set the missing model apart from all of the others.

She frowned, “it’s hard to say,” the pink unicorn walked over, her horn aglow with cyan light as she inspected the area. Her attention settled on a nearby clipboard, which she picked up and inspected. After a few moments of scanning the documents on it, she scowled, “what the―redacted? They redacted the―” she snarled at the offending clipboard and very nearly threw it away. It was a very close thing that she managed to retain the presence of mind to keep it close and finish gleaning what she could.

“I’d never have guessed that Rainbow Dash could have pissed me off so much more when she was dead than she ever managed to when she was alive,” the unicorn growled as she looked back at me and held up the clipboard, “the model and specifications have all been blacked out. The only piece of information left is the fucking accounting code.”

“Can that help us somehow?” It was pretty clear from her tone that it wasn’t going to be of any real use, but I was grasping at straws here. We just couldn’t have come all this way only to walk away empty-hoofed!

Starlight snorted, “only if you’re looking to get paid for carting it around,” the mare sighed, “otherwise it’s useless.”

Foxglove cocked her head, “what do you mean?”

“When the ministries would need to ship a lot of sensitive items around Equestria, and they couldn’t get official government resources together fast enough to do the job, they’d turn to civilian shipping companies. The trouble was that a lot of times those shipments had to be kept a secret so that the zebras couldn’t find out about our sensitive projects; and that meant that those companies weren’t allowed to keep any real records of those jobs.

“It makes it kind of hard to get paid when the cargo you delivered ‘doesn’t exist’ on any official report,” Starlight raised an eyebrow, and I nodded in understanding, “so the ministries came up with ‘accounting codes’ that could be used to track those sorts of cargos without giving away what was in them.”

“But...wait,” I raised a hoof, “isn’t that good news then? If we have that code, then we can find out where whatever it was came from. If we go there, then we’ll find out what it was, and where any more of them might be!” things were actually starting to look up, for once.

“The whole point of this code is so that we can’t do that,” Starlight explained, “even if we knew what shipping company was used, the only record they would have of the shipment is this code, and maybe a date. What the cargo was, where it came from, and where it went wouldn’t be listed.”

“There’s got to be a record somewhere,” I argued, “you said that all of the other information was erased, but that means that there is other information that matches that code, right?” the pink unicorn nodded, but her expression remained dubious, “well, where would we find that complete file?”

“The Ministry of Awesome Headquarters in Canterlot,” she responded dryly. I bowed my head in defeat. There was no way that we’d be able to make it all the way to Canterlot and back in anything like a reasonable amount of time! “or, maybe,” I looked back up at Starlight, hopeful, “the regional hub here in Neighvada.”

I cocked my head, “wait...is this place not the MoA hub?”

“No,” Starlight shook her head, “this was just a small testing facility. I have no idea where their hub is,” fuck, “but I know where we can go to find out,” yay! “The Ministry of Arcane Science regional hub will have that information.”

“Awesome,” finally things were looking up! “And where’s that at?”

“Reino.”

Well...horseapples. This whole conversation has been one gigantic emotional rollercoaster, hasn’t it?

I mean, I suppose that there could have been worse places in the valley for it to be, but it was hard to come up with a specific location right off the top of my head. I looked at Ramparts, “well, on the bright side, we can swing by Santa Mara and drop you off to see Yatima and your foal,” huh. That was an interesting mixture of emotions on the stallion’s face. It was pretty clear that his desire to visit with his recently extended family was conflicting with his sense of commitment where his promise to me was concerned. I tried to put him more at ease, “there’s no reason for you to come all the way to Reino with us. I appreciate your help, but this isn’t your problem; not really.”

The courser frowned and nodded at Arginine, “aren’t you trying to stop his Stable from killing everypony in the Wasteland? I kind of feel like that’d be a problem for me.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Nor was I inclined to, since having the seasoned fighter with me in that dead city would be very welcome indeed.

“Excuse me,” Starlight ventured, looking between the two of us, “did I miss something? Who’s trying to kill everypony? You can’t mean that the war’s still going on after all this time…”

“Not quite, no,” I admitted. You’d think that I was getting used to explaining the whole deal with RG and the genocide his stable was planning. I was not, “one of the groups of ponies that survived the balefire bombs in the shelters you built thinks that they’ve created the ‘perfect pony’,” I pointed a wing at the gray stallion, “and their next step is to get rid of all the other ponies on the surface.

“We’re trying to stop it. It’s why we need to find these weapons, so that we can end the war between the Steel Rangers and the Republic so that they’ll fight RG’s Stable and stop them.”

“So...the war with the zebras is over...and now everypony is still just...fighting each other?” I don’t think that I’ve ever heard a pony who sounded as defeating as Starlight did when she summarized the situation that way. She was utterly dumbfounded, “...why?”

“Because your kind is flawed,” Arginine answered the unicorn mare, regarding her coolly, “your very nature destroyed the whole world. It lives on in your descendents even now,” his gaze shifted to me, “that is why we have undertaken our mission: it is the only way to finally break this perpetual cycle of war and death. Only a better breed of pony will be able to save Equestria.”

“I don’t believe that,” I snarled at the stallion, “not for a moment,” I returned my attention to the pale pink unicorn, “I won’t lie, it’s not pretty up there. It’s not going to be the Equestria you remember.”

Starlight stared at me, and I noticed her eyes wandering over my face, barding, and wings, “it does look kind of rough,” there was a flicker of a wan smile on her face, but it vanished very quickly and the mare stared down at the floor and was quiet for a long time.

“It’s not all bad though,” I offered helpfully, “I mean, it’s not like everypony is just running around killing each other all the time,” even if it could feel that way some days, “there are good ponies out there. Look...you can just show us where to find the MAS hub and we’ll take it from there. We’ll drop you off in Seaddle with some money and help you start a new life, if you want.”

She shook her head, “you’ll need to know the encryption protocols once you’re there. It’ll be a lot easier if I’m with you to get you in anyway,” Starlight shrugged, “it’s not like I really have anywhere else I need to be. Besides, coming with you might be the only way I’ll ever learn what happened to Moonbeam.”

“If you don’t mind,” Foxglove inquired, “who is ‘Moonbeam’? Were they a friend of yours?”

“She’s…” Starlight shook her head and sighed, “she was a...filly, that I worked with here. I told you before that I was a ‘consultant’, well, I was consulting on her case. She was part of a program that was supposed to help young foals cope with...deficiencies by using advanced AI.”

“You were hooking ponies up to computers?” The violet mare quirked an eyebrow.

“It was more than that. These were very...special cases, where the foals in question had suffered serious trauma that severely affected cognition, or even their physical development. Their brains just couldn’t...handle everything that was needed to keep them functioning. So we were using sophisticated software programs to take up the slack.

“Moonbeam was one of the most promising foals in the program. When she came in...she was unconscious, and couldn’t even breathe on her own. Within a few months, she was talking and using a robopony body to move around in. Her progress was...remarkable,” the mare was finally smiling now, her eyes glazed over as she relived the memories in her head. Then her expression darkened once more, “the MoA wanted to use her in one of their other projects. I wouldn’t allow it.

“I think that the MoA stole her, and was using her against my wishes. I just learned that they had switched her file with another filly in the program before my last visit. That means that Moonbeam might not even have been here when the bombs dropped. I need to know what Rainbow Dash did with her. The MoA hub will have my answers.

“So, I’m coming with you.”

Unlike Ramparts, I was less enthusiastic about having this pink unicorn tag along with us. While she clearly at least had a modicum of magical aptitude, it was highly unlikely that she possessed any real combat ability. There was a very real possibility that she’d be even less able in a fight than Foxglove had been at first, and I wasn’t in the mood to foalsit a pony while we prowled through Old Reino. She did have a point about getting the information we needed from the MAS facility though. Having her there with us would save me a bit of a headache when the time came.

On the other hoof, it’s not like I was the only pony that had to look after her, “alright, you can come,” I nodded my head back to the brown earth pony stallion, “stick close to Ramparts, he’ll look after you. I don’t suppose that you’re good with a gun?”

“I had a...basic firearms familiarization course,” she began, and then shook her head, “but I’ve never had to shoot a gun off the range, no.

“But you don’t have to worry about me,” she said, “I can handle myself pretty well,” at my dubious expression she smiled, “I’m really good with magic.”

I cringed slightly, “look, it’s really rough out there, okay? I’m sure you know a few neat spells and all,” Foxglove and Arginine had a couple useful little bits of unicorn magic after all, “but it takes serious skill with a weapon to make it far in the Wasteland.”

Starlight chuckled and rolled her eyes. Her horn flashed cyan for a brief second and I was momentarily blinded by a bright light. When the brilliant illumination faded, I looked around, confused, and noticed that my Wonderbolt barding was back to its formerly pristine appearance. I frowned at the pink mare, “that’s hardly the sort of thing that―”

There was another flash of magic, and I found myself suddenly unable to move or to speak. In fact, neither I, Ramparts, Foxglove, or even Arginine seemed able to move or speak at all. Starlight was smirking at the four of us, “like I said: I’m really good. In fact, I’m only just scratching the surface here. I have my own shelf in the Canterlot library, you know, right next to Twilight Sparkle’s!

“So let’s get this trip started.”

A third flash obscured my vision, but for much longer this time. When it dissipated, I realized that I could move once more. We were also no longer inside the ancient bunker. We were standing outside the entrance, on the surface. I watched as the self-satisfied expression on the pink unicorn’s face quickly shifted into a look of shocked horror. I had to admit that she was, indeed, very skilled with spells, in my estimation. However, she had clearly not been ready for the revelation that was the Wasteland itself.

I stood there next to her, silent, as the mare took in the scenery―such that it was. For nearly a minute, Starlight simply gaped at what she saw, and then finally, “I...what did we do…?”

Before Arginine could render a biting indictment of the ancient ponies that had set the world on this path, I curled a wing over her back and said, “you made a mistake. It happens. I told you it wasn’t pretty.

“We should get going though. We have a lot of ground to cover,” I kept an eye on the pink mare until I saw her nod. I started off, looking back at Ramparts, “you sure you’re ready to go the whole way with us? It could be a while before we’re back around Santa Mara,” assuming that any of us live that long.

“I’m sure,” the stallion nodded.

“Okay then. So we’re on our way back to Old Reino, I guess. Awesome.”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 30: WHAT'S YOUR STORY, MORNING GLORY?

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"You're not from around here. Who're you?"

Our usual pace was slowed rather significantly with Starlight’s inclusion. Most of it, I had to admit, wasn’t her fault. It turned out that two hundred years stuck in an oversized freezer took a pretty big toll on a pony’s body. Plus, she hadn’t exactly been the most athletically-minded of ponies back before the world ended, it seemed. We took quite a few more breaks throughout the day than I was entirely comfortable with, but I kept telling myself that time wasn’t nearly as critical as I felt it was. I couldn’t know that for sure, of course. It was entirely possible that Arginine’s Stable had already mobilized and was marching on the Neighvada Valley even now and I just didn’t know it yet.

If that was the case though, then everypony was doomed and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. On the other hoof, if there was still time enough to get everypony organized, then we still had a chance; so I focussed on keeping that mindset while I nibbled on an alfalfa chip and sipped some Sparkle-Cola.

Starlight was less than enamored with the meal options available to her, but she was quiet about her reservations. She was also very adamant that the package foodstuffs from the Old World did not, in fact, taste anything like they were supposed to. I made a note to ask her about how the fresher produce that was meagerly farmed in the valley compared to what she recalled.

We had already learned quite a few things about how much the Wasteland differed from the Equestria that the pink unicorn remembered. For one thing; she was actually quite shocked by how barren the landscape was. To hear her descriptions, this had once been one of the lusher regions of the ancient pony princedom. ‘Equestria’s Bread Basket’, she had called it. According to her, once upon the majority of the nation’s grain had been grown in this valley. Having lived here all of my life, I found that very hard to believe.

Almost as hard as Starlight had found it to believe that the entirety of the pegasi race had completely abandoned the surface and locked themselves away above their protective layer of clouds and the ancient weapon systems that kept them from being bothered by anypony they didn’t want to deal with. Nopony here was an avid historian, so we couldn’t provide the Old World mare with more than a highly abridged version of the events immediately following the war. What we did know seemed to cause her quite a bit of distress though.

“They...they just abandoned the surface?”

“More or less,” I confirmed, “oh, sure, you see one of their patrols from time to time, and I’m told that sometimes they’ll even trade for high-end salvage. Other than that though? You’d be lucky to get so much as a ‘how’d’you do?’ out of an Enclaver.”

“Enclaver?”

I nodded, “they call themselves the Big Pegasus Enclave, or something like that,” I shrugged, “not every pegasus is part of the Enclave, of course. There are ones like me, who were born on the surface; we’re pretty rare though,” I had never actually met another pegasus like myself personally. I was sure more existed somewhere though, “more likely, you’ll see a Dashite,” I headed off the inevitable question that was hovering on Starlight’s lips, “they’re pegasi that used to be in the Enclave but got kicked out or left for good.”

“Why are they called, ‘Dashites’?” Given what I had heard up to this point regarding her opinion of whom it sounded like she had correctly identified as their namesake, I could understand the dubious tone of her voice.

“The story I heard from one of them was that after the bombs fell, most of the major pegasi cities were still okay. One or two got vaporized, but on the whole they made out a lot better than the surface. However, when the surface asked them to help rebuild, nearly all of the pegasi basically told the unicorns and earth ponies to suck dirt and closed up the sky. I couldn’t tell you why,” I shrugged. I hadn’t been there, of course, and this story was at least fourth of fifth hoof as it was, so I wasn’t even going to try to speculate.

“Supposedly, Rainbow Dash didn’t care for that very much and so she disowned the Enclave, or whatever they were calling themselves back then, and she and some of her closest followers went to the surface to do what they could to help. That’s the story I heard anyway. Since then, any pegasus that left was called a Dashite, because they were ‘betraying’ the Enclave just like Rainbow Dash did.”

Starlight Glimmer was clearly not sure what to make of my story, “that’s...surprising.”

“Did you know Rainbow Dash well?” I inquired, genuinely curious about hearing what could very well be the only first-hoof account of the iconic pegasus I was trying to―perhaps foolishly―model myself after. I wasn’t certain I’d get a particularly flattering opinion from the pink unicorn, but it might do me some good to hear my hero’s faults.

“Not personally,” Starlight admitted, frowning, “not really. I had to deal with enough of her underlings though, and a lot of the bullshit that they kept pulling.”

“Like what?”

She sighed, “her ministry played a lot of things close to the vest,” the unicorn explained, “ironically, the so-called ‘Element of Loyalty’ wasn’t very good about trusting the ponies around her. Even some of her closest subordinates were kept in the dark about other projects that the MoA was involved in. I met more than a few highly placed MoA ponies who knew nothing about Project Egghead; and I got the impression that the SPP was a huge surprise to half her ministry.

“You can just imagine how many ponies who weren’t part of the Ministry of Awesome knew what Rainbow Dash was up to,” she said in a wry tone.

“What might have been worse, though, was that she did not want to hear ‘no’ to anything she wanted to do. If she was told not to do something, it didn’t matter how good the reason was, she’d just do it anyway in secret. By the time anypony found out about it, it would be too late to stop her and the other Ministry Mares would either have to appear divided―which Image would never allow―or act like it had been the plan all along,” Starlight was grimacing now.

“That was how she formed the Shadowbolts, after all. Princess Luna was not happy about them, or the name Dash had settled on. However,” the pink unicorn sighed, shaking her head, “the first time her new flight team made its debut, it turned the tide of a battle and completely saved the day. Dash and the Shadowbolts were instant heroes with both the civilians, and the military. Who was going to punish her or denounce her fliers after that?

“And, of course every time she got away with something, that just encouraged her to try something else even more outrageous; like she had to top herself!

“So….yeah. Hearing that a mare like that wanted to do everything she could to help the rest of Equestria even if that meant abandoning her fellow pegasi? That sounds pretty selfless of her, and it’s not something I would have expected, given what I knew,” she grunted, “but it doesn’t change the fact that she was fucking around with me about Moonbeam.”

“She was really important to you, wasn’t she? Moonbeam, I mean.”

Starlight was silent for a long moment, and then finally nodded, “yeah,” the unicorn took a deep breath and tried to muster up a little ghost of a laugh, “it’s so weird,” I cocked my head, “I mean, I know it’s been two hundred years. She’s dead, no matter what games Dash was playing with her. So, I know, in my head, that trying to find out what really happened doesn’t matter.”

There was a long moment of silence, “I also know that I just said ‘goodnight’ to her a few hours ago…or, at least, to who I thought had been her...”

Another long few seconds of silence as the unicorn closed her eyes, “and there were a lot of ponies...that I never said anything to at all,” ooh...great going, Windfall, “I think…” the mare continued, “I think the worst part is not knowing, you know? I mean, I know they’re dead, but...I’ll never know how they died. Was it painless? Were they alone? It bothers me that I’ll never know for sure.

“Celestia,” the unicorn gasped quietly, her eyes wide with concern, “the town…”

“Hmm? What town?”

“...I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” she said despondently.

I shook my head this time, “it matters to you,” I said, “and I do really know what it’s like to lose ponies close to you,” I had also had the benefit of knowing what had happened to my family. At least, I’d thought I had. Finding out that my mother had been alive all of that time had reopened those old scars anew with a vicious ferocity. I’d know that my mother had not been killed at the farm along with my father, Jackboot had told me as much. The old stallion had also assured me that she would certainly be dead shortly anyway. As horrific as the knowledge had been to hear, I had eventually accepted it and asserted in my own head that my mother had died. It had allowed me to move on.

Starlight was in a very similar position now, after a fashion. I could see where her sense of turmoil was stemming from them. With my family, I’d been able to ascribe a cause and nature to their deaths. It had been far from quick, or peaceful, but I had at least known what had happened to them, if only conceptually. It allowed me to focus and push recurring thoughts of them aside as I plotted my eventual destruction of the White Hooves and anypony else who might do that sort of thing to other ponies. Unfortunately, the pink unicorn had no definitive knowledge about the deaths of her friends and family, and certainly nothing much to keep her focused as she slowly healed from the stupendous loss she’d suffered.

“Does it get easier?”

I thought for a little bit about my answer, and a wan smile wound its way onto my face, “kind of? It always hurts just as bad. It’s just that you learn to stop thinking about it as much. You get better at distracting yourself by thinking about other things.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Starlight said grimly, looking around the Wasteland. The unicorn frowned for a long while in silence before speaking again, “is there anything left?”

“Like cities and stuff?” I ventured, seeing the pink mare nod, “sort of. Nothing looks like it did, I’m sure, but there are places where you can find ponies living and working together.”

Starlight nodded, “so we’re rebuilding. That’s nice.”

I cringed, “that might be overselling it,” I admitted, “not many ponies are very interested in bringing back the Old World like it was. Except Princess Luna and the Republic, of course,” I inclined my head in Ramparts’ direction and the stallion issued a confirming nod.

That seemed to cheer up the pink unicorn a little, “that’s right, I remember that you mentioned Princess Luna earlier. Did Princess Celestia survive too?”

I shook my head, “honestly, the whole Wasteland was pretty sure both of the goddesses were dead after the war. Princess Luna didn’t show up again until,” I glanced at Ramparts, “what’s it been, twelve or thirteen years?”

“About that,” the stallion agreed.

“Unfortunately, before she could start fixing things, the Steel Rangers showed up and started fighting her.”

That bit of news certainly seemed to shock Starlight, “what?! Why would anypony fight one of the Princesses?”

“Beats us,” I shrugged, thinking back of my conversation with Hoplite the other day. In hindsight, I recalled that the ghoul mare had specifically called out Ebony Song as being the one who had stolen from the Rangers...and had never once mentioned Princess Luna. I’d had a lot on my mind at the time, and hadn’t really thought much of it, but looking back on everything that the Star Paladin had said, I did find it a bit curious, “they think something was stolen from them. You’d think that they’d have just joined up with the Republic and try to talk with Princess Luna about it, but they’re not.”

Starlight sighed, “great. Who are these ‘Rangers’ anyway?”

“Fanatics,” Ramparts took control of the conversation now. I was pretty fine with that, as the brown stallion officer likely knew a lot more about the Steel Rangers than I did with so many years of experience fighting them. I’m sure he wasn’t going to be the most impartial of sources, but he would be knowledgeable, “they’re descended from survivors of the Ministry of Wartime Technology. They think everypony else in the Wasteland can’t be trusted with advanced technology, and so they’ve made it their mission to gather it all up and hoard it for themselves.”

“The Ministry of Wartime Technology is fighting Princess Luna?” she sputtered, aghast, “that’s ridiculous! Why?!”

“I told you: they’re fanatic nutcases now,” the stallion snorted, “they just like wearing the barding and symbol from the MWT. I doubt they really care what it stood for back then.”

I felt myself cringe inwardly, suddenly very much aware of the Wonderbolt barding that I was wearing, as well as the comments made by Star Paladin Hoplite. In a very real way, I was just sort of ‘playing’ at the whole Wonderbolt thing, wasn’t I? I wasn’t a real member of the ancient elite flying team, and I couldn’t say that I honestly knew anything about them other than what I saw hyped on Old World billboards. I had just sort of...appropriated the uniform and created a neat set of ideals to aspire to based upon those billboards. Which only made it more frustrating when I managed to fall short of those made up ‘ideals’ of mine.

“I wonder what else has changed,” Starlight said in a soft, thoughtful, tone, “did any of the other ministries manage to survive?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ramparts answered, shaking his head, “but I can only speak for the valley. DJ Pon3 hasn’t mentioned anything about other ministry organizations in his broadcasts from Manehattan though.”

“So Manehattan survived too?” she asked, hopefully.

“I couldn’t say as to what ‘survived’,” Ramparts responded cautiously, “I’ve never been there,” Foxglove and I shook our heads as well, “I’d wager it’s not much different than Seaddle though.”

“I see. What about the Empire?”

“The who?” I quirked an eyebrow.

“The Crystal Empire,” the unicorn elaborated, “up north. How badly were they hit?”

Even RG was looking a little confused now as the four of us exchanged looks while trying to figure out exactly where it was that Starlight Glimmer was talking about, “never heard of it.”

The pink mare seemed rather deflated now, “this is getting really depressing. Maybe if you could just tell me what does still exist?”

“Ponies are still here,” I offered helpfully, “you probably shouldn’t get too hung up on places and stuff. I’m sure you’ll cheer up when you finally see a real settlement.

“And on that note; do you think you’re rested enough to go a few more miles?”

Starlight nodded and stood up, “yeah. Sorry to slow you all down. I’m not used to doing a whole lot of walking,” she shrugged sheepishly.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Foxglove said, stretching herself out as well, “if there’s one thing you get a lot of practice at doing in the Wasteland: it’s walking.”

“Speak for yourselves, ground-pounders,” I chuckled as I rose up into the air. I wasn’t going to be breaking any of my personal speed records any time soon, but my wings were at least well enough to allow for slow meandering flights. Which was more than adequate to keep ahead of the dirt-bound ponies following in my wake.

Had we chosen to, we could probably have completely bypassed the Seaddle Ruins on our way south to Old Reino, but there were simply too many reasons to make a quick stop in the Republic’s capital city on our way to the Ministry of Arcane Science hub. I was in serious need of ammunition, the whole group was going to need to top off on food now that we had a fifth member of our group, and if Starlight wasn’t particularly capable with any weapons, she certainly needed some barding to wear.

Not that cost was much of an issue as far as I was concerned these days, but Ramparts did suggest that he could pull what little weight he had and get us the ammunition we’d need, as well as barding for Starlight. It was certainly nice of him to offer, and I gratefully accepted. Food was something that we’d have to cover on our own though, as were the explosives that I needed to replenish.

Foxglove asked if we’d be staying long enough for her to get to work on that list of projects I’d been steadily adding to for the violet mechanic. I really did want her to get to those things, especially the ammunition. It was just a question of finding the time for her to stay in one place long enough to break out her tools and be productive. Seaddle was an ideal place to do that, frankly.

It was also a costly, crowded, and busy place to do that. To say nothing of the fact that we’d be very visible to anypony looking for us. Well, me specifically, I guess. The Lancers were doubtless to have sets of eyes in the Republic capital who would be all too happy to tell their bosses where the pegasus who had been making their lives difficult was staying. Maybe they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything while we were in the city itself, but the moment we stepped outside…

However, it just so happened that I knew of an out-of-the-way place where Foxglove could get her work done while the rest of us poked around Old Reino in search of the ministry hub: Wind Rider’s Wagons and Freight. It was off the beaten path, was located right outside the city limits of the abandoned metropolis, and even possessed a sort of ‘secret hiding place’ in case we needed to make ourselves even less visible if somepony undesirable got too close.

The idea of using the old shipping company’s warehouse for her work actually went over quite well with the violet unicorn mare. She mentioned the need to acquire some additional tools and equipment to be able to make the most of the facilities, but was otherwise fine with the notion. Ramparts certainly had no objections to setting up a small ‘base of operations’, as he’d called it, while we explored the city’s ruins. The only pony that I was really concerned about was RG.

Wind Rider’s would bring us very close to the area that I knew his stable operated in. If there was ever going to be a time where the stallion tried to make a break for it, that was going to be it. Me and the others were going to need to be on high alert where the large gray stallion was confirmed. I was even strongly entertaining the notion of fully passing him off to the Republic so that they could begin getting information out of him, just so that he wasn’t my problem anymore.

After the Arc Lightning facility though, I couldn’t deny how useful having the stallion around was. While, if Starlight’s magical prowess was really as good as she was making it out to be, the stallion’s spellcasting abilities might very well prove to be redundant now; he was still the closest thing that we had to medical pony―as horrifying as that thought was. Reino was going to be rife with dangers, to include the roaming radiation zones that we could end up stumbling into. Having a pony around who knew anything about physiology would be a good idea; and I very much doubted that we were going to find reliable skilled volunteers once we made mention of our destination.

Putting our health and welfare into the hooves of the very pony who was part of a group that wanted to see all of us dead wasn’t what I would classify as an ‘ideal’ scenario, but beggars didn’t have the luxury of being choosers.

...Nor did it seem that I was going to be afforded the luxury of getting through today without killing a lot of ponies.

My eyes narrowed at the red blips that indicated creatures of ill-intent were moving within the building to either side of our merry band. That had been the risk, of course, of trying to save a little time by cutting through the Seaddle Ruins instead of going around them in order to reach the safety of the settlement.

Vipers, maybe. They must have spotted me long before my Eyes Forward Sparkle had detected them, because it looked like they were very nearly done setting up a kill-zone for us. With as many as they had brought with them, it seemed clear that their intent was to surround us and force a surrender without much of a fight. If I let them get fully into position, they might even manage to accomplish just that too. Foxglove still wasn’t much use with her rifle, and Ramparts was the only other pony besides me and her that had weapons. RG and Starlight were just going to be targets.

I sighed and bowed my head. This was going to suck.

“Hey, Ramps,” I called down. Trying to keep ourselves hidden was a moot point, since these ponies trying to ambush us clearly knew where we were already. It surprised me really, how calm I sounded in the face of what was about to happen. Panicking was hardly going to help anypony, though, was it?

“Yeah?” the brown earth pony said in reply, his tone a lot more gruff than it typically was. He had a pipbuck too, after all. He knew what was happening just as well as I did.

“Do me a favor and make sure the others don’t get hurt, alright?”

I didn’t wait for response. Either the stallion would get the other three to cover, and they’d survive the fight, or he wouldn’t. That was no longer my problem. What I needed to focus on right now was dealing with the threat. I took in a deep breath and engaged SATS. The world around me slowed down to a crawl as I scanned the various ponies closing in around on us. Either because I had made the initial assumption, or because of some facet of the Old World device’s abilities that I didn’t fully understand, the pipbuck did indeed identify the threats as being members of the Viper Gang that prowled the Seaddle Ruins.

There were eleven of them, and they were armed with either medium caliber pistols, or light automatic carbines. Some of them carried bladed melee weapons as a secondary form of armament. They were fanning out through the second and third floors of the tenement houses that flanked the street we were walking down. Six to our right, and five to our left. So, right it was then, and then move to the other side once those had been dealt with. It was going to be a close quarters fight, and in a confined environment. Neither of those conditions were my preferred parameters when it came to an engagement. I tended to favor maneuvering room and distance to let me build up a lot of speed to help myself become a harder to hit target.

This was going to be brutal little tussle.

I directed my attention towards the nearest threat, a unicorn stallion levitating an improvised automatic pistol in front of him as he cantered through a crumbling apartment on his way to a position behind us. Well, sucks to be you, bud; but the point-pony always dies first, don’t you know?

The world resumed moving at a normal pace. I, however, was not. The pain in my joints that had been caused by Star Paladin Hoplite’s mechanical grip had ebbed greatly since our confrontation. It was down to only a dull ache these days, as though I had merely slept on it wrong. So the abrupt sideways shift in my direction of flight caused me hardly any discomfort at all as I angled my wings and hurled myself back-first through the remains of a two century old window.

The sound of the shattering glass and the fragmented shards of the clouded material raining down on the unicorn shocked the stallion into stillness. He instinctively cowered away from the cloud of tiny razors flying at his head, which was all the distraction that I needed to make my move. I oriented myself and drove my hind hooves into the stallion’s head, plowing it directly into the plastered wall of the apartment.

“Suprise, mother-bucker!”

It was unclear what ultimately killed the Viper pony first: his broken neck or his impacted skull, but in either case, I had just reduced the number of armed threats down to ten with a single blow.

Viper number two wasn’t all that far away, visible through a partially collapsed wall leading into another apartment. She was an earth pony mare who was gaping at me with wide, surprised, eyes as she watched me burst out of nowhere and slam her compatriot through a wall. The .38 snub-nose in her mouth nearly fell from her slack jaw. I vaulted from my perch on the dead stallion’s head and started galloping across the floor towards her, attempting the cross the thirty-odd feet between us as quickly as possible.

The mare regained her composure and tightened her hold on the grip of her weapon, lining it up on me. The remnants of the wall created a narrow funnel through which I could advance on the mare. While I could easily had dodge to the side and been well out of her field of fire, that would also have essentially stopped me dead in my tracks, and I couldn’t allow that with so many threats in the area. They had numbers, which meant that staying put for too long in any one place meant giving the Vipers a chance to surround me and end the fight right then and there. As long as I kept moving they wouldn’t be able to coordinate against me as effectively. Especially if I kept taking out more of them as I was going. No, veering to the left or right was out of the question.

So, up it was then.

I leaped into the air as the revolver’s muzzle flashed with brief, brilliant, gouts of fiery black smoke as the improvised cartridges discharged. Those soft lead slugs buried themselves into the rotting floor where I had been only a moment before, and followed me upwards through the air as I ascended. Then they started disheveling the spackled ceiling as my hooves clattered along its white surface, leaving behind dusty hoof-prints in my wake.

The earth pony mare was clearly quite unaccustomed to having to track targets that ran at her along ceilings, and her aim suffered greatly as she craned her head upwards at an uncomfortable angle. The hammer of her weapon finally slammed down on a previously fired chamber, punctuating the thunderous shots with a final deafening ‘click’ that seemed to terrify the earth pony more than the sight of my killing her fellow Viper had. The empty sound of the impotent weapon also served as my cue to return to the floor, which I did with a tight roll that ended with a hard cross to the mare’s face.

“Head’s up!”

She went down with a grunt, the revolver flying uselessly from her mouth. I hovered in the air above her for half a second before delivering a pair of swift bucks to her exposed throat from the air. The red blip that had represented the mare on my Eyes Forward Sparkle vanished.

Nine more to go.

“Die, you bitch!”

I looked up in time to see a rather irate unicorn mare with an automatic carbine hovering by her head glaring in my direction. It was time now to be anywhere but right here, it seemed. A hailstorm of copper-jacketed rounds saturated the air where I had just been hovering as I threw myself out of the way. Forward was not an option while faced with that sort of firepower. At least, not directly forward, at any rate. I cringed as the unicorn mare started walking her shots towards me, her bullets meeting paltry little resistance from the thin plastered walls of the building.

For the second time that minute, I was crashing through a window, this time on my way back out of the building. This was only a temporary condition however, as I was simply electing to take the scenic route on my way through the Viper ponies infesting the buildings. I very quickly rolled through the air, tucking my head into my side and coming up with the lanyard that was connected to my submachine guns trigger mechanism. By the time I had the lanyard in my mouth, I was passing just outside a window looking in at the carbine-armed unicorn. She only just caught sight of me as I tugged on the line and opened fire. Twin streams of superheated lead sliced through the mare, leaving a crimson mist on the wall behind her.

Brickwork started exploding all around me, coinciding with the crackling of gunfire coming from behind me as the Vipers across the street took exception with my conduct towards their fellow gang members. I wasn’t quite ready to place myself in a crossfire just yet, so it was time to get back inside and out of their line of fire. With a deft flick of my wings, I fell over backwards and plummeted towards the ground, and the window below on the building’s second floor. This one was open, at least, saving me the grief of having to further saturate my feathers with even more powdered glass. I was going to itch for the rest of the day after this...badly.

My eyes were tracking the red blip of the next Viper pony before he actually came into view. It was an advantage that the nervous stallion distinctly lacked. As evidenced by his surprise when I came sailing in through the open window and tackled him to the ground. A had to admit that I had been a little taken aback as well though. I hadn’t had any real way to judge how far away from me he was going to be, just his direction. As it turned out, the earth pony stallion must have been on his way over to the window to see if her could get a clear look at what was going on outside and the reason for all of the gunfire.

But, while I may not have been expecting him to be so close, the stallion hadn’t been expecting me at all. So when a little pegasus wearing in a bright blue unitard swooped in and slammed into his chest, he wasn’t exactly prepared to resist the hit. My legs clamped around him and my wings beat furiously as I drove myself forward in an attempt to flip the larger pony. As surprised as he was, all that I really had to overcome was the stallion’s weight, which meant that I soon had him splayed out on his back.

“Hey, there, lover,” I cooed at the stallion I was straddling as I cocked my hoof back in preparation to be begin beating him into submission, “I hope you like it rough!”

Then the chilling sound of a shotgun chambering a round drew my attention away from the pinned pony. I looked over and saw another unicorn stallion with an automatic shotgun trained at my head and distinctively vicious sneer spread across his face, “on second thought, let’s cuddle first...”

I threw myself down on top of the stallion I had pinned and rolled him in between me and the flechet-spewing firearm just as it started going off. His body quivered and spasmed several times as a hurricane of pellets washed over him. By the fourth or fifth shot his screams ceased and he finally died, his further trembling due entirely to the force of the impacting shots that his unsympathetic partner continued to pump into my impromptu shield’s corpse.

Curling up as tightly as I could behind the ravaged carcass, and now quite thankful for my youthfully small size, I carefully craned my head beneath my wing and withdrew my pistol from its concealed holster in anticipation of the moment when the unicorn would inevitably run out of ammunition and be forced to reload. The only question on my mind right now was whether my fleshy bunker would remain intact long enough for me to weather this onslaught.

Then there was the sound of a much crisper clap of gunfire intertwined with the roar of the shotgun. A second shot rang out a second later, and then the unicorn abated. I peered carefully around the bloody remnants of what had been the stallion’s rib cage and looked for the unicorn, only to find him looking out to his left, towards the street. Then I heard that sharper crack again, and a piece of the wall behind the unicorn crumbled. He scowled in the direction of the street and turned his shotgun away from me to deal with this new threat.

“Hey! I’m, not finished with you yet,” I growled around the grip of my pistol. Then I depressed the trigger three times. Two rounds caught the stunned unicorn in his chest, while the third ripped away the right side of his neck. The magical glow holding his weapon fizzled out, and he collapsed to the ground. I pried myself out from beneath the remains of my cover, frowning at the new stains on my Wonderbolt barding. It looked like I was going to need to avail myself to Starlight’s cleaning spell again. Hopefully this wasn’t going to become, like, a thing with us…

As I tried to stand up, I became very acutely aware of a fiery pain in my thigh. Looking down, I saw that several of those hundreds of pellets had not been completely stopped by the body of the stallion I’d been behind. I teased out a healing potion and gulped it down. The half dozen or so bleeding pours closed up almost instantly, and I only hoped that I wasn’t going to jingle when I walked from now on...

I trotted stiffly over to the window and peered out. I followed the collection of yellow dots―even RG was one somehow―on my EFS and spied the rest of the group holed up across the street in a small shop. Foxglove was looking in my direction, her bolt-action rifle hovering in front of her, and a relieved expression on her face.

“Hey, Foxy, were you trying to steal my kill?!” I yelled across the street at the mare, whose expression switched from relieved to shocked upon hearing my question. I was going to have to add, ‘range time with Ramparts’ to the list of things I needed the mare to do. Three shots and no hits on a pretty much stationary target? Come on, Foxy, you’re breaking my heart here...

Then Foxglove looked suddenly horrified, and I saw her emerald eyes and the muzzle of her rifle shift to my right.

Without hesitation, I engaged SATS and looked in that direction. An earth pony mare was looking at me through a wrecked wall, a very hefty looking pistol in her mouth. I queued up three shots aimed at her head and willed the pipbuck to execute the commands. Two of the rounds reduced her head to something that looked disturbingly similar to the consistency of Cram while the third went astray.

I glared at the headless corpse, “exCUSE me! I was having a conversation with my friend,” I slipped the pistol back beneath my wing and looked back at the violet unicorn mare, “rude. Now, as I was saying―”

A nearby pane of glass shattered, showering me with even more powdered fragments of glass. Several bricks on the outer wall of the building also exploded as the ponies across the street opened up on my position. I instinctively ducked out of the line of fire, yelling very loudly, “you guys are being very inconsiderate right now; your mothers would be appalled! Foxglove, we’ll talk about this later.

“RG!” I raised the volume of my voice slightly higher to be sure I was being heard over the sound of the smattering of gunfire, “I’d very much appreciate those metal wings, please!”

Frankly, I was finding myself hard-pressed to come up with a way across the street that didn’t involve me being a helpless target for the massed fire of the five remaining Viper gang members. While I found Lightning Dust’s assurances of the Gale Force whatever’s resilience versus energy weapons to be questionable, it’s ability to deflect projectile rounds had been admirably demonstrated in my opinion. Hopefully their added protection would allow me to cross without having my lead levels raised too significantly.

There was a brief flash of cyan light in front of me. When it faded, I could see the set of alloyed wings lying on the floor. I frowned and glared in the direction of the other members of my group through the crumbling wall that was still being shot at by the Vipers, “you lazy fuck! You and I are going to have some words about this, RG!”

With a preparatory breath, I vaulted from my cover, grabbing up the wings as I went, and sought more substantial protection deeper within the old apartment building in order to slip myself into the contraption. I managed to find a small utility closet that kept me out of any direct lines of fire. I could still hear rounds whistling through the air nearby though on their way to chip away at the walls and floors, “no, it’s fine,” I mumbled to myself as I dropped my battlesaddle and set about securing my wings into the straps and latching the braces around my legs. It was still without an power source, but I was far more interested in its armor qualities at the moment than what it could do for my maneuverability, “I’m just over here all on my own, pinned down by five murderous psychopaths,” when every strap was set, I gave them all one additional tug to make certain they wouldn’t slip off in the middle of the fight. At least those blades were still exposed, “so I obviously don’t need anypony else over here to help me out with any sort of magical shield or anything. You guys just stay over there.

“It’s fine.”

I craned my head out of the closet and peered through the shattered interior of the building to where the other apartment across the street could be seen. Most of the gang members over there seemed to have decided that now was the opportune time to shift their positions. Whether they were trying to get to better cover, or simply hoping to organize a new killzone, I couldn’t tell from here. Flying across the open street to get to them was going to prove interesting though.

They had some keen eyes, those Vipers; credit where it was due. I’d taken no more than two steps out into the relative open of the apartment when the bullets started whizzing around me again. Ignoring them, I bolted for the open window and launched into the air. As light as the alloyed getup was for its strength, it was still a little cumbersome to fly with the added weight on my own wings. This only served to make what was already going to be an awkward maneuver even more so when I flipped myself over and started backwinging my way towards the other side of the street.

I ducked my head in low and did my best to keep all four of my hooves covered by the protection offered by the Gale Force’s superstructure. Rounds impacted my spine and sparked off the alloyed feathers of the wings themselves as I crossed the gulf between the apartment complexes. It was a terrifying experience, I couldn’t deny that. Never had I ever consciously placed so much faith in the ability of something I was wearing to protect me from harm.

In less than a minute, I was also reminded rather abruptly of why I wasn’t all that fond of flying backwards either. I had to commend Lightning Blitz and her design team for their quality craftmareship. The Gale Force took the meeting with that wall like a champ! I could only wish that my back was built that sturdy.

Groaning from the whiplash that had been caused by my sudden stop, I peeled myself out of the crumbling brickwork and glanced around. My eyes were focused on the pipbuck’s Eyes Forward Sparkle as I noted the relative location of the five red blips that identified the locations of the remaining gang members. The closest was just above and to the left of where I was. I rolled up in through the window and landed on the creaking floor with my right wing fanned out protectively in front of me.

I winced reflexively as a slew of rounds skittered off of the alloyed metal shell that protected my feathers. A dozen or more rounds must have been deflected away before there was a lull. It was then that I heard the faint sound of something metal and hollow clattering to the floor. The Viper had dropped their magazine to swap it out! Now was my chance to advance and take them out before they finished reloading.

With a powerful sweep of my wings, I launched myself at my opponent, getting a look at them for the first time. They were a unicorn stallion wearing half rusted metal barding that looked like it was built from whatever scrap they could get their hooves on, slathered with bright green paint. He very nearly had his automatic pistol loaded with fresh rounds by the time I’d closed the distance. A flaring of my pinions stalled me in the air directly in front of the armored stallion. The speed with which I had reached him had clearly surprised the unicorn, but he didn’t falter as he locked the new magazine into place and sent the slide forward with his magical manipulation of the weapon.

My body whirled in midair as I spun around and caught the barrel of the pistol with the edge of my left wing. The force of the blow managed to dislodge the weapon from his telekinetic grip and send it slamming into a nearby wall. I followed through with spin, and added into a backflip that would allow me to make a pass at his throat with the bladed edge of my right wing as it came around. This unicorn was quick though, and it was not the flesh of the stallion’s neck that the keen alloyed razor met but a very intimidating looking machete. The connection stopped me dead in the air, leaving me floating for one terrifying heartbeat on my back in front of the Viper unicorn with my own neck and belly perfectly exposed.

It was not merely the one machete that this unicorn possessed either, I quickly realized as a twin to the one that had arrested my movements started descended down in a hacking slice that was clearly intended to completely bisect my whole body. By the Grace of Celestia, I was able to cross my forelegs in front of me just in time to catch the notched machete with my bracer-enclosed limbs and stop it from cleaving open my unarmored rib cage. My one remaining eye focused on that rusted edge as it hovered close enough to my muzzle that I was half convinced my nose had split open out of sheer anticipation of the hit.

For his part, the armored stallion seemed to be rather disappointed that he had not landed the blow, as he glowered down at me. I rolled in the air and lashed out with my left wing this time. The blade that had been stopped by my hooves shifted over and my wing-strike was once more halted before it could land. I recoiled and twirled again. Each time I lashed out, the stallion was there with one of his floating machetes to turn aside my strikes. However, he was at least too preoccupied with parrying my attacks to make any of his own. If I was going to make any progress of my own though, I was going to need to introduce a third weapon.

My moment came when two of my attempts at crossing slashes were each met with opposing blades, leaving me facing the stallion with my metal-clad wings between him and myself. I ducked my head down and took my compact .45 from its snug little holster at my side. When I snapped my wings open again, the unicorn stallion found me with my head raised and the weapon held firmly in my mouth. My lips curled in a smile when I saw the glimmer of recognition in his eyes.

“Peek-a-boo!” I said around the grip of the weapon just before depressing the trigger.

I had intended to fire off at least four shots at the unicorn, but I had managed to forget how many rounds I had already expended during my fight in the buildings across the street, and the slide locked back on the first round. It was well-placed though, there was an abrupt scream and I saw the stallion’s head whip to the side as a splash of blood spewed from his face. The armored unicorn staggered and feel to the ground in front of me.

Then, rather suddenly, something blunt and very heavy connected with the armored backing of the Gale Force harness and sent me crashing through a cabinet. The pistol in my mouth went skittering across the floor, out of sight. I heard myself groaning rather loudly as I got back up onto my hooves, shaking the splintered wood of the destroyed cabinet off of me. My head turned to get a look at what I’d been hit by just in time to see something big, metal, and fast, moving heading towards my face.

Reflexively, I brought up my left wing to shield me, but whatever it was had a lot more force behind it that I had anticipated. Rarely had I ever been in a position where I was flying through the air when it had not been my intent to do so, but here I was now, careening across the room until I met up with a wall. The vertical surface didn’t do all that much to stop my flight though. I went just about all the way through it, hanging out the other side by a leg and mentally processing all of the ways in which my body was hurting. With a stifled croak, I shifted my hind leg and dropped the rest of the way through the new hole in the wall, landing headfirst on the floor in this new room.

“Oog…anypony get the number of that wagon?” I moaned under my breath as I stood back up on unsteady legs. I winced slightly as I moved my left wing and glanced at it. My gaze widened when I saw that there was a rather noticeable dent where I’d tried to deflect the blow. What in the Wasteland had…

“Oh, horseapples!” I spurted, leaping back from the wall quickly as what was left of it promptly exploded. I ducked away from the shower of wood and plaster, continuing to move about and get some distance between myself and this new threat in the form of an earth pony mare. A mare that was wearing a pair of power hooves on her forelegs. Their hydraulic actuators hissed noisily as they retracted back into their ready position after having demolished the wall that I’d just been pounded through.

Well. This was unfortunate. I had no guns, no grenades, no room to fly, and even my metal wings apparently weren’t going to be up to stopping what this mare was dishing out, “I don’t suppose we can talk this out?”

The mare snarled at me and leaped into the air, diving down with both of her forelegs extended outwards. I managed to dash out of the way at the last moment. I heard the the sound of splintering of wooden planks and felt the reverberations in the floor as the thick support beams below cracked and buckled under the force of the impact. I peered back at the section of caved-in floor and tried not to think too hard about what would end up happening if I got hit with a blow like that…

Woops, time to move again!

My hooves skittered across the floor as I fled to another corner of the room in the face of another fierce charge from the earth pony Viper. This wasn’t going to work out as a long-term strategy, I knew. Going hoof-to-hoof with this mare wasn’t something that I saw working out for me very well though, so I was at a bit of an impasse with regards to how I was going to resolve this. For the moment, all I could think to do was try and talk her down until I worked out something a bit more effective.

“Come on, it’s like, you and a couple other ponies left!” I yelled at the mare as her power hooves cocked back once more, ready to deliver another pair of devastating blows, “just cut your losses and go!”

“Fuck you, you bitch! You killed my brother!” she lurched into the air and dove for me.

I rolled to the side, crying out in pain as I discovered that it had apparently been more than just the Gale Force harness that had been mangled by the Viper’s earlier hit. I felt something inside my left wing moving around that I was fairly sure should not have been. Well, that was unfortunate. At least I had managed to get clear before yet another portion of floor was reduced to a concave divot of splintered wood.

“It was self-defense!” I shot back at the mare as I edged away from her, “it’s not like I made you morons attack me…”

Perhaps antagonizing her wasn’t the best means by which to descalate the situation, I thought as she flung herself at me once more. I used a brief flutter from my remaining good wing to held sidestep the earth pony mare’s next assault. When I landed again, I tensed up, feeling the floor shift ever so slightly beneath my hooves. Looking around briefly, I noted that it was not merely flooring that had been sundered by the Viper’s strikes, but the cross-beam supports beneath it as well. As many of the rooms in old buildings like this one that had seen collapses already, I suspected that it probably wouldn’t take much more to make this particular room follow suit, and the mare’s expression suggested that her attention was so narrowly focused on me that she didn’t even notice the shifting surface and protesting carpentry.

I mentally cringed at the idea that I was going to finish two fights in a week by dropping somepony through the floor of an old building. Not that I was in much of a position to be too choosy right this moment. Either I finished this fight soon, or it was only going to be a matter of time before this mare got lucky and finished me.

Perhaps, then, antagonistic was the way to go with this conversation, “maybe if you all weren’t such incompetent idiots you could have gotten the drop on us,” I said dryly, shrugging my shoulder dismissively at the mare, and hiding the wince of pain that the movement prompted. Was there any part of me that didn’t hurt right about now?

I held my ground a little longer this time when the mare charged me. Now that I had the barest foundation of a ‘plan’ on how to deal with her, I needed to take measures to see it through. I wasn’t going to simply leave it to chance that the Viper would somehow managed to destabilize the floor further, I needed to deliberately help things along. So, this time, when the mare cocked back her hydraulically assisted hoof and threw it at me, I was there to meet it.

Many years ago, out in the Seaddle Ruins that ringed the Neighvada Valley settlement that was the heart of the New Lunar Republic, a grizzled old earth pony with a black mane and a rust-colored coat had invested hundreds of hours over the course of many months instructing a naive little filly in the fundamentals of hoof-to-hoof combat. Much to her initial dismay, a great deal of what she had been taught had not been the sort of hard-hitting punches and kicks that she had expected. There had been those elements sprinkled about in her instruction, yes, but they had not been the core of her tutelage. No, that had been reserved for more ‘passive’ techniques. So much of what Jackboot had utilized had been built upon the concept of deflection and redirection of enemy attacks. As a result, that form a core of what I knew too.

Over the years I had added to my own personal repertoire, and I’d also altered many of those base techniques to make better use of the advantages that my wings and flight offered me. But I still remembered those long months of practice and, more often than not, veritable ‘beatings’ at Jackboot’s hooves when he demonstrated the various openings my early missteps presented. While I might not have had much occasion or need to use those initial techniques since, I still recalled them quite vividly.

With a subtle shift to the side and what could have almost been described as a ‘wave’ of my foreleg, the Viper mare’s driving hoof was detoured away from my body and sent down into the floor. The moment the actuator made contact with the aged wood, it engaged and rocketed forward with devastating force, shattering the flooring beneath it. I continued in the gentle little sidestep, reaching beneath the mare with my other hoof and lifting her by her belly. It wasn’t really all that much force, but it didn’t really have to be. Once her power hoof planted itself into the floor it acted in concert with the mare’s momentum and newly displaced center of gravity to send her flank over fetlock into the wall.

Dry plaster rained down as the earth pony’s backside connected with the ancient surface. Meanwhile, I danced gingerly away, a broad grin on my face. Beneath me, I could feel the floor protesting even my meager weight, and I chose to augment my movement with some well-timed fluttering from my good wing so as not to tempt fate where the room’s structural integrity was concerned. Casually, I guided myself over to the corner across the room that had managed to remain intact up to this point. Perhaps a good hit here would be all that was needed to do that trick.

The Viper staggered back up onto her hooves and shook away her surprise. While I doubted that she had suffered anything serious in the way of physical injury, it was clear from her baleful expression that her pride had taken a rather sturdy blow in that exchange, and that the earth pony desired very much to exact vengeance for it, “you’re going to pay for that…” she growled as she advanced again. She did so much more cautiously this time than she had previously. Apparently my little display a moment ago had prompted the mare to rethink her ‘reckless abandon’ style of fighting from earlier and take me more seriously as an opponent.

That was going to complicate things, I thought with a slight frown. I was going to need to motivate her to become more aggressive, it seemed, “and who’s going to make me, you?” I scoffed, snorting at the mare contemptuously, “except for that one cheap shot there at the beginning, you haven’t been able to touch me!”

I heard the mare rumbling low in her throat as she paced closer. I stood my ground, remaining over the site of the support that I needed her help to destroy. My eyes remained fixed on her hips, knowing that the first signed of any attack from her would originate there. When she made her move, I needed to be ready for it.

“Just look at you,” I said, grinning at the mare, “acting all nervous about fighting an unarmed little filly like me. I always knew that Vipers were cowards, but wow do you take it to a whole new level!”

That did it. I saw the movement before the mare let out her enraged scream. Then she lunged. The distance between us had closed considerably, and I wasn’t left with a lot of room to react. Fortunately, I had the pipbuck to help me, and its SATS. I engaged the targeting assistance system, and time slowed down. The device allowed me to cue up three attacks as the mare arced through the air towards me. Once they had been imputed, I confirmed the selection and let the pipbuck take over.

First was a sharp jab to the mare’s face. It didn’t do a whole lot of damage, but that hadn’t been the point. The quick strike had been intended to disorient, and it had. This meant that the earth pony was only vaguely aware of me wrapping a leg around one of her outstretched power hooves and spinning into her as I guided the hard-hitting gauntlet into the floor. The pistons engaged and drove into the floor, shattering the beams beneath. At this point, I was positioned beneath the mare, and so I bucked up hard, snapping my head back to catch her in the jaw. The mare was thrown back, landing rather unceremoniously on her flank in the middle of the room.

I idly rubbed the back of my head as I turned to look at my opponent. She was getting back up onto her hooves again, shaking her head to clear her senses. She set her stance and looked as though she were about to make another charge…

...Then the floor shifted. The movement was sudden and significant, nearly causing me to lose my balance. The mare had been less fortunate and went down. She looked about with very wide eyes. The floor began to creak rather loudly, and some scattered crackling could be heard as the remaining supports started to rend under the strain of supporting the entire upper level. Realization finally dawned on the mare, but it was too late.

Having been the one that planned for this whole event, I was already well in motion by the time the beams relented and fell away. It would have been a lot simpler if I could have simply hovered and let the floor fall away beneath me, but my broken wing precluded that possibility, meaning that I was going to have to do this the ‘ground pounder’ way: by running really quickly for safety.

In the air I was pretty quick. I couldn’t say how fast I was when compared to other pegasi, as I hadn’t been given any chances to test my skills against them in that regard; but I was certainly faster than any earth pony or unicorn that I had ever met. That was while using my wings though. On my hooves, running along the ground, I suppose that I was ‘passably average’ at best. This proved to be a marginally acceptable speed at the moment. The floor vanished from beneath me as I was just a couple steps away from the adjacent room. My momentum only just managed to carry me to the jagged edge of what remained of the room’s flooring, where my forelegs clambered desperately for purchase to keep me from falling along with the earth pony.

It was not an ideal position to be in, that was for certain. I couldn’t get much leverage with my forelegs to pull myself all of the way up―it was honestly all that I could do to keep from slipping off―and it seemed that the remainder of the floor’s edge protruded out just enough that my flailing hind quarters couldn’t find anything to plant against either. My right wing’s awkward fluttering wasn’t doing much to give me any lift either, and the pain in my left one was steadily growing in intensity as I struggled.

This wasn’t good.

“Well look what we have here…”

Oh, horseapples. I winced, looking up in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. Another earth pony mare was standing over me, her left cheek baring several streaks of bright green paint. She was looking down at me with an amused smile twisting her features, “having trouble getting up? Would you like some help?”

I cringed, “...you’re not actually going to help.”

“Nope,” her expression soured instantly and her hoof slammed down on my left leg. I wasn’t able to contain the pained scream that escaped my lips as I reflexively withdrew the limb from beneath her. It wasn’t a smart move, I know. All that it did was leave me dangling by only a single hoof above what I could clearly see was a less than ideal landing platform below me. All of those jagged splinters of wood would impale me in a dozen different ways if I fell.

The mare raised her hoof back into the air again, preparing to bring it down on my other leg. I winced as
I saw it fall…

...And then I cocked my head when it froze in mid-air. I stared at the stationary hoof for several long seconds before I I realized that it wasn’t merely frozen, it was glowing with a light blue aura. The mare’s whole body was glowing with that same bright color, in fact. Then, a second later, so was I.

“Woop!” I exclaimed in surprise as I felt myself floating up into the air. I didn’t travel very far before being deposited gently on the floor. I looked around, and only then noticed that I wasn’t alone up here. It seemed that everypony else had finally made their way up as well.

My eyes went to the pink unicorn mare standing on the far side of the room. Her horn glowed with brilliant cyan light, matching the aura that was shimmering around not just the mare who had been about to kick me off the ledge, but the armored unicorn Viper as well. Blood dripped freely from a hole in his cheek where my compact pistol had struck him earlier, but had apparently failed to actually kill him after all. His features were contorted in furious rage as he growled and snarled, his body frozen though it was obvious he was expending every effort to break free from Starlight’s magical grip. The earth pony mare was grunting as well, but her expression was more akin to terror than anger.

“Hurry up and get some cuffs on them or something,” Starlight said in a tone that sounded slightly strained, “I can’t hold them forever!”

That was fair enough. Not much point in delaying. However, it wasn’t restraints that I was going to use to deal with these two. I reached over and drew the small-caliber pistol from a holster on the earth pony mare’s withers and leveled the barrel at the stallion’s head. I pulled the trigger, and this time it was no grazing shot that struck the stallion’s face. The bullet passed through his right eye and blew out the back of his head in a gory spray that painted the wall behind him.

Starlight gaped at me in shock, losing control of her spell. The earth pony mare that had been held fast by her magic nearly collapsed to the floor as she found herself no longer subject the petrifying effects of the magic that had bound her. She was trapped though, between myself and the cavern that was the room where the floor had collapsed. She spun around, her face a mask of terror, and began to plead.

“No, wait, plea―!”

Her words were cut off suddenly by a second deafening crack of the pistol.

I lowered the weapon and looked around the room. That made three Vipers that had been dealt with on this side of the street. There had been five over here at the beginning of the fight. I looked around, my eyes focused on the pipbuck’s EFS overlaid across my field of view. No red blips were visible. I glanced up briefly at the large gray stallion, noting the amber hash mark beneath him, before I looked to Ramparts, “the other two?”

“Took care of them, one floor down,” the Republic courser confirmed with a nod of his head, “this area’s clear.”

“You killed them,” Starlight Glimmer said softly, still staring at me in stark surprise, “I had them paralyzed! You could have just tied them up and arrested them!”

I blinked at the mare, my brain taking a few moments to catch up to the absurdity of what the pink unicorn was saying, “they were Vipers,” I stated simply.

“They were helpless!”

I looked to Ramparts and Foxglove to see if they were having as much trouble grasping what the unicorn was saying as I was. The brown earth pony stallion helped me to explain, “this is the Wasteland,” he began, speaking in an empathetic tone, “things out here are different than they are in a city―mostly. Those were gangers,” he nodded his head in the direction of the dead ponies, “they attack anypony that isn’t a part of their little group. If you’re lucky, they kill and rob you. If you’re unlucky...well, it gets worse.

“If we’d tied them up and brought them with us to Seaddle, they would have just been shot at the gate anyway,” he shrugged, “saves us a lot of time and effort just killing them here.”

“What about jail?” Starlight sputtered, still aghast at what she’d seen, “there are still jails in the future, right?”

Ramparts frowned, “if they’d been petty criminals, and in the city, then yeah, they’d have been locked up for a little while―some community service maybe,” I felt myself tense up slightly, recalling the sorts of things that I’d heard about the nature of the ‘service’ that some of the ponies who fell into that system were subjected to, “but not ponies like this. Feeding and housing them would just take resources that nopony would be willing to waste. Maybe it seems harsh to you, but it’s how things are out here.”

Starlight went silent for a long moment, her gaze drifting back to the pair of dead ponies laying nearby, “...this is horrible.”

“It’s the world that you created for us,” Arginine sad softly from behind her.

The pink unicorn mare shook her head slowly, “I...I can’t,” she turned away and cantered out of the room, “I need a minute.”

I sighed and rubbed my temple. Foxglove had grown up in a Stable, but even she hadn’t been this bad when I’d met her. Granted, she’d been subjected to her own flavor of ‘education’ on how things worked in the Wasteland by the time our paths had crossed, so I suspected that any ‘culture shock’ moments had long since been dealt with by then. Starlight, in contrast, was clearly still adjusting to the vastly different way things were done today compared with what her world must have been like 200 years ago. It had only been, what, a few days? I couldn’t really expect her to understand things this quickly, I guess. I could hope that she learned to accept them quickly though.

“Ramparts, go with her please,” I told the courser. My EFS was clear, as was that of the Republic soldier, but it was best that the pink unicorn not be left out of sight for too long in places like this. Ruins were dangerous by their very nature, and not just because of things like raiders and monsters. The earth pony stallion nodded and trotted off after Starlight.

Next my attention went to Arginine, “my saddlebags are still across the street. Go get them,” the large grey stallion frowned, but said nothing as he turned away and headed downstairs, leaving me alone with Foxglove. The violet unicorn’s gaze was fixed on the Gale Force rig strapped to me, specifically the concave divot on the left wing segment. I nodded, “it took a pretty solid hit from a power hoof. I think the wing’s broken too.”

The mare’s frown deepened further at the revelation, “you shouldn’t have tried to take them all on by yourself,” she admonished as she bent closer to get a better look at the physical damage to the rig.

“It’s not like I had a lot of options,” I pointed out, “Starlight doesn’t even know how to fight. I’m not about to give RG a weapon. No offense, but your aim sucks,” Foxglove shot me a reproving look but didn’t argue the point, “Ramparts is the only other competent fighting we have with us, and somepony has to look after the rest of you while the fight’s going on.”

“I don’t need him to protect me,” the mare stated this time, sounding reproachful.

“You do until you can learn to shoot straight,” I countered, “I’m not saying you’re not useful,” I offered in an attempt to sooth the mare, who was looking at me with an expression that was growing steadily more critical, “but you’re not a fighter like me and Ramparts are. Really, that’s kinda my fault; and Jackboot’s. We should have spent more time teaching you that sort of thing.

“While we’re in Seaddle, I’d actually like you to work with Ramparts on your marksmareship,” I went on, “and not just you. We’re going to get Starlight a weapon and she’s going to learn to shoot too; because you’re right,” I admitted with a pained sigh, looking at my wing, “doing this on my own isn’t easy. Vipers weren’t nearly this much trouble to deal with when Jackboot was here.”

“This is going to need some work to fix,” Foxglove said finally, indicating the dent, “but it’s probably best that we leave it on for now. It’s probably helping keep your bones in place.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed. I glanced around the room and trotted over to where my pistol had skittered to during the fight. I swapped in a fresh magazine and then slipped the weapon into its holster at my side, “I am not looking forward to the lecture Lancet’s going to give me…” between the broken wing and the eye, I was pretty sure that the black unicorn was going to have quite an earful to say about what I’d been up to since my last visit with him.

“Is your leg okay?”

I glanced down, having nearly forgotten about the wound I’d sustained earlier in the fight. Now that I was concentrating on it, I could feel the dull ache radiating throughout my flank where several pellets had managed to find their mark around the sides of the pony that I had been using as cover. The bleeding had long since been taken care of by the healing potion I’d drunk, the crimson stain in my barding remained, “it’s fine. Just a graze,” after a fashion.

“If you say so,” Foxglove didn’t sound very convinced. It wasn’t like this was the worst I’d been hurt, even in the short time that the unicorn had known me. Frankly, the injuries that I’d sustained during this fight were moderate, at worst.

Somehow that had sounded like something to be thankful for when the thought had first crossed my mind...

Maybe lingering in Seaddle for a short while wasn’t such a bad idea. If nothing else, I really should try to recover so I was on top of my game when we got to Old Reino. That place was supposed to be one of the most dangerous locations in the whole valley, and I wasn’t going to be much help in my current state. Besides, both Foxglove and Starlight were going to need time to get more familiar with their weapons. I also needed some more of that custom ammunition that the violet unicorn made for me.

Maybe a short break wasn’t such a bad idea. What harm could it do?

Arginine soon returned with my saddlebags. The first article that I removed from them was a bottle of Wild Pegasus, which earned me another disapproving look from Foxglove, but she remained silent. I twisted off the stopper and took a long, refreshing pull from the bottle. As I swallowed it down, I looked over at the pair of nearby corpses.

Why didn’t Vipers ever feel like running away when they saw things going sideways like that? I wiped out a half dozen of them in, like, a minute, and the rest of them just kept right on coming. I mean, I guess that one mare I put down there at the end was ready to run away and all, but she’d just have gone after somepony else later. Like Ramparts had explained to Starlight: ganger ponies just cause problems.

They’d live in a for-real settlement if they wanted to behave like rational ponies.

“Let’s get going,” I said to both ponies, corking the bottle again, but tucking it under my good wing as opposed to stuffing it back into my bag. I was going to be taking a few more drinks along the way.

Starlight had not gone very far, and we found both her and Ramparts in the street. It seemed that the pink mare had recovered somewhat from her earlier shock at witnessing the executions earlier and was ready to resume traveling with us. At our approach, the mare looked over, her eyes ending up lingering on my left wing, which was hanging rather awkwardly at my side.

“...are you going to be okay?”

“This?” I nodded at the dented metal cover that was encasing my wing, “that’s nothing new. Anypony that stays out in the Wasteland for a week’ll end up getting shot or something eventually,” the pink unicorn didn’t seem to like that notion too much, “welcome to the future, and thanks for making it what it is,” I held up the bottle of whiskey in mock salute before taking another drink. The unicorn winced and looked away.

I swallowed down the mouthful and sighed, “sorry, that was...mean,” I apologized, tucking away the alcohol once more, “I know you didn’t have anything to do with it, personally,” I thought for a moment, “did you?”

Starlight shook herself, “I wasn’t part of the Megaspell projects. That was Twilight Sparkle’s department,” she explained, “my focus was on...social issues.”

“Huh?”

“The war was hard on a lot of ponies,” Starlight explained, as the five of us formed up and resumed traveling through the ruins. Ramparts, now the most combat capable of us, took point. One of his ears was cocked back the whole while though, listening to the conversation, “families were losing loved ones like never before. Everypony was losing friends. Some days, it felt like the fighting would just go on forever. When Princess Celestia died…” she shook her head, “traditional therapy wasn’t enough in a lot of cases. So, the Ministry of Peace turned to magical support to help ponies deal with the stress.

“I had a lot of experience with emotional turmoil and dealing with serious loss before the war as part of a, um…side project, we’ll say,” she offered up a wry smile, “it wasn’t something that had exactly been ‘sanctioned’, you understand, but the value was seen by the Ministry of Peace early on, and Ministry Mare Fluttershy argued strongly for a lot of the techniques that I’d developed to help ponies deal with loss related to the war.

“I used my research to help develop the first memory extraction spells so that troubling and traumatic thoughts could be removed from ponies that simply couldn’t deal with them. I even oversaw a few of conditioning camps for the more troublesome zebra prisoners of war,” she sounded a bit more pleased with herself about that, “we managed to recruit more than a few agents out of those programs over the years that helped us learn valuable intelligence about the zebras.”

“You talked zebras into helping ponies? How?”

“It’s all a matter of showing them the error of their ways,” Starlight Glimmer explained, “all you had to do was give them enough time to think about how much they were hurting those around them, and give them a chance to make amends. Eventually they come around. Everypony does.”

“Really? That’s pretty unbelievable,” I couldn’t imagine a Viper or a White Hoof ever changing like that. Well, actually, I guess that wasn’t entirely accurate, was it? I did know,er, knew a White hoof that had changed. Jackboot admitted that, early in his life, he’d been a killer just like the rest of his tribe, but then I’d seen him become a very different pony from the rest of the White Hooves. Maybe there was something to what the pink unicorn mare was saying after all.

“We did a lot of good work,” she nodded, “and we helped a lot of ponies and zebras make the right decisions.

“So, maybe you can understand why I was so upset about what you did to those prisoners earlier,” she added in a more subdued tone.

“Yeah...I can kind of see it now,” I admitted, my own voice getting quieter, “if it makes any difference, it’s not like I enjoy doing that sort of thing,” and that was indeed the truth, “honestly? I hate killing ponies if I don’t have to,” I wasn’t a particular fan of doing it when I knew that I did have to, if I was being really honest, “but, when you’ve got a cutie mark like mine, there really isn’t all that much else you can do, is there?”

The unicorn mare glanced at me in mild surprise, her gaze shifting briefly to my flank, though the Wonderbolt uniform obscured my actual mark, “so...you’re saying it’s a cutie mark issue?”

“Of course it is,” I snorted, “you want to know how I got it? I killed a farmer, in his own house,” Foxglove whipped her head around this time and gaped at me with wide eyes. Ramparts noticeably tensed as well. Understandable, as this would be the first time that either of them heard about the events surrounding the appearance of my cutie mark, “he was attacking a friend of mine. He was going to kill him. I picked up a gun that was nearby and fired. I wasn’t trying to kill anypony, I really wasn’t. I just wanted to fire near the farmer and scare him, get him to stop hurting my friend.

“I didn’t miss though,” I said somberly, “I hit him in the head. I killed him. My friend lived though.

“I’d been so scared that I’d be too late to help, but he made it. I was so relieved. It was the best I’d ever felt in my life, really,” I was silent for several long moments, “and then my mark appeared. A sword piercing a heart. The mark of a pony meant to kill.

“I was devastated. I didn’t want to be a killer. What choice do I have though? It’s my destiny. I did promise myself that I’d try to only kill bad ponies though. Maybe then, at least, I could do some good. It doesn’t make the killing any easier though.”

“That’s really fascinating,” Starlight mused, looking back towards my flank with a slightly more pensive expression, “I have to admit, I’ve never heard of a pony who genuinely resented their talent before...but I have known cutie marks to cause problems for ponies,” her own voice took on a slight edge, briefly, “and I’ve studied cutie marks extensively.

“I may be able to help you,” she offered.

“Really?” my ears perked up, surprised, “how?”

“I’ll need to prepare a few things, but I should be able to cure you of your impulse to kill.”

I wouldn’t have necessarily described it as an ‘impulse’, I thought to myself. I mean, it was just something that I was supposed to do, because it was my destiny, right? Still, if this unicorn could help me out, I was all for it, “you really can?”

“Sure thing,” Starlight smiled more genuinely now, “I’ve done it loads of times! Trust me, when the procedure’s done, you’ll feel so much better. Too bad I couldn’t have met you two hundred years ago,” she cokced a wan smile, “you have no idea what a pony like you could have done for my research. A pony who genuinely resents their talent because it drives them to do things that are repugnant? I’d have been able to get nearly unlimited government funding for my old research with that! My techniques weren’t very well received when I presented them to the MAS, honestly.”

“They weren’t? Why not?”

“Ponies called them ‘extreme’,” Starlight scoffed, “but that was just because they didn’t understand what I was trying to accomplish. I had dozens of patients who attested to the treatment, and they all loved what I’d done for them. But, without Ministry approval, I couldn’t make the treatment more widely available.

“I don’t need that now though!” she brightened, “I will need to get ahold of some material to conduct the procedure,” she mused, studying the mark, “hopefully I can find what I need in this ‘Seaddle’ place when we get there, and then your cutie mark troubles will be over!”

“I’d really appreciate that,” I said, surprising myself with how relieved I sounded. It was as though some great weight had been removed from my shoulders. Starlight could really help me with my cutie mark woes? That sounded almost too good to be true! A part of me didn’t want to let myself get too excited in case it didn’t pan out, but the notion that I’d soon be freed from my obligation to kill ponies wasn’t something that I found easy to ignore.

I wouldn’t be a killer anymore!

It was like a dream come true…

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 31: THAT'S WHEN YOUR HEARTACHES BEGIN

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"It's a little gift from me Da and Mum. Actually, a few generations before that. Do you like it?"

It was amazing how much bigger the little one-room apartment that Jackboot and I had been living in all these years had felt when it had just been the two of us. It was certainly feeling a lot more cramped now though!

The closest thing to a silver lining that there was was that Ramparts wasn’t here too. He’d taken his leave of us at the gate and instead had gone off to talk with his superiors to get official clearance to come with us and get what supplies he could to aid us on our future trip into Old Reino. That still left four grown ponies trying to make themselves comfortable in a room that had been admittedly ‘cozy’ when there’d only been two of us.

Starlight was certainly less than impressed with the accommodations. Indeed, the pink unicorn had been quite thoroughly underwhelmed by the whole of Seaddle when she’d first seen it. I suppose that when you looked at it in comparison to what must have existed here when all of those surrounding ruins hadn’t been, well, ruins, then, yes, it was a very paltry excuse for a ‘city’ of the sort that she was accustomed to. Still, it was the biggest collection of ponies in the entire Neighvada Valley, and was home also the the most technologically sophisticated society as well. Even New Reino didn’t have the sorts of medical facilities that existed here.

This was Princess Luna’s ‘Seat of Power’ for crying out loud!

Now that was something that had grabbed the pink unicorn’s attention, and Starlight Glimmer had been very boisterous about getting an audience with the Republic’s ruler.

“She’ll know who I am,” the unicorn had insisted, “she may even know where the local MoA hub is, so that we don’t even have to go to Reino.”

That was certainly an avenue that I was willing to try out. If Starlight was as highly placed in the Old World ministry as she was suggesting, then it was quite likely that the Princess might even be willing to give us some real support. Unfortunately, getting a face-to-face meeting with Princess Luna wasn’t exactly as easy as going to her palace and knocking on the door―as I had learned earlier. We’d have to at least wait for morning, at which point we could go and have the staff pass along Starlight’s name to the Princess.

That was for the morning though. Tonight, I was eager to get some sleep.

Foxglove helped me to remove the Gale Force harness, carrying it over to the little corner of the apartment where she’d set up a workshop of sorts so that she could begin making at least some of the repairs that it needed after the trials that I had just finished putting it through. Once it was out of the way, I very carefully peeled myself out my Wonderbolt unitard, so as not to aggravate my wing now that it was no longer supported by the metal framing of the Gale Force rig. I peered closely at the uniform’s right leg, where I had taken the wounds from the shotgun-wielding Viper, and frowned. The uniform had been pretty torn up by the smattering of lead pellets that had managed to reach me.

I glanced over at Starlight, who was munching on some dried apple chips that we’d picked up on our way through the city at a small cafe that had been open late, “I don’t suppose that you can magic this thing back together again?” I asked sheepishly.

The pink unicorn cringed at the sight of the bloodied barding briefly, and then her horn flared. In a flash, the uniform was its brilliant, unblemished, self again. I stared at it for several long seconds, “can you do that with bodies?” I asked hopefully, nodding in the direction of my wing. It’d be nice if she could do something about my eye too, come to think of it.

“Medicinal magic, I don’t know,” Starlight admitted with a wan shrug, “I’m not sure a spell like that even exists. Manipulating ponies’ bodies is something that is very difficult to do at all; and making permanent changes is just about impossible as far as I know. With standard unicorn magic anyway,” she added after a moment’s thought, “I recall some research being done involving Taint and Poison Joke, but I wasn’t part of those projects, so what I heard was mostly rumors and hearsay, so I don’t put much stock in it.”

“Too bad,” I sighed. I laid the barding on the bed and headed for the bathroom. Now that my garments were in pristine condition, it was high time that I did something about my own cleanliness.

Seaddle was one of the few places in the valley with widespread indoor plumbing. Even our relatively spartan apartment came with a toilet and shower. Admittedly, it hadn’t come with hot water at first, but Jackboot had quickly corrected that oversight by acquiring a talisman to heat the water from one of the spigots during an early foray into the Seaddle Ruins. Standing here now, with the refreshingly warm water cascading over my back, I found myself very much appreciating that addition. I didn’t engage in much actual ‘washing’ at first, I just sort of stood there, letting the heat get absorbed into my aching muscles. Meanwhile, I just stared into the mirror nearby.

I was a mess. No wonder everypony had been concerned when they’d seen me after the fight with Star Paladin Hoplite. The scar tissue over my right eye was...significant, to say the least. Something told me that there wasn’t going to be much that even somepony as skilled as Doctor Lancet was going to be able to do for me this time.

My remaining eye stared long and hard into that mirror, tracing over my face and chest. While this newest blemish was certainly the most glaring testimony to the trials that I had faced in the Wasteland over the years, it was far from the only scar I had. An uncountable number of smaller marks dotted my body, creating a great many minor irregularities in what should have been an otherwise silky smooth ivory coat, of the sort that I’d seen on young ponies who’d spent their whole lives living in places like Shady Saddles and New Reino.

Like Starlight Glimmer’s coat, honestly. She hadn’t seemed to have had so much as a single mark to muss up her appearance. I, on the other hoof, looked like...well, actually I kind of looked a lot like some of the raiders that I’d killed in my life: rugged and scarred. It was fitting, I suppose. I’d probably killed a lot more ponies in my time than the average raider, after all.

I thought back over what the pink unicorn mare had told me earlier, regarding her ability to rid me of my cursed destiny and finally free me from this murderous fate. If that was something that was really and truly possible, then maybe that meant that I could give up this way of living and do something besides killing ponies; not that I’d ever given that much thought to what it might be that I would do. I’d sort of made peace with dying doing this kind of thing someday, as much as I might have liked to believe I could move onto doing something else.

Sure, there was always that idea in the back of my head that someday I’d rebuild my family’s ranch and raise brahmin, but I’d never really believed it would happen. Ponies with a talent for killing didn’t run ranches. They just went on killing, until the day they were eventually killed themselves.

If Starlight succeeded though, and lifted my curse, then maybe there was a real chance of living that sort of life someday. It would still have to take care of a few other things first, of course, like stopping Arginine’s Stable from murdering everypony in the Wasteland. Once that was settled though, then I could hang up my Wonderbolt barding and just become ‘Windfall, the Rancher Mare’. Maybe it wouldn’t be as exciting as being some sort of Wasteland heroine, but I wouldn’t have to kill anypony anymore.

That was actually a rather comforting thought, and I kept it in the forefront as I finally went about the task of washing the dirt and grime out of my coat and feathers.

“So what’s the verdict, Doc?”

The black unicorn physician’s face was all of the confirmation that I really needed to know that his assessment wasn’t going to be encouraging. His expression when he first saw me in the Seaddle clinic’s waiting room had hardly been encouraging to begin with. Between the wrap covering my eye and the splint that Arginine had improvised for my wing, he’d had a good indication that I’d had a rough time since my last visit. He’d started by fitting my wing with a proper cast, and a verdict that I would be grounded for a period of no less than three weeks if I wanted to ever fly again. When the bandages came off and he got his first good look at the state of my eye though, I’d seen a little bit of the light go out of him.

Lancet had never been happy about my association with Jackboot, or the sorts of situations that the two of us tended to get into. At first, I had simply assumed that his disapproval had been based entirely on my youth. Now I was a good bit older, and he still gave me a stern lecture during each of my visits. He didn’t remark on my age as much any more, at least, but I suspected that he was just tired of seeing somepony making such frequent visits to his office. In the doctor’s perfect world, I guess he’d rather ponies stayed away from needlessly dangerous situations.

“You drank a potion after this happened,” he was stating a fact, and not asking for confirmation.

“Well, I mean, yeah. I was hurt,” I pointed out, a little curious about why I felt like I was going to be reprimanded for taking medicine.

Lancet sighed, “healing potions aren’t a cure-all,” he informed me, which was information that flew in the face of everything that I’d come to know concerning the nature of healing potions. Predictably, I furrowed my brow in confusion, “you can’t just guzzle them down and expect them to fix everything. In an emergency, yes, they can mean the difference between life and death, but you shouldn’t take them for every little thing.”

“Why not?”

“Because a potion doesn’t always know what’s best for a wound,” he pointed out, “the magic that they are imbued with is simple and direct: heal the flesh. It doesn’t do much for organs and bones in most instances. Case in point: your eye,” he turned away and began to rummage through a drawer in the small examination room, “the potion’s magic sensed that you were injured, and so it did what it could and accelerated the formation of flesh to seal the wound.

“This created a good deal of scar tissue, which doesn’t matter much on legs and bellies, or even livers and kidneys; but affects sensitive organs like eyes a great deal,” when the unicorn doctor turned around again, he was levitating a piece of dark cloth in front of him, “it will never work again, Windfall. There’s nothing I can do.”

I felt my wings slump limply down my back, “nothing at all?” I thought for a brief moment, “but, wait, I remember Jackboot telling me about ponies back east who had mechanical body parts! Cider...nets?” I frowned as I tried hard to recall the unusual word that the older earth pony stallion had used when telling me the stories.

“Cybernetics,” Doctor Lancet supplied.

“Yeah, that’s it!” I perked up, “let’s do that!”

The physician snorted, “I’ve certainly heard of those sorts of procedures. Those medical files that you and Jackboot brought us years ago even mentioned a few of the more basic techniques,” I felt myself getting a little more hopeful, despite what had sounded like a profoundly negative snort there at the beginning, “but there’s no possible way that anypony here could do them.”

“Why not?!” If they already had the files explaining how to do it…

“For one thing: we don’t have any of the actual implants,” Lancet informed me. Okay, that was a good point, “and even if we did, nopony here has ever even attempted that sort of surgery. The risk is too great that we’d do more harm than good. I’m afraid that it simply isn’t a viable option.”

“What about....um, there was a drug that Jackboot told me about that was supposed to regrow whole limbs…” I tapped my head, wracking my brain for the name.

“I assume that you are referring to Hydra?”

“That’s it! Wow, you are really good at this...”

Lancet smirked wryly, “it is my job, you know?” That was fair, “but again that is something that only exists in books and old data files. I know of no source of that substance in the Neighvada Valley. Given what data we have on the Hydra creatures that the primary agents are extracted from, they were a swamp-dwelling species. The Valley isn’t the sort of place you’re likely to find them. Perhaps if it were possible to trade with these distant eastern regions that Jackboot spoke of, there might be a way to obtain some.

“However, I’ve never known anypony who has ever tried to find a way there and returned.”

“Jackboot did,” I pointed out.

Lancet offered a curt nod, “so he claimed, yes. It’s a shame he never brought any proof with him. Say, in the form of these miracle drugs he spoke about…”

I glared at the doctor for a long moment before snatching the eyepatch he was holding out of his magical grasp, “he was a good pony,” I said in a level tone, “he wasn’t a liar.

“He helped you often enough,” I pointed out as I slipped the patch over my face and adjusted it carefully.

Lancet took in a deep breath and issued a reluctant nod, “he did. Forgive me,” his features softened considerably when he looked back at me, “I won’t pretend that I ever liked him much,” the unicorn went on, “but that was more out of concern for you than anything personal. I always felt he was reckless to take a little filly out into the Wasteland like he did. He was putting you in danger.”

I turned my head in search of a mirror, and studied my appearance in the reflective surface. My lip curled in a wan smirk. Between the single piercing blue eye and the black patch, I found myself looking much more like a raider than I had thought last night. Great.

“When he found me,” I said, turning back to look at the unicorn, “my home had just been destroyed by White Hooves. I’d only just managed to get hidden in time.

“Nothing that they would have done to me if they’d found me could have been worse than any ‘danger’ that I was put in while I was with Jackboot.”

Lancet only grunted. Then he cleared his throat, “I see that you’ve taken up traveling with other companions,” he noted. It took me a moment to realize that he was referring to RG, who was currently waiting just outside the room, wearing the scarf I’d gotten him to keep ponies from being nervous about the bomb around his neck. As a consequence of his collar’s relationship to my pipbuck, it had been necessary for him to come with me to see Doctor Lancet. Foxglove and Starlight were out shopping with Ramparts, who was going to take the pair of them out of the city later that day to help improve their capability with firearms.

“RG? Yeah, he’s…um,” my words trailed off as I searched for a way to categorize the large stallion that didn’t raise additional concerns with the doctor. He hadn’t liked it much when I’d been traveling with an older pony like Jackboot. I could only imagine what he’d have to say about my wandering around with a genetic mutant bent on the destruction of ponykind who was being kept in line by an explosive collar I had wired to the pipbuck on my fetlock...

“I do have some simple contraceptive implants, and that’s a rather quick and not-too-invasive procedure,” Lancet offered, sounding surprisingly unabashed about the topic. I shot up and gaped at the physician pony, my remaining eye wide, “not that I’m condoning anything, mind you, as young as you are,” he added with a stern look of disapproval, “but you’ve never cared much for my advice in the past, so I don’t know why you’d start listening now. But I can at least keep you from doing anything more reckless, like getting yourself pregnant while―”

“WHOA!” I exclaimed, feeling that it wouldn’t actually have been possible for me to have said the word loud enough to get across exactly how monumentally wrong the doctor’s assumptions had been, “we are―no! Absolutely not! There is―no! He and I―no! Never,” I asserted, jabbing a wing at the unicorn’s chest, “that is not. Ever. A thing that is going to happen between us. Ever. No,” I took a deep breath and flipped my wings back into place along my withers. I composed myself and cleared my throat, “so, yeah. No implant necessary.

“No.”

Lancet stared at me for a long while before he finally spoke, “...okay. Is there...anything else you do need?”

I thought for a brief moment, “how are you stocked for Rad-X and RadAway? I might need to buy all of it.”

Lancet frowned.

“I heard yelling,” Arginine remarked when I finally came out of the exam room. My heckles immediately went up as I recalled what the yelling had been in relation to, but I calmed myself quickly, “is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” I answered tersely, not remotely inclined to discuss with the large gray unicorn stallion what the increased volume had been about, “we’re going shopping.”

That wasn’t some sort of excuse to change the topic either, there was a genuine need for the pair of us to go shopping. While I trusted Foxglove to acquire the more essential hardware that was going to be necessary for our trip into Old Reino―providing that Starlight was unable to secure a meeting with the Princess―there was one other item that I needed to pick up, and it was going to require Arginine’s presence.

Walking through the otherwise crowded markets with the abnormally large stallion was certainly a very different experience. A lot of the other ponies milling about seemed to take particular notice of his size and odd appearance and gave the pair of us a rather significant berth as we walked. The perpetually contemptuous gaze that Arginine gave the crowds probably helped that along too. I couldn’t deny that he was useful to have around. It was one of the reasons that I hadn’t given him over to Republic custody. Of course, if I was going to insist on having him travel with us to a place like Old Reino, I couldn’t really justify not getting him some protection; if I wasn’t going to give him a weapon anyway.

Arginine seemed to be a little surprised when I finally stopped in front of a shop that sold barding. The grungy-looking earth pony who ran the outlet was pounding out some pronounced dents in a chest piece when we arrived. A sharp whistle drew his attention though. The stallion’s expression was initially sour when he looked up, but then it soften considerably when he recognized me.

“Windfall!” he greeted after spitting the hammer out of his mouth. He stepped up to the counter in front of her shop, “haven’t seen ya in tic. What’s with the eye?” he tapped the side of his face, looking a little concerned.

“Just got a really up close and personal look at an energy bolt,” I smirked, shifting the eye patch slightly.

“Ooh,” he winced, sympathetically, “that’s rough.”

“So,” he continued, shifting topics as his gaze went to Arginine, “who’s yer new friend?”

“This is RG. I don’t suppose you have anything that’ll fit him?”

The armorer stepped back and ran his gaze up and down the other stallion that stood easily a full head and shoulders taller than the burly barding merchant. He curled his lip pensively, “you’re a big ol’ boy, ain’t’cha?” Arginine didn’t respond, but the question had clearly been rhetorical anyway, “well, I sure ain’t got nothin’ metal that’ll fit him,” Sapi admitted, “not unless you want to place an order,” he added, looking over at me with a raise brow, “how long y’fixin’ to be in town?”

I shook my head, “not long enough for a custom job.”

“Hmm,” the barding vendor looked back at Arginine and took on a more thoughtful expression, “I might―might, mind you―have some leather pieces that got long enough straps. They won’t cover all that much of’im though.”

“Something’s better than nothing,” I smiled at the armorer as he turned and went to go and fetch the pieces he thought might be acceptable. As he left earshot to go and rummage through his wears, Arginine leaned his head down to speak to me.

“You are buying me barding?”

I glanced up at the unicorn, “you are smart, aren’t you?”

He frowned at me and looked like he was about to say more, but thought better of it and stood up straight once more. When Sapi returned, he had managed to find a neck guard and some back pieces that had straps just long enough to fit. Just as he had warned, the protection that those two pieces offered was marginal, at best, but it was more cover than he was afforded by his white Stable uniform. Sapi asked if I wanted to put in an order for something more suitably tailored to fit the large stallion, but I declined. Once we tracked down those weapons that the Old World Ministry of Awesome had been developing and gave them over to the Republic, that would be when I finally shed myself of the large gray stallion. At that point, he would be more valuable as a source of information for Princess Luna’s soldiers as they planned out the attack on his Stable.

Though, while Arginine might not need any further protection, recent events had rather brutally clued me into something that I had been neglecting for a great many years, “so...what do you have in the way of helmets?”

“That depends,” Sapi said, considering, “how much of a habit are ya gonna make of staring at lasers?” without waiting for an answer, he turned and fished something out from below the counter, dropping the object onto the surface, “this was dropped off about a week ago. Had ya in mind for it, actually.”

I blinked in surprise as I stared at the helmet that Sapi had presented. I’d never seen one of them up close before, but I instantly recognized it for what it was: an Enclaver helmet. The fierce black angular features still had a polished appearance, which was a rare thing in scavenged barding. The visor wrapped around well over half of the face of the helmet, allowing for an expansive field of view. A winged letter “E” encircled by a ring of stars was stamped in silver on the forehead. I picked up the helmet and gave it a closer look.

“Where’d you get this?” it’s not like Sapi just stumbled across something like this in the middle of the street, after all.

“A pair’a zebras, of all things, stallion and a mare” he said, sounding as surprised as I was by the revelation, “at least, one of them was a zebra. The stallion had a horn, so he must’a been at least part pony, or sommut. Anyway,” he went on, “they came through here ‘bout a week ago and sold off a whole bunch of stuff: mostly Enclave tech.”

“I don’t suppose they sold you the rest of the barding that went with this?” a full set of Enclaver armor would be a fine prize indeed; not that I thought I actually had the bits to cover what it would cost to convince Sapi to part with it. Still, the armorer might be willing to hold onto it for a little while so I could get the money together. While not the focus of our trip, Old Reino would be a prime location to get valuable salvage while we were there.

The stallion snorted and got a rather sour look on his face, “well, they tried to sell me something, but weren’t no barding. That crap was made out of painted wood and plastic,” I cocked an eyebrow but Sapi merely shrugged, “my guess was that it was jus’ suppose’ to look like real barding; because it wasn’t gonna stop nothin’ more potent than’a BB pellet.”

I frowned, looking back at the helmet and studying it more closely. A couple taps with my hoof confirmed that it was the real thing, and not just some sort of costume piece; but that only made me more curious, “real helmet, but fake armor?” I searched the earth pony for answers, but it was clear that he didn’t have any to give me.

“Those two weren’t a very talkative bunch,” he explained, “skittish, though; always looking up at the clouds, like they was expectin’ the whole sky to fall down on them at any moment.”

I considered the helmet some more. This thing looked like the genuine article to me, and it sure sounded like the striped pair was concerned about being caught by Enclavers. How a pair of zebras, or part-zebras, or whatever they were had managed to get their hooves on this, I could only guess at; and I had no idea what to make of the fake barding story. Nopony was crazy enough to actually try to sneak into the pegasi’s cloudbound society, were they?

“You know where they are?” if there were answers to those questions, they’d be with that pair.

Sapi shook his head, “‘fraid not. They didn’t stick around long, in any case,” he shrugged, “so, you interested?”

I sighed. One more Wasteland mystery, I suppose. After a few pensive seconds staring at the helmet, I looked up at Sapi and dug a wing into my saddlebag to fish out my bits, “oh yeah, I’m interested…”

The two of us sat down to a light lunch of tuber stew. I spent most of the beginning of that meal considering my new acquisition, and trying to come up with theories as to why a pair of zebras would have had an Enclaver helmet with them. Unsurprisingly, I came up rather short of truly plausible reasons short of the simple and uninteresting: they found it. Honestly, that only raised additional questions that I would have needed them here to answer; such as where they had found it and whether there had been anything else around. Certainly, the locked-away nation of pegasi didn’t make it a habit of leaving behind their valuable technology that I was aware of.

Those few mysteries aside though, it was a good buy as far as I was concerned. It even fit decent enough. I looked it over, and noticed that it was more than just a simple piece of head protection too. There were obvious technological components both on the outside and within that suggest a whole host of secondary capabilities; but nothing happened when I put it on. I made a note to have Foxglove look at it when we met back up again. Maybe even Starlight would know a thing or two about it, given that she appeared to have worked with pegasi during the Great War.

Arginine looked to be deep in thought as well, though I doubted that it was about the helmet. I was hard to imagine anything that would be occupying his thoughts, other than plots to escape anyway. To that end, I was content to let him sit quietly and scheme; for all the good that it would do him in Seaddle, where it would be a simple matter to track him down―he was a rather unique pony, after all. However, it seemed that whatever he was thinking about was something that he felt compelled to share with me.

“Why did you buy me barding?”

I looked up from my meal at the gray stallion, “because you’re no good to us if you get killed before the Republic can get what they need from you.”

He thought for another brief moment, “would it not be a simpler matter to merely give me into their custody now?”

“Not until I know they’re going to do something about your Stable. That means getting them their weapon,” the corner of my mouth tugged briefly into a small grimace, “and then get them to give up what they took from the Rangers, so that this war can finally end…”

“Your handling of them was...surprising.”

“You mean the Rangers? How do you figure that?”

“You let them live,” Arginine said simply, “and them proceeded to bargain with them. That is not how you normally operate; so far as I have observed,” I quirked my good brow and the stallion elaborated, “I have observed you in four violent encounters: at my Stable’s facility, when confronted by the Lancers, the battle between the Republic and the Steel Rangers, and yesterday’s fight with the Vipers. In two of those, you left no survivors―even among those who ceased to fight. In the third, you took only a single prisoner, as a source of information for further actions against them,” he tapped the hidden collar around his throat.

“However, with the Steel Rangers, you ceased violent action once it was obvious that you held the advantage, inflicting minimal casualties when it was within your power to kill many more of them than you did,” he held my gaze for a long moment, “I am curious about the reason for that aberrant behavior.”

“That’s because the Steel Rangers aren’t really bad ponies.”

Arginine looked a little confused, “it was the understanding of our surveillance operatives that they were the declared enemy of the New Lunar Republic. This was confirmed during the altercation at the factory.”

“That doesn’t make them ‘bad ponies’,” I reiterated after a moment of silence. There was something a little...familiar about this conversation, I thought with mild amusement as I recalled being a little filly and having a similar discussion a long time ago, “not really.”

“Explain.”

“Their war with the Republic, the Steel Rangers are trying to help the Wasteland. They have a pretty weird way of going about it, I guess, but they mean well. It’s the whole reason that they’re fighting the Republic, apparently,” it was nice to know that the war really did have a reason after all this time. In all of Luna’s broadcasts on the matter, there’d never been much in the way of an explicit statement about what the Rangers were after. Not really. Knowing what they wanted, and knowing that there was a chance to finally have peace between the groups was encouraging.

“The Rangers believe that advanced technology is really dangerous. Given what things like balefire bombs and megaspells did to the world, it’s hard to really argue against that. So, the Rangers figure that the best way to keep things from getting even worse is to take away all of that dangerous tech and hide it so that it can’t be used by dangerous ponies. Yeah,” I shrugged, “sometimes they get a little...fanatical about the whole thing and that can lead to violence, but their hearts are in the right place. For the most part, they leave everypony else alone who doesn’t get in their way. They’ll even help out sometimes by going after dangerous monsters in the area.

“They’re trying to protect ponies...mostly,” that wasn’t to say that they couldn’t be a little bit more sympathetic and amiable while they were doing it, of course. Shooting at every Republic pony in uniform wasn’t exactly making life much better for ponies in the valley, admittedly.

“So,” Arginine began, looking at me critically, “you are claiming that you feel obligated to give the benefit of the doubt to groups whose goal it is to help fix the Wasteland?”

I nodded, “well...yeah. It’s what I’m trying to do, after all.”

“Should that not mean that you should be working to aid my own Stable in their mission, then?”

I blinked at the stallion, sillence taking hold of me for several long seconds as I considered his words.

Then I fell over laughing. I wasn’t even concerned about the strange looks that I was drawing from some of the other nearby tables as I struggled to control my outburst and return to my seat, “Oh, Sweet Celestia, you actually believe that! You actually think that your Stable is helping!” I wiped away a tear that had formed in the corner of my eye and finally managed to compose myself again. When I looked at Arginine, it was with anything but mirth though, as I saw his affronted expression.

“You fuckers aren’t heroes,” I snarled at the stallion, “you’re monsters. Literally, yeah,” I waved my hoof at his abnormal size and mutated horn, “but also in the way you look at ponies. You aren’t like the Steel Rangers, you’re more like those Vipers!

“‘Help fix the Wasteland?’” I scoffed at him, “bullshit. You don’t want to ‘fix’ anything. You want to take it for yourselves and kill everypony else that gets in your way!

“You know who else does shit like that? Huh? Raiders. Raiders do shit like that. They kill anypony they come across and take everything that they have without a second thought. Does that sound familiar, RG? Does that sound maybe like what your Stable wants to do?

“What exactly does that ‘fix’, by the way?” I paused for a brief moment, glaring at the stallion, who had remained silent through my tirade, “no, really, I want to know: what does slaughtering everypony in the Wasteland and taking it for yourselves ‘fix’? Does it stop needless slaughter? Nope! Does it suddenly make the world lush and beautiful again? Nope. Go on, enlighten me. Educate the ‘invalid pony’!”

“Not initially, it does not correct the most endemic problems, no” Arginine said finally, “but once our kind has rid the surface of inferior pony breeds, reconstruction can begin again, and the world will know only peace.”

“Oh, really?” I scoffed, “once you’re the only ponies left, after who knows how many years of war, there will be peace. Neat,” I leaned across the table and stared up at the stallion, “and what about the zebras? Hmm? I seem to recall that they were involved in the Great War. Is your Stable going to be ‘peaceful’ with them too? Do they get a pass on your Stable’s ‘cleansing’ of the Wasteland’s ‘invalid breeds’ because they aren’t ponies? How about griffons? Do they suddenly all become peaceful and docile too?”

Arginine’s mouth clamped shut now, and I could see in his eyes that his self-assuredness had been shaken by my question, so I pressed further, “So, after your Stable finishes their war with all the other ponies, they’re going to move onto the zebras, is that it? Wow. Why does that sound familiar: ponies fighting zebras? I feel like I heard about something like that somewhere...weird.”

I slowly sat back down, keeping my rueful eye locked on the stallion, “I didn’t realize the definition of being a ‘better pony’ was, ‘do the same fucking thing that fucked up the whole fucking world in the first place’. Good to know.”

The stallion didn’t utter another word during the remainder of lunch, or on our way out of town to go check on how Ramparts’ marksmareship lesson was going. Judging from the rather long line of empty wine bottles that were sitting unfettered along a wall about thirty yards away from the pair of firing mares, I was going to venture a guess that their progress thus far could be categorized as, ‘marginal’. At best. Indeed, the two of us had arrived just in time to see Starlight Glimmer standing, looking down the barrel of a combat shotgun, as she prepared to take a shot while Ramparts looked on. Foxglove was positioned a few yards away, firing at a line of bottles twice as far out with her own bolt-action rifle.

Starlight’s weapon was floating just in front of her, gripped in her magical telekinetic field. Her magic depressed the trigger and the smooth-bore barked and jerked minutely as it sent its torrent of pellets downrange.

I stepped up behind the pair, and noted that nothing stirred among the bottles. Ramparts glanced over his shoulder, noticing my approach. He leaned in close to Starlight and said something to her that I couldn’t quite make out. The pink unicorn repositioned her weapon slightly, and then the Republic courser walked back over to me, “are you having her practice with blank rounds to get used to the noise, or…?”

“Nope,” the earth pony stallion said in a flat tone as he turned and regarded his pair of pupils, “it’s actually pretty amazing, when you think about it: she’s firing number four shot right now; that gives her forty pellets per shell. At the range she’s firing at, they’ll be spread out about two-two and a half feet in diameter when they reach the bottles. Those bottles are just over a foot apart.

“She has completely missed all of them in six of the last eight rounds.”

I looked back at Starlight as she fired again...and left no sign downrange that any of her pellets had struck anything, “I don’t know how to feel about what I’m seeing,” the Republic courser had a point: Starlight should be hitting something out there when she fired. The pink unicorn lowered the weapon and glared at the offending targets who steadfastly refused to shatter under her torrent of shotgun fire. She ejected the magazine and levitated over another one.

“I’m not very comfortable giving her a weapon,” the stallion mumbled.

“I mean,” I looked over at the earth pony, “she can only get better, right?”

On cue, we both jumped at the sound of the weapon going off, which was joined nearly simultaneously by the sound of somepony yelling in surprise. Our heads whipped around to see Starlight hopping back from the firing line, while her weapon lay on the ground nearby a very recent smear of lead that had not been there a moment ago. Foxglove, who had been about to fire at her own targets, was staring wide-eyed at the weapon as she too took a cautious step further away.

Ramparts lowered his head and rubbed his hoof along the bridge of his nose, “you don’t load the round by pulling the trigger, Starlight,” he called out through gritted teeth, “and what did I tell you about inspecting the chamber?!”

“There’s a lot of buttons and levers on that thing, okay?!” the unicorn shot back, sounding defensive.

Under his breath, so that only he and I could hear, he muttered, “there are two buttons and two levers. How is four ‘a lot’?” louder, he said, “weapons are very dangerous, Starlight; if you’re ever unsure, stop and ask. Please,” again, at a lower volume, he said to me, “she’ll shoot one of us before she ever hits the enemy. It’s like she’s never touched a gun in her life…”

“I’m pretty sure she hasn’t more than once or twice,” I responded just as quietly to the courser. I let my gaze linger over the scene for a while, considering the discarded weapon and the unphased line of glass bottles, “you might have a point though. Maybe we should hold off on arming her for now,” I said with a sigh. We really needed more combat-capable ponies with us. It looked like Miss Glimmer wasn’t going to be one of them any time soon.

“This thing is so stupid anyway,” the pink unicorn continued, complaining loudly as she kicked some gravel at the offending shotgun, “it’s loud and smelly and you don’t have any control over where the bullets go when you shoot them; it’s ridiculous!”

Ramparts rolled his eyes, “that sums up guns pretty accurately,” he said, not sounding as though he was even trying to hide his sarcasm, “but, unless you have a better way of hitting targets at range, you’re just going to have to get used to it…”

Starlight looked over at us and cocked her head, her expression amused, “wait...that’s all you want me to be able to do? Hit things that are far away?”

Okay, wait...was she being sarcastic now? Honestly, it was very hard to tell, because while the question was worded so that it could have been rhetorical, the actual tone of her voice sounded like she was genuinely looking for clarification. Ramparts and I exchanged a brief look, the stallion clearly wondering the same thing I was, and his expression suggesting that he was going to take her response as being insubordinate―despite Starlight not being in the Guard, or even a pony under his command. I chose to be the one to respond, “that is kind of the idea,” I said, trying not to sound too condescending, “it’s generally smart to try and kill threats while they’re further away. Up close and personal is usually a ‘last resort’ kind of thing, and really dangerous besides,” I certainly had the scars to prove my point, if Starlight needed further convincing.

It didn’t look like that was going to be the case though. The unicorn’s expression brightened almost instantly, “is that all? Well why didn’t you say so?!”

Before anypony could ask what she was talking about, the pink mare turned around and looked back at the bottles with a hungry expression. Her hold started glowing again, but I saw no indication that a telekinetic field was forming around her shotgun. Instead, what happened was something rather unexpected. Bolts of brilliant blue energy lanced forth towards the bottles. Beam after beam struck out, and they shattered each of the bottles into dust as Starlight worked her way down the line. Ramparts and I were left to gape at her progress as the unicorn devastated all of the targets that had been laid out for her.

Once each of the bottles that had stood thirty yards away were disposed of, the pink unicorn turned her attention to Foxglove’s targets which had been set out at twice that range. Here she paused, licked her lips, and then shot forth a ray of her magical cyan energy that sliced through three of the targets there. The top halves of the bottles slid to the ground and shattered, leaving behind their otherwise undisturbed lower sections. Once she was satisfied with her demonstration, Starlight turned back to Ramparts and I, smiling.

“How’s that?” she said, jerking her head back in the direction of her now-vanished targets.

Now I’ve fought my fair share of unicorns out in the Wasteland over the years. While most used little magic other than their levitation to fight, there had been several with a more expansive repertoire of spells. Shields, powerful magical ‘pushes’ that could send grown ponies tumbling through the air; I’d even once fought a raider stallion that could spawn little explosive orbs which he threw at his targets. This was something new though. I recalled the one unicorn mare that had possessed those odd numbing beams of hers that I’d faced off against not too long ago, but what Starlight had just done was on a whole different level.

Ramparts and I exchanged glances again, “that works,” I said to the mare. The Republic soldiers next to me nodded silently, “you could have mentioned that you knew how to shoot laser beams.”

“You never asked,” Starlight shrugged, “and I already told you―a few times―that I’m good with magic.”

“I guess I just don’t appreciate what that really means,” I admitted, looking back at the wall where the bottles used to be, “I haven’t gotten to know a lot of unicorns.”

“I have,” Ramparts chimed in, “the Guard’s about three quarters unicorn, and none of them can do that. Where did you learn that kind of magic, anyway? I thought you were some kind of researcher or something.”

“Well, that’s sort of what it takes to get really good at magic: research,” Starlight explained with a wry smile, “as far as that spell goes, well, I spent a number of years as the mayor of a small village out in the fringes of Equestria. Somepony had to deal with the occasional monster that wandered by.”

“Fair enough,” the stallion said, acknowledging the point, “I guess the real question is how well you can do that during an actual fight when we encounter raiders out here.”

The unicorn balked at this, “you mean zap other ponies?” I could already tell from her affronted tone that Starlight wasn’t much of a fan of this idea, “is that really necessary?”

“You do remember what happened yesterday, right?” I cocked my brow at the mare.

“I do,” Starlight answered sourly, “I just feel like there has to be a better way of dealing with them.”

“There isn’t,” Ramparts assured her, testily; and I nodded in agreement, “and now that I know you can fight, I expect you to do something the next time we’re in trouble,” I cast an aside glance at the brown earth pony, frowning slightly. I wouldn’t have phrased it quite that way, honestly, so I turned to Starlight.

“The fact is that raiders probably won’t think twice about trying to kill us. The more of us that fight back, the less likely it is that we’ll get hurt―or killed―when that happens. Obviously we can’t force you to kill anypony,” I flashed Ramparts a brief look, noting his displeased expression as I subtly overrode his previous statement. The Republic officer was going to have to remember that we weren’t his soldiers, and that I was the pony calling the shots in this group. I resumed looking at Starlight, “but if you think it’s hard to deal with killing somepony, I assure you it’s a lot harder dealing with knowing that somepony died because you didn’t do everything you could to help them.”

The pink mare was quiet for several seconds, then, “I’ll think about it.”

I sighed, “that’s something, I guess,” that issue settled as much as it looked like it was going to be, I cast my gaze at Foxglove, “getting any better with that thing?” I asked, pointing my good wing at her rifle.

Ramparts answered for her, “she’d scoring hits a little better than half the time,” the stallion didn’t sound particularly impressed with the mechanic mare’s progress, but that was likely due to his own high expectations. Though, frankly, Jackboot wouldn’t have been happy with me if I’d only achieved that level of performance either. However, given what I knew of Foxglove’s marksmareship skill, I was impressed at how far she had come in such a short time. With a few more months of practice and familiarity, the violet unicorn could end up becoming quite capable with her rifle indeed.

As expected, the mare was looking at her ‘mentor’ with a none-too-pleased expression on her face, so I ventured my own appraisal on the matter. Unlike Ramparts, mine was delivered with a broad smile, “that’s pretty good for a pony that hadn’t even picked up a rifle a month ago,” I noticed a flash of subdued surprise cross the brown stallion’s face at the revelation, and his previously critical expression softened, “you’ll be popping raiders’ heads like Sparkle Cola caps in no time!”

“Thanks,” the violet mare said with a dubious smile.

I turned my attention back to Starlight again, “How’d things go with the Princess?”

Now I saw everypony’s expressions sour. It was the pink unicorn that gave her irritated answer first though, “they wouldn’t let us see her,” she groused, “obviously they didn’t believe I was really a two hundred year old pony, so I told them to just go and tell her my name and when the Princess saw me she’d know who I was,” her features grew even more incredulous, “I finally convinced them to do it, and a guard left and then came back, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t even speak with the Princess, because he insisted that Luna had never heard of me. That’s preposterous! I have a shelf in the Canterlot Library! They don’t give just anypony their own shelf!”
] I had sort of expected that things would go along those lines, given my own past experiences; but I’d held out hope that Starlight Glimmer might have more luck than I’d had, given her more personal foreknowledge of the reigning monarch. This was a little disappointing, but nothing could be done about it right now.

There was the option of trying to leverage another meeting with Ebony Song through the Galacians again, but I wasn’t quite prepared to spend all of my goodwill with those influential ponies quite yet. Once we found the weapons that the Republic wanted, I was going to get to meet with the Prime Minister again anyway, and then I could speak to him personally about getting a meeting with the Princess. Once Starlight and Princess Luna were in the same room together, a lot of things would start to fall into place for us. All it was going to take was one quick jaunt into Old Reino.

“We’ll try again when we get back,” I assured the aggrieved unicorn, which didn’t seem to do all that much to sooth her. The mare was obviously annoyed that none of her clout, or her former titles from her Ministry of Arcane Science days, were affording her the level of respect from ponies in leadership positions that they once had.

“We should consider returning to Seaddle,” Ramparts said, looking around, “we’ve been out here a good while, and it’s only a matter of time before somepony, or something stumbles across us.”

“Fair enough,” I nodded. I turned to Starlight, “did you at least find everything that you need to help me with my Cutie Mark situation.”

This brought a smile to the mare’s face once more, “indeed! If you’re ready, it would take hardly any time at all.”

“Awesome,” I smiled at the unicorn. At least there was going to be something that worked out today!

“What are you doing now?” I asked, watching the pink unicorn mare as she used a small diamond to etch a series of ornate and intricate patterns into the side of a glass jar. The cuts were so shallow and delicate that they were almost invisible, except when the light caught them in just the right way.

“Cutie marks are composed of powerful magicks inherent to a pony’s being,” the mare explained, not taking her eyes away from her work, “their desire to return to their host is very strong. You can’t just stick one into a glass jar and expect it to stay put. That’d just be silly. I’m inscribing wards into the sides,” she ceased her work and held the jar aloft with her magic, studying her work as the light from the nearby lamp glinted off the carved glyphs, “they...confuse the cutie mark, so that it doesn’t sense its host and stays put.”

I nodded my head, though I only vaguely understood what the mare was even talking about, “this is a much more involved process than I thought it was going to be,” though, looking back on it, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was expecting. Maybe just rubbing it out with a lot of turpentine?

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Foxglove’s oft-repeated question drew my attention to the violet mare. The mechanic’s expression made her concern and trepidation very clear. There was no denying that the mare wasn’t a fan of this whole ‘get rid of my cutie mark’ notion. It wasn’t her fault, I reminded myself; she actually liked her talent. Most ponies did, after all. Even ponies who had a mark in the same vein as my own tended to enjoy inflicting suffering on others; which was why they had those marks in the first place. Meanwhile, I had spent years constantly working against my own nature, in an effort to avoid becoming something that I loathed.

Getting my cutie mark removed wasn’t something I had reservations about in the least, and so I smiled back at Foxglove, “I’ve wanted this ever since the day I got my cutie mark, Foxy.”

She didn’t seem to have been been completely put at ease by my assurance, but at least she wasn’t putting forth any additional objections. Hopefully she’d understand how important this was to me in time. I looked back over to Starlight Glimmer, who had put down both the jar and the diamond and was now looking at me expectantly, “what else do we need to do?”

“Just sit tight and leave everything to me,” the pink unicorn said with a confident tone. She closed her eyes and her horn started to glow with cyan light.

It was soft at first, but as I continued to look on, it grew steadily with intensity until it began to hurt my eyes and I was forced to look away. Just as I did so, I felt myself enveloped by a sudden warmth. In that same moment, I also found myself lifting off the bed, floating in the middle of the small apartment.

My eyes were open again, and I was looking around while trying not to panic. Foxglove and Ramparts both looked concerned, but Starlight appeared to be completely calm and collected. I tried to bring my own anxiety under control, assuring myself that if there was any cause for alarm, I’d be seeing some telltale sign of it from the pink unicorn mare. She was the mare who had pioneered this sort of technique, right? If anypony knew how it was supposed to go, it’d be her. Right?

That thought had only just begun to assert itself in my mind when the pain began. It caught me off guard, since at no point had anypony mentioned that there would be any. At first, it wasn’t all that bad really; it was more of a ‘discomfort’ than real ‘pain’. Sort of like a really irritating itch that I was having to scratch really hard. It didn’t remain that mild for long though. Just as I was getting used to that feeling, it crescendoed into something that was genuinely agonizing.

This time, I screamed.

My entire body was on fire. Every nerve was insisting that I was being pulled inside out through my own anus with a pair of searing hot tongs. I wasn’t even forming words with my screaming, I was too far gone into the pain for my brain to have been able to accomplish that.

Foxglove tried to jump in and stop everything, but I guess that Starlight had considered that was going to be a possibility. The violet mechanic was instantly frozen in place by some sort of paralyzing field. Ramparts and Arginine, though they had not made any move to interfere, were likewise contained; presumably as a precautionary measure in case they changed their minds later. All of the other ponies could only look on as I just cried out and writhed in the air above the bed while Starlight’s spell ravaged my body.

After an eternity, or at least what had felt like the next best thing to it, the pain subsided. It left as quickly as it had come, and I gasped with sudden relief as my torment ended. Through my bleary vision, I caught sight of something small and silver, with tinges of red, moving around in front of me. I blinked away the tears that had formed in my eyes while I’d been wallowing in pain and was then able to recognize my cutie mark, floating free on its own. My mind was still in a bit of a haze, so I couldn’t bring myself to really say anything quite yet. I could only watch listlessly as the tiny little winged heart drifted away from me and slipped silently into the waiting jar. Starlight gingerly screwed on the cap, a satisfied smile on her face.

It took me a few seconds to realize that I wasn’t even floating anymore. At some point during the process, the pink mare had let me back down onto the bed. She also finally released the other three ponies. Arginine was his usual impassive self. Ramparts was mostly annoyed that he’d been needlessly frozen in place; but Foxglove was bordering on apoplectic as she rushed up to the bed.

“Celestia; Windfall, are you okay?!” she didn’t wait for an answer before glaring at the other unicorn, “what did you do to her?!”

“Only exactly what she asked for,” Starlight Glimmer replied with a cool tone, clearly not enjoying the accusatory tone of the other unicorn, “she’s perfectly fine.”

Foxglove was dubious, to put things lightly, and proceed to conduct her own assessment of my well being. I had recovered enough to offer up my own meager assurances that I was alright, but my words hardly sounded very convincing. Which was probably because I still wasn’t very sure how I was doing myself. While the pain was gone, there was a lingering...sensation, I guess? It was hard to really explain exactly what it was; like I’d walked into a room looking for something, but forgotten what it was, yet knew it was something important. I felt a little weak too, but I chalked that up to the aftermath of being subjected to powerful magic. A good night’s sleep would set me right.

As I continued to clumsily offer up token assurances, I heard Foxglove let out a gasp. Her emerald eyes were locked on my flank, where my cutie mark would have been. I craned my head around to follow her gaze, and cocked my own head in mild surprise. Where the impaled heart framed by silver wings had once been, the perpetual reminder of my sins, was now an...equal sign.

“Huh,” I blinked and looked back to Starlight, asking the silent question.

Quickly grasping the source of my confusion, the pink unicorn stowed away the inscribed jar and said, “in my studies, I learned that cutie mark magic is tied to ponies in such a way that the strict removal of it in its entirety would prove effectively fatal. Obviously, that’s completely unacceptable. However, what can safely be done is to switch out the magic with a ‘placeholder enchantment’ of sorts.

“Say, ‘hello’ to your new talent, Windfall: being a perfectly average pony,” She smiled warmly at me.

I looked back at the mark again, “so...that’s it? I’m cured now?”

“Well, you tell me,” said the unicorn, “do you feel compelled to kill anypony?”

“I mean...no,” not that I’d ever have described myself as feeling compelled to kill anypony. Frankly, I’d always hated killing other ponies, even when it was necessary. I’d just done it because, well, it’s what I was supposed to do.

“Then, yes, you’re cured. Though, I should warn you that there may be a lingering sense of loss as a result of the procedure. This is a completely normal part of the process, and I’ll be there to help you every step of the way,” the pink unicorn stood up and walked over to the bed, patting me lightly on the head, “we’ll get you through this together. In no time at all, you’ll feel like a new mare.”

“I...do feel different,” I admitted. I wasn’t yet convinced that the ‘different’ that I felt was an improvement. My whole body felt weak and there was this sense of profound loss that permeated my very being. Regret welled up inside of me, and I wanted nothing more than to demand that Starlight reverse what she had just done and pretend that none of this had never happened.

But...the unicorn had said that was normal. I bit back those urges and buried them deep down inside of me. This was for the best in the long run. Starlight was an expert on this, so I just had to trust her. In an effort to dispel Foxglove’s lingering concern, and help to put my own mind at ease, I smiled at the violet unicorn and made myself more comfortable on the bed, “I’m fine, Foxy. That spell did a number on me, but all I need is a little sleep. Right?” I looked to Starlight for assurance.

“That will certainly help, yes,” the pink mare confirmed. Then she fixed a look on everypony else in the room with us, “and I’m going to need something from all of you as well: This process is difficult for ponies to deal with, emotionally. We’ll all need to be supportive of Windfall for the next several weeks, until she’d ready to cope on her own.”

Ramparts was frowning now, “was this really such a good idea then, right before heading to Old Reino? If it’s going to affect her that much, maybe we should reverse it and―”

“No,” Starlight snapped, glaring at the stallion, “this is not something I recommend doing a second time. The psychological trauma would be compounded if I performed the spell again. Cutie mark removal isn’t like washing out mane dye, for Celestia’s sake!”

“You could have mentioned all of this before,” Foxglove growled.

“Nopony asked!” the other unicorn mare said in an exasperated tone, “and I notice that the pony who actually had her mark removed is the only pony here who doesn’t seem to have a problem with it,” she looked back at me, “do you, Windfall?”

“I wanted this,” it was a bit of a struggle to say the words, but I got them out. If I said them often enough, I might even start to believe them. To everypony else, I said, “look, I’m fine. Really. I’m just a bit tired right now. In the morning I’ll be perfectly fine. All Starlight did was remove my desire to kill ponies; it’s not like she got rid of my ability to operate a gun.”

The Republican Guard pony didn’t look as though he was fully convinced by my assurances, but he didn’t argue the point further, “I’ll join all of you at the front gate in the morning,” he said, heading for the apartment’s door, “I have a few more things to take care of back at the barracks while I’m in town; and I’m going to get the Republic’s latest maps on the radiation pockets in Old Reino.”

The four of us watched the brown stallion leave, and then Foxglove stepped away from the side of the bed and headed for her little ‘workshop’ area of the room, “I have some things to do as well,” she pulled out a small stock of jewels and talismans that she had managed to procure from the market earlier that day and sat down, “just so you know, Windy: you’re only going to have one full magazine of explosive rounds. Green-banded grenades are in short supply.

“Apparently most of the city’s stock was bought out by a few pegasi last week.”

My ears perked up at that last statement, “pegasi? As in more than one?” winged ponies were rare enough on their own in the Valley; I’d never heard of there being a group of them before that weren’t, “Enclave?” that seemed unlikely.

“Not that anypony could tell,” Foxglove said, shrugging, “at least, they weren’t wearing Enclave gear.”

“Enclave,” Starlight interjected, “those are the pegasi that left the surface, right?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty rare for them to visit places like Seaddle,” I informed the pink unicorn mare, “when they do, it’s usually because they’re looking for something or somepony specific; but even then they’re almost always wearing power barding.

“The Enclave isn’t exactly known for being shy about who they are.”

“So if they’re not Enclave, then who are they?” Starlight asked.

“They could just be a group of Dashites that were expelled together,” Foxglove offered, “no idea why they’d need all the firepower they bought. Might be setting up a mercenary outfit?”

“A whole band of pegasus mercs?” I mused at the implication, “I wonder if they’re taking applications...

I shrugged and made myself comfortable on the bed, "it's good to have options I guess."

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 32: I'M NOT THE SAME OLD ME

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"You seem well educated. What are you doing here?"

Most of my physical lethargy was gone by morning, like Starlight had assured me it would be, but I was still gripped by the sense of loss. I mentioned it to the pink unicorn, but she just shrugged it off as being a ‘perfectly normal feeling’, and asked me to just remain focused on how much emotional pain having that mark had given me over the years. That helped a little, but the nagging sensation didn’t feel like it would ever go away. I suppose that it was a bit much to have hoped that a cutie mark problem would be something that could be corrected in an instant. It was clearly going to take a lot of time, and I just had to make peace with that.

Just as Starlight Glimmer was going to have to make peace with the barding that Ramparts had obtained for her from the Seaddle Guard. Much to the mare’s shagrin, it had been a well-used set; and―according to her nose―had not been very thoroughly cleaned since being last worn by its previous owner. Judging by the patched segments of kevlar near the barding’s shoulder and the one ceramic plate that was of a subtly different style than the other, older, hardened sections, I was willing to hazard a guess that there may even be a few lingering bits of the ‘previous owner’ stained into the barding’s fabric.

I decided that it was best not to mention my theory to the unicorn.

Starlight at least accepted the combat shotgun, even through her insistence that her magic was more than capable of dealing with threats. An inquiry from Arginine regarding how many of her magical lasers she could reliably conjure before burning out her horn for the day, and how that total compared with the number of rounds that had been expended during the fight with the Vipers the other day had persuaded the pink unicorn to conceded that having a ‘backup’ wasn’t a bad idea. Ramparts had been very careful in how he worded his urging that the mare should only use the shotgun as a measure of last resort. Given her performance at the range yesterday, I was inclined to agree.

This trip, I was clearly the pony holding us up; which irritated nopony more than myself. Not since my flightless filly days had I ever been the individual responsible for setting the pace during a trip. However, my wing was still very much healing at the moment, and would be for some time, according to Doctor Lancet. The first day hadn’t been so bad; until I’d woken up the next morning. It turned out that a lifetime spent drifting through the air didn’t even come close to preparing me for what felt like a forced march across the hard scrabble desert of the Neighvada Valley. How had Jackboot managed to do this for all those years?!

Even Starlight didn’t seem as out of breath as I did during our breaks. If ever I had suffered a blow to my self-esteem, that was it, right there: the former pony-cicle who’d lived her life as little more than a glorified librarian for the now-defunct Ministry of Arcane Science was more physically fit than The Neighvada Valley Wonderbolt.

Fucking. Ouch.

That wasn’t to say that the pink unicorn mare wasn’t thankful for our breaks either; and with the two of us showing the strain, it wasn’t hard to make the argument for slightly longer breaks, especially during meal times. Ramparts was probably the only pony that was actually annoyed by the pauses, and I suspected that was mostly because he couldn’t just yell threats and obscenities―or whatever it was Guard officers did―at the rest of us in order to encourage us to go faster. Arginine wasn’t offering an opinion either way, and Foxglove seemed to enjoy being afforded the time to tinker with our gear during daylight hours.

It was actually a little fascinating to watch. Every time we would take a break for an hour or so, which happened about three times a day, out came the violet mare’s tools and whichever article she was working on at the time. For the most part, this consisted of the helmet that I had acquired in Seaddle. Ideally, the Enclave headgear was supposed to interface with my pipbuck and allow for some increased functionality. However, at the moment, there were a few hitches.

First was the fact that, apparently, my pipbuck had been damaged when she had removed it from Jackboot’s leg before they infiltrated the White Hooves. She’d been concerned that would happen, as she had lacked the necessary tools to do it properly at the time. Among the problems were that the pipbuck’s inventory management system was barely operable. For the purposes of Foxglove’s current project though, the biggest issue was that my pipbuck had difficulty interfacing with what was supposed to be Stable-Tec compatible technology. File transfers with a hardline connection would apparently still function alright, but nothing wireless.

Had that been the only issue though, then a simple cable would have been all that was needed to get the helmet to work with my pipbuck. However, it looked like there was also a software issue as well.

“I guess it was too much to hope that the Enclave wouldn’t fiddle with the code after two hundred years,” the unicorn grumbled as she delicately manipulated a pair of the smallest screwdrivers that I had ever seen amidst the helmet’s circuit-lined interior, “I should be able to bypass a lot of the protocols with some clever soldering, but you’re going to lose a lot of functionality,” she advised me as she worked.

“Like what?”

“Well, for starters, without the software encryption, you’re not going to have long-range com capability…”

“Not that any of you have radios anyway,” well, except for Ramparts, but he wasn’t ever going to be far away anyway.

“True,” she acknowledged before continuing with her list, “but what you will probably miss is what looks like some sort of Flight Assist System,” that did get my attention and I pressed her for details, “these nodes here and here are some sort of sensor suite; but it’s not like SATS or anything. My guess is that they’re supposed to track altitude, airspeed, wind speed, and maybe even pressure zones. The kind of stuff a flier like you would appreciate knowing.”

I shrugged. That was information that I’d been flying without for nearly a decade. I suppose that knowing those things might have been a little helpful under specific circumstances, but I was content to continue operating without it.

“Most notable though is that this,” she tapped one of her tools against a tiny little talisman tucked away amidst some other circuitry, “is a transponder. There’s something similar in your pipbuck that allows them to be tracked if you know the tag you’re looking for. I bet that’s what allows Enclave pegasi to go above the clouds without being shot down by their automated defenses.”

“You mean I could actually go above the clouds if we got this to work?” the prospect of seeing the actual sky was something that appealed to me; though more as a curiosity than any sort of overwhelming desire. After all, so many other fliers got to see it, be they Enclave natives, or Dashites. I’d heard it described a time or two by the latter when they were waxing nostalgia, but I’d never seen it myself of course.

“Briefly,” Foxglove amended, “it would keep the automatic systems from zapping you immediately, but it’d also announce you were coming to any patrols in the area. I can’t say what a group of Enclave soldiers would do when they found some strange pegasus flying around in their territory with somepony else’s equipment.

A frown creased my lips. I suppose that in that scenario I would count myself lucky if all they did was shoot me, instead of torturing me for information about who I was spying for. It was doubtful that they would be inclined to take ‘sightseeing’ as a valid excuse for being where I wasn’t supposed to.

Well, no seeing the sky for me any time soon, I guess.

“Thanks for doing all of this, by the way,” I said to the violet unicorn as she continued her work, “I don’t think I really say it very often, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Foxglove glanced up at me, a curious little smile crossing her face, “...that means a lot to me. I appreciate it,” she returned her attention to the helmet, “it’s funny, because I actually haven’t thanked you for letting me do this stuff for you.”

I cocked my head, raising my working brow, “okay, you’re going to need to explain that one to me.”

The mare shrugged, “well, I mean, I really enjoy tinkering with things. Building them, improving them, fixing them; it’s what I spent my whole life doing in the Stable,” her features darkened a little when she referenced her old life, “when I...left, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to do any of that again. For a while, it looked like I wouldn’t,” I recalled her accounts of how her life in the Wasteland had been spent; and watched Foxglove shudder slightly as she briefly relived those memories before continuing.

“But since I started traveling with you, I get a little bit of that old life back,” she held up the helmet, “and I get to tinker with devices I didn’t even imagine back in the Stable,” the unicorn was thoughtful for a moment, “I don’t know if I’d have traded my life in the Stable for the opportunities I have now, had I known; but these last couple of months have made the Wasteland quite bearable for me, in a way I never thought it would be before I met you and Jackboot.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for that,” she added, nudging me as she smiled more broadly.

I blushed, not having anticipated that response from the unicorn, “well, I guess that means I don’t need to feel bad about always asking you to fix my stuff. Sometimes I get worried I’m giving you too much to do.”

Foxglove actually laughed out loud at that, drawing a startled expression from all of us. When the violet unicorn recovered, she wiped a tear from her eye, still smiling, “‘too much’? Ha! If I ever find out where my old pipbuck got to, I’ll have to show you what my project schedule looked like for a typical week. My average workload was somewhere in the range of a hundred to hundred and twenty hours of work each week. These last few months have been a vacation compared to that,” her grin shifted into a wry smirk as she glanced around at our surroundings, “though I admit the scenery could have been better.”

“The monsters and raiders aren’t a plus either, I bet,” I noted.

“I would definitely like to file a noise complaint about all the gunfire, yes,” Foxglove agreed and the pair of us shared a laugh.

When it died down, the other mare was looking at me with a much more sober expression, her emerald eyes drifting towards my flanks, “how are you holding up with, you know…?”

I opened my mouth, ready to dismiss her concerns immediately, but the words died in my throat as I actually considered how I was feeling about the matter. I certainly felt...different without my cutie mark. It wasn’t just the lingering lethargy either. While I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I was having second thoughts about our trip to Old Reino, I wasn’t feeling quite the same level of enthusiasm as I remembered. I chalked most of that up to the reality of the danger we would be facing setting in, but I couldn’t shake the notion that it might be something more than that.

“I noticed you’re not wearing your Wonderbolt barding,” Foxglove pointed out, her expression growing slightly more concerned at seeing my hesitation, “is it fitting alright?”

“It fits fine,” I shrugged, welcome for the change in topic. Sort of, “but it’s just a costume. It’s not even real barding,” I’d only ever tried it on in the first place because I thought it had looked cool. It wasn’t something that I had intended to wear regularly, “it’s not armored, and it’s brightly colored, and it’s not like I’m actually a Wonderbolt anyway,” I pointed out to the mare, “I’m probably going to get rid of it and put in an order with Sapi for some real pegasus-cut barding when we get back to Seaddle,” I’d need a bit more money than we had for something like that. Old Reino would hopefully have some valuable salvage for us, or maybe even the Ministry of Awesome Hub when we found it, if it was supposed to be full of all sorts of weaponry.

“I could armor it for you,” Foxglove offered, her expression hopeful.

I considered that option for a moment. It would be rather nice to keep the Wonderbolt motif going when I came to the rescue of some ponies in trouble. That had felt pretty amazing, really, “I guess that could―ah!” I groaned, clutching my hooves to my head as something akin to a spasm wracked my body. The nearby unicorn’s eyes widened in concern, but whatever it was passed nearly as quickly as it had appeared and the discomfort was gone. I waved away the violet mare’s concern, “I’m fine,” I assured her, “and...no, I won’t be needing it anymore,” it was just a flashy old costume anyway, “like I said: I’m not really a Wonderbolt. It’d be weird to wear their old uniform.”

“I see. Could I have it anyway? I might be able to use it for raw material is some of my other projects,” she didn’t seem convinced that I was alright, but she didn’t push the issue further.

“That’s fine with me,” I shrugged, “it’s not like anypony would pay a lot of bits for an old costume anyway.”

It would be a stretch to say that Foxglove was satisfied with that answer, but she seemed to at least accept it, and I passed her the crumpled up blue unitard from my saddlebags. The Gale Force rig was still attached to it. I could have used it to allow myself to fly despite my bound wing―that was what it had been partially designed for after all―but I couldn’t justify burning through the spark batteries for that. They weren’t the easiest things to come by, and I wasn’t going to waste them by using the rig for something as trivial as traveling. She returned to working on the helmet and I sought out Starlight Glimmer, who was munching down on the remains of a bag of alfalfa crisps.

She glanced up at my approach and offered me a broad smile, and the bag of crisps, “hungry?” she asked, patting the ground next to her as she invited me to join her.

I wasn’t but I took one of the flaky green chips anyway to be polite, “thanks.”

“What’s on your mind? Still feeling any lingering sense of loss?”

“A little,” I admitted, frowning, “headaches too. Is that normal?”

The pink unicorn nodded, looking at me with her sympathetic blue eyes, “it’s a rare but documented early side effect, yes. Remember: you’ve had a very fundamental piece of who you were removed. It’s not going to be an easy transition,” she placed a hoof around my shoulders and gave me a brief hug, “but you aren’t alone. I’ll be here every step of the way to make sure you make it, and learn to embrace this new you.”

I nodded absently, “I just...I don’t feel like, well, me.”

“And that’s a good thing!” Starlight assured me, giving my shoulders a squeeze to emphasize the point, “you hated ‘you’, remember? You said yourself that your mark was compelling you to do horrible things. With a mark like that, I think that the less like ‘you’ that you feel, the better!”

I suppressed a wince, biting back the impulse to correct her. Killing had never felt like a ‘compulsion’. I’d always hated having to kill anypony; even raiders to some extent. I just wanted other ponies to be safe. That wasn’t the point though, was it? My cutie mark had been a weapon impaling a heart. I was supposed to kill ponies.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips, “I guess I’m just anxious for this ‘new me’ to finally figure out who she is so I can stop thinking about the past,” I glanced back at my own flank, “so, how does this eventually work? Do I get a new cutie mark later, or…?”

“Oh, no no no,” Starlight shook her head, “that is your new mark. The mark of mediocrity,” she explained, “from now on you’re a perfectly average pony in every way. You’ll never have anything to be upset about when it comes to special talents and the drawbacks that come with them.”

Mediocrity, huh? I guess there wasn’t anything wrong with being average. Average ponies weren’t expected to kill others, right?

“And those headaches will go away eventually?”

“Once you’ve fully adjusted to the new you,” the mare confirmed, flashing a reassuring smile.

“And how long will that take?”

“Well, it varies from subject to subject, but it goes much smoother and more accepting you are of the change. That means: no thinking about your old life, not thinking about your old cutie mark, and not trying to assert your old talent. Since your old talent was killing, I’m not sure if that’s going to be easy or hard out here,” she frowned, looking out at the Wasteland, “perhaps if you stayed in town for a few weeks…”

I shook my head, “not an option. The longer we wait, the longer the war between the Republic and the Rangers goes on. The sooner we help them end it, the better off the the ponies in this valley will―” I winced again, rubbing my head, “be…” the pain passed after a few seconds, “then we can let Princess Luna worry about what to do about Arginine’s stable.”

Starlight eyed me for a moment and then nodded, “that seems sensible. So what do you intend to do when we’ve found the MoA stockpile and given it to the Republic?”

If she’d asked me a week ago, I’d have said that I was going to help them fight off those Stable ponies. But now? I could honestly care less about how all of that was handled. Surely the NLR knew what was best and would take care of things. Me? “I’m...not sure.”

“Well, you probably only have a week or two to figure it out,” she pointed out, sharing a knowing look, “you might want to put some real thought into it.”

“What are you going to do?”

The unicorn’s expression dimmed, “...I’m hoping I can learn what happened to Moonbeam at the hub. I’m sure she’s long dead, whatever happened two hundred years ago,” she sighed and wiped at her nose. It was my turn to show some empathy now, “once I know what happened to her...I’ll make my way back to the Crystal Empire, and find out what happened to my husband.

“I know it doesn’t really matter,” she went on with a small shrug, sniffling, “dead is dead. I just need to know how. I need to know it was quick; that neither of them suffered. Bury them, if they need to be. If nothing’s left I’ll just...hold a memorial I guess.”

I leaned into the mare, feeling her return the gesture as she sniffed, “I know what it’s like to lose family,” I told her, draping my good wing over her back, “fair warning: the hurt never goes away completely.”

She nodded, “I know,” she said before drawing in a shaky breath, “I just need a chance to say ‘goodbye’. That’s the part that hurts the most, you know? I didn’t know that the last time I saw them was going to be the last time…”

The last time I’d really seen Jackboot he’d been getting ridden by Foxglove. I’d been devastated. I’d been ashamed, and angry, and hurt. It had driven me into the hooves of a stallion that I’d barely known, but had looked enough like Jackboot that I thought I’d be able to pretend it was the pony I’d actually cared about. Then things had gone wrong...so terribly wrong. My next memory of the rusty brown stallion after that was him being enveloped in a green flash of magical fire that consumed both him and his murderous sister.

It had never even occurred to me that I would ever need to say ‘goodbye’ to Jackboot after the sorts of things that we’d survived over the years.

Losing my parents hadn’t been much different. We’d been sitting down to breakfast like we always did, when the Brahmin started making a racket. Pa had stepped outside to see what was upsetting them, thinking a bloatsprite was harassing the herd again. Then he started yelling for my brother to get the guns. Ma hadn’t wasted a moment, rushing me out to the barn and telling me to stay out of sight beneath the hay until the danger had passed.

After that, my memory was a swirl of gunshots and screaming. A lot of screaming.

I hadn’t thought to say ‘goodbye’ to any of them either that morning.

Then I’d found my mother again. I had been so wrapped up in feelings of relief that she was still alive that it had never crossed my mind that I’d lose her all over again almost immediately.

“...I know what you mean,” I said softly, feeling my eyes starting to burn with tears that threatened to fall, “you just have to remember that they cared about you; and that they knew you cared too.”

Starlight nodded and wiped at her eyes. Fortunately, I managed to get myself under control before it came quite to that point, “you’re right. Thank you, Windfall.”

“What are friends for?” I smiled wanly up at the two-century displaced mare.

She chuckled, “I can’t say I ever had enough of those to know for sure,” she admitted, “but I think I’m starting to figure it out.”

Somepony was clearing their throat from nearby and we looked up to see Ramparts packing up his own small meal, “if the two of you are done, we really do need to keep going,” the gruff Republic courser said.

Everypony gathered together the remains of their snacks or work and we resumed our trek towards Old Reino.

“What happened to this place?” Starlight asked as we carefully picked our way through the empty streets of the city.

Ramparts answered from his place at the head of our short line, “the same thing that happened to every other city: The Great War.”

“I mean, this doesn’t look like a balefire attack,” the pink unicorn explained, “all of the buildings look way too intact for that.”

“That’s because it wasn’t all balefire,” the Republic soldier said, “the zebras co-opted an Equestrian megaspell. This city’s full of wandering radiation pockets that can fry a pony in minutes. I have the Republic’s most recent maps; but that doesn’t mean a whole lot. Everypony stay on their hooves.”

“Which way is it to the MAS hub?” I asked Starlight, keeping an ear to my pipbuck’s geiger counter.

“Umm...the next right, I think?”

“You think?” Ramparts glanced back at the mare, not bothering to hide his displeasure at their ‘guide’s’ lack of certainty. The last thing that any of them needed was to get lost in this deathtrap of an abandoned city.

“It’s been a long time since I was here last,” she winced.

“Two hundred years, give or take,” I quipped, in an effort to lighten the mood. This earned me an annoyed look from the brown stallion, and a wince from Starlight.

“I mean besides that,” she said.

“I think that’s a hospital over there if anypony thinks we should check it for useful supplies,” Foxglove pointed her hoof at a nearby building. I looked over and noted the mostly barricaded entrance...which had a distinctly odd arrangement that made it seem almost like somepony had been a lot more interested in keeping something in instead of keeping others out. I probably just wasn’t close enough to make sense of the setup, because that couldn’t possibly have been right. What could anypony possibly want to keep from getting out of a hospital?

“Maybe on our way out,” I suggested, “we really shouldn’t let ourselves get too distracted just yet, and we’ve got all the medicine we need,” or should need anyway. After all of the shopping that we’d done in Seaddle, our supply situation with regards to ammunition and healing potions was looking pretty good; though our finances were struggling a bit. Hopefully the MAS hub had something valuable in the way of salvage to help address that.

The sensation of something snapping beneath my hoof made me hesitate and look down to identify what it had been. I cocked my head as I saw what appeared to be some sort of wooden stick, which struck me as an odd thing to see in the street, as I couldn’t recall seeing any trees around. I glanced at our surroundings and confirmed that, indeed, there didn’t seem to be an obvious source for the stick. Only a few more seconds of speculative thought were spared for this anomaly before I jogged to catch up with the others.

We only had to backtrack twice before we were standing outside a building whose glass doors were emblazoned with the frosted silhouette of the symbol for the Ministry of Arcane Science. The structure itself stood nearly a dozen stories tall had managed to retain most of its faded purple coloring. Had it not been for the other similarly sized buildings in this part of the city, it would have been much easier to spot from a distance with its unique color scheme.

I craned my head up, noting how odd it felt to have to do so. Not flying was really starting to get old, “I don’t suppose you know where what we’re looking for will be in there?”

Starlight Glimmer thought for a moment, “if we were looking for an Image or Peace hub, we could just look up those addresses in a public phone book. Morale’s not shy about most of their facilities either, come to think about it. Wartime Technology and Awesome were a lot more...discreet, given the kind of things they tended to get involved in.

“We should be able to find a list of locations for all the local hubs on the main servers. They’ll probably be encrypted, but I have sufficient clearance to access that level of information.”

“How do we get to the servers?”

“Just find a working terminal.”

I looked at the mare in mild surprise, “really, that’s it?” we probably wouldn’t even need to go any further than the lobby to find what we were after.

“That’s it,” Starlight confirmed and headed for the door.

They weren’t even locked. Once the five of us were inside, I found that I very much needed to reevaluate my expectations regarding the Ministry of Arcane Science. I’d been inside a few other Ministry facilities up to this point, but most of those had been MWT and MoA administered locations. As Starlight had suggested, they apparently operated under some significantly different guidelines compared to the others. This place felt less like a weapons development plant, and more like a...library?

I mentioned as much to Starlight. The pink unicorn mare merely shrugged, “The MAS is―was―focused on spell research and development. You don’t make new magic the same way you make a new gun. A lot less heavy machinery is required, and a lot more understanding of things like ley lines and iambic pentameter.”

“You’re a bit what?”

“Incantation evocation rhythms,” Starlight said, which didn’t explain things any more clearly for me than whatever it was she had said before. The unicorn sighed, and in a mildly exasperated tone chanted, “to aid these ponies sight, let there be sufficient light.”

Her horn then began to glow with cyan light, which quickly peaked and flooded the dim lobby with pale light. I blinked at the sight and raised my remaining brow, “unicorns cast magic using poetry?”

Starlight glowered at me, “no. That’s not even close to how it works,” Foxglove and Arginine were likewise shaking their heads and giving me disapproving looks, “but if it’s easier for you to think of it like that; then sure: poems let us use magic.”

“What?” I glanced at the trio of unicorns, “what do I know about how unicorn magic works? It’s not like you guys are always muttering when you do stuff with your horns!”

“Not out loud, no,” Foxglove admitted, to which Arginine added his nodded assent, “Starlight’s right though. It might be easier for you to think about it like that. I guess it’s hard to explain to somepony who’s not a unicorn.”

“As enlightening as this is,” Ramparts intoned, drawing a frown from Starlight beneath her glowing horn as she wondered if the pun had been intentional or not, “can we continue the lesson on unicorn magic later and access a terminal so we can leave?”

“That’s going to be easier said than done,” Foxglove said, pointing her hoof at the ceiling, and the darkened light fixtures which explained the need for the other unicorn mare’s light magic, “power’s out. No power: no terminals.”

It did indeed turn out that the few computer terminals in the front lobby, located on the reception desk, were completely dead. They didn’t appear to be damaged in any way, just without a working source of electricity. The mechanic mare glanced at Starlight, “a place like this has a backup generator, right?”

“It’s a government building, so it should,” the other mare nodded.

“Probably in the basement,” Foxglove said, already looking around for the stairs, “I should be able to get it working in no time.”

“Alright,” I jabbed a hoof at Ramparts, “go with Foxglove and get power back online. The three of us are going to search the place for anything valuable.”

“Is it wise for us to divide our forces like that?” Asked Arginine.

“There aren’t any blips on my EFS. Ramparts and I can keep in contact through our pipbucks if anything comes up. When the power comes back up, Starlight can access the nearest terminal, get the info, and we can head back to the lobby; just in time to meet back up with Foxglove and Ramparts and head back out of the city.

“I don’t want us to be in a place like this any longer than we absolutely need to in case a rad storm comes around,” we had a generous stock of Rad-X and RadAway that had been divided up between everypony just in case; but even those things wouldn’t be much help if we got caught by anything more than the edges of one of the potent wandering pockets of magical radiation.

The gray stallion acknowledged the reasoning for my plan and made no further objections. All five of us headed for the stairwell. Ramparts and Foxglove heading down, while the rest of us took the next flight up. Just as Starlight had indicated, the hub was arranged much more in the vein of a book repository than a factory. We passed by many doors as we wandered the halls, each bearing placards that identified various magical subjects, and that lead into rooms lined with books and rolled scrolls.

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to keep all of that stuff on terminals?” I asked after seeing the fourth such shelf-filled room, “it’d take up a lot less space.”

“Some of the simpler stuff can be, yes, and often is,” Starlight explained, “but more advanced evocations―the sort of things powerful enough to help in a war―can’t be transcribed onto a terminal quite so easily. Anything that requires drawing on things like crystal veins or ley lines needs to be written in a very specific format that’s hard to replicate on a computer screen.”

“What’s so hard about writing poetry on a terminal?”

The pair of unicorns winced, “...maybe that was a bad metaphor to give you,” she tapped her hoof to her chin as she thought for a few moments, “it’s not really about the words themselves. It’s about...um…”

“Aesthetic,” Arginine supplied, to which the pink unicorn agreed. Not that the unfamiliar word did me any service, “how something looks.”

“Don’t they just look like words?”

“Perhaps some visual aides are in order,” Starlight Glimmer stepped into the nearest room and beckoned the pair of us to follow her. We stepped inside, and I noted the sign that identified this section as being one that contained works related to something called, ‘Oraculic Arcana’. Starlight gestured towards a table in the center of the room as she pulled a scroll from one of the ancient shelves and unfurled it on the dusty surface. I craned my head to peer at the writing on the aged vellum, and I was pretty sure that I could already see what these two had been talking about.

“That is the strangest writing I’ve ever seen,” I noted, drawing a smile from the pink unicorn.

“It barely even looks like words, doesn’t it?”

She wasn’t wrong. Looking at the scroll now, I determined it was fair to say that none of what the scroll contained was actually ‘writing’, but was more like...pictures that sort of looked like words. Actually, they were barely ‘pictures’, since they didn’t resemble particular objects. They were just sort of random looking shapes. But, “why does it have to look like that?”

“This is the pattern that that spell needs to take in order for it to be cast,” Starlight explained, “unicorn horns allow us to manipulate the innate magical energies contained in our bodies, and in some cases the world around us, to evoke―cast―spells.

“However, trying to remember a bunch of convoluted shapes like this can be pretty hard for most unicorns. So, we get a little creative with them. With just a little subtle alterations they can be read sort of like words, and that makes it easy to visualize the component phrases in our heads.”

I studied some of the ‘writing’ for a bit longer, noticing something else, “...they sort of look like that stuff that’s carved on talismans.”

“Very good,” Starlight said, looking at me approvingly, “you’re exactly right. The difference there, of course, is that talisman glyphs don’t need to be altered to resemble words and phrases. They can be completely accurate representations of the spell’s purpose. That’s why talisman magic is often more potent and persistent than unicorn magic. It’s...more pure, I guess you could say.

“So, you’re not thinking about real words when you cast spells. You’re thinking about this stuff,” I pointed my good wing at the parchment, “but that doesn’t explain why unicorns don’t need to say it out loud.”

“The words aren’t what’s important,” Starlight said, “it’s the visualization of the lines. For things like telekinesis and light spells, and anything simple like that, there’s usually only a single ‘glyph’ involved, and any unicorn that uses it often has little problem remembering what it looks like.

“Uncommonly cast spells, or magic that needs to have multiple simultaneous effects might need to be recited by the caster to help them ‘weave’ the magic in the correct manner as they try to recall the correct glyphs in the correct order.”

“The propensity for rhyming is to aid in recall and flow,” Arginine added.

“Exactly,” the other unicorn confirmed, “not really a big deal with short spells again; but if you have something really complicated that requires a half dozen or more intricate glyphs, it’s easier to remember a limerick or sonnet than just a random list of nonsense.”

“Unicorn magic is somehow both a lot simpler, and a lot more complicated, than I thought,” I admitted.

“I’m sure I would have much the same to say about flying,” Starlight acknowledged.

That was fair, I suppose. I could see almost exactly where these two were coming from now when it came to explaining something innate to myself to a pony with no easy personal reference point. If an earth pony had ever asked me how I went about flying, I would probably have just replied with, “I flap my wings and go,” but the reality was far more complicated than that. Trying to break down all of the little things that I did almost by instinct when it came to subtly shifting my pinions around during certain aerobatic maneuvers would have taken me months to explain, and have required a hundred or more visual aids.

“I don’t suppose that these scrolls are valuable to ponies?” I asked, looking around at the shelves full of ancient volumes of arcane knowledge.

“That’s hard for me to know for sure,” Starlight admitted, “I know that a pony like me would have paid a fortune to gather together the magical knowledge contained in a place like this,” she was wearing a wan smile, “I spent most of my early adult life working tirelessly to gather even a fraction of this collection.

“But I don’t know what the ponies of this world would be willing to pay for it,” the pink mare admitted, “a lot of it is purely academic in nature,” she gestured at the scroll in front of her, “there isn’t even a spell on this one. It’s just a lengthy examination of the theory behind a specific glyph and the history behind its development into its modern form.

“Probably just some unicorn’s dissertation to get their degree in Arcane Glyphology, or Magical Theory, or something.”

I didn’t know the going rate for magical spells in the Valley either. Not only had I never taken the time to shop at any store that catered to unicorns, I wasn’t even aware of any such shop existing. The closest I could think of to some place like that was a talisman repair shop, and given what Starlight had just said about talisman inscriptions being different from what was on these scrolls, I wasn’t convinced that we’d get much of a deal on any of this information from one of them.

“It’s hard to believe that there isn’t anything worthwhile in a place like this,” I said, frowning, “it’s a Ministry hub for Celestia’s sake!”

“There’s plenty that’s ‘worthwhile’ here,” Starlight said defensively, “I just don’t know if ponies out there would be willing to pay for it, or how much. Maybe not this room in particular,” she amended, glancing at the labels on the shelves, “but I can think of a few books I’d like to take with us.”

“Well, we might as well do that then. Where are they?”

Starlight glanced at the as yet still inoperable computer terminals in the room, “the directory would have been on the network. Otherwise we’ll need to look through the whole building until we find the right sections,” her expression soured now, “and that’s not going to be much of a picnic as it is.”

“Why not,” I looked around, noting the neat labeling assigned to the rows of shelves, “everything looks pretty well organized. As long as you know what you want, finding it should be a breeze.”

Starlight tapped her hoof on the unfurled scroll still lying on the table, “this is entitled: ‘Ancillary Acoustic Aural Glyphs: A Historical Perspective’,” now she jabbed her hoof at the gap on the shelf where it had once been, “I pulled it out of the ‘D’s’.”

“I...wait, what? Why?”

“I assume it’s for ‘dissertation’,” another scroll began to glow and floated out of the shelf from where it had been nestled next to the recently formed gap. Starlight skimmed over its contents, “nope. This one’s an older version of a Loqui Tirari spell,” she scrutinized the pair of scrolls, “I can understand why these two scrolls are located near each other, but I have no idea what they have to do with the letter ‘D’...”

“So we can’t figure out where the MoA hub is without first turning on the power, and we can’t find anything valuable without first turning on the power,” I sighed and rubbed my temple, “I guess we may as well have gone with Foxy and Ramps after all.”

“So, does that mean you want to go back down, or…?” Starlight’s questioned trailed off and quickly became moot as the lights flickered on, and the pair of terminals let out sharp, abrupt, tones as their screens began to scroll with strings of letters and numbers before finally coming to rest on the familiar starting screen of most typical systems.

I brought my pipbuck to my mouth and keyed it in to communicate with Ramparts, “Good work, guys. That was quick.”

There was a short hiss, and then I heard the gruff stallion’s reply, “turns out there wasn’t much to it.”

A more distant sounding Foxglove chimed in, “nothing was wrong with the generators; they were just disconnected from the main power conduits. All we had to do was plug in a couple of connections and close the main breaker and the system kicked on the moment it detected the building wasn’t getting any power from the main grid,” there was a brief pause, “I’m actually kind of surprised. It’s really small. I wouldn’t have thought something this tiny could power a whole building.”

“I guess we get lucky sometimes and things are easy,” I said, then turned to see Starlight already logging into one of the terminals. Her personal credentials seemed to be working just fine, “looks like we’ll be done in just a few minutes too. Meet us in the lobby.”

“Roger that,” Ramparts replied, “Foxglove wants to salvage some spare components while we’re here.”

“Sounds good. I’ll call again when we’re done,” I cleared the channel and walked over to where the pink unicorn was seated, “any luck?”

“Yes, and no,” the unicorn replied, not looking up from the screen, “I guess these terminals aren’t connected to the right servers. I have access to the full book directory, and I’ve found out where the books I want are; but I’ll need to get on an actual admin terminal in order to find out secure ministry locations.”

“Where would we find one of those?”

“Manager offices would have them,” Starlight replied simply, “they’re on the top floor,” she stepped away from the keyboard and headed for the door, “let’s go.”

At least we were able to take the elevators, now that the power for the building was back. I had not envied the prospect of having to traipse up eight flights of stairs. The top floor of the hub was a vastly different arrangement from the other floor that we had visited. There were no shelves of books up here, just offices and...a large marble circle built into the floor? I asked Starlight about it.

“A ritual circle,” she supplied absently, not sparing it a second glance as she headed for the nearest office’s terminal, “multipurpose,” she gestured at an altar that bore a myriad of sticks of what turned out to be chalk in various sizes and colors, along with several bowls of crushed gemstones, “you’ll find one or more of them in any MAS building.”

“What’s it for?”

“Like I said: multipurpose,” the unicorn sat down at a desk and started tapping away at the keyboard, “mass teleportation. Long distance communication. Even city defence, I suppose, if you had the right unicorns onsite.

“You can even use it to brew some tea.”

“Brew tea?” I asked, not hiding my skepticism, “what’s wrong with a kettle and a hotplate?”

“Nothing,” Starlight admitted, “and using a ritual circle to make hot water would be an obscene waste of resources, but hypothetically you could use it for that; and anything else, provided you know the glyphs.

“I’m in,” the pink unicorn said, by way of changing the subject. She was silent for a few long seconds as she tapped further commands into the terminal, “it looks like the local MoA hub is in…” her voice trailed off, and she sat up in her seat behind the desk, looking at the screen with a perplexed expression.

“What’s wrong,” I stepped around to get a look at what was being shown to the mare, and my features probably very closely approximated hers, “wait...isn’t that…?”

“That’s the bunker where you found me,” Starlight finished, her tone sounding just as dumbfounded as her features suggested, “but...that’s not right. That wasn’t a hub facility; and it was barely an MoA facility!”

“Are you sure you’re in the right file?”

“I am, but…look, more of this is wrong too. Right here,” she jabbed a hoof at the screen, “look at the communication directory; there are names of ponies there that were never at the bunker!”

“And no sign of ‘Treehugger’, either,” I noted.

Starlight skimmed the list of names and contact numbers again, “you’re right. A lot of other ponies are missing too. Somepony falsified the information here.”

“Obviously not all of it,” I pointed out to the mare, “we know that the place itself exists, and that it’s where this computer says it is. But then why make up the names of the ponies that work there?”

“They aren’t made up,” the unicorn said after a brief moment’s hesitation as she caught what I’d been musing, “I recognize most of the names, and I’ve met one or two of them; just not there. These are real MoA personnel, and those have to be the real numbers to get in contact with them; otherwise when the ponies here ever tried to call them up, they’d know something was wrong.

“This just means that the Ministry of Awesome was keeping the location of their real hub a secret, even from the other Ministries,” Starlight did not sound as though she were the least bit amused by that particular revelation, “and Rainbow Dash continues to find new ways of fucking with me long after she’s dead. If I didn’t hate her so much, I’d be impressed,” the pink mare let out an exasperated sigh and hung her head.

“How does that even work? Wouldn’t somepony notice it wasn’t a real hub once they went there?”

The unicorn thought for a moment and then shook her head, “honestly? Probably not. Not for an Awesome hub, anyway,” the mare frowned, “all of the other Ministries had very clear purposes: Arcane Science did spell research, Image shaped public opinion, Peace treated the wounded, Wartime Technology built weapons, and Morale kept tabs on dissidents. As such, they all had facilities that supported those focuses.

“Awesome was...different,” Starlight said with a grimace, “nopony really knew what they did do; besides ‘awesome things’,” she adopted what I presumed was a sarcastic parody of the Ministry Mare Rainbow Dash, going briefly wall-eyed as she did so, “I mean, there were the Shadowbolts, sure; and there were a lot of clues that suggested Awesome engaged in some covert actions, but there wasn’t a lot that was ever officially published about the Ministry.

“No two Ministry of Awesome hubs looked alike. Canterlot was a warehouse. Hoofington was a Shadowbolt barracks, I think. Somepony once told me their Trottingham hub was a theme park! So, no, I doubt anypony would have thought twice about the Neighvada jub as being a tiny little bunker in the mountains.”

“So, how do you know that it wasn’t their hub?” I asked.

“Because I overheard some of the Awesome pegasi there talking about the Neighvada hub being someplace else. I never found out exactly where, and I honestly never really tried to since it hardly seemed like it mattered,” the unicorn glared at the terminal screen, “I kind of wish I had now, if I’d known we’d hit a dead end like this.”

“There’s got to be another way,” I said, not willing to believe that we’d come all this way only to fail, “isn’t there any other information about the MoA on these computers?”

“This is nearly everything,” Starlight shrugged, tabbing through several screens, “contact lists, location―which we know is a lie―delivery schedules, inter-ministry memos―”

“Wait! Go back!” I perked up, moving in closer to the terminal. I might have just found the work-around that we needed.

“Really? It’s mostly just updates to contact lists as personnel get rotated around, nothing that helps with what we’re looking for...”

“Not the memos. The deliveries! What were they?”

“Uh…” Starlight returned to the appropriate screen and started to glance over the contents, “looks like the MoA was looking to get some prototype talismans made, along with some other magically sensitive equipment. That’s fairly typical, actually. Awesome and Wartime Technology were the usual recipients of a lot of MAS breakthroughs in arcane engineering. Your pipbuck was a fairly early product of that sort of cooperative effort. Shipping this stuff isn’t unusual. I don’t see how it could help.”

I tapped the screen, grinning from ear to ear, “it does when they include the shipping codes!”

Starlight was still unconvinced, “but that code doesn’t contain any useful information,” she insisted, “it’s just so that the carrier that delivered it can collect their fee.”

“And the carrier would have that code on their own computers, right?”

“Of course they would. They’d probably use it to track the package in their own system,” a measure of comprehension dawned on the mare, “...so if we can find out who delivered those packages, and accessed their computers, they might have recorded where they took the packages to!” her expression soured somewhat, “but they could have used any number of shipping companies. Unless you know what...” she leaned in and peered at one of the columns, “WRWF is?”

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea,” I was still grinning. The best part was that the fake freight company wasn’t that far away from here.

Starlight hadn’t even needed to read out the acronym for me to be fairly confident of who it was that had handled the shipments. After all, if your facility is so secret that you won’t even tell the other Ministries where it is, then who better to have deliver your mail than the shipping company that is actually staffed by your own agents? I was pretty sure that the destination addresses in the Wind Ryder Wagons and Freight computers were going to be fake as well―we’d learned that much already from the last time we were there. However, we had also learned that they kept accurate track of their flight hours. I’d be able to get a good idea of where their shipments were actually heading as long as Foxglove was able to recover enough of the data from their system.

“Save a copy of that entire list onto my pipbuck,” I told the unicorn, plugging in the cord that would link it to the computer. She tapped in a short sequence, and a moment later I received a flash of confirmation in the upper left corner of my vision that the data had been successfully stored onto my pipbuck, “awesome! Now let’s go collect your books and meet the others in the lobby.”

“Okay,” the unicorn logged off the system, as though it wasn’t even a conscious thought, and the three of us trotted to the elevators again, the unicorn announcing happily “sixth floor: Grimoires and Tomes of the Pre-Sisters Era. Filed under: V,” then Starlight’s chipper mood shifted suddenly to become more dour, “for: ‘Very Old Spells’.”

I cocked my head slightly as the elevator’s doors began to close, “...wouldn’t any spell from that long ago be ‘very old’?” I asked.

Starlight sighed, “there was also an ‘R’ section that stood for ‘Really Old Spells’, so...”

“What’s the difference?” I asked after a moment of thought as I tried to process whether or not there was some obvious distinction that I had missed.

“Who the fuck knows…”

The pink unicorn mare led us to the room on the sixth floor where she’d found the books that she was looking for, muttering their titles to herself as she pulled them from the shelf, “Clover the Clever’s Compendium of Creative Conjurations…”

“Try saying that three times fast,” I snorted from where I was waiting by the door, but Starlight gave no indication that she had heard me.

“...Classical Charms, an Anthology,” she continued, floating a second thick volume from the shelf and into her satchel, “and The Caster’s Companion: A Comprehensive Collection of Common Cantrips,” with the third sturdy reference guide securely tucked away in her bag, Starlight cast one last wistful look back at the rows of books and started for the exit.

I looked back and forth between the pink unicorn and the collection of books, “wait...all of those were filed under ‘V’?” I asked, noting that the wooden shelves contained labels that denoted every letter in the alphabet.

“Yup,” the mare replied in an even tone.

“Not ‘C’.”

“Nope.”

Curious, I stepped over to the section that I would have assumed to have been the appropriate one and read the first title that I saw there, “...Timeless Transmutations?”

“Don’t think about it too much!” Starlight yelled from the hall. I was inclined to heed her advice. Perhaps it was just one more of those things about magic that was hard for anypony that wasn’t a unicorn to grasp. I left the little mystery behind and trotted after the other mare.

Once in the corridor, I paused again and glanced up at the ceiling, squinting slightly, “...do the lights seem brighter to you?”

Arginine, who had been waiting in the hall nodded, “they have been growing steadily brighter since they first came on.”

Starlight craned her head upwards too, “maybe it just took them a while to warm up? They have been off for two hundred years, right?”

That sounded like a plausible enough explanation, so I shrugged it off and the three of us got back onto the elevator and returned to the lobby. Once more on the ground floor, we found Foxglove and Ramparts waiting for us. The Republic soldier was keeping an eye on the door, while the violet unicorn mechanic was tapping away at one of the consoles behind the reception desk.

I walked up to her, “anything interesting?”

“Mostly appointments and staff memos,” the mare responded, not glancing up from the terminal’s screen, “I’m not expecting to find out much; I just figured I’d poke around and see if they were keeping any neat projects here.”

“It looks like anything really interesting was shipped out to the MoA hub,” I informed the mare, “which... we still don’t know the exact location of,” Foxglove glanced up, frowning. I quickly added, “but I think we can figure it out back at that Wind Ryder place. Do you remember how much of their shipping records were intact?”

The unicorn’s frown deepened, “not many,” she said, “but those files were in better shape than most of their system. I can try to piece more of them back together. Is that our next stop?” she bent back to the console and tapped a few more keys, continuing to browse through the system.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “and I think we can spare a detour through that hospital we passed earlier if you guys still want.”

“Oh...fuck!”

I jerked, looking back at the violet mare in surprise, “I mean, we don’t have to. I just thought―”

Foxglove jumped up and started for the stairs, “I need to get back to the basement. Now. We fucked up!”

“Huh? How?” I stared after the violet unicorn as she headed away at the brisk canter.

“That generator was disconnected for a reason,” she replied, “apparently it was some new ‘experimental’ model. That’s why it was so small: hyper-efficient design. But, if it doesn’t run at full capacity, it eventually goes into a feedback loop and explodes!”

Well...that wasn’t good, “yeah, let’s turn it off. We got what we needed any―”

“Everypony quiet!” Ramparts hissed, gesturing sharply with his hoof. We all closed our mouths and turned to look at the Republican guard pony. He was staring out through the glass doors, scanning carefully out across the road. I looked down at the compass on my pipbuck, but I couldn’t see any blips that didn’t obviously belong to any of us. There certainly wasn’t any red that was visible.

Quietly, I made my way closer to the brown stallion in an effort to see if I could identify what had drawn his attention. In a hushed voice, I asked, “what is it?”

“I heard something,” he replied in a tone what was just as soft. His head was hovering close to the trigger bit of his battlesaddle, ready to bite down on the trigger the moment a threat popped into view.

“I don’t see anything on my EFS,” I noted.

“Neither do I, but pipbucks don’t see everything.”

“They don’t?” that was news to me; and it was information that I wish somepony had provided me with a long time ago. I spared a brief glance back at Foxglove, who had been the pony to instruct me―however briefly―on their functions.

“Not quite. Stealthbucks confuse them. Somepony being really quiet and careful when they move can avoid being detected too. There are even a couple critters that don’t always show up, until it’s too late.”

“Awesome,” though my sour tone suggested that, in truth, I did not find this new revelation to be particularly ‘awesome’, “so, if something’s waiting outside for us...Starlight, is there a back door?”

“I assume,” the mare shrugged. The pink unicorn looked over at reception terminal, “there should be some floor plans on there.”

Foxglove was prancing uneasily near the stairs leading down, “guys, not to put too fine a point on it. But there is basically a bomb in the basement.”

“It’s too risky,” Ramparts said, shaking his head, “if whatever it is attacks while you’re down there, you’ll be trapped with no way out.”

“The last thing we want to do is get separated right now anyway,” I mused, my eyes still mimicking the earth pony’s as we kept our attention focused outside, “and if we all go to the basement, then we’ll all be trapped. How big an explosion are we talking about?”

“Beats me. It might just collapse the floor, or it could erase the whole city,” Foxglove replied in exasperation, “I don’t know the specs. I also don’t have a timetable on when it’ll blow,” she stressed, “so either let me go down there, or we need to start running.”

“I can teleport,” Starlight offered, heading for the stairwell herself, “the two of us can go down and shut it off while the rest of you run for it. We’ll meet you outside the hospital.”

“That should work,” I glanced at Ramparts for confirmation of the soundness of the plan and got a curt nod. I looked to the unicorn mares, “go turn off the generator,” I was already heading for the reception desk by the time they’d vanished from sight. I started tapping keys in order to locate the building’s floor plans and find out where the other exits were. The last thing we wanted was to get lost in here.

All three of us jerked erect as we heard the sound of glass shattering from somewhere in the building. It was hard to peg down an exact location or direction as the sound reverberated through the halls and corridors of the Ministry of Arcane Science hub. Not that any of us was afforded much in the way of time to figure out where exactly it had come from before there was a nearly identical sound that came from much closer to where we currently were.

I turned my head towards the source of the new sound just in time to see a tree fall on top of Ramparts.

No, that wasn’t quite accurate. It wasn’t a tree, per say. It actually looked more like a pile of branches. Only this pile of branches had legs and a head with a mouth that was full of thorny teeth. There were also a pair of brilliantly glowing golden eyes that brought the whole look together.

For several seconds, I merely stood there in shocked silence as the collection of lumber tackled the earth pony to the floor and roared in his face. My pipbuck continued to insist that there was nothing malicious in that direction, but Ramparts’ frantic yelling and bucking contended that there was. My own personal senses confirmed as much as well. The ferocious snarling, the fetid stench of its breath, and the grooves that its seemingly wooden ‘claws’ were gouging into the tile floor of the building all insisted that this was a very real monster that was attacking. If somepony didn’t do something soon to help Ramparts, the earth pony stallion might not fare too well.

I opened my mouth to voice a string of commands to my twin automatic weapons strapped to my sides and save the stallion’s life when a sharp pain in my head preemptively silenced me. I grunted and shook away the pain, which was already starting to pass. Along with it went the commands I had been about the issue. The sounds of howling echoed through the hallway into the lobby, announcing the approach of still more of whatever these creatures were, spurring me to action once more...

...I bolted for the stairwell and scampered up as quickly as my legs would allow, finding myself wishing that I could have flown up them in order to further increase the speed of my ascent.

The harmonious blend of roaring of both beast and automatic rifles followed me up the flights as I ascended as quickly as I could. That thing had looked utterly horrifying, and there was no way that I wanted to remain anywhere near it, or its approaching friends. Ramparts was a veteran courser, the elite of the New Lunar Republic; I was sure he’d be fine on his own. Meanwhile I had one working wing, one working eye, and an overwhelming desire not to be killed by animate bushels of sticks.

Nor had I seemed to be the only one with a desire to be elsewhere. Another set of hooves could be heard clattering up the stairs in my wake. I spared a glance and saw that it was Arginine’s hulking gray form that was following me up the flights. That made sense, seeing as how his continued existence was tied to my proximity. I ignored his thoroughly perplexed expression, attributing it to his trying to puzzle out what those things had been too, and returned my focus to getting as far away from the threat as possible.

Not that I had much in the way of an idea about what I was going to do once I ran out of stairway. Perhaps there would be somewhere up here where I could hide until those things went away and then try to sneak my way out of the city? It might not even come to that, of course. Hopefully Ramparts could deal with them and let me know when things were safe. Worse case scenario, he was killed and Arginine and I would be hunted by those monsters. In which case…

“Can you teleport?” I ask the stallion running behind me.

“No,” he replied, sounding a little confounded by the question, “that spell was not part of my magical instruction.”

“Could you do it if you saw it written out?” we were currently running through a repository of magical knowledge, after all.

“Perhaps,” he ventured cautiously.

“Perfect,” the lights went out, plunging us into darkness. I halted mid-step, as did Arginine, “less perfect.”

“It would seem that Miss Foxglove and Miss Glimmer succeeded in turning the generator back off,” the stallion noted.

“No shit,” I said, fixing a deadpan look in the direction of his voice. Then I activated my pipbuck’s flashlight and continued up the stairs at a quick, but cautious, pace. As we reach each floor, I illuminated a placard the identified its number. Once we reached the sixth, I departed the stairwell and headed for the room that Starlight had taken us to earlier.

“We should be able to find a teleport spell here somewhere…” I murmured, panning my light over the shelves and the various tomes and scrolls that they contained. I paused on the ‘T’s, “maybe...here?” I pulled out the first book and read out its title, “Legerdimain’s Lexicon of Legendarily Laborious Lithomancies,” I blinked and pushed the book back into place, “apparently not…”

My eyes scanned the rest of the sprawling shelves, not knowing where to even begin trying to track down the spell that I was after. There must have been thousands of books in this room alone. I was even just making an assumption that the spell that I was after was even in this room, as there were similar rooms on every floor. I’d just figured that since Starlight had found some actual spell books here…

My heart froze as I heard growling coming from the hall outside, “that’s not good,” I heard myself say under my breath before I clamped my lips down tightly to prevent any further sound from escaping. Could wood even hear? Over the low growling sound, I heard some rather energetic sniffing going along with it. Apparently these piles of lumber could smell, so I suppose that hearing wasn’t much of a stretch…

I backed away from the doorway, looking around frantically for someplace to hide. Of course, if they could just sniff me out anyway, I wasn’t certain how much good hiding was going to do me. With those things in the hall though, it didn’t look like running was a much better course of action. If I couldn’t hide, and I couldn’t run, then I was in really deep shit, because I wasn’t sure what else I was going to be able to do about those things.

As my panic mounted, I saw a large canine head formed of brambles slowly drift into view through the door, heavily shadowed by the soft white light from my pipbuck. It’s glowing golden eyes turned and peered into the room, locking onto me. The low growl slightly charged in pitch, somehow sounding a lot more eager and pleased than it had a moment ago.

Oh, horseapples; it was too late.

I watched in abject horror as the creature coiled back and then leaped through the open doorway, hurling itself directly at me. Petrified with fear, all I could do was stand there and watch the outstretched paws of razor-sharp briars reaching for me, prepared to rend me into bits of fleshy mulch.

There was an amber flash, and the monster’s airborne trajectory was suddenly, and violently, altered as a visible wall of energy slammed into its side and drove the beast into one of the shelves that lined the room’s walls. The force of the blow was so powerful that the creature’s body was completely shattered by the impact, sending out a shower of sticks and disheveled books. I glanced to my right with my wide, still very much frightened, eye and saw RG glaring first at the scattered fragments of the wooden monster, and then at me.

“Are your weapons malfunctioning?” he asked irritably.

“I don’t think so,” I glanced down at the pair of 10mm submachineguns nestled beneath my wings for a brief moment in an effort to try and figure out what RG had meant by his question.

“Then perhaps, in the future, would you consider using them?” he snarled at me. Then his attention was drawn to the floor. I followed his gaze and saw that one of the twigs near me was quivering. Actually, it appeared that all of the wooden remains of the monster were on the move, slowly tumbling towards the corner of the room where they were gathering together into an amorphous heap.

Something told me that it wasn’t going to remain formless for very long.

“We need to go,” Arginine stated. I found myself very much agreeing with the stallion. He went to the doorway and glanced each direction down the hall, “I can still hear shooting. We should rejoin the others.”

I shook my head, “no way! That’s where more of those things are. We need to go away from the shooting,” I insisted. This drew a rather shocked look from the large stallion. I didn’t feel like debating the point though. His collar was linked to my pipbuck, so ultimately Arginine was going to go in the direction that I did anyway, whatever his own opinions of the matter.

The pile of sticks was beginning to look a lot more like a limbed monster again, so I ceased debating and headed to the stairs once more, ascending even further. My intent now was to head for the roof. Once up there, it should be possible to make my way to one of the other buildings in the area and hopefully escape from these things. RG followed after me, though quite reluctantly.

“Windfall, it’s Ramparts; do you copy?” the haggard voice of the Republic courser crackled over my pipbuck’s speakers.

I paused to key my reply, “I’m here. What’s up?”

“Are you alright? What happened? By the time I got away you were nowhere to be seen.”

“RG and I are on our way to the roof. I figure we can get away that way.”

There was a brief moment’s pause, “I guess that’s a good idea. These things don’t stay down long,” another pause, “Bullets don’t do shit to these things―bucking either. I’m going to turn that reactor back on.”

Arginine and I exchanged brief glances, “you mean the one Foxglove said could blow up the whole city?”

“I figure there’s a good chance it’ll be a much smaller ‘boom’ than that,” the courser chuckled, “but maybe it’ll be big enough to bring down the building and bury these things. You two make your escape from the roof.”

“What about yourself?” Arginine asked from over my shoulder, looking at the pipbuck. I frowned at the larger stallion, but waited for Ramparts’ response all the same.

Another chuckle, “I’ll be fine. Not my first demo-and-ditch job. Ramparts out.”

“There, see, everypony’s fine,” I turned my attention from the pipbuck and started back up the stairs, “now let’s get out of here before this building blows up. I don’t want to be here for that,” I heard a furious roar drift up the stairwell and peered down briefly, “or those,” my pace picked up noticeably.

“You are content to let him deal with the threat on his own?” the stallion with me asked as he trotted after me.

“He says he can do it,” I shrugged, annoyed that we were still talking about this.

“I recall similar sentiments being expressed by him while confronted with the Steel Rangers,” Arginine remarked, “you interjected yourself then.”

I came to a sudden halt. My mind flooded with memories of how I’d insisted on remaining to help the Republic soldiers fend off the assault by the much more heavily armed squad of Steel Rangers that had placed them under siege. Ramparts had insisted that my aid was neither expected, nor truly required, and yet I had stubbornly remained to help them. I felt no such compulsion now though.

That’s what it had been back then: a compulsion. There had been this overwhelming need for me to help those soldiers. They had been in trouble, and I was there. The idea of turning around and doing absolutely nothing to aid them hadn’t been a thought that I’d managed to entertain for very long, as it was disdainful to me. Just as I couldn’t turn away from Summer Glade when she had been in distress. Nor Foxglove. When ponies were in trouble, I helped them. I did everything in my power to protect them, because I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting by idly while others were in trouble. I’d sat by while my family was slaughtered, and while I knew, on an intellectual level, that there wasn’t anything I could have done back then, I had sufficient ability now. I wouldn’t let anypony suffer the sort of loss that I had as a filly―

Pain shot through my head, wiping away those memories. The more I struggled to retain them, the greater the discomfort became, until I finally relented and allowed those thoughts to slip away. I grunted and rubbed my temple furiously as the pain ebbed away. Arginine looked on in concern.

“Are you ill?”

I swallowed, “I don’t know,” A long pause as I futilely tried to wrap my head around the cause of the headache. Starlight had said it should only be happening when I thought about anything to do my old cutie mark, but that mark had been about killing other ponies…

...hadn’t it? So why had I been having those headaches just now while thinking about help―ugh!

“Rampart’s can handle himself. Let’s keep moving,” I said through clenched teeth as I furiously massaged away the latest migraine.

We’d taken no more than a half dozen steps before the lights flickered back on, “that would be the power coming back on,” Arginine noted. We continued ascending, and a few seconds later I noted that many of the lights seemed to be shutting off, “and that would be breakers being opened to increase the amount of feedback into the generator.”

“The sooner we’re out of here, the better,” our resident expert on all things technical hadn’t been able to even hazard a guess as to the exact size of the detonation that would follow if that generator were allowed to remain on for too long, so I was inclined to put as much distance between myself and this building as possible. Even without the threat of an impending explosion of unknown intensity, I wasn’t interested in lingering, not with those...whatever they were prowling around here!

What in Celestia’s name was up with those things anyway? Monsters made out of sticks that could just put themselves back together again even when you pounded them into kindling?! I’d never even heard of monsters like that before. I made a note to ask Starlight Glimmer if they were the result of some sort of magical experiment being conducted by the ponies that had worked here.

The two of us made our way onto the roof of the building. Once there, I took stock of our situation. The buildings around us were of a similar height, or even a decent bit higher in some cases. Stepping to the edge I noted that they were a bit far to jump for. It would have been a completely different story if I’d had two working wings, of course, but since that wasn’t the case...

“Well, ‘up’ isn’t an option,” I said wryly, glancing at the street below, “so I guess that means ‘down’”

“That may prove difficult,” Arginine called from the other side of the roof. I trotted over and noted that the building’s fire escape had apparently long since rusted away and mostly collapsed. That might prove to be a bit of a problem, “I don’t suppose that you have devised an alternative plan of action?”

“Hope that none of those things makes it all the way to the roof and that the generator only collapses a little bit of the interior?” I offered with a smile. The larger stallion did not appear amused by my attempt at levity. You’d almost think that our lives were in mortal peril or something.

More seriously, I said, “I can get down easily enough even without my wings. Can you levitate yourself down?”

“Achieving personal flight through levitation is...difficult,” RG muttered reluctantly, “even for unicorns as powerful as my kind,” he cast a wary glance over the side and drew back almost immediately, “I am reluctant to make the attempt with such an unforgiving margin of error.”

“You don’t want to splat if you can’t pull it off.”

He grimaced, “correct.”

I eyed the large stallion, gnawing on my lower lip as I considered one possible solution. He was an unnaturally large stallion, and I was a mare who wasn’t quite fully grown yet. The size disparity between the two of us bordered on the comical, making what I was thinking almost impractical. I knew what I was capable of under normal circumstances, but what I didn’t know was the exact limits of those capabilities when pushed to limits that I doubted had been conceived of.

I really wished I’d had the Gale Force right about now...

The sound of snarling coming from behind us interrupted my train of thought and the two of us turned in time to see a full trio of those wooden creatures prowling out on the roof. All six of their beady yellow eyes were locked on us.

“Full auto, fire!” I yelled, training my weapons on them. My submachine guns snarled loudly at my sides as they spewed forth a stream of lead rounds that chewed into the monstrosities. The creatures flinched away reflexively as my rounds cut through them.

All the way through them, I noted, leaving behind hardly any significant damage at all. I glanced at the corner of my vision and my heart sank as I saw the glowing ‘AP’ next to the pair of zeroes that denoted my empty magazines. I had unloaded with armor-piercing rounds, which apparently had done little more than leave behind tiny little 10mm holes wherever they’d hit. It seemed that creatures that were capable of reassembling themselves from piles of debris weren’t all that put off by something as minute as mere holes.

The three creatures blinked, glanced at their largely unaffected bodies, looked back at me, and roared.

“Horseapples! Load, um…” would hollowpoint or explosive be better to use on them? While the emerald-tipped rounds were sure to do a number on the creatures where they hit, they would detonate immediately upon impact and do only superficial damage. Meanwhile, the specially shaped soft lead tips of the hollow-point rounds would cause them to expand as they passed through the creatures, hopefully splintering more of their interior. I didn’t get the impression that these creatures really had ‘organs’, per say, but did that mean that their insides weren’t still somehow vital? They were roaring, so did that mean they had ‘lungs’ and breathed somehow?

Then the wooden monsters were charging us down, interrupting my mental debate. They had also spread themselves out in a maneuver meant to trap us against the edge of the roof and keep us from trying to run to either side. Even if I loaded an alternative type of ammunition, I would be able to hit all of them before they got to us. We couldn’t move left, right, or forward. That left only…

They leaped into the air, arcing directly for us.

“Hold on tight!” I yelled at the stallion as I wheeled around and ducked between his legs, bucking him up onto my back. Wow, he was a big ol’ stallion! I thought very Be Strong thoughts as I took his full weight onto my withers and haunches. Arginine let out a very un-Arginine-like yelp of surprise as I bucked him up off the ground and leaped over the side of the building.

“Are you crazy?!” he screamed in actual terror―something I’d never heard from the stallion―while his forelegs reflexively clamping around my neck as he found himself suddenly airborne.

“Maybe!”

I flipped out my functional wing, catching air with it and using it to direct us back towards the building. I could do that much at least. As we turned back around, I saw three surprised looking beasts flailing through the air over us. Either they had severely misjudged how high off the ground they had been, or they simply didn’t possess a concept of ‘height’ on the scale of an office building. In any case, they seemed thoroughly surprised by how far below them the ground was, and how quickly they were now heading down to meet it.

My wing tucked back into my side once we were turned back around and I stretched out all four of my hooves, praying to Celestia that this was actually going to work and that I hadn’t just killed us both. I had never done this while bearing any respectably sized load. I knew I could do it while wearing my barding, all my weapons, and a decent amount of salvage, so I was clearly capable of supporting more than just my own weight. The question―which was about to become much more than merely academic―was how much more?

My hooves slammed against the side of the building with more force than I had been expecting. Apparently I still didn’t appreciate how massive Arginine was. Almost immediately, I felt the pair of us begin to fall along the side of the building.

I grit my teeth together and glared at the offending wall, willing my hooves to adhere to it as they had to so many other surfaces in my life. Suddenly, I no longer felt like we were ‘falling’, so much as we were being ‘dragged’ along the wall. It was akin to the sensation of standing on the ground, fighting against somepony trying to pull me backwards. I buckled down and leaned into the force that was pulling us down. My hooves ground into the ancient masonry beneath them, creating long streaks of scuffed stonework as they scraped along.

“Come on,” I groaned, trying to dig even further into the side of the building, “Come on!”

The furrows deepened as I applied even more force to the face of the building. I needed this to work, otherwise Arginine and I were both going to die!

Pain flashed through my head once more, but I fought through it this time, latching onto the knowledge that if I faltered here and now, the stallion I had dragged over the edge with me was going to die. I couldn’t let that happen―I wasn’t going to let that happen! Damn the pain to Tartarus! I was going to do this! I just needed to Be Enduring!

Those furrows deepened even further, my hooves biting a full three inches into the faded purple brickwork. This time it seemed to be enough, and I felt our speed slow steadily until we finally came to a complete stop. I merely stood there for several long seconds, panting with the effort that it was taking to keep from resuming our plumet. My attention was only drawn away briefly by the sound of splintering lumber beneath us. I spared a quick glance at the ground, noting that we had come to a stop somewhere around the fourth or fifth floor, and confirmed that none of those creatures had been as fortunate as the two of us.

For the moment anyway. It had been all I could do to bring us to a stop. I was too scared right now to move my hooves and risk losing my footing entirely in order to walk us down.

“Fascinating,” Arginine said breathlessly, swallowing back something that sounded an awful lot like fear, “I was unaware until this moment that I possessed a fear of heights,” I glanced back at the stallion clinging tightly to my back. He was a much paler gray at the moment, “I wonder if it is a psychological flaw, or a genetic oversight. I should alert the Strain Selection Committee so that they can investigate the matter in future generations…”

I tentatively tested my footing, very carefully easing one of my hooves off the side of the building in preparation to take a step. So far, so good, “don’t tell me that the Perfect Pony doesn’t like being high up,” I noted the shakiness in my own voice as I chided my passenger, “afraid of falling, are we?”

“My concern is more accurately associated with the magnitude of the deceleration forces involved upon impact with the paved surfaces below,” he said numbly.

“...You don’t want to ‘splat’.”

“I don’t want to ‘splat’,” he agreed with a nervous shake of his head.

Wow, he really must be scared. If I was being completely honest, I was a little concerned myself. I had a hard time remembering the last time I had even been afraid of falling to my death. That was something that very rarely came up for a pony who could fly, after all, “for once, RG, you and I are in complete...agreement,” I said while very carefully lifting my hoof off the building, feeling a flood of relief as the other three held, “so we’ll just very carefully...make our way down…” I placed the hoof firmly against the side of the building and began to ease off on one of my others, “...one step...at a time,” this was looking like it was actually going to work!

I spared another look down. It was going to take a while though. Hopefully those things wouldn’t manage to reform before we got there. They looked like they had been pretty thoroughly shattered by the impact of the hundred foot fall, so we might actually have that kind of time.

My ear twitched and I cokced my head as I prepared to take another step closer to the ground, “do you hear a sort of high-pitched whine?”

“Now that you mention it, I believe do detect a―”

I felt the explosion a split second before I actually heard it. It was like the wall had leaped up at me, very nearly heaving me off of my already precarious purchase on the vertical surface. Arginine gave another surprised yelp and his grip tightened to a nearly unbearable level. Then what I could only describe as the most violent rainbow that had ever existed burst out of the first and second floor windows, consuming everything in its prismatic glow.

Then we began to fall again. It wasn’t just the two of us either, I immediately realized. The whole building was going down, shattering into fragments as it did so! Perhaps even worse, the convulsing patterns of light below us didn’t seem to be intent on going anywhere anytime soon. And because bad news wasn’t complete unless it came in threes, that light was actively consuming everything that came into contact with it. Which, in a matter of seconds, was going to include us!

“It would seem that the reactor has deton―”

“You don’t say?!” It seemed that ‘down’ was no longer the preferred direction of travel. That left only ‘up’. I propelled us forward along the falling wall, not quite sure how I was supposed to outrun gravity. It would take a particularly awesome pony to accomplish something like that! A little blue pony in my head who bore a remarkable resemblance to Rainbow Dash suggested that making a leap over to a slab of falling brickwork on my left would be a pretty radical looking move right about now. I made the jump and then noticed a nice looking piece was just a hop, skip, and a jump further ahead…

I vaulted from one tumbling section of the former Ministry of Arcane Science Hub to the next, managing to stay just ahead of the deadly glow beneath us, but without gaining much additional distance. It wasn’t going to be very long before we ran of collapsing building either. This proved to be a problem that solved itself though. The generator must have been located towards the front of building, as the bulk of the tumbling tower was listing forward, tilting towards its neighbor across the street. As the angle increased further and further, so did our progress towards that other building.

My hooves scrambled along the shattered remains as they fell and were subsequently consumed by the full spectrum fire of the burning reactor. It was only by the merciful grace of Celestia that we reached the neighboring buildings, diving in through one of the windows and collapsing onto the floor. My limbs―especially my hooves―burned like they were on fire from the enormous effort it had taken to get us this far. I also felt a significant number of other sources of pain as well, along my cheeks and chest.

I was more than a little surprised that had even worked. That had to have been the coolest thing that I had ever done in my life by, like, twenty percent...at least!

Unfortunately, it seemed that we weren’t free and clear just yet. The floor we were lying on was quivering as the MAS building finished collapsing into its side. The air around us was filled with the sounds of protesting steel beams that had not been intended to withstand such massive lateral forces. I could already feel this floor starting to list and buckle under the strain. I really didn’t want to have to run again so soon…

“The soundness of this structure’s stability is questionable,” Arginine noted as he rose to his hooves. He certainly sounded like he was glad not to be perched on the side of a building anymore. Though I suspected that he would rather be somewhere that wasn’t about to start falling down around his ears, “we should be elsewhere.”

“Arginine,” I groaned as I got back up and steadied myself on my aching legs, “please stop stating the obvious. It’s getting on my nerves,” I glared back at him, noting the dozen or so bleeding laceration on his head and sides. His horn was glowing as he carefully extracted a hoof-sized shard of glass from his shoulder, wincing in pain as he did so. A quick glance down confirmed that I’d been cut up pretty good too. Nothing a healing potion wouldn’t fix though once we had a moment to take one.

The stallion clamped his mouth shut. It was unnerving to see the usually stoic stallion looking so out of sorts. I hadn’t ever thought of him as being the sort to panic. It seemed that the fall earlier had really rattled him a decent bit. I suppose that was something I could let the Republic interrogators know when I eventually passed the gray stallion over to their custody. That was later though. Right now, the two of us had other concerns. Like a second collapsing building, but with the two of us on the inside of it this time instead of the outside.

I wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse…

The ceiling heaved and groaned, a wide split appearing through the middle of it. A moment later, one side of it fell away, slamming down into the middle of the floor that were were on at the moment, creating a ramp to the next level up and spilling desks and other office supplies onto the floor we were currently on.

Worse. Things were definitely worse.

The question that needed to be answered right now was whether we went up or down―

A section of floor nearby fell away, and I could see a crimson glow shining up through the hole it left, which quickly shifted to yellow, and then to green. It seemed that the reactor’s inferno wasn’t limited to just the hub building.

Up it was!

“Up up up!” I yelled as I scrambled towards the recently created ramp. Arginine was right on my tail as we increased our distance from the all-consuming prismatic fire. I realized that this was only a short-term solution though. Inevitably, this building was going to collapse too, and then we would be right back where we’d been a minute ago; and I could already feel that I didn’t have another ‘wall climbing’ episode in me. We needed a way out of this thing before we got too high up―

Both of us clambered to a halt as the building convulsed. I was terrified that it was all about to come crashing down right then and there, but it seemed that this place had been built a little sturdier than that. Not by much though, as a significant portion of the next three floors above us pancaked on their way down, leaving behind a gaping chasm in front of us. There was no longer any further way up for us, just a forty foot tall section of bare wall that was barely being supported by a few remaining steel beams.

Through the window I could spy the next building over.

Another quiver ran through the floor, and I could feel us starting to list back towards where the MAS hub had been only a few minutes ago. That meant that this place probably wasn’t going to fall into another building.

“Load explosive rounds,” I yelled over the din of the debris that was dropping down around us. I lined up my aim on the joints of those remaining beams, “two rounds! Both barrels! Fire!” a quartet of green darts struck the joint and detonated. The steel rivets, already being strained well past their intended capabilities, shattered. The steel beams sagged away from one another. I shifted my point of aim to the next joint, “fire! Fire! Fire!”

Joint after joint fell apart as my rounds broke the pitiful remnants that had been holding them together. Soon I was looking at a slab of wall that was being held in place by crumbling bits of mortar and plaster. It would surely fall with the next tremor. The trick would be making sure that it fell the way we needed.

“RG, hit it! Hard!”

The stallion nodded, grasping what I had intended. My, what smart pony he was. A golden burst of magical telekinetic energy, very similar to what he had employed against those monsters, slammed into the section of towering wall. Massive cracks immediately appeared at its edges and the segment of dislodged wall fell away. Steel screamed and glass shattered as its fall was preemptively arrested by the side of its neighbor.

The floor heaved one more time. This was quite clearly the death rattled of the building we were in, and I didn’t need to tell Arginine to run as quickly as he could. Neither could afford to spare a moment of thought as to whether the improvised ‘bridge’ would support our weight. If it didn’t, we died. If we hesitated, we died anyway.

I extended my good wing, fluttering it slightly in an effort to lighten my steps as I darted across the crumbling surface. Arginine had enveloped himself in his own amber magic, but I couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing. Honestly, I couldn’t care less. My biggest concern was getting across this tentative expanse of quivering wall before it fell away from beneath us.

At least it had done us the favor of shattering the windows of the building we were going to so that neither of us had to get ourselves sliced up any more than we already were by crashing through it again. Once inside, I turned and looked back the way we had come, just in time to see that other building give one last shudder and then tumbled over, vanishing into that shifting swirl of color that had once been the MAS hub. For several long, tense, seconds, I stood and waited, listening and feeling for any sign that the building that we were in right this moment was going to join its brethren and collapse. However, it seemed that this once was going to remain standing in spite of the nearby carnage.

The magical fire endured for nearly another full minute before it finally began to die away and shrink into what had become a massive crater in the middle of the block. In its wake, it left behind crackling ends of exposed underground cables and anemically dribbling water and sewage from buried pipes that no emptied into the new depression.

Satisfied that we were finally safe, I let out a relieved sigh as my rump hit the ground, “I’m glad that’s over with,” I reached into my saddlebag and withdrew a pair of healing potions, keeping one for myself and passing the other to Arginine. The gray stallion drank down the draught, the cuts vanishing in a matter of seconds, leaving behind only the stains of blood on his coat. The purple fluid that I drank took away some of my aches as well, but my hooves still burned a little. Curious, I inspected them for any signs of significant injury but I couldn’t see anything that looked out of place. My pipbuck showed a very curious little symbol next to all four of my legs that I’d never seen before: a unicorn’s horn with a line through it.

I guess this thing was pretty broken if it thought that I was a unicorn with horns on my feet.

Then the speaker on it crackled, startling me. The transmission was horribly garbled though, and I could barely understand a thing that was being said. It kind of sounded like Ramparts though, “―fall, do you co―? Win―ome in.”

“Ramparts, is that you?”

“I can bare―you,” I strained my ears to try and listen through the static, but it was no good. Hardly anything was comprehensible. I banged the pipbuck against the ground a couple of times, vainly hoping that would help things. It did not, “are y―kay? Wher―ou?”

“I can’t understand what you’re saying, Ramparts,” I let out an annoyed grunt, glaring at the pipbuck, “RG and I are going to try and make our way back to the hospital to meet back up with the other. You should head that way too.”

“―geiger cou―crazy,” the stallion’s voice continued to crackle through the speakers as though he hadn’t heard what I’d been saying, “think―diation pock―get to high―”

The rest of the transmission was nothing but static after that. I glared at the pipbuck on my fetlock, waving it in the air and fiddling with the dial to see if I couldn’t improve the reception somewhat. Unfortunately, all I kept getting was louder and louder static.

Wait...that wasn’t the radio that was crackling.

My eye widened as I finally noticed the glaring crimson glyph in the corner of my vision that announced the presence of magical radiation. With the threat of imminent death by deadly magical rainbow and collapsing buildings, I hadn’t been paying much attention to what my EFS was showing me. How long had that warning even been there? Then I felt my heart stop for a beat when I noticed the number beside it was already in the upper two digits...and climbing fast. I couldn’t get the Rad-X tablets into my mouth fast enough, followed quickly by several long swallows from a bag of RadAway. I passed some tablets and a bag to Arginine, who quickly used them as well.

“We need to get somewhere else, now,” I could hear the strain in my own voice as my brain quickly tried to come up with a plan. We couldn’t stay where we were, but there wasn’t any way of knowing which direction would take us out of the path of this pocket of wandering radiation.

“I suggest increasing our elevation,” the gray stallion said, discarding his empty bag of RadAway, “the radiation should be less intense higher up.”

I wasn’t completely convinced that was the best course of action, but the growing intensity of my pipbuck’s ticking was making it very difficult to think. One thing was patently clear though: we couldn’t stay here for much longer. We bolted for the stairs. Well, I tried to bolt anyway. In spite of the healing potion and the display on my pipbuck insisting that I was in perfect health―mounting radiation poisoning notwithstanding―my legs still burned intensely whenever I tried to move them. It was like my muscles had all but locked up.

Arginine noticed that my steps faltered almost immediately as we headed for the stairwell, “are you injured?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned. It was all that I could do to maintain a pitiful little jog, and even that was causing me quite a bit of discomfort, “my legs don’t want to move, and they feel like they’re on fire!”

The number beside the radiation symbol spiked briefly above a hundred before falling back down into the low thirties. And this was in spite of the drugs that I had taken to ward off the effects. If I couldn’t get to somewhere where my exposure was in the low singles, I wasn’t going to last long. I grit my teeth together and tried to will myself to a faster pace, but it was no use. My legs just wouldn’t move any faster.

Suddenly I was tossed into the air by a stiff blow from below, and then I was draped over Arginine’s back, my legs dangling to either side of his withers. The stallion accelerated into a cautious canter as we ascended the stairs.

My eyes were locked onto the part of my Eyes Forward Sparkle that displayed my radiation exposure, watching those numbers continue to climb, and the many flashing warnings that were urging me to be anywhere other than where I was. I managed to retrieve another dose of Rad-X despite the jostling of the stallion’s transport method, but it didn’t seem to have any additional mitigating effect on how much I was absorbing.

Then my EFS began to flicker.

That was a little concerning as well, as I’d never seen that happen before. It was just little things at first: a brief blink of a few colors or part of the display becoming a little more saturated. However, as the minutes dragged on, those issues became more pronounced. I looked frantically at my pipbuck’s screen, and noticed that it was suffering similar problems. The image of the stylized pony on the display was fading out, and most of the numbers and acronyms had been scrambled into complete gibberish.

Suddenly, the screen went completely dark, and all of information that I’d only just started to get acclimated to seeing hovering in front of my eyes vanished as well.

That probably wasn’t a good sign.

Neither, I imagined, was how hot I was feeling. It was like I was standing in an oven or something, and it was making me tingle all the way to my bones. That tingling spread through my whole body, and when it got to my stomach, I felt a wave of nausea come over me like I never had before. It had been a while since I’d eaten, so at least I wasn’t vomiting all over Arginine, but there was a fair amount of dry heaving going on.

It wasn’t sounding like the stallion carrying me was faring much better either. He was coughing a fair bit, and his flesh felt a lot warmer too.

We were going to die, I realized. We were going to be cooked alive by the radiation, and we were going to die.

Arginine’s steps faltered. Either because the effects of the radiation were getting to him, or because the two century old stairway had given way beneath him, I didn’t know for sure. In any case, I went tumbling from his back and managed to land head-first on one of the steps behind us.

Unconsciousness put an end to my immediate concerns.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Sticky Hooves - No, not that! Increased weight limit while walking up walls and along ceilings.

CHAPTER 33: SO LITTLE TIME...

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"I don't trust a pony that doesn't have something strange going on about them, 'cause that means they're hiding it from you."

I didn’t remember drinking last night. Though, in fairness, there were a lot of nights where I didn’t recall drinking. However, on many of those occasions, the collection of empty bottles around my body suggested that I had been and that they was the cause of my pounding headache. I wasn’t even surprised by that sort of revelation anymore after waking up to it on a nearly weekly basis.

Jackboot had occasionally pointed out to me that, were it not for my love of all things distilled, I’d probably have had enough bits and caps to buy most of New Reino by now. True though that may have been, it would also have meant that I wouldn’t have had all of that lovely whiskey and scotch. Granted, there were often nearby pools comprised of simply fascinating colors that suggested I had merely ‘borrowed’ that alcohol for only a few hours, but I never remembered those parts. I just remembered not feeling like complete shit…

...until the morning, at least, at which point I woke up feeling like complete shit. But at least I was feeling like shit for all of the right reasons then.

Hangovers made sense to me. I drank a lot, it fucked me up, and in the morning I suffered for being fucked up. It was a logical progression, and I could accept it.

It was those hours leading up to the drinking that I couldn’t ever understand.

The screaming. The rattling gunfire and thundering explosions. The splashes of crimson fluids that painted the walls of decrepit buildings and the desert scrabble of the Wasteland. The faces with those ghastly, twisted, expressions or anguish, pain, and terror.

Oh, Celestia, the screaming…

All the while, there I am, raining down a hail of bullets and dropping grenades on ponies that, realistically, didn’t stand a chance. How could they, when they were going up against a pegasus who had been killing since before she could even fly? When her whole talent revolved around killing?

Nopony could possibly stand up against an adversary whose destiny it was to end the lives of other ponies.

So many hundreds―or was it thousands by now?―of ponies dead at my hooves. As young as I was, how many more would end up reduced to smears of blood and viscera before my own life finally came to an end? I might even reach a million someday.

Successfully living up to your talent a million times should have been cause for celebration, I would think.

Me? I just felt the need for another drink so that, for even a couple of hours, I couldn’t hear the screaming…

I’d never encountered any other pony who ever abhorred living up to their destiny, so why did I?

The headache that I was feeling right now though wasn’t precisely the kind I usually had after a night of blissful ignorance. This was more of the ‘aftermath-of-a-bar-fight’ sort of headache. There’d been a few of those over the years as well; though I hardly ever felt like I’d lost those fights. Whatever I’d tussled with last night though, had definitely whooped my rump...ooh…

Praying to Celestia that there wasn’t any nearby sources of bright light, I chanced opening my eye. The dimness that surrounded me was about the only good thing about my situation.

I was on a bed. The kind that was fairly typical of the Wasteland: half of it was mold and the other half was mildew. My weapons were gone, all of them. My saddlebags weren’t in sight either. I wasn’t even wearing my eyepatch anymore! Who robbed somepony so thoroughly that they stole an eyepatch?! The only thing that had been left alone was my pipbuck. Unfortunately, it looked like the device was still on the fritz. The screen was black, and there was no sign of the hovering display in my field of vision.

My mind raced as I tried to piece together what had happened leading up to this point. The memories weren’t as clear as I would have liked, but there had been something about stick monsters, falling buildings, rainbow fireballs, and…a radiation pocket. I’d been caught in a radiation pocket. It hadn’t just been me either. I’d been with―

“You are conscious. That is a favorable sign.”

The stallion’s voice drew my attention to the doorway of the bedroom that I was lying in. Arginine’s gray bulk stepped through and I very quickly noticed one key detail about the genetically designed unicorn: he wasn’t wearing the explosive collar anymore.

My blood froze in my veins. Arginine’s collar...the intense radiation must have deactivated it in much the same manner as it had my pipbuck. Now he was free of the only means of restraining him that I’d had. Worse than that: I was unarmed. In fact, I could see my weapons and saddlebags draped over the stallion’s back. He was free, he was armed, and I was helpless. I was his prisoner now.

Arginine approached me slowly and my mind raced to come up with a plan. I wasn’t tied up or restrained. Whether that was some sort of oversight on the part of the stallion or he had simply not thought it worth the effort because of how stupendously fucked I was right now, I couldn’t say for sure. If it was the latter, I couldn’t deny that he had a point. I couldn’t fly, barely felt strong enough to offer up any sort of fight, and he could do whatever he wanted to me with his magic.

I spied an open window not too far away, and briefly entertained the notion of making a break for it. However, I could tell from the skyline that we were a good ways up. With one working wing, I wasn’t going to be able to do much more than slow myself down just enough so that when I hit the ground I merely broke my neck instead of outright liquefying on the pavement. It would be a lot messier than when those tree-beasts had shattered. Maybe if I could stall the stallion until I had a chance to get one of my guns back without him noticing?

The stallion’s horn glowed and enveloped my gear. Then, much to my wide-eyed dismay, Arginine floated them over and deposited them on the bed next to me, “your belongings have been decontaminated as best as I could manage. However, I was forced to use the last of the RadAway,” he walked over to the opened window and peered out, “it is unclear whether or not the danger had passed.”

When he turned around again, I had my compact out and pointed at him. There was a brief moment of surprise on the stallion’s face before it quickly shifted into a disappointed frown, “I had thought it was obvious that I don’t mean you any harm,” he said, gesturing at the pile of gear he’d returned to me.

“Your whole stable wants to kill everypony who’s not like you,” I said around the grip of the weapon in my mouth, not taking the barrel of the gun off of his head. Just because I didn’t know what game he was playing at didn’t mean that there wasn’t one. After all, he was designed to be a very intelligent pony.

He offered a slight nod, “that is correct,” he admitted, though he managed to make it sound rather convincingly like he regretted that fact, “however, I have begun...reevaluating our directives of late, based upon variables that have been omitted from my briefings.”

I didn’t take the gun off of him, but I was at least curious to hear where he was going with this, “such as?”

“Our leadership has indeed been quite silent on the topic of how other races will be approached once it has come time to deal with them. Our doctrine currently stands at: ‘if it is inferior, then it must be removed’. This has been in an effort to ensure that only the best ponies remain; and thus a better Equestria can arise. However, as you pointed out to me not long ago: there were two sides in the war. Unless modern ponies and zebras are superior to our ancestors, then another war would likely be inevitable…”

He sighed, “...and yet, the very act of removing the inferior zebras would be tantamount to a repeat of the very war that was fought two centuries prior. Our entire purpose has been to avoid exactly that scenario.

“I have spent the last several days considering alternatives,” Arginine grimaced, clearly not happy about the conclusions that he had come to, “but all of them are in opposition of the directives of our leadership. It is possible that I have simply not been privy to details of which they are aware, but…”

“You think they’re wrong,” I finished.

The stallion looked like he had just eaten something unpalatable, “I am open to the possibility that there was an...oversight along the way,” he corrected in a level tone. That was probably the best that I was going to get out of him at the moment as far as admitting his stable was run by genocidal monsters, “However, until I have confirmed that one way or the other, I have decided that your method of improving the Wasteland is at least deserving of further observation and evaluation.”

I blinked in surprise at the stallion, “wait, you’re going to help me stop your stable? Why?”

“It is my estimation that it would take the combined committed resources of nearly every pony in this entire valley to successfully oppose our forces. Though, likely a good deal more,” I could only have wished that Arginine’s tone sounded boastful right about now, and not it’s usual clinically detached ‘these are just the facts’ way of stating things. He was probably right if what they’d done to those stable ponies was any indication. They’d been better armed and equipped than most of the forces in the valley, and Arginine’s stable had basically just waltz through their defenses and slaughtered everypony in a matter of hours, “if that can be accomplished, and our stable defeated, then there is one inescapable fact that even our more stubborn leaders could not deny: we are not as superior as we think we are.

“Ultimately, it is my personal desire that the best ponies be the ones to inherit a reborn Equestria. It has been a goal that I have devoted my entire life to pursuing,” the stallion said with a wry smirk, “if it turns out that it is not my own stable who are those superior ponies, then so be it.”

The weapon in my mouth finally started to list away from the larger stallion, “you’re serious, aren’t you? You’d really help me.”

“We are not so different, you and I,” my gut reaction was to feel revulsion, recalling in vivid detail the abattoir of dissected ponies that was the room where I’d first encountered Arginine. I wanted to deny that I was anything like a pony who would do things like that to others...but then I saw the twisted faces in my head of those that I had killed over the years.

“I spent my life searching for those little things that could make a pony ‘better’,” the stallion went on, not seeming to have noticed my reaction, “lungs that could process more oxygen, a heart that could beat stronger, bones that were harder to break, skin that resisted radiation exposure; and I would preserve those traits so that they could be shared with the next generation.

“But you…” he looked back at me, his expression one of admiration, “I have observed that you are doing this, not on the genetic level, but on a sociological one. You have sought to preserve ponies who exhibit strong tendencies towards honesty, and cooperation; while culling those who tend towards deceit and betrayal. It is a rather extraordinary engineering process that I am not aware of having been considered by the progenitors of my stable.

“So, yes, I will help you,” he nodded, “because it would be foolish to dismiss any methods for building a better Equestria that so closely mirrored my own stable's right out of hoof.”

It was my turn to grimace now as I put away the weapon. Arginine was reading a lot more into my motives than I thought he had any cause to, “I’m not trying to ‘build a better Equestria’,” I said, “not really. I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to anypony else,” though I suppose it would be a much better world indeed if no filly or colt had to grow up watching their family get butchered. Still, I didn’t for a moment think that I was actually going to fix the whole world, or even the whole valley.

I was just one little pony. Nothing that I could possibly do would change things.

Arginine shrugged, “that sounds to me as though it would be an improvement over the current paradigm,” he said, “even my own work has been about making little improvements across many generations. You do not think that we always looked like this, do you?” he said, indicating his own appearance, “my efforts are merely building on the work of those that came before me. Those that inherit my duties will use my contributions as a foundation for their own endeavours.

“The Equestria that will someday come after us will be the legacy of the efforts of all the ponies that contributed to its rise; be they in the form of dominant genetic material, or exemplified character traits,” the stallion smiled wryly, “indeed, I would be quite curious to discover which of those two categories proves superior to the other…”

“You make it sound like a competition,” I snorted. Satisfied that Arginine wasn’t going to try and interrogate me or kill me or whatever, my attention now went to my gear and an evaluation of what the two of us had to help us get out of this death trap of a city. Without a working pipbuck we had no way of contact the others and getting Starlight to simply teleport us to safety. We’d have to make our own way to Wind Ryder’s and hope that the others made it there too.

“Survival is a competition,” the stallion argued, “be it against raiders, monsters, the elements, or whatever else confronts somepony: one side is competing to defeat the other. That which triumphs is superior, and has thus earned continued existence.”

“Even if it’s not your own stable?”

“Even then.”

He sounded like he believed it to. He probably did. Me? “I don’t want to believe that my family deserved to die because they couldn’t fight off the White Hooves,” I said quietly, “they were just brahmin farmers. What kind of chance did they have against a horde of tribals who’d spent their whole lives killing other ponies?

“My parents never hurt anypony―they never wanted to. They just wanted to be as happy as they could be out there on their little patch of Wasteland. They weren’t competing with anypony.”

“It is not about what anypony ‘deserves’,” the stallion responded. His tone wasn’t dismissive or critical though, as I might have expected based on the context of our discussion. It might not have been as empathetic as somepony like Foxglove would have sounded though. Arginine didn’t really ‘do’ empathy, I’d noticed. But, at least he wasn’t being as abrasive as he could have been, “the world pays no regard to the desires or dreams of ponies that live upon it.”

“Isn’t being a good pony enough to earn the right to be happy, then?” I shot back, feeling my eye starting to burn as a result of the topic of conversation.

“Perhaps, long ago it was. Perhaps, someday it can be again. It has been my observation, however, that the Wasteland―as it is―does not abide a ‘happy’ pony,” he responded evenly, holding my gaze, “the question is: do you believe that what you are doing will help make that a reality?”

“I just want to help―aarggh!” I cried out, clutching my head with both of my hooves and burying my face in the grimy mattress as a piercing pain flared up in my head. Then it promptly rushed all the way through my body, causing me to spasm as it went. When it finally passed, it was as though the pain had never happened. All I felt was a dull numbness. Arginine was looking down at me, his expression one of concern. I let out a frustrated sigh, “I just want the world to be better.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” at least, I felt fine at the moment, “Starlight said the headaches were normal and that they’d go away eventually,” I really hoped that ‘eventually’ came sooner, rather than later.

“Very well,” the stallion didn’t sound completely convinced, but that was his problem. It’s not like there was much that could be done other than letting Starlight Glimmer’s cutie mark spell run its course, “have you given any thought to our next course of action?”

Glad for the change in topic, I began looking around the room, “well, we can’t really do anything until we know it’s safe to go anywhere,” a thought occurred to me, “where are we exactly?”

“The top floor of a large hotel,” he explained, “being left with few alternatives, I continued to ascend the stairs after you struck your head and fell unconscious,” he pointed at the working radio sitting on a dresser across the room, playing some quiet music, “I began to notice that some electrical systems were still functional on the upper levels. It would seem that the high-intensity radiation bursts that migrate around the city remain relatively low to the ground. It would seem we are safe up here.”

“But we don’t know when we can go down,” I frowned.

“Not reliably, no,” the stallion agreed, “not without your pipbuck working.”

I glanced at the black screen, “I hope it’s not broken for good,” I muttered.

“It will just need to be reinitialized,” Arginine assured me. Well, that was some good news at least, “and I believe that I have come up with a means to determine if we are in danger of wandering into another radiation pocket,” even more good news! Maybe not shooting him in the head had been a good call after all.

“How’s that?” I asked as the stallion pulled over an old camera. I cocked my brow dubiously, “you don’t mean that we can honestly take pictures of it, do you?” would it even matter? I wasn’t aware of anypony who knew how to get those things to create new pictures anyway. I’d once brought up the notion of getting my picture taken with Jackboot when we’d found a camera early on, but apparently the process required the use of some chemicals that nopony bothered producing anymore.

“Not as such, no,” the gray unicorn admitted as his magic opened up the ancient device and removed the film from inside of it, “photographic film is treated in such a way that exposure to electromagnetic radiation generates a reaction. When that exposure is to visible light, it creates an image. More energetic forms, such as magical radiation, produce a similar, yet distinct change,” he tore a segment of the roll of film off and used his magic to loop it around my fetlock like a bracelet, securing it in place with a dollop of wonderglue. He then repeated the process with himself, “if we see the film begin to turn from brown to black, we will know that we have encountered unsafe levels of radiation.”

Then he gave a resigned shrug, “however, if neither of us notice the change, and the film is completely black by the time we glance at it, we will have already received a lethal dose.”

That...was not good news, “lethal as in drop dead right there lethal, or…?”

He shook his head, “not as such, no. However, depending on the intensity and duration of the exposure, we could well have as little as a day to acquire a dose of RadAway before expiring. It would...not be a pleasant death either.”

I looked down at the little roll of film, “and exactly how quickly would this change color?”

“That too would vary with regards to the intensity of the exposure. It could be gradual, over a few hours, or occur within a few seconds.”

I kind of wanted to have him glue a swath of this stuff right there on the bridge of my muzzle so that it would be in sight at all times, “and the alternative is just staying up here until we eventually run out of food and water,” I was more reminding myself of the reason why we had to take the risk at all than pointing out something that Arginine doubtlessly knew just as well as I did. With my pipbuck on the fritz, we couldn’t call the others to help. More the pity, as Starlight Glimmer’s teleportation magic would have been a gift from the Princesses right about now.

They probably even thought that the two of us had died, honestly. We’d split up, lost contact with them, and then the building we’d been in blew up and fell into a siwrling rainbow explosion. Since then, Ramparts would have been unable to get any sort of response from me or my pipbuck. Would they even bother to wait up for us at Wind Ryder’s? Without the information contained on my pipbuck―which I really hoped was still intact―it wasn’t like they had a whole lot of reasons to hang around at the old MoA safehouse for very long.

“Shall we see if it is safe to proceed?”

The question snapped me out of my reverie and I looked at the stallion for a long moment. I wasn’t entirely sure how far I was willing to trust him. His whole life had been devoting towards a mission to wipe out every pony that hadn’t been engineered by the scientists in his stable. Now he was telling me that he was willing to help me oppose him after just a few short weeks. Arginine didn’t strike me as the type to make rash decisions, but could somepony as analytical as him have really undergone any serious change of heart in that amount of time?

I couldn’t deny that his little explanation had a certain logic to it: if you wanted to make sure that the world was only full of the ponies who were the most fit to survive, then why not put your best up against your opponents? Was Arginine now trying to stack the deck against his own stable just to make sure that, if the other engineered ponies like him eventually came out on top, they wouldn’t have any doubt of how good they really were?

But even if his stable did win, did that make them right? This was a rigged match, no matter how I looked at it. Arginine’s stable had been preparing a population of the biggest, toughest, strongest, ponies that had ever lived, and training them to do battle on the surface. Meanwhile, while I couldn’t speak for the ponies of the rest of the Wasteland, the population of the Neighvada Valley had just been trying to get by. With the exception of various raider and tribal groups or some town guards, the ponies of the valley weren’t a very militant group at heart. Not in the way those ponies had been that stormed that stable.

Perhaps, I decided, he was trying to help me gather together as many ponies as I could to oppose his stable in order to make their job easier. If they managed to wipe all of the valley’s best combat forces out in a single fight, then the rest of Neighvada would be easy pickings. The smart move would seem like not agreeing to play this stallion’s game. On the other hoof, letting his stable just move from settlement to settlement, slaughtering their way through smaller groups who were too weak of possibly resist wouldn’t do anything but make eradicating all of us take longer. The only good that possibly did was hopefully buy time for other forces elsewhere in the Wasteland to mobilize in opposition.

Buying time for the rest of the world by taking as long as possible to die. Not the greatest plan in the world, to be sure. It certainly wasn’t the plan I would prefer. The alternative meant actively relying on one of those engineered ponies to help me...until the point of his sudden but inevitable betrayal.

Maybe, as long as I knew he was going to eventually betray me, that meant that I’d be able to do something to stop it and―

The searing pain shot through my whole body this time like a bolt of lightning. I was quick, at least. The gray stallion gave me a concerned look even as I waved him away. I was fine. This was just a part of the process that Starlight had told me about. It would pass. I just needed to focus on getting out of this damned city alive. When Arginine turned on us, then I’d just kill him and worry about getting myself as far from the valley as possible before things got too hot.

I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took a couple of long pulls before replacing the stopper and tucking it back into my saddlebags. The caress of the alcohol on my brain helped me feel a little bit less like shit for thinking of abandoning the valley. I’d probably need to bring a whole case with me for the trip when I left.

“Let’s get out of here,” I muttered to the stallion as I finally crawled off the bed and gathered all of my gear together. My hooves still burned with a dull ache, but it wasn’t exactly painful. I chalked it up to all of the walking that I’d been doing over the past few days. My wing couldn’t heal fast enough.

“―and that is how Equestria was made.”

I stared at the larger gray stallion walking at my side as the two of us wandered down the deserted avenue of the Old Reino ruins, a dubious expression on my face. There were several long seconds of silence after Arginine concluded his story as I considered everything that he’d said. Then finally, I stated bluntly, “horseapples. You’re messing with me.”

“I assure you, that is the truth as I have been taught it,” he insisted in his usual monotone.

“Pegasi controlling the weather? Unicorns changing day into night? Snow spirits? The ‘magic’ of friendship fixing everything?” I made it quite clear that I regarded everything that he had told me up to this point as little more than some uncharacteristic attempt by the stallion to play some sort of practical joke by trying to get me to accept that absurd fantasy as being real so that I’d look quite the fool if I ever breathed a word of it to anypony else. Well, I may have been young, but that didn’t mean that I was an idiot. If he thought for a moment that I was that gullible, he had another thing coming!

“I will concede that there are certain...fanciful elements that I can not corroborate,” Arginine admitted, casting his gaze upwards at the overcast sky, “I have neither seen, nor heard recent accounts of, your race actively manipulating the weather.”

“And if there’s a unicorn out there controlling how long the days and nights are, who’s paying them and where do they live?” I continued, casting my gaze at the stallion’s odd double-horn, “you’re supposed to be super-powerful with magic, right? Go ahead, make it night. Right now.”

He glared at me and rolled his eyes in annoyance, muttering under his breath, “as I just said: ‘fanciful elements’. I have suspicions that the tale is meant to be more allegorical than factual.”

“Ally-who?”

Another sigh as Arginine shook his head and frowned, “it is meant to teach a moral lesson. Your vocabulary is atrocious.”

I shot a glare at the stallion and snorted, “well, excuse me! While you were busy getting your ‘fancy stable education’ about words that nopony else ever uses in normal conversations, I was learning how to prospect ruins and kill raiders. You know, important things that actually matter!”

“I fail to see how articulation is somehow a waste of time.”

“Because any math beyond adding up how many caps a box of whiskey costs doesn’t matter out in the Wasteland,” I said, matter-of-factly to the stallion, flashing a satisfied smile as I declared myself the victor in this particular debate. Given his stunned expression, which was immediately followed up by a defeated looking shake of his head, I concluded that Arginine recognized my correctness as well.

My self-satisfied smile quickly faded as I looked around at our surroundings, “speaking of caps,” I said with a frown, “we’re actually running pretty low. Rent’s due in a week. I really need to put in an order for proper barding with Sapi. You need a weapon or two…” with each addition to the list of upcoming expenses, my expression soured even further. Gathering together the medical supplies for this trip had consumed most of our liquid capital. There was enough left for provisions and a few odds and ends, but I foresaw quite a few big-ticket items coming up in the future.

The Ministry of Awesome seemed to have invested an unanticipated level of effort into concealing their operations in the Neighvada Valley; to include outright lying to the other ministries that they were working with. This suggested to me that even when we finally managed to find their hub, it probably wasn’t going to be as simple as just walking inside and picking up a few crates of conveniently gift-wrapped guns for delivery to Princess Luna and Ebony Song. This was going to be the sort of place that still possessed intact defense, and that meant bringing substantial firepower to overcome them.

I cast an eye to my fetlock and the length of film that was wrapped around it. The color remained unchanged as of yet, “we need to do some prospecting,” I don’t think that I’ve ever uttered those words with such reluctance before. Not that slinking through a whole bunch of buildings on the verge of collapse was something that I often looked forward to doing even under the most ideal of circumstances. Honestly, having had―sweet Celestia, has it really been three?!―buildings fall either on, around, or out from under, me in the last couple of weeks alone, I was feeling especially hesitant about skulking through another one.

This wasn’t going to become like, a thing, was it? Because that would really suck.

Arginine wasn’t looking especially happy about the idea either. He understood―probably better than I did, honestly―what the health risks we faced were if we lingered in this city. Neither of us were willing to bet that there weren’t more of those freaky stick monsters either. Then, of course, was the fact that the stallion was already pretty far outside of his comfort zone as it was. He wasn’t a Wastelander, not really. I got the same sort of vibe from Starlight, but she at least sounded like she was coming around to the reality.

Whatever Arginine might have said to me earlier about helping me fight against his stable in the interest of making sure that the ‘best ponies’ came out on top no matter who won; I wasn’t quite so naive as to trust that he wasn’t still confident that it would be his fellow engineered ponies. From his point of view, being out here was a temporary inconvenience that would be addressed once his stable emerged victorious and properly subdued the Wasteland. Then he’d go back to the life that he’d had before.

Honestly, aside from myself and Ramparts, the rest of the group wasn’t truly accustomed to life out here. Foxglove was closer than the other two, but as often as her thoughts wandered back to her old life in her stable, I had to wonder whether she really thought of this as her ‘new life’. Sometimes she’d get that wistful lilt in her voice, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she wasn’t entertaining the notion that she might find a way to get her transgressions forgiven and go back to her old life in the stable, or something close to it. She certainly wasn’t a huge proponent of getting into the sorts of scrapes that you had to expect out here.

Even Ramparts though...yeah, he had been born on the surface, and he clearly knew about taking care of himself out here. On the other hoof, I wasn’t sure if I was comfortable calling him a ‘Wastelander’. After all, he lived in Seaddle. Like, he really lived there. Sure, Jackboot and I had rented a place in the city, but I never thought of it as any sort of ‘home’. It was just a place where I could lock up any extra gear that was too troublesome to haul all over the valley all the time and catch a couple night’s sleep in a genuine bed. I’d spent the overwhelming majority of my life, since Jackboot had found me, out here, in places just like this, looking for valuable junk and tracking down dangerous ponies.

It was what I was good at...er, what I had been good at, I guess. My eyes wandered back to my flank and the dull double bars that now rested where my old cutie mark had. The sign of ‘mediocrity’, Starlight Glimmer had called it. I guess that meant that I wasn’t going to continue to be particularly adept at hunting down bandits and taking their stuff. Not that I’d really gone out of my way to do something like that since Jackboot had…

Well, since I’d become the one who was calling the shots, anyway.

That still felt really weird; being the pony making the decisions. It wasn’t something I was comfortable doing. I wasn’t a ‘leader’ pony. That had been Jackboot’s job. My purpose had been to follow his instructions and kill things as thoroughly as possible. I wasn’t quite so naive as to think that was how things were always going to be, of course. Some day the old stallion would have simply gotten too old for this sort of life. When that finally happened, in my mind, we’d settle down somewhere. Preferably on my parents’ old property and give the whole ‘rancher pony’ thing a try.

I just...I couldn’t see myself as continuing to do the things that we were doing on my own. I’d have been terrified that without somepony there to keep me metaphorically ‘grounded’, I’d start to slip. My greatest fear had been that, left to my own devices, I might lose sight of who were ‘acceptable targets’ and go full raider. That idea terrified me. When all of this was finally over with...I’d have to find something else to do. Being a wandering vigilante was out of the question.

Foxglove would have probably been happy working for somepony like Sapi, or maybe even opening up a little junk shop of her own down in Shady Saddles. That town could have certainly used a decent repair pony or tinkerer. She’d be able to practically stamp out her own caps if she was willing to mod guns and barding in New Reino, but something told me that she wouldn’t be particularly comfortable living in that place. Yet, for some reason, she was still following me around. I still didn’t quite understand that.

In the beginning, when Jackboot and I had rescued her, she’d felt a need for our protection. She’d come from a bad place in her life, and I think she liked being around ponies that she was confident wouldn’t do the sorts of things that others had to a pony like her. She’d needed time to get her legs under her until she could stand on her own. She’d adapted quick enough, and had proven to be a huge help. I couldn’t deny that. But even after it seemed like she’d recovered, she’d stayed.

At first, with the sorts of comments and questions she’d bring up with me―usually while Jackboot was out of earshot―I was getting the impression that she’d been projecting her own fears onto me. She’d met up with some stallions when she’d been younger and more naive and it hadn’t gone well for her. So, I could at least understand why she’d been a little...we’ll go with ‘concerned’ about the teen mare wandering around with an unrelated stallion old enough to be my father. It was obvious fairly early on that she thought that Jackboot was taking advantage of me or abusing me in some way. To the violet unicorn, that was what Wasteland stallions did with young mares after all.

I had not reacted well to that, for a couple of reasons. First, was the allegation from this strange unicorn, who knew nothing about either of us, that the stallion I respected most in the whole world would ever hurt me―or any mare―like that. He’d put his life on the line for me more times that I could possibly count, and I’d done the same for him. I felt closer to Jackboot than I ever had to anypony that I’d ever known in my life. How dare she imply he’d do something as monstrous as that!

Then, of course, was the semi-related fact that, well...I had long entertained the notion that someday, when I was finally old enough, that Jackboot would have that sort of relationship with me. Wow, had admitting that to Foxglove not gone over well with her! To me it had made perfect sense. He was the noblest stallion I knew, and I trusted him with my life. The horrors and trials that we’d overcome in the years we’d known each other gave us a connection that I don’t think I’d ever have with anypony else. When and how was I ever going to meet anypony else with whom I’d have that sort of deep connection with? Who could ever compare?

Foxglove hadn’t seen it that way. It had somehow reaffirmed with her the notion that I was being manipulated. Because of course I must have been! I was a young mare. He was an older stallion. That explicitly meant that I was just a puppet whose strings he was pulling. All those years of mentoring, tutoring, training, and life saving, were just a clever ploy to endear me to him! All of my shameless―and on occasion, not so shameless―flirting and coy suggestions that he routinely spurned were merely a plot to trick me into bedding him!

She had been so sure that was the case, and it had hurt me so much that she thought that. Both that she had thought so little of me, but even more so that she had thought that way about him.

Little had I suspected that things would get worse.

Then I’d found out that Jackboot hadn’t been the hero I’d thought him to be. He’d been a monster. The same caliber of pony that I’d spent my life exterminating from the valley. Foxglove had been right, I’d discovered. She had been right about him, and about me. At least, that was how it had felt, at first. Inexplicably, it had been that same unicorn who had worked to mend our relationship. I still don’t know what prompted her change of heart, but I was thankful for it. There had still been an ache, deep down, knowing that Jackboot had kept those facts of his past from me. Still, I was grateful to know that he was working to be that good stallion that existed in my mind. I’d even started to come back around to those thoughts of, maybe, finally getting him to see me as somepony he could love as more than merely an adopted daughter.

Then I’d found him with Foxglove.

Hadn’t that been a whirlwind of emotions? Here was this mare, who had never liked him, had always derided him in my presence, and had vehemently insisted that he was just another manipulative bastard who only cared about getting what he wanted from mares, and that only a complete fool couldn’t see that from a mile away.

Apparently all of that didn’t apply to her for some reason; because she seemed to have liked him well enough in that stable clinic when I’d caught her riding him when she was supposed to be ‘tending to his wounds’. ‘Strictly for the mares’ my ass!

At that moment I’d started to question why she’d continued to travel with us. Had it really been to protect my virtue, like she’d suggested, or was she more interested in getting her hooves on Jackboot? Had all of her derision just been some sort of ploy to try and drive me away from him in order to steal him for herself? At the time, that had felt like the whole reason she’d kept on traveling with us. As much as she seemed to hate Jackboot before she knew he was a White Hoof, I’d have figured that little bit of information would be the nail in the coffin of her association with us.

Instead she had broken him out of Republic custody. Twice, if you count her help getting him away from those bounty hunters. I’d thought she was doing it to help me. Now I wasn’t so sure. Of course, none of that explained what she was doing still hanging around me.

Guilt, perhaps? Did she actually feel bad about taking Jackboot from me like she had? I know that she’d told me she likes fixing up my gear, but compared to the sort of safe and comfortable living she could have doing that exact thing in a town, I was having trouble accepting it. Yes, it was nice to have her around, and I liked her well enough when I wasn’t actively thinking about how she’d been a wedge between me and Jackboot, but I still felt like I wasn’t getting the whole story from her.

I hung my head and sighed. Honestly, if it wasn’t for my actively needing help tracking down these weapons for the Republic so that they’d make peace with the Rangers and start fighting Arginine’s stable, I couldn’t see myself traveling with her anymore. Or any of them, for that matter. None of them had any reason to stay. Our association was just...convenient, and very temporary. The moment we found the Ministry of Awesome hub, Ramparts would go back to the guard. Starlight would have her answers about this Moonbeam pony she was looking for, and would surely be on her way to...elsewhere.

Arginine would probably want to hang around the Republic. If he was sincere about wanting to help fight his own stable, he’d be able to do that better with Princess Luna and her guards than with me. I certainly wasn’t going to be getting any more involved in any of this.

Then it’d be down to me and Foxglove again, and I couldn’t fathom the violet unicorn wanting to keep wandering with me for any reason but some variation of pity, and I wasn’t going to tolerate that if it was the case. With her gone...it’d just be me.

What was I going to do? I wasn’t a killer anymore, so I didn’t need to worry about going after raiders and such. The trouble was that I didn’t have any other real skills beyond fighting. Other than vigilante, mercenary, soldier, or raider, there weren’t a whole lot of jobs that I saw myself as qualified to do; and they were all the sort of job that I was no longer destined to do. I seemed to have overlooked a key step in my ‘not killing ponies anymore’ plan…

Maybe there was a need for courier work, getting small packages between the towns quickly? Being a pegasus, I could do it a lot faster than most other ponies and I’d be harder to waylay. Did I really want to be a mailmare for the rest of my life? I hadn’t planned on settling down on my parents’ old ranch quite this early in my life; and that job would be a bit much for a lone little pegasus besides.

Fortunately there was still a lot to get done before I had to think about that in much more detail.

The most immediate item being getting our hooves on a lot of caps.

“If I might make a suggestion,” Arginine piped up, raising a hoof and pointing it off to our left, “I suspect that there will be worthwhile material to be found within that structure.”

I rolled my eyes, “you can just say: that place should have good loot,” I said with an exasperated sigh before turning my head to look in the direction that he was pointing. The building lay on the far side of a massive parking lot that was still littered with the rusted hulks of various small carts and wagons designed to be towed by a single pony. It was three stories in height with the words, ‘Grand Reino Mall’ emblazoned over the remnants of what had clearly once been a very impressive looking entrance, “and yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s check it out.”

Now, over the many years that I’ve been investigating old ruins and even the odd abandoned stable, I’ve come across my fair share of disturbing scenes. Clusters of skeletons posed in vignettes that served as small windows into those last moments of the victims of the last days of the Great War were nothing new to me. Certainly they weren’t something that tended to fill me with any sort of unease.

These did.

I found myself actually pause at the entrance and spend nearly a full minute taking in the sight. I had anticipated finding a few scattered bodies or signs of ponies taking brief refuge within the structure that might have been caught shopping when the alerts of an imminent attack sounded. However, there were no ‘scattered remains’ in this old mall. There were hundreds of bodies here. Perhaps even a thousand or more if this scene was played out on the other floors.

This place hadn’t been a simple improvised shelter; they had turned it into a town! Many storefronts had been converted into homes shared by multiple families. Some, clearly, had remained shops and cafes of various sorts, their wares still proudly on display for the benefit of prospective customers. Nothing appeared to be in any particular disarray. There were no obvious signs that the ponies here had met a violent end either.

They’d just...died.

For a long while, I heavily debated the merits of venturing into this old mall. The simplest explanation for how the ponies here had died was the same reason that anypony who lingered too long in Old Reino died: the extreme radiation. However, I found it outright preposterous to believe that a whole population of pony pioneers had elected to establish a settlement in this mall, and done so with such speed, that they’d all summarily been caught unawares by the lethal radioactive pockets that wandered the city. The level of conversion a development of this place suggested that the ponies here had made this place their home for months, if not years, before succumbing.

I’d grown up being taught that these ruins had been the result of a megaspell that the zebras had unleashed at the end of the war. However, unless the ancient ponies of Equestria had been living the sort of post-apocalyptic lifestyle that the ponies of the modern Wasteland did today, I found that quite doubtful. This looked very much like the sort of settlement that I’d expect to find today. Well, mostly, anyway.

Upon closer inspection of some of the materials available for sale and the items festooned about the residences, I didn’t observe quite the same level of abuse that I was familiar with today. Aside from the aging effects that one would expect from nearly two centuries of weather and exposure, not much of the equipment looked as well used as what you’d find in a place like Seaddle or New Reino. It was of a quality that seemed to have been more or less freshly acquired from an old ruin. This stuff had been salvaged, but didn’t look to have needed all that much attention to get it back into working order. This was especially true of the machining tools and cooking surfaces that we found. In an older settlement, there’d be all sorts of signs or secondary, tertiary―and whatever came after that―repairs as ponies struggled to keep machines working two hundred years past their warranty expiration.

None of that was evident here. At worst, there were just signs that ponies had moved equipment from wherever it had been to wherever it currently was, and made a few additions to get it working. Like running a gas line into a clothing boutique in order to get a stove to work so that the family living in that boutique could cook hot meals. Or reinforcing the wiring of an old electronics store so that it could support an arc welder without blowing a fuse. That sort of thing. The sort of thing you’d have seen in a fresh settlement in the Wasteland a few months after the world ended.

“Any ideas about what killed these ponies?” I asked Arginine as I began to pick over the items covering the counter in said electronics shop. The pony that had taken over proprietorship of this place had apparently sought to satisfy this settlement’s needs for creature comforts like music and even visual media; repairing radios and televisions and adapting them to work with the much lower energy availability of their new home. I was confident that I could find some interested buyers back in Seaddle.

The gray stallion was perusing the cupboards of a cafe in a quest for suitable foodstuffs, “my initial thought was of disease,” he said while gathering together some packages of Fancy Buck Cakes, “but there is little indication of an epidemic.”

“How do you mean?” disease actually did sound very plausible. It explained the lack of violence and abundance of bodies.

“A viral or bacterial outbreak would have started in an easily identifiable portion of the population. There would be quarantine zones. Evidence of widespread medical treatment in ponies’ homes. As of yet, I have seen no sign of such things.”

He was right. Aside from the odd empty bottle of Rad-X or bag of RadAway, there wasn’t a whole lot of medical waste that would have suggested that whatever had passed for a medical staff here had been fighting long and hard against a disease; and those radiation treatments could just have easily been the trash left behind by particularly foolhardy prospectors―like us.

“The lack of blood stains and gunfire precludes raiders. This population would have been too large to have been overrun by any such group anyway,” Arginine continued.

“I seem to recall a whole stable being wiped out by your kind,” I pointed out, moving on to a small clinic and picking through the supplies that looked to still be serviceable. The Rad-X looked like it was still good; but it seemed that the packages of RadAway had been rendered nearly clear by so much exposure to intense radiation over the years. Unfortunate.

I cast another glance at the film on my fetlock. Arginine was sure that this stuff would actually detect exposure, right?

He grunted, “my stable was not conducting surface operations at the time this settlement met its end.”

“How can you even be sure when this place did die off?”

A calendar was floated over in front of me, wrapped in Arginine’s golden glow. However, this was not an example of the sort of date tracker that would have been professionally produce en masse for the consumers of Old Equestria. This calendar had quite clearly been created after the end of the world by a pony intent on tracking the passage of time, “the date on this calendar suggests that these ponies died just four years after the end of the war.”

I frowned, “or they just stopped bothering to keep track of the day,” I pointed out. Of course, everything else that I had seen up to this point did accord pretty well with these ponies all dying off a long time ago, but not when the world ended. Four years was more than enough time for this level of development needed to turn a shopping mall into the sort of town I was seeing, while still allowing for everything to look only lightly used.

“That still doesn’t explain what killed them.”

Arginine grunted an acknowledgement and the calendar went away as he moved on to pillage somepony’s home.

The next place I came to that was of interest was some sort of security office. In fact, it looked like it had been a security office before the war and had simply been expanded to fill the role of the headquarters for the town’s guard force. Complete with several sets of salvaged barding, most of which was stenciled with, ‘R.P.D.’ Naturally none of it was style for wear by pegasi. Fortunately a few judicious cuts with a chef’s knife from a nearby deli fixed that problem. There was also a wide variety of firearms available, which was good news because whatever had put my pipbuck on the fritz seemed to have killed the electronic components of my submachine guns as well.

I invited Arginine over to outfit himself as well after spending a couple minutes mentally weighing the risks or genuinely arming him. In the end, I decided that, if the stallion really had wanted to kill me, he’d already been provided with ample opportunity. As pragmatic as he was, the unicorn was definitely not playing some sort of weird mind games with me in an effort to kill me later is some obscenely specific manner. With an injured wing and no more Eyes Forward Sparkle, it was in my best interests to not ben the only armed pony of our little pair.

He selected a set of barding for himself―which only just managed to fit despite having once belonged to a pony dubbed with the nickname, ‘Gordo’ according to the name patch on the chest. My barding had once belonged to, ‘Smalls’. A part of my mind really hoped that I hadn’t finished doing all of my growing just yet. I had no aspirations to attain a size on the level of a ‘Gordo’, but I was starting to feel just a little self-conscious at the moment.

Weapon-wise, I found an automatic carbine with a sufficient quantity of five-five-six ammunition to ensure a decent of use out of it Along with them, I managed to procure a couple additional boxes of the forty-five ACP for my compact. Going back to the traditional battle saddle was going to take some getting used to, but at least it possessed an attached laser designator that would hopefully make up for the lack of SATS. The mouth bit tasted like dusty old ass though. I was really going to miss voice commands.

Arginine selected a magical energy rifle that seemed to be in remarkable condition compared to what I was used to seeing in operation in the Wasteland. He examined the weapon for a good while, inspecting at and even cracking open part of the casing in order to get a closer look at its inner workings. Seemingly satisfied with what he found within, I watched as he left the security station and headed for the nearby shop with the workbench and tools. Curious, I followed to see exactly what it was that he intended to accomplish.

He laid the weapon down on the bench and retrieved a pair of delicate looking probes with his magic. The pair of slim metal rods darted into the exposed interior of the beam rifle and began to rotate and prod various components. After a couple of minutes, Arginine withdrew the tools and inserted a cartridge of the refined gem dust that served as a power source for such weapons. He stepped past me into the expansive agora beyond the little shop. The stallion lifted the sleek looking beam rifle in his magic and peered down its sights along the thoroughfare. Then his magic depressed some control as I heard the rifle let out a brief, high-pitched, whine as a green line of energy shot forth from the tip of the barrel.

The stallion lowered the weapon, frowned, and then inspected the side of the energy rifle a second time as he floated the tools back over and additional adjustments were made. Again he lifted the weapon and fired. This time the beam was a deep violet. A third round of adjustments made under more intense scrutiny yielded a lance of vibrant blue light, which finally seemed to satisfy the stallion. He returned to the security office and procured a dozen more energy packs before he caught my inquisitively raised eyebrow.

“You wish to inquire about something?”

“I thought you were a medical pony,” I gestured at the weapon, “do all the medical ponies from your stable know enough about energy weapons to make those sorts of changes?”

Arginine considered the rifle for a few seconds before slipping it into a set of retention straps sewn into his barding meant to keep weapons of various sizes from simply falling off while the wearer went about their duties. Clearly something intended with unicorns and their telekinesis in mind, “I would suspect not,” he admitted, “though there is nothing particularly surprising about my knowledge.”

“Oh?”[

“Many of the dissection implements that I utilized in my former duties with my stable were energy-based. Granted, the scale and intensity were much smaller than what is present in a weapon such as this one. However, the general mechanics and the theory behind them are much the same.

“Over the years, I learned that certain adjustments yielded a beam that would cut tissue more cleanly in a shorter amount of time. It is a more power-intensive setting, to be sure, but I am willing to accept the tradeoff in endurance for significantly increased lethality,” he then added in a more dower tone that accompanied a glance outside, “given the quality of the threats that we have recently encountered.”

While I wasn’t exactly thrilled to learn that he’d figured out how to make a deadlier magical energy weapon based on years of dicing up innocent ponies, his ending statement did remind me that I should probably keep in mind a need for replenishing our heavier ordinance. We’d come out here with basically no explosives after all, “Right. Grenades…”

Not that there seemed to be many of them available here though. Four fragmentation, one green-banded, and two spark. While that was an admirable amount of armament for a single pony, I found it to be a paltry haul from what was effectively a whole settlement’s armory. Either they’d gone through their own supply at an alarming rate or had never had many to begin with. Still, even those few was a far sight better than the ‘none’ that we’d had five minutes ago. I passed a couple of the fragmentation and a single green-banded orbs to Arginine. First high-powered weaponry, and now explosives. Look at me placing all of this trust in a pony I’d been keeping in my thrall with a slave collar just yesterday!

Feeling a little bit better about our chances of dealing with the sort of threats that I was used to encountering in old ruins―malfunctioning robots, ghouls, automated defenses, and the like―we continued to pick through the remains of the inexplicably slain settlement. We bounced the odd theory off one another as we went, based upon what we were finding, but nothing really seemed to satisfy either of us completely. No signs of violence. No evidence of pandemic. Unless everypony here had elected for some sort of mass suicide, there was no reason for them all to be dead.

The presence of this settlement also called into question the universally agreed upon cause of the ruin’s dangers. Obviously, those surges of lethal radiation that sprang up weren’t the result of some co-opted megaspell that the zebras had used at the end of the war. Whatever the cause was―and perhaps it was indeed still megaspell related―had happened much later. As little as four years later, if Arginine’s theory was right.

Was that what had happened here? Had this settlement been the target of a megaspell long after the war was ended? Both of us agreed that that explanation was perhaps the most probability answer to the question regarding the fate of the ponies here. However, what that theory didn’t address was who would have been behind it. Surely no raiding group would have unleashed a weapon that precluded them from looting their victims. It could have been some zebra remnant from shortly after the war, but that just seemed really petty to do after the whole world had basically been ended as a result of the conflict.

Maybe it had all simply been an accident?

More than once, Jackboot and I had very nearly become the instruments of our own demise while pokey around in ancient ruins and manipulating equipment that we didn’t fully understand. It was quite possible that the ponies here were trying to salvage something that they thought would be of use and ended up unleashing a weapon instead. An accident would certainly have explained why all of the ponies here looked like they’d died without experiencing any particular distress or concern. They’d never seen it coming.

My thoughts were interrupted by a sign that indicated a door leading to the malls utility areas beneath the shopping plazas. I nodded my head in its direction, “we might find some more valuable components down below. Seaddle and New Reino are always looking for parts for their spark generators,” it took a lot of effort to keep those larger settlements flush with power, and fabricating new parts was out of the question. A lifetime of salvaging had taught me what to look for that were the most cost effective to take with us.

Arginine wasn’t too thrilled at the prospect of descending below ground level. Truth be told, neither was I really. But, if we wanted to get as much out of this trip as we could in the least amount of time, then cannibalizing the industrial equipment below was the best way to do that. Otherwise the two of us could spend hours picking through the shops and homes in this massive shopping complex. The weapons and ammunition that we’d taken from the security office would fetch a couple of thousand, all told; and that would do us for a while. But there was no way of knowing exactly how much smaller that area in the mountains was going to get once we plugged in the new numbers we could hopefully extract from Wind Rider’s. Depending on the size of the area involved, we could spend a couple of weeks out there.

The last thing I wanted to do was had to dive through more ruins out there or, worse, have to come back to resupply and then make a second trip out. I wanted up to go out there with enough food, water, medicine, ammunition, and whatever else we needed to last us a month; and that meant we needed a lot of capital.

Down below, I found myself wishing that my pipbuck light still worked. Arginine’s horn was the only source of light that the two of us had to navigate with as we followed the placards in the narrow utility corridors beneath the mall. I was actually a little surprised by how little sign of habitation we found down here, given the extensive population that had clearly made this place their home. The basements of the Seaddle Ruins were used quite heavily by ponies capitalizing on every square yard of space that they could get their hooves on. I suppose that this settlement’s population hadn’t had a chance to reach a point where they needed to look beyond the shops. Perhaps with a few more decades…

Finally we found the generator room. Well, what was left of it, at any rate. I barely managed to bite back an aggravated groan when Arginine’s horn revealed the gaping hole in the floor where one end of a massive spark generator could be seen poking up into view. We carefully made our approach, mindful of the possibility of additional collapses, and peered into the fissure.

I blinked and glanced back the way that we had come, “I didn’t know there was a second basement level. The stairway only went down one flight…”

What we beheld was a whole additional level into which both of the emergency power generators had been swallowed. One of them in its entirety, the other only partially so, along with an impromptu ramp that we could use to descend down to this deeper level.

Arginine frowned, considering the sight as he gave a slight grunt of effort and increased the intensity of the light generated from his horns, “I am unconvinced that what we are seeing is part of the mall’s original construction,” he said, looking around, “the contours of the walls and floor resemble those of a stable.”

Upon a closer inspection using his brighter light, I concluded that the stallion was correct. While I hadn’t grown up in one of them, as he had, I’d certainly rifled through enough of the defunct ones to recognize their trademark corridor style. My expression actually brightened. While we might not get as much from the damaged generators as I had hoped, stables were always teeming with valuable salvage, “a stable means water talismans and pipbucks,” I said as I trotted down the ramp, motioning for the stallion to follow, “this is our lucky day!”

The gray pony behind me seemed hesitant but, then again he wasn’t the experienced prospector that I was. He did follow in my wake of course, using his magical light to reveal our surroundings. We’d come out in the middle of some corridor or other. I glanced around for the usual signs that would indicate which direction we would need to go in order to reach any of the various sectors of the stable. However, and quite surprisingly, I did not find any such signs.

In fact, now that I had a good look at things, there was quite a bit else that wasn’t present. My initial assumption when we’d beheld the darkness was that the stable was without power. However, it was more than that. There wasn’t just a lack of power to the lights, there was a lack of lights. There were no signs of any fixtures whatsoever.

“Unfinished?” I asked allowed as Arginine noted the absence as well with a deeper frown.

“That would seem to be the case.”

I was feeling less sure about our chances of finding worthwhile material. If they hadn’t gotten around to putting in something like lights, then how likely were they to have built up the water purification system? Still, as valuable as those talismans were to the settlements in the valley, it was worth our time to at least look around for them. For a little while, anyway.

“Well, if the talismans were actually installed, they’ll be on a lower level,” I motioned for the two of us to keep walking. Surely we’d find a stairwell eventually. I noticed that Arginine had stopped after only traveling for a few yards and turned to see what the problem was, “RG?”

The unicorn was silent for a few moments, his eyes studying something on the floor intently. Then he tapped at the metal with a hoof, “the designers erred,” he said. I moved closer to see what he was talking about, and then I noticed it too: at a junction of two segments of corridor, they were offset by about half an inch. It certainly wasn’t very much, and I was actually surprised that Arginine had spotted it in the low light conditions.

“Maybe they were going to fix it later,” I shrugged, “or maybe they figured it wasn’t a big deal,” considering the stable had never been finished anyway, it was really a moot concern in the end.

“Perhaps,” he didn’t sound very satisfied with those possibilities, but he looked up nonetheless and fell into step behind me, “let us continue.”

For a stable that ‘wasn’t finished’, I had to admit that this place was simply massive! We’d walked in a nearly straight line for fifteen minutes without reaching a clear end of the stable. I’d never been in one of the Old World shelters that extended so far in one direction before. Had Stable-Tec been building a facility that was designed to contain the population of all of Old Reino? Because that was what it felt like they had been doing.

“...and that makes ten,” I heard the unicorn mutter under his breath, sounding quite annoyed.

I stopped and looked back, “what makes ten? Ten what?”

He pointed his hoof at the ground once more, “we have passed by ten segments that possess the design error I noted earlier,” indeed, I saw that we’d just crossed another portion of corridor that was offset, “in addition, I have noted an equal number of left and right deviations between these faults, spaced at identical intervals.”

“So...you mean that the layout’s repeating itself?” Honestly, that didn’t have me nearly as concerned as it seemed to have Arginine. A lot of the features of stables looked to have been cut from some sort of stencil or something to me. The same walls, floors, light fixtures, and doors. The same beds and lockers. It was obvious that the material used to build these places was mass produced and assembled onsite to make things go smoother during the construction phase of a stable. The notion that the layouts were treated the same way wasn’t something I found particularly noteworthy.

Arginine, on the other hoof, seemed to take exception to this, “indeed. That it highly unusual on this scale.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve seen lots of stables where the hallways and rooms looked identical. Frankly, I can see why you stable ponies needed signs all over the place to keep from getting lost. Every corridor looks identical.”

“On the contrary, while many sections are repeated if their utility is identical―like personal quarters―that does not happen on the scale that we are witnessing here. We have traveled just over a mile, and nothing of the layout has varied. A layout, I will remind you, that has yet to identify the purpose that it is supposed to serve for the stable,” he motioned me down one of the side passages that we had been ignoring in our search for a lower level. As we walked, he gestured at the open doorways.

That was something else that I had noticed was not present: doors. In fact, I couldn’t even see the slots where the signature sliding hatches were supposed to even go! “These are not quarters. Nor cafeterias, or workshops, or common areas. None of these rooms serve any clear purpose. They simply...are.”

Okay, now I was starting to feel a little nervous myself. Arginine was right, now that I took a moment to really think about it: this didn’t really feel like any stable I’d even been in. There weren’t clearly defined purposes to these rooms. It was more than the lack of furniture too. Where were the water lines for bathrooms? Where were the heating and cooling system vents? Where was anything at all except for seemingly unending stretches of metal hallways and empty rooms?

“...Maybe we should get back to the mall,” I offered, no longer feeling at all inclined to remain in this not-quite-a-stable.

“That is an agreeable course of action,” the stallion nodded.

“A simple ‘yeah’ is fine, RG,” I sighed as I turned and started trotting back the way that we had come at a rather gingerly pace. The stallion rolled his eyes and kept pace beside me.

About five minutes into our return, I felt my steps slow until the two of us were stationary. My ears were going wild, and judging from Arginine’s reaction, he was hearing it too, “RG?”

“Yes, Miss Windfall?” the slightly strained tone of the stallion’s voice didn’t do a lot to fill me with confidence.

“What does that sound like to you?”

“I am not intimately familiar with the various models of automatons that persist in the Wasteland. Those intelligence briefings were more for the benefit of security and reconnaissance forces than for specimen evaluation staff,” I was too focused on the noise I was hearing to glare at the stallion for his referring to ponies as ‘specimens’, “however, I believe that the sound and the vibrations of the deck plating are reminiscent of some sort of tracked variety.”

That was what I had been afraid of. In my experience, there was really only a single example of a Great War robot that used treads in place of wheels: and that was ultrasentinels. In my life, I’d had a single encounter with those things, and the fight had been technically inconclusive as I had taken the option to fly away from it while Jackboot managed to avoid detection and stay hidden until it passed. I most certainly did not envy the prospect of fighting one of those death machines under these confined conditions.

A light that was emanating from a source that was not Arginine’s horn appeared from around a corner about fifty yards ahead of us. Through its glare, I caught only the faintest glimmer of the outline of the machine, and it was a match for what I remembered the other ultrasentinel looking like before I’d flown away from it as fast as my wings would take me.

Maybe it was the shock of seeing one down here in this eerie not-quite-a-stable. Maybe I was just terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought. Maybe I was just an idiot. In any case, instead of running for my life like I should have, I but down on the trigger bit near my mouth and unloaded the entirety of my carbine’s magazine down the corridor, Either in a show of solidarity, or because he had come down with a case of the ‘stupids’ too, brilliant spears of sapphire light blasted beside my orange tracers, lashing at the threat looming in front of us.

What I would have expected to happen was to see those dozen or so visible rounds with their burning mixture of strontium and magnesium creating an orange glow deflecting off the thick steel plating of the powerful robot, amidst the sparkling flashes of their purely lead-based compatriots as the slugs flattened themselves uselessly on the armor. Similarly, Arginine’s magical energy beams should have expended themselves futilely, leaving behind glowing patches of metal that had been energized sufficiently by the strikes to become visibly hot. That was what should have happened.

Instead, what actually did happen, was that none of our shots connected at all. They were all intercepted by a shimmering ivory shield of energy that burst to life in a broad ring around the circumference of the ultrasentinel.

“A shield?!” I blurted at the top of my lungs as my surprised trumped my capacity for pragmatism, “that thing doesn’t get to have a shield; it’s basically impossible to beat without a shield!”

“...Yeah…” the stallion next to me said dumbly, gaping down the corridor.

Miraculously, reason managed to assert itself and I realized that remaining standing in it the open corridor which provided an unobstructed line of fire was a tactically deficient course of action. I tugged on Arginine’s barding, “this way! Run!”

And so we did, down one of the side passages. Of course, I had absolutely no clear destination in mind. My thought process was simply to go ‘somewhere else’, and as quickly as my legs would allow. Our pace was no mere canter, or gallop, or even a flat out run. We were leaving at the speed of, ‘being chased by an ultrasentinel!’ Any slower than that would mean certain death, after all.

It wasn’t a straight line course that we took either. Every few intersections, I opted to divert in what I was fairly confident was a random direction. If we didn’t know where the fuck we were, then it would obviously be impossible for the robot to know too. However, much too soon, both of us clambered to a halt so abruptly that Arginine had actually overshot me slightly. I was only fortunate that his much larger size meant that he was able to step to either side of my own smaller frame and not upon it. In any other setting, I might have even paused to consider what an amusing sight it could have been to see the abnormally large genetically engineered unicorn standing over top of a little pegasus mare as she peered out from between his forelegs.

Instead I was merely gaping in terror as a second ultrasentinel rattled around the corner just a few yards from us. It had to somehow be a second one of those absurdly deadly machines, because there was no way that the same one had managed to get ahead of us!

...Unless I had unintentionally taken the exact number of right and left turns to bring us nearly back to where we’d started from. If I was that unlucky though, I figure I would have died during one of those building collapses yesterday. Not that the idea that I was trapped down in this labyrinth of a stable with multiple ultrasentinels made me think that I was particularly ‘lucky’ in any commonly understood definition of the term.

“INTRUDER DETECTED!” crackled a throaty mechanical voice from the automaton in front of us.

My own weapon’s magazine was still empty, but Arginine managed to strike it with two protracted shots from his own beam rifle. Just as before, an ivory barrier rippled around the robot as an energy barrier deftly absorbed the strikes without even the slightest hint that the effort to deter them was any sort of strain on it. In response, the ultrasentinel rotated in place on its treads and turned to face us, its forelimbs pointed ominously in our direction.

That was as much as I saw, because I was sprinting away immediately afterwards, diving into the darkness of an adjoining corridor and resuming my wild course through the stable in a renewed effort to be elsewhere as much as was possible. I still had no concept of where it was that I was hoping to get to. Well, no, I knew exactly where I wanted to get to: the surface. I just didn’t know how to get there. In the back of my mind, I realized that I was far and away hopelessly lost down here. That had been the case since about the fourth turn trying to get away from the first ultrasentinel.

I was just running for the sake of running right now.

Arginine seemed to have been a like mind, because his glowing amber light washed over me a few moments later, his broad hooves pounding along the corridor in my wake. For a pony who had spent most of his life working in what amounted to some sort of laboratory, he was remarkably physically fit. Then again, I suppose that he was designed to be, wasn’t he? A pity he hadn’t been designed to be good at destroying super-powerful robots.

“Oh, come on!” I cried out just before making an abrupt right as I saw a third massive machine come rumbling into view further down the hall. This place was crawling with these damn things!

“They are herding us,” the stallion behind me announced, “we are being diverted to a central location.”

“How can you possibly know where we are or where we’re being ‘herded’ to?!”

“I have been keeping track of our relative position since we came down here.”

“Horseapples! I call big, stinking, horseapples on that!” I snapped over my shoulder as I made a left, “you cannot possibly have been keeping track of―”

“Since our first diversion; we made a right. Thirty yards into another right. Sixty yards to a left. Ninety yards into a―”

“Oh, stop showing off!” Arginine ceased his turn by turn description of the route that we had taken. Granted, it wasn’t like I’d been paying any sort of attention; so, for all I knew, he’d just been talking out of his ass. Indeed, had it been anypony else making this claim, I would have been positive that was the case. Arginine, however, didn’t ever seem inclined to lie, so I suppose that he―somehow―really had been keeping track of our location.

Not that his deduction did the two of us a whole lot of good. These things clearly had a much firmer grasp of the lay of this place than we did―or I did, at least. Doubling back wasn’t an option, and without my pipbuck’s EFS I had no way of anticipating where they would try to cut us off at next in order to get around them. That was, assuming of course, that there didn’t turn out to be enough of these things down here to completely block off every avenue of escape. For all I knew, there were a hundred of those damn robots down here with us at this point!

I drew up short again, though not nearly as abruptly as I had the first time. My eyes were locked on the glow that was spilling out into the corridor about fifty yards ahead of us. It wasn’t the brightly focused light of one of the ultrasentinels. This was much more reminiscent of a ceiling mounted fixture. The kind that I had encountered before in stables. It seemed that part of this massive sprawl had indeed been finished after all.

Of course, Jackboot hadn’t raised a complete moron.

“That’s where they’re herding us to, isn’t it?”

Arginine gave a curt nod, “I believe that to be quite likely, yes,” he glanced along the other options open to us down alternative corridors, his ears twitching even more than mine were, “however, it is seems that we are not being given any appealing alternatives.”

I loaded in what would surely prove to be another useless magazine full of rounds and took a moment to confirm the arrangement of the grenades on my barding. He was right. We weren’t going to be able to slip past them out here where they knew far more about the layout than we did. The dark wasn’t helping things either.

They weren’t moving very fast though. Perhaps their age was working for us in that regard, “we might be able to get there before they can box us in.”

“How will that benefit us?”

“There’s lights there,” I pointed out redundantly, chambering my weapon with a jerk of my mouth, “which means that part’s more completed than anywhere else we’ve been. It was probably built earliest.”

“I fail to see what benefit that does―”

“Well I doubt these robots just grew out of the tunnels,” I said, galloping towards the light, “which means that they’d have to have built a door first, doesn’t it?” If there was any genuine exit to this place, it would be there. I doubted that it would be as simple as just trotting up and leaving, but if there was a lock of some sort we’d stand a better chance against it than the ultrasentinels!

“That...is a sensible conclusion,” Arginine admitted―almost reluctantly―as he followed behind me.

It turned out that I was right, too. There was indeed an actual set of stairs that were leading up towards the surface. At the top of these stairs there was also a robust Stable-Tec quality sliding hatch style door. It was also, frustratingly, locked. There was, however, a terminal at the base of the stairs.

Arginine assumed the console, tapping away at the keys with an awesome show of speed. It was as though he was typing like his life depended on it. I took up an overwatch position, my eyes darting between the three clear avenues of approach.

During my observation of our surroundings, I noticed several interesting facts about the room that we were in. First, was that it was actually surprisingly large, given how little was in it. Not that any of the rooms that we had seen up to this point had contained anything at all anyway. This room had clearly at least been completed. In addition to the lights that still radiated their soft yet brilliant white Stable-Tec glow, I could also see vents meant to circulate air, and even additional lengths of conduit running along the walls that seemed to end rather abruptly at the doorways leading out of the room. Past those openings was where the whole atmosphere of the place seemed to shift rather abruptly.

My eyes were drawn not to those dim openings, however, but first to what looked to be a trio of large service bays of some sort. In fact, they looked to have been just about the right size to have―snugly―contained the bulk of something about as massive as, say, an ultrasentinel. It looked like Arginine had been correct: this was some sort of central point for the sprawling complex. If not strictly the geographic ‘middle’, then at least the point from which those robots operated. Not that it looked like those bays had been seeing a lot of continuous use, if the thick coating of dust that covered a nearly pristine paint job was any indication.

On the other side of the room was something even more curious, insofar as I had no idea what it was. I’d never seen anything like it before. Unlike the service bays though, this thing looked like it had seen a lot of use. It was covered in a great deal of corrosion, and only a few flecks of dull paint remained which had suggested it was once adorned in some vibrant yellow and orange colors in its youth. The remains of some embossed lettering identified the contraption as being a ‘Transmutron 6000’, and there was a curious looking logo comprised of two ‘F’s.

I couldn’t tell what it had once done, but I was confident that it didn’t do it anymore.

Beyond that and the terminal mounted into the wall that Arginine was currently working at, there really wasn’t much else that was evident in the room. If this was meant to be the focal point of a stable of some sort, I would have expected something more along the lines of an overmare’s setup, with a massive wall of monitors and a robust control surface. This was a...garage? That was certainly what it felt like, at any rate.

The sound of squealing servos and rumbling treads broke my train of thought and drew my attention―as well as my gun sights―back to the doorways. It was hard to determine which one an ultrasentinel would appear in first. The sounds of their motors was echoing so much that it sounded like they were coming from all three directions at once.

Celestia, I really hoped those were echoes…

“RG…” I didn’t even bother to hide the strain in my voice. My carbine wasn’t going to do a damn thing, and I only had the single spark grenade. There was at least a sliver of hope that the blue-banded orb which had been specifically designed to disrupt the functions of electronic components wouldn’t have its effects blocked by the shielding these robots seemed to be equipped with. Even if the grenade did prove effective, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to catch all three of them within its blast radius. If Celestia was feeling merciful, I’d cripple one of those robots.

Then the other two would cut us to pieces.

“I am having difficulty overriding the door’s locks,” the unicorn responded, sounding very on edge, even for him, “but I am making progress as swiftly as I am able.”

“I’m still going to tell you to hurry up,” I swallowed, my eyes darting from one doorway to the other. My wing wrapped around the grenade and dislodged it from its retainer. I might live long enough to throw it if two of them showed up at once.

“I am well aware of the urgency of our circumstances.”

The noise was getting louder as they neared. It soon became quite clear that at least two―more likely all three―would be making their appearance almost simultaneously. The sounds were becoming more distinct, and I could even seen the faintest glow in those dark corridors from their spotlights. I cast a furtive look back at the unicorn furiously tapping at the keyboard. He wasn’t going to get it open in time. I could see the despair creeping through his stoic features. Anypony who hadn’t spent as much time with him as I had wouldn’t have noticed it, but I did.

He was at least as scared as I was.

Which, if indeed true, meant that he had to be outright terrified. Because I was way passed that right now.

It took me a full ten seconds to realize that the fourth source of clattering that I was hearing was my own teeth hitting the trigger bit near my mouth, I was shaking so bad.

I’d been in some hairy situations in my life. Hell hounds the size of houses. Hordes of feral ghouls. Didn’t I just face down a whole squad of Steel Rangers not too long ago? I’d been...let’s say: conscious of the danger involved in those situations. Maybe even uncertain about the certainty of a positive outcome at specific moments during those encounters. But to say that I’d been genuinely scared at any time during those fights? I wouldn’t have said that, not as I understood the meaning of the term.

When I’d realized the full measure of what it meant to be Whiplash’s prisoner, that had scared me though. The full weight of knowing that there wasn’t any way out for me, and that there wasn’t anything I could do to change what was going to happen? Yeah. I’d been scared by that.

Those same thoughts manifested now, too. We were going to die, and there wasn’t anything that I or Arginine could do about it.

The light in the corridors was getting much brighter. We had less than a minute to live, and it was clear that the gray stallion wasn’t going to be able to get us out in time.

A sudden wave of...calm, washed over me. Apparently, I’d finally transcended fear, and even despair, and reached that state of acceptance that Jackboot must have been at when he’d bowed his head in anticipation of me ending his life when I’d discovered his White Hoof heritage.

Huh. So this was what being ready to die felt like.

...I didn’t much care for it. I wouldn’t be feeling it for very long though, I suppose.

“RG?” I think the complete lack of any sort of edge in my tone was what surprised the stallion enough to actually get him to pry his eyes from the terminal’s screen and look at me. I surprised the both of us by smiling wanly at him, “thanks. You know, for not leaving me to die in the radiation earlier. Sorry I got us killed anyway,” I said with a meke little shrug.

Maybe it was seeing that I’d given up on the prospect of getting away, or perhaps he’d finally accepted the realities of our situation himself. The corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest shadow of a smile that had certainly been the closest thing to the expression that I’d ever seen from the stallion―or ever would, come to think of it, “I...appreciate that,” he turned away completely from the terminal now, abandoning his efforts and instead readying the beam rifle he’d procured, “for what it’s worth, Miss Windfall: I would rate you as an extraordinary Wasteland specimen whose genome would have had much to contribute to my stable’s efforts to become better ponies. Your death here is regrettable.”

I blinked at the stallion, silent for a full three seconds before I threw my head back and laughed the hardest that I had in months. I actually had to wipe away a tear from my eye when I finally got myself under control again. There was a follow-up peal of mirth when I saw Arginine’s reaction to what his comment had prompted, “heh...sorry,” I finally managed to say, “it’s just...I think that’s the nicest thing that anypony’s ever said about me,” I cocked my head as I thought for a brief moment and came to the conclusion that, yes, indeed it was the most sincere ‘compliment’ that anypony had paid to me in my life.

I sighed and shook my head, “...and now I’m going to die all depressed. Horseapples.”

With a great intake of breath, I straightened my stance and directed my carbine at the passageway directly in front of me. It didn’t matter which way I faced, as we’d be outflanked no matter what we did. There certainly wasn’t any real cover to be had, “well, what do you say we at least go down fighting. Right, RG?”

The stallion nodded, “that is an agreeable course of action.”

I set my teeth on the trigger bit and focused my gaze straight ahead at the rapidly brightening light. When the ultrasentinel finally rolled into view, I bit down hard and leaned into the recoil of the automatic weapon vibrating at my side, intent on keeping the stream of lead focused on my target. At the same moment, my wing heaved the spark grenade into the doorway. I retained the arming pin on one of my pinions as the steel ord sailed forward and bounced beneath the robot. It didn’t appear the the shimmering magical shields extended all of the way to the floor, as the barrier which was so effortlessly stopping my bullets didn’t interfere at all with the passage of the grenade along the floor.

A sapphire pulse of crackling energy burst up from beneath the automaton. I could feel the hairs of my mane frizzing even from where I was as the destabilizing energies of the grenade overwhelmed the ultrasentinel. Miraculously, the shield failed and I could see my rounds sparking off of the robot’s metal casing. The machine jerked as tendrils of electricity crawled along the outside of its casing.

Beside me, Arginine was striking at the same target target with steady pulses from his rifle. Those intense beams of concentrated energy drilled into the thick steel plating of the now-unshielded robot, leaving behind smoldering holes that glowed white hot and dribbled molten slag in their wake. My rounds were ineffectual, even on the stunned ultrasentinel, but the stallion’s modified rifle seemed to burn hot enough to pierce the armor without much trouble. On the sixth or seventh hit, something vital must have ruptured.

Both of us turned our heads reflexively as the war-machine exploded in a sphere of shrapnel and fire. I felt a few slivers of superheated steel cut my face, but my barding managed to protect the majority of my body. Helmet, I mentally chided myself, I should really have worn that enclave helmet…

One ultrasentinel down. Two to go. Of course, with no other spark grenades at hoof, neither Arginine or I had any means by which to disable their shields and destroy them. They’d cut us to ribbons before we―

…

Why weren’t we already red vapor?

The stallion at my side was discarding a small plastic cartridge that was emitting a frankly alarming amount of smoke and slapping a fresh one into his rifle. However, I didn’t make any move to replace my own weapon’s empty magazine. I was distracted by the pair of ultrasentinels sitting in the doorways to either side of us.

That was all that they were doing: sitting there.

Arginine seemed to realize this anomaly too when he swung around to engage his next target, stopping short just before he fired. His head jerked with surprise as he glanced between the pair of stationary robots.

“REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE. THE AUTHORITIES HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED.”

“I―hwa?” it took my brain a moment to recover from it’s momentary hang-up and process what the pair of ultrasentinels had said in perfect unison. The…authorities? Since when did these things care about due process? It seemed like the standing order that had been given to every single robot in the Wasteland the day the bombs fell had been: “kill everything everywhere.”

Now that I’d taken a moment to really look at what was going on around us, I realized that their behavior wasn’t the only thing that was off. Their color scheme wasn’t one that I recognized either. Most robots that I’d ever encountered―especially military models―were either a boring steel gray or the rare olive drab motif. These robots were yellow and black. At least, they were where the paint hadn’t worn away or wasn’t covered by a lot of dirt and grit.

There was something a little different about their articulated limbs as well. The few examples of ultrasentinels that I had encountered, or even heard about from other ponies, boasted a variety of weapon suits that included―but wasn’t exclusively limited to―miniguns, grenade launchers, beam emitters, and even missile pods. I saw none of those in evidence right now though.

Cautiously, and over an objection from Arginine, I crept closer to one of the oddly colored ultrasentinels in order to inspect their limbs in more detail. One of them boasted an intimidating cluster of spiked cones that were even now slowly rotating. Quite a few of those steel spike had broken off, and in places I could even see chunks of stone pinched in the motors. Some sort of drilling tool? The other limb was just as intriguing, containing a combination of a welder, and what looked suspiciously similar to the cutting tip of Foxglove’s eldritch lance.

“Are these...construction sentinels?” I couldn’t help but ask aloud.

Arginine finally left the base of the stairs and came over to where I was standing, lending his own deductive gaze to the composition of the robot, “that...would seem to be the case,” it was a little reassuring to hear him sounding as surprised as I was to see this. It certainly wasn’t something that I’d ever encountered before!

I stared at the automaton in front of me for a few more seconds, and then turned my head to look at the other one behind us. A part of me was waiting for these things to realize that they were based off of death machines and start trying to kill us at any moment. However, seeing as how neither of them had reacted to my or Arginine’s approach, nor did they seem inclined to seek vengeance on behalf of their fallen comrade that we’d already slain, I suspected that wasn’t actually going to happen after all. They were just going to...sit there. Waiting patiently for long dead guards to come and arrest us.

I jerked my head back towards the terminal, “why don’t you go and finish unlocking the door.”

Arginine nodded hesitantly, his own gaze lingering on the motionless ultrasentinels, “...of course. It should only be a moment,” then he turned and headed back to resume his work on the console, with only the occasional glance over his shoulder to reassure himself that they weren’t going to spontaneously change their minds about killed us.

While the stallion worked, I continued to study the unusual robotic models. Not that there was all that much I’d be able to learn about them. If Foxglove had been present, I’m sure she could have told me all sorts of useful things. I smirked at the thought of the violet unicorn’s probable reaction to encountering these things. She’d want to take one of them apart for parts and probably enlist the second as some sort of companion, given its obvious capabilities to both assemble and take apart components of some sort.

Actually, I think I had a pretty good idea what these things had been doing for the last two hundred years, now that I thought about it. Something told me that it wasn’t a coincidence that this place was so large, and yet didn’t look like any effort had been put into actually finishing it up.

I glanced between the pair of robots, “you guys built this place, didn’t you?” Perhaps unsurprisingly, they didn’t respond to my question. I hadn’t really expected one. Wasteland robots weren’t known for their interpersonal skills, in my experience.

My gaze went to the Transmutron 6000 nearby, and then to the drilling apparatus on the articulated limb. I might be technically minded enough to know exactly how that piece of equipment worked, but I was confident that I had the broad strokes down, “you dug out the dirt and rock, and that thing turned it into metal, which you used to build out the stable,” my deduction was met with continued silence, “and when it finally broke down, you couldn’t build it anymore.”

I frowned up at the robot, “how long have you been just wandering around doing nothing?”

Then my gaze narrowed slightly as my eyes caught sight of a barely perceptible shimmer surrounding the ultrasentinel...er, ultraconstructor? Meh. I leaned in to get a closer look, but it was hard to identify what exactly it was that I was seeing. I suspected that it must have been the energy shield which protected the robots. Not that I had any notion what a piece of construction equipment needed with military-grade magical shielding. I reached out with my right leg and slowly prodded at the shimmering veil. My hoof passed cleanly through the curtain of twinkling motes, though I noticed a slight tingling sensation. I pulled back my leg and shrugged. The reason for the addition of the shield had likely died with the machine’s designer.

My attention was drawn behind me by the iconic sound of a stable hatch sliding open. This was immediately followed up by Arginine’s redundant announcement that he’d achieved success at finally deciphering the terminal’s passcode. I suspect that the task had proved infinitely easier without the threat of imminent annihilation looming over him.

In hindsight, I suspected that threatening to detonate his slave collar unless he managed to save Yatima’s stillborn foal probably hadn’t been as helpful a motivator as I’d believed at the time.

The two of us ascended the stairs, receiving no exclamations of protest from the remaining robotic builders, who seemed absolutely content to continue sitting where they were. Arginine and I exchanged a brief look and mutual shrugs before heading through the open hatch.

Okay, now this looked like an Overmare’s office! At least, at a glance. While there was indeed a grand, horseshoe-shaped, desk in the middle of the room the contained several terminals mounted into it, a seasoned stable veteran like myself immediately noted that no Overmare’s office would had had one of Stable-Tec’s signature cog-shaped blast doors built into it. The table set off to the side adorned with the remnants of various delectable snacks and treats seemed a bit out of place as well. To say nothing about the banner that was hanging over our heads proclaiming a welcome to prospective buyers of Stable-Tec’s new, top of the line, Robronco-built, ‘Stable-Trons!’ With the promise that the customer’s bright future underground ‘could be built in the present!’

Arginine frowned at the massive blast door across the room from us and then sighed as he stepped over the examine the nearby terminals. He tapped in a few idle commands into one of them, grunted, and then directed his attention at another, where he settled down into entering strings of commands. Meanwhile, I stepped around the desk and closed in on the food cart, which bore placards encouraging visitors to partake of the complimentary refreshments. I figured it would have been rude to refuse the two hundred year old sign.

Munching on a cherry-filled Fancy Buck Cake, I stepped back around to look over the stallion’s shoulder as he wrestled with yet another password-protected terminal. His typing slowed slightly after several seconds before finally stopping. He glanced over his shoulder at me, “do you require some assistance?”

“No,” I said around a mouthful of pastry.

We stared at each other, wordlessly, for a long moment before the gray unicorn cleared his throat and nodded his head at another terminal on the desk, “perhaps you would care to amuse yourself with the contents of the log entries on the other console? I imagine that it would be more fascinating than watching me work.”

I smiled at the stallion and swallowed the remainder of my piece of cake, “performance anxiety? Don’t worry, it happens to lots of stallions,” Arginine ever so slightly quirked a brow in a display of confusion and I just patted him lightly on the shoulder, as I shook my head, “it’s called a ‘joke’, RG. They’re these things that ponies tell each other to lighten the mood.”

Now his brow assumed it’s barely perceptible ‘annoyed’ position, “I am aware of the concept of humor,” he said tersely, “however, I do not understand the reference from which the humor is supposed to be derived in this instance.”

“Performance anxiety?” I repeated, as though saying it a second time would suddenly make everything clearer to the stallion who continued to display a tendency to be surprisingly dense on a number of topics, “you know, how some stallions have trouble…” I was actually starting to feel twinges of embarrassment as I went about explaining the subject of the joke to him, given my own lack of personal familiarity with the actual act of sex, “doing things...with mares...when they’re under pressure to do...good,” I could actually feel my cheeks getting more flushed. I fervently hoped that my otherwise white coat wasn’t visibly reddening.

“Ah,” Arginine said before turning back to the console and resuming tapping at the keys, “I understand the reference now, though I am afraid that I am unable to relate to the subject matter and thus derive no amusement from it. I will, however, defer to your judgement as to whether or not that was a ‘good joke’.”

It took a moment to process and translate what he had just said, but when I finally had, I looked at him in surprise, “wait, do you mean you can’t relate to it because you’ve never had trouble ‘performing’...or because you’ve never had sex?”

“The latter,” he replied, matter-of-factly, “no individual in my stable has ever copulated,” he glanced back at me briefly, giving me a look that suggested I should have been able to figure that fact out on my own, “our genetic structures are specially tailored in a laboratory to ensure the strains are the best available. Natural biological reproduction would introduce too many variables to guarantee an ideal genome.”

“So, wait...how were you born then?”

“My genetic structure was injected into a harvested inert ovum, and then matured in a specially designed synthetic womb until I reached viability.”

“...You were grown in a lab?”

There was that trademark RG frown again, “that is a―barely―acceptable summation,” he resumed trying to figure out the password that was get us out of here, “once we are reasonably sure there are no inferior strains anywhere in our genetic code, natural copulation will resume, as it is the most efficient means by which to grow our population without a prohibitively massive investment in infrastructure that would be profoundly difficult with the available resources on the surface. Until then, no, we do not ‘have sex’.”

I couldn’t help but still be fascinated by this revelation, “but, like, not even for fun? Don’t you still get...urges, and stuff?”

“No,” he answered simply. He must have sensed my dubious expression, because he soon followed it up with, “I do not possess a...‘sex drive’, I believe is the term. The associated genes affiliated with driving a pony’s biological imperative to procreate have been suppressed in our population until such a time as our genome is acceptably superior.”

“So, you don’t even...you know, um...explore yourself,” Arginine stopped typing and turned back around to give me the most profoundly perplexed look that I had ever seen from the stallion. It was almost like a normal pony was looking at me like I’d said something incomprehensible. Oh, Celestia, please don’t make me have to explain masturbation to this pony! My cheeks wouldn’t be able to take it.

“You know what, never mind,” I was ejecting myself from this line of conversation for the sake of my own sanity. As shocking as it was to learn that Arginine was, himself, also a virgin―to say nothing about his stable’s unique take on reproduction methods―it really wasn’t any of my business how often―or indeed if―he ‘polished his pistol’―Oh, Celestia, had I really just called it that?! “I’m going to just...look at some logs―records!”

I was suddenly very fascinated by the content of the other terminal screen, and absolutely in no way paying any attention to the stallion next to me who continued to stare at my back in bafflement before eventually returning to figuring out how to open of the cog-shaped door and let us out of this place.

Let’s find out what the ponies working here were doing before the world ended, shall we? Record the first!

Progress Report 07-112: Everything's in place and ready for the demonstration next week. Well, almost everything. We’re still waiting for those new Robronco robots. They were supposed to be here the day before yesterday, but we were told there was going to be a slight delay because of a last-minute change in their designs. Something about an experimental power source? Whatever, as long as they work as advertised. We have representatives from most of the districts in the southern part of the valley coming in for this demonstration. If they’re impressed, it’ll mean at least a dozen new construction contracts. However, in order for them to be impressed, we need those damn robots!
Hmm. Maybe I was going to be able to figure out what had happened down there after all! Next record entry…

Progress Report 07-115: For fuck’s sake! Are you kidding me?! The new robots finally get here, and they have a crippling flaw?! The damn things were running for all of five minutes before all sorts of alarms started going off and they went into ‘emergency shutdown’. Come to find out, those ‘experimental power sources’ run too damn hot for these construction bots. On top of that, I’m told that there’s no way to throttle back the power. If they sit still for even a few minutes, their system temps start spiking. What a load of shit! The demonstration is in three days! We are so fucking boned. Time to touch up my resume, I guess.

I cocked my head as I read over the entry. Why did that sound familiar…?

Progress Report 07-116: Finally some good news. Got a message from the customer service department of the company that apparently designed and built the spark reactors for these bots, Four Star Energy Solutions. I guess they’ve been catching a lot of flack over this ‘minor design oversight’ of theirs. Ha! Anyway, they were kind enough to ship us an ‘upgrade kit’ as well as a revised manual that’s supposed to give us a work-around. I’m going to say, right up front, that I think it’s a stupid idea, and that I don’t like it.

So, the fix is, get this: force the bots to leak magical radiation.

Yup, that’s right. We’re supposed to convert the ‘waste energy’ into radiation. Oh, but don’t worry! They sent us some shield talismans that are designed to contain all of that radiation and keep it from being a health hazard. All good!

Most of that last paragraph is sarcasm, by the way.

I’ve already done the math, and it sucks. These shields will only barely be powerful enough to contain the excess energy generated during normal operation. If these things are on idle, they’re not going to do squat; and those generators run hot enough that I don’t want to even think about how much radiation they’d be putting out then. I called up Four Star―turns out they’re a subsidiary of THE 'Four Star' out east, go figure―and told them about the numbers. They said I just needed to make sure that I never idled then, and just turn them off when not in use.

Fuck you too, asshole. Whatever. At least they’ll work long enough to finish building the demo section a couple of times for the investors. Once Stable-Tec HQ comes down and signs off on everything, I’ll just shut them all down.

In the meantime, I’m going to draft a letter to Management suggesting that, maybe next time, we use the NEXT to lowest bidder...

As I reached the end of the entry, I heard the whir of machinery as Arginine finally managed to crack the system and get the massive cog rolled aside. I read over that entry a second time, feeling my blood run cold. The robots. They had been the source of the lethal radiation that had wandered through Old Reino for so long! They’d gone on building out the little section of ‘demonstration stable’ that they’d been programed to build, but something must have happened that kept them from being shut down as planned―probably the world ending, now that I thought about it. So they’d just...kept on building.

Then that machine that they’d been using to convert dirt into metal finally broke down and they couldn’t build anymore. They’d gone into some sort of ‘standby’ mode, wandering around the corridors that they’d built ever since. Of course, without using all of their energy to build stuff, it was converted into too much radiation for their shields to contain―though they sure seemed to stop bullets well enough!

That was what had wiped out the ponies in the mall, I realized. The corridors ran right under it. The construction bots would have just started rolling along beneath the settlement, blasting them with a lethal dose of radiation, and they were none the wiser. That was why no obvious source of the radiation had ever been observed either, because they’d been underground all this time. Ponies had assumed it was a spell of some sort, but it hadn’t been. It was...the…robots...

Slowly, I looked over at the strip of film wrapped around my fetlock which, in all of the darkness and confusion running around the sprawling corridors below, I hadn’t gotten around to checking in a while. A solid lump formed in my throat as my gaze settled on the jet black plastic band.

“RG...look at your film,” my voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.

I saw the stallion glance at his own leg. His film was just as black as mine was. He managed to keep his features in check a lot better than I was probably managing though. His eyes closed for a few brief moments and he took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he calmly ripped away the film and stood up, “there is little point in lingering here. We need to get outside and get our bearings.”

“RG―”

“Miss Foxglove and the others are unlikely to wait indefinitely for our arrival at the agreed upon rendezvous point. We shouldn’t delay any longer.”

“RG―”

He ignored me and headed for the exit, “with luck, we can be there by the morning―”

“RG!” I finally screamed at the stallion. He stopped in the doorway and went silent. I took a deep breath, “how long do we have?”

I remembered what he’d told me a solid black color on the film meant. What I didn’t know was the sort of time table that the two of us would have to work with. Meanwhile, the gray stallion, with his intimate knowledge of pony physiology that had been gathered over―I didn’t care to think of how many―years of mutilating innocent ponies, would almost certainly have it calculated down to the hour.

“You are unlikely to last beyond the day after tomorrow, around mid-morning,” he said softly, without looking back at me, “I will continue to endure for another eighteen or so hours after you expire,” the corner of his lip tugged ever so slightly in the approximation of a sad smile, “thanks to my superior endocrine system.”

Silence rang through the room for what felt like a full minute, but was almost certainly a much shorter period of time, as I let the brevity of my revised life expectancy trickle through my brain. Odd, that it was hitting me so much harder than it had just...had it really only been fifteen minutes since I thought those ultrasentinels were going to kill me? That sense of calm that I’d had at the time had managed to wear off, and it didn’t look like the feeling was going to be making a return. I guess you only got to feel serene about dying once a day or something.

“Is there anything we―well, you―can do?” Celestia knows that I didn’t know a whole lot about real medicine outside of: ‘use a healing potion’. Arginine was the medical expert here.

He took a deep breath, “Seaddle’s hospital would have the facilities to treat our condition if we arrived there promptly enough. For clarification, ‘promptly enough’ would mean in the next several hours from now.”

“Isn’t there a hospital in this city?” I pointed out, “you could use the stuff they have there to―”

“My own medical skills are...lackluster, I’m afraid,” he cut me off before I could get my hopes raised too high, “as I have made mention of in the past: I am not a doctor. We are beyond the simple application of RadAway, Miss Windfall.”

“Can we...can we at least try?” my voice very nearly cracked.

“We could,” he conceded gently. Oh, I did not like ‘gentle Arginine’. It felt really weird. The stallion looked back at me, and then pointed at my pipbuck, “but as I understand the state of affairs, there is valuable information stored on your pipbuck that can be used to stop a war between the New Lunar Republic and the Steel Rangers. Isn’t that correct?

“If we die in this place, trying in vain to save ourselves, that information will never make it back to Miss Foxglove and the others. If we can get that information to them, then, even in our absence, they will be able to carry on with the objective.”

I glanced down at the dead pipbuck on my leg. It had the reference numbers that Foxglove needed in order to look up the corresponding flight information in Wind Rider’s Wagons and Freight’s fragmented computer system. Assuming that those records weren’t among those that had been purged with so much else. Using what we already knew about some of their shipping habits, there might well be enough data to make an educated guess about where the real MoA hub was located. Foxglove and Starlight were smart ponies. They’d be able to figure it out if anypony could. Ramparts would make sure they got there in one piece.

All they needed was the pipbuck.

“Right,” I nodded listlessly. I felt bad for Foxglove. I’m sure she was worried out of her mind right now, thinking that I’d been killed. Now I was going to show up in the morning, and she was going to be so relieved that I was all right. Then I’d die the day after that and she wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it.

I started for the door and then drew up short. My eyes went to the administrative console that Arginine had been working at and looked over the available system commands. I reached out a tapped a few keys. Then I closed out the computer, took out my compact pistol, and unloaded two rounds into the computer so that―hopefully―nopony would be able to turn those robots back on and start everything all over again. If anypony ever came back here, they’d just find the working terminal with the logs and their warning about the dangers that those construction machines posed. When the weapon was returned to its holster, I resumed walking towards the door, meeting the stallion’s inquiring gaze, “I shut down the robots. They were the source of the ‘wandering radiation pockets’.

“Maybe, someday, ponies can come back here and start rebuilding,” I said, somehow managing a little smile at the notion of that mall settlement getting a second chance, “this city’s nearly untouched. It could become a thriving town without a lot of effort.”

Arginine nodded and followed me through the door. We emerged into some sort of small office building. Judging from the logos stenciled on the walls and the friendly looking mascots everywhere, it was pretty clear that this was a Stable-Tec facility. There were a lot of banners and signs hanging around that seemed to suggest that this was where ponies came to apply for the few coveted slots in the bunkers. Judging from the logs I’d just read, it looked like they also sought out interested parties who wanted to finance the construction of stables.

There were quite a few skeletons, even in this place. A few of them were even wearing uniforms that identified them as being Stable-Tec employees. I couldn’t contain a pitying snort at the thought that even the ponies responsible for building those bunkers weren’t all saved by them. How many more years would Equestria have needed to ensure that there were enough stables to reasonably save everypony who’d been alive during the war, anyway? Exactly how short of that mark had they fallen by the time that final day arrived?

Given the number of skeletons strewn about the Wasteland, I suspected that the answer to that question lay somewhere north of, ‘very’.

For that matter, how short had I just fallen today?

Probably a lot more than I’d realized yet, honestly. It still didn’t feel real. How could it? Given everything that I’d been through and survived―even in just the last twenty-four hours!―how could I possibly be expected to accept that I was going to be dead in two days from something as pathetic and, frankly, mundane as ‘radiation poisoning’? I’d fought off hell hounds and Steel Rangers! Ponies like me didn’t just die because they ran into a few too many fucking rads!

We were going to get the Wind Rider’s, we were going to meet up with the others, they were going to have plenty of RadAway on them, and it was going to be all that was needed to, either, completely cure Arginine and I; or, at worst, keep us going long enough for Starlight to use her super-powerful magical teleporting spell to get us to Seaddle where Doctor Lancet would be able to fix us up with plenty of time to spare.

That was exactly what was going to happen, and I wasn’t going to hear any differently from anypony; especially not mopey-dopey RG trudging along behind me.

We were going to be. Just. Fine.

…

We were...

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Explorer - Better chance of finding special places and ponies.

CHAPTER 34:...AND SO MUCH TO DO

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"How did you survive?"
"Didn't. Got killed..."

I wasn’t sure whether or not I was grateful for the fact that the large freight wagons nestled inside of the warehouse at Winder Rider’s Wagons and Freight were made of what amounted to cardboard and particle wood. On the one hoof, it meant that there hadn’t been any serious risk of my hurting myself as I reduced every single one of them into piles of unrecognizable splinters in order to thoroughly vent my mounting frustration. However, because those faux transports hadn’t really been much of a challenge for me to obliterate, it hadn’t exactly provided me with any sense of satisfaction when I’d finished the last of them off and was left standing amid the sawdust, panting out the last vestiges of my fury.

Empty. The warehouse had been empty.

There were signs that Foxglove and the others had made it here, at least; so I knew that they were alright. However, it looked like the three of them had not opted to wait around for Arginine and I to catch up with them. Under most other circumstances, that probably wouldn’t really have bothered me all that much. Intellectually, I could completely understand their decision.

They had been told to gather at the hospital. From there, they would have been able to clearly see the explosion, and perhaps even the collapse of the Ministry of Arcane Science Hub, as well as that of the office building that had been nearby. They would have tried to contact me on my pipbuck to see if I was okay. Of course, my pipbuck had died in the face of the intense radiation exposure, so none of Ramparts’ transmissions would have gotten through. He’d have tried to see if he could even track my location, and would have discovered that my tag no longer existed either.

Even I knew that pipbuck’s were physically tough. While mine might not currently work, it was still very much structurally intact, and Arginine was pretty sure that all that it needed was a simple reset with the aid of another pipbuck. However, there was no way for any of our other companions to know that it was just on the fritz. All that they knew was that the last that they had seen of me, I’d been the vicinity of a massive explosion and two building collapses, after which my pipbuck tag had vanished from their map and nopony could raise me on the radio.

Perhaps, in spite of all of that, they might have been tempted to try and recover my body, except that at about the same time, one of those malfunctioning ultrasentinels must have rambled on through beneath the area, causing the radiation spike that had shut down my pipbuck. Ramparts had had a working rad-detector, and so the three of them would have left the city as quickly as they could once it started going off.

What exactly should I have expected them to do after all of that? If I’d been part of the group that had made it out, and any other two of them had been in my place, would I have been one of the voices advocating to stay put for who knew how long; or would I have told everypony that we needed to cut our losses and continue on with the plan? Honestly, I think that I would have been the chief advocate for moving forward. I couldn’t know how they were going to find that MoA hub without the data on my pipbuck, but I’d seen that Foxglove and Starlight were both very smart ponies. Maybe the pink unicorn mare from the past knew about another source of potential information, or Foxglove had been able to coax a little bit more cooperation out of the computers in the basement here.

In either case, there hadn’t been anypony here when Arginine and I had finally come trudging in during the early dawn hours of the morning, after walking through the sprawl of Old Reino all night. I was tired from all of the damn walking, annoyed that my friends hadn’t made the boneheaded decision to linger here for no good reason...and terrified that I was going to die because my last best hope for getting the help that I needed wasn’t here. Those wagons had paid the price for my rage.

Arginine had simply stood silently in the doorway, watching as I punched, bucked, and bit, my way through my outburst until I’d finally exhausted myself. Even now that it was all ended, he didn’t seem to have much to say. This had been the entirety of his plan too, after all: reach the others to pass on my pipbuck so that they could use what was in it. With them gone, he was just as out of ideas as I was. Just as out of hope.

No. No, I refuse. What would Jackboot think of me if I just went out like some helpless little bitch? I wasn’t going to just lie down here and die!

Sure, Foxglove and the others had moved on without us, but so what? We’d just have to catch up with them. We could do it too, since they would have stopped somewhere to sleep all night, while we’d been moving that whole time. I certainly wasn’t feeling any strong desire to go to bed now, what with a rapidly approaching expiration date hanging over my head. We’d head on after them as fast as we could. Starlight was still getting used to be a Wasteland pony, which meant she kept taking frequent breaks. That would slow them down enough for Arginine and I to catch them by mid-afternoon. Worst case scenario? We run into them tonight when they bed down to get some sleep.

...Okay, so I had done exactly zero actual calculations in my head to back up that statement, but I was just going to go right on thinking that, because I refused to believe that I was going to die. It wasn’t happening. Not while I was alive!

…

I was briefly torn between admitting that I had just thought that, and blaming it on the radiation poisoning getting to my brain. I wasn’t a particular fan of that possibility.

I turned and started walking towards the doorway where Arginine was standing, “we’re heading after them. Foxglove will take the western route to Seaddle,” not that I could actually be sure that they’d gone straight for Seaddle. The chances were fairly even that they’d swing by New Reino to pick up additional supplies before going north. Of course, I only really got the one chance to catch up to the rest of our group. So, in the interest of not becoming completely overwhelmed by the despair of realizing that my odds of reaching our friends were, at best, one in some depressingly high number, I chose to believe that they’d gone to Seaddle, and that we’d meet along the way. Probably somewhere around Shady Saddles.

That was just how things were going to be.

The gray stallion remained silent, merely allowing himself a slight nod of his head as he followed. His genetically superior brain no doubt knew how slim our chances were better than I did. Heck, he was probably also keenly aware of how genuinely useless catching up to them would be where our own lives were concerned. There wasn’t going to be anything that they could do for us.

Not that I was willing to admit that to myself quite yet. I was grabbing onto every thread of denial that I could see and holding on for all I was worth.

A discomfort in my chest that had been steadily growing over the past hour or so would finally no longer be ignored and I was forced into a fit of coughing. It was a fairly productive cough too, leaving something behind in my mouth that tasted very familiar. I spit out what was revealed to be a pink froth, wiping away an errant tendril of spittle with my hoof. I glanced only briefly at the faint scarlet smear that came away with it.

Almost certainly just the remnants of something I’d eaten.

I cleared my throat and swallowed back the rest of what was in my mouth so that I didn’t have to see it, and renewing my determination to suppress another faint tickle that was already starting to build up in my chest again, “try not to lag behind,” I growled in the direction of the large stallion behind me.

By mid morning, it was fairly obvious that Arginine wasn’t the one lagging behind. He never actually passed me, but I knew that my pace had slacked off considerably since last night. It frustrated me to no end, but there wasn’t anything that I could do about it. I felt exhausted, but I suspected that it wasn’t a fatigue that had anything to do with not having bothered to sleep at all last night. The symptoms of my condition were getting progressively harder for me to ignore.

The coughing came more frequently, and the spittle that came flying out of my mouth was turning a deeper shade of red every time. Even Arginine was starting to exhibit some of those signs, albeit more subdued. He was still able to pass them off rather convincingly as the manifestations of a dry throat, for the moment. I only wish that the coughing was the worst of it. Unfortunately, my stomach, in a show of solidarity, decided that it too was going to start evacuating bloody fluids as well. There wasn’t anything significant for me to throw up, of course. I’d been feeling too nauseous to eat since nightfall. Apparently, my stomach was going to let a little detail like being empty stand in the way of finding something to send back up my throat.

Every hour or so, I was taking out a bottle of water and taking a small drink. Not to actually swallow, mind you―I’d quickly learned that my gut wouldn’t countenance any sort of intrusion―just something to slosh around in my mouth and spit back out in order to wash away the bitter concoction of phlegm, bile, and blood, that kept congregating.

It was getting harder and harder to convince myself that this was going to work too. The more pronounced the signs of radiation poisoning got, the clearer it became that this was just as serious as Arginine had made it out to be. If I was being honest with myself―and Celestia knew I was doing my damndest not to be―I’d already lost hope of finding the others. The two of us were only going to be moving ever slower from this point onward. Which meant that we weren’t going to gain any ground on the others no matter how often and for how long they might have rested.

I just...there wasn’t anything else I could do!

Well, short of lying down and dying out here in the middle of the Wasteland, at least. I let out a raspy little snort that quickly evolved into a fit of bloody coughing as I took stock of my stubbornness. That was the only thing that was keeping me on my hooves anymore, after all: stubbornness. The notion that I had lived through and survived too much to just die now.

Wasn’t that a stupid idea?

How many hardened raiders, easily twice my age or more, had I killed in my life? I idly wondered if, in their final moments, they’d been of a mind that they too had endured far too much adversity just to end up being put down by some feathered little upstart filly. If that had indeed been the case, then those thoughts had obviously not done anything to change their own terminal fates. There was no reason to expect that it would be any different for me.

This episode of coughing seemed to be particularly severe, and when it did not soon abate, I found myself stumbling down to my knees. It was very difficult to ignore the bright red flecks of blood misting on the hard scrabble in front of me. When it did finally pass, I remained there, kneeling on the ground, panting for breath as I stared at my blood on the rocks. Arginine stepped up beside me.

“Tomorrow morning might have been...optimistic,” I rasped as I swallowed back another mouthful of bitter sputum, which only served to embolden my stomach to start protesting as well. Fortunately I managed to keep myself from another bout of dry heaving...barely.

“The muscle weakness, nausea, and respiratory ailments are all moderate symptoms,” the stallion said softly, “there will be more severe conditions later. In fact, you have actually progressed more slowly than I had initially predicted,” his slightly elevated tone seemed to suggest that I should be somewhat proud of that fact, “you are on track to expire thirty hours from now.”

I tried to laugh, but it just came out in more bloody coughs, “hours, huh? Well, considering I thought I’d be dead in a matter of minutes back in those Old Reino tunnels, that’s quite the improvement,” I only wished that I felt as confident as my words made me seem, “at this rate, I’ll be fucking immortal by morning,” I spent a few more seconds dry heaving as I finally lost the battle to keep my gut under control, then, “now help me back up. With as many breaks as Starlight needs, we’ll probably spot them over the next ridge.”

Arginine went silent again, but he bent down and gently eased himself against me so that I had something sturdy to lean against as I got back up onto alarmingly unsteady legs. I was going to need his continued physical support if I was going to make any additional progress, I realized. I hurriedly pushed aside the thought of how much longer it would be before even that wasn’t going to be enough to keep me going.

I needed something to distract me, “so, RG, you said you were born from a machine?”

The question seemed to catch the stallion off guard as he walked slowly at my side in a careful effort to keep me upright, “an incubation capsule, yes.”

“No real parents then, but somepony must have looked after you. Taught you things. What were they like?” there wasn’t any real point to these questions, of course; and while I would admit to a passing curiosity of what it would take to produce somepony who was capable to doing the things that Arginine did, it wasn’t exactly the sort of nagging mystery that kept me up at night. However, right now those questions and their answers should suffice to keep my mind distracted from all the many ways in which my body was slowly dying.

“Our generation had mentors, yes, depending on the duties that we would be assigned,” either Arginine needed the distraction too, or he didn’t mind talking about himself, because the stallion seemed to take easily enough to talking about his origins, “I was one of thirty-seven foals placed under the mentorship of Proctor Telomerase. We endured a decade and a half of rigorous education pertaining to our craft. I placed second from among our strain on all examinations, and in the top five percentile of our stable’s historical population.”

“So, you’re only the second best at what you do?” I scoffed weakly, “what exactly did the pony who beat you have to do in order to be better at cutting up innocent ponies?”

“The dissection process was only a minor part of our overall role during the development of future generational strains. Most of our time was spent testing and evaluating the harvested tissue samples.”

He hadn’t even sounded the least bit phased by my question. I cocked my head, staring at the stallion, caught between whether I should feel appalled or impressed by his apparent utter lack of anything approaching compassion. He was talking about what he did to those ponies his stable captured the way I might talk about squashing a radroach. The way that I could only wish I felt about killing raiders and slavers.

“How did you do it?” I asked, “how did you do that to ponies and not feel...anything? They were ponies, for Celestia’s sake! Thinking, feeling, ponies, and you’re talking about them like they were just...things. Don’t you feel bad about what you did at all?”

“No,” he replied simply. There was more there though. It was like a...shadow or something deep in his eyes. Not guilt, or remorse, per say. Maybe...envy?

“I am incapable of feeling ‘bad’ about what I did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My generation’s strain was engineered to possess a moderate degree of psychopathy,” Arginine said in an even tone, looking straight ahead, “we are not capable of feeling empathy for the specimens that we examine.”

“You don’t mean to tell me that ‘perfect ponies’ don’t feel empathy,” I blurted, “that’s stupid!”

“This attribute is not intended to be incorporated into the Omega Strain. It is a temporary measure meant to overcome what were seen as unacceptable obstacles towards achieving our goal. Previous strains found it...emotionally taxing, to perform evaluations on specimens. Most experienced burnout or severe stress disorders after only a few months.

“It was determined that changes needed to be made, temporarily, in order to prevent additional delays. My strain is a product of those changes.”

“They made it so that you didn’t care about what you were doing to ponies,” I actually felt...well, not ‘bad’ for Arginine. Sympathetic? If what he was telling me was the truth―and I’d yet to catch him in a lie―then it was going to be hard for me to actively despise him as much as I had been. That wasn’t to say that he was blameless. Maybe he wasn’t capable of feeling sickened by what he was doing on any deep level, but he was clearly smart enough to know it was morally wrong to do what he had been on an intellectual one! Though, I suppose that, growing up as he had, his morality might have been a bit more skewed than most.

I certainly wasn’t a pony who could claim the true moral high road when it came to taking life. I’d easily killed hundreds in my time. The key difference between me and Arginine was one of very shaky semantics: I tried to be particular about my parameters. Specifically: I killed who I labeled ‘bad ponies’. Jackboot and I had gotten into a few―occasionally heated―debates about what made a pony 'bad', but I’d built myself what I felt was a pretty compelling list of criteria. Ponies who killed, pillaged, raped, and slaved for personal gain. There might be some extenuating circumstances in there on a case-by-case basis, but that was the succinct version.

Arginine and the ponies of his stable had their own definitions for ‘acceptable targets’ too, which differed significantly from mine. Yet, I had to wonder if the stallion would still have gone on doing what he’d done if he could have felt bad about it? He was willing to help me now, in spite of his feelings―or lack thereof. Granted, his reasons were still suspect in my mind, since I found it hard to believe he was as truly unbiased as he claimed to be.

Although, if he really was incapable of feeling things like guilt, did that mean he wasn’t inclined towards any sense of loyalty borne out of sentimental feelings towards his stable? Could somepony like Arginine ever truly be loyal to anypony, considering he wouldn’t feel remorse if he broke his promises to help them?

What exactly would stop him from turning on me at the drop of a hoof later on down the line?

Heh, who was I kidding? Neither of us was going to live long enough to get betrayed by anypony anyway.

“So what’s that ‘Omega Strain’ you mentioned?”

“It is the goal of our stable’s efforts,” the stallion said, sounding a little proud now, “a genome sequence which will include all of the best possible traits collected from ponykind. Omegas will be tougher, stronger, smarter, and more magically inclined than any other pony that has ever lived,” he tilted his head down and looked at me with the barest ghost of a smile on his face, “and they will also be capable of greater compassion than any who has ever lived as well.”

“So what happens to you if your stable ever makes this Omega Strain?”

“Assuming that I am still alive,” he clearly doubted that he would be, but went on for the sake of the hypothetical, “I, and any other living members of previous strains, will be euthanized.”

Okay, that I hadn’t been expecting, “they’ll kill you?”

“My genetic material will be inferior to theirs. Moreover, I lack many of the attributes necessary for a successful and healthy population in the long term. We have just covered my emotional shortcomings, and yesterday I made mention of my deficiencies where procreation are concerned. The Omega Strain will correct both of those engineered defects, and much more.

“There will be no place for me in a world populated by Omegas; any more than there would be a place for you.”

“...assuming we don’t manage to rally the ponies of the valley to successfully fight off your stable. Right?”

Another faint smile, “correct.”

“You don’t think we really have a chance, do you?”

To his credit, he at least looked like he made an effort to give a thoughtful reply, “were the two of us not to die in the morning?” I rolled my eyes and he went on, “in such an instance...I am loath to give a definite answer, as I possess insufficient data. Against a formidable force of ponies with determination and martial ability that match what I have seen demonstrated by yourself, I would be inclined to admit a victory by those living on the surface would be likely,” why was it that the stallion whose goal it was to exterminate every living pony in the Wasteland was the only one who’s ever said such nice things about me? “However, I have yet to be able to survey a sufficient population in order to make a determination as to whether you are the exception, or the rule.”

“Flatterer,” my comment would probably have sounded more humorous if it hadn’t been immediately followed by a bout of bloody coughs. I could only have wished that had been the extent of it too. This time, however, my lungs were joined by yet another of my internal organs in their rebellion by something more proximal to my posterior.

“Ugh,” I groaned, after spitting out the last flecks of blood, “I think I shat myself,” I noted, feeling something wet and warm running down the inside of my thigh. I wasn’t looking forward to that stuff drying in a little while...

Arginine turned his head slightly, and then looked forward once more, “your symptoms are progressing.”

“So, what, I’m going to poop myself to death now?” I snorted weakly before glancing down between my legs. I felt a renewed sense of nausea at the sight I beheld. There might have been some feces that leaked out of my backside. It was actually really hard to tell through all of the blood that was coating my hindquarters.

I stifled a few more anemic coughs as I straightened back up and focused once more on moving forward, “...radiation poisoning sucks.”

“There may still be healing potions left among our supplies,” the stallion offered.

“Would they actually help anything?”

“Unlikely.”

I grunted and made no effort to retrieve one of the little purple fluid filled vials. Idly, I wondered who would eventually find our corpses, and if I shouldn’t make an effort to expend every munition and imbibe every medicine just in case if was raiders. The last thing I wanted was to give posthumous aid to ponies like that. On the other hoof, if a trader found our bodies, what we had on us could only help them defend themselves, couldn’t it?

If I was starting to think rather freely about that sort of thing, I suppose that I had moved beyond denying my impending death. Well...that sucked. I really didn’t want this to all be over. Mostly because―and I was painfully aware of the full scope of the nature of the cliche―I felt that I was too young to die.

I must have made some audible indication regarding my train of thought, because I drew Arginine’s attention, “you have found something amusing about all of this?”

Had I? I suppose I had, “kind of,” I said, my lips tugging in a smile as I leaned heavily into the side of the stallion while we plodded slowly along. For some reason we were still continuing. Only Celestia knew why, I’m sure. Spite, probably, “I’ve spent enough time in enough bars listening to old drunk ponies whine about all of the things that they wished they’d done with their lives. Loves they let slip away. Big scores they let pass them by. Friends they betrayed. Enemies they trusted.

“It always sounded to me like the same long list of woes that every single pony seemed to have. It was like nopony ever did all the things they wanted to do while they could,” I shrugged as best I could manage and paused for some more coughing. When it passed, I continued, “I sort of promised myself I wasn’t going to let that be me. I made myself a list of everything I absolutely wanted to do with my life. Made sure it was a short one too, so I wouldn’t be all regretful when I got older,” another pause for some coughing and a few dry heaves, “and here I am, with none of those things done.”

“What articles did your list consist of?”

I couldn’t decide if he was genuinely curious, or just pandering for the sake of the dying pony at his side. Neither struck me as likely, given his admitted psychopathy, but whatever; I’d take what I could get, “settle down with somepony. Raise a family. Keep them safe.

“Those were the three things I decided that I absolutely had to do with my life. I guess I basically wanted to prove to myself that it could be done, you know? My parents managed to do the first two, but...well, the third didn’t work out so well. That’s why I’ve been doing what I’ve been doing: to rid the Wasteland of enough of the dangers so that good ponies don’t have to be worried about keeping their families safe.

“I figured that ‘after a while’, I’d give it a go too. I never really put any hard date on how long from now that’d be, since, you know, I’m kind of young,” which was something I had a tendency to adamantly deny whenever the subject of my age where it related to my capability came up in the past. On the subject of domestic matters, however, I would concede the point on my youth.

“And now, well…” I let out a hollow little raspy laugh, “I wish I’d had the chance to do that stuff.”

Arginine was silent for a long while as we kept walking. Stumbling, really. It seemed that even the larger stallion wasn’t as steady on his hooves anymore as he had once been. Then he said, “I would like to have lived long enough to see an Omega Strain produced. I never believed that I truly would. Even our most optimistic projections placed ultimate completion at being approximately fifty years in the future.”

“That long, huh?”

“The Wasteland is a big place, with many ponies still living in it,” he said in a frank tone, only coughing a few times. I spied a few flecks of blood on his lips, “it will take many decades yet to sift through all of their genetic material.”

I didn’t even try to suppress my eyeroll, “well, I guess both of us get to die without fulfilling our dreams,” I sighed. After a few more steps, I finally said, “let’s just...stop.”

Arginine carefully came to a halt so as to not cause me to lose my balance and fall, looking at me, “you are certain?”

“...yeah,” I guess my stubbornness had a limit after all. With great care, I lowered myself to the ground and started removing my barding and gear. If I was going to die, I wasn’t going to do it sweating to death while wearing this crap. Besides, even if raiders showed up and attacked us, what was the worst that could happen? We die?

Arginine laid down too, using his magic to help relieve me of my armor before discarding his own. He actually seemed a little uncomfortable, and not just because he was starting to cough a lot more fitfully as well. I suppose that the concept of just relaxing wasn’t something that he was very familiar with. I thought for a moment and smiled to myself. I guess there was no time for him to learn like the present.

I fished around inside my bag and produced my last two bottles of Wild Pegasus whiskey. I passed the opened one to him, keeping the bottle that was completely full for myself. Maybe that didn’t seem fair, given our size disparity, but it was my whiskey, damn it. If I was going to die, I was going to die numb and happy!

The stallion took the offered bottle and stared at it as though it were a little radscorpion that could sting him at any moment. I’d taken two long pulls off my own bottle before I realized that the gray unicorn hadn’t so much as unscrewed the cap, “what’s the matter? Are you a Crystal Heart vodka kind of pony? Or do you prefer Jennysee?” I blinked upon seeing his deepening frown, “Oh, Sweet Celestia preserve me, have you actually ever had alcohol before?”

The stallion didn’t give a verbal response to my query, which was ironically enough all the answer I needed. The coughing fit was worth the raucous laughter that escaped from me as I realized that Arginine had, indeed, never had a hard beverage before, “you’re even more unfun than I thought you could be!” I crowed, which set me coughing again almost immediately. Still worth it, “what kind of ‘perfect ponies’ don’t drink?!”

“Intoxication is not conducive to―”

“Oh, shut up and chug it!” I snapped at the stallion through a broad grin, “everypony should get drunk once in their life,” I thought for a brief moment, “you’ll be better off than most, since you’ll probably be dead before the worst of the hangover hits. Pretty lucky, if you ask me.”

“Poisoning our bodies with alcohol will only compound the complications of our radiation poisoning.”

“Drink,” I reiterated, taking another long sip from my own bottle. I wasn’t even all that bothered by the nausea, since that was a feeling that I often associated with heavy drinking anyway.

For a dead pony walking, Arginine proved to be remarkably principled when it came to taking his first drink. Of course, I had nothing better to do than to continue to pressure him into it. The expression on his face once the whiskey touched his lips had been well worth the effort. It was, perhaps, the most genuine and overt display of emotion that I had ever seen from the unicorn stallion since we’d met.

“Why does anypony drink this?!” he blurted, physically wiping his tongue with his hoof in an effort to remove the taste even as his magic fished a Sparkle Cola out of his bags to use as a chaser. After a few solid gulps of the carroty drink he shivered in disgust once more and glared at me, “you actually enjoy that sensation?”

“Oh, Celestia, no,” I chuckled, even as I took another sip, “it’s like drinking spicy bile mixed with mud that burns your mouth,” I said easily, laughing a little harder upon seeing his perplexed expression. Half a sip in, and the alcohol had already cracked that tough exterior of his!

“I don’t drink for the taste. I drink because it makes me feel...numb? It just helps me forget how shitty my life is,” I shrugged and took another small sip before settling down more comfortably, “and it can’t get much shittier than it is right now,” I saw Arginine screwing the cap back onto his bottle and glared at him, “I didn’t say you could stop. Drink. I refuse to let you die without ever getting drunk.”

The stallion’s features settled into a deep frown, and for a while it looked like he was going to refuse. It wasn’t like there was anything I could do to physically compel him to listen to me at this point. In the end though, I suppose that he figured it wasn’t going to do him any real harm to listen to me, and so he took another―far more conservative―sip. He still shuddered as he swallowed it, and immediately followed it up with another gulp of soda.

“So much for being tougher than us surface ponies,” I chuckled, “how tough can you be if a little filly like me could drink you under the table?” I followed up my taunt with a long, generous, pull from my bottle.

Arginine simply favored me with a bored expression, “I will not be goaded into competing with you in a contest to imbibe alcohol.”

“Can’t you fake enough compassion to humor a dying mare?”

I held the stallions gaze for several seconds, barely suppressing some coughs, until he sighed and took a third sip. I smiled and nodded in satisfaction. I splayed out on my back, staring up into the sky and continued to drink from my bottle. My stomach didn’t like it very much, but I was determined to keep the whiskey down long enough to get drunk. Which didn’t seem like it was going to take very long, as it turned out.

Maybe it was the quicker absorption of the alcohol through my bleeding gums, or my completely empty stomach, or the fact that my liver had probably already failed completely because of the radiation; in any event, I got drunk a lot quicker than I normally did. By the time I was halfway through my bottle, my head was absolutely swimming. Arginine had been far more judicious with his sips, and it barely looked like he’d put a dent in his. It did look like his liver wasn’t all that ‘superior’ though, because he was already swaying a little bit himself and squinting at various objects around him as though they didn’t look the way he thought they were supposed to.

“You’rrrrrre...drunk!” I proclaimed loudly, startling the gray stallion, who then glared at me accusingly.

“It is the effects of the radiation,” he insisted.

“Drunk drunk drunk drunk druuuunnnnnk...drunk!” I chanted in what might even have been a proper tune of some sort. It was hard to tell right now. Not that I particularly cared anyway. I was feeling very warm inside, and very good. I wasn’t even coughing all that much anymore.

The stallion huffed, but said nothing, which only made me smile more broadly, “I got the stuck-up stallion drunk!” I announced proudly, as though having achieved victory in some sort of competition. Arginine merely groused a little more, but i saw him take yet another small sip, “I think my only regret right now is that I couldn’t get you laid. That’d loosen you up.”

“Doubtful,” he replied very carefully and deliberately, as though he didn’t quite trust his mouth to form the right words, “as I lack a libido,” then he thought for several long seconds before glaring at me, “I was under the impression that you had no experience in carnal relations either.”

“Huh?” maybe it was the whiskey, but I was finding the gray unicorn’s speech harder to parse at the moment.

He rolled his eyes―had he ever done that before? Was that another first?―and rephrased his statement, “intercorse. You’ve had none.”

“Yeah, but not for lack of trying...sort of,” I certainly hadn’t been going around lifting my tail for just any stallion. Though I was old enough to appreciate the attention that I received from stallions trying to get under it…

Arginine furrowed his brow and frowned, “I fail to see how one could not succeed at fornication. All that is required is for a stallion and a mare to be in proximity to one another,” he thought for a brief moment, “indeed, I have read reports that Wasteland ponies do not even require there to be differing genders to engage in such activity.”

“Oh, Celestia! You can’t just walk up to somepony and say, ‘hey, I like your mane; want to fuck?’,” I blurted, “there’s more to it than that!” though, admittedly, I wasn’t completely positive of that regarding that precise scenario, as I had been the recipient of exactly that bluntly stated proposal. I had not taken her up on the offer, but it had presumably worked for the unicorn mare at some point in her past.

“I assure you, as somepony who has studied pony physiology extensively: no, there isn’t. In fact, I am doubtful that even compliments regarding physical appearances are required. All that is necessary is for a sufficiently aroused stallion to mount a mare.”

“And that,” I said with a sharp jab in his direction, “is why you will die a virgin. Well, that and the whole ‘radiation poisoning’ thing. But mostly the first reason. The whole lack of...romance...thing.”

“Given your own lack of experience, I fail to see how it is that you are qualified to pass any judgement on my shortcomings on this topic.”

“I may not know sex, but I know what I like,” I said succinctly, with a small smile on my face as I took another small sip from my bottle, “or would have liked anyway,” I amended with a shrug, “my point is, that you’re not the kind of stallion a mare would want.”

“I am the most physiologically fit stallion in the Wasteland,” my, wasn’t somepony sounding defensive? I wish I’d gotten him drunk sooner, he’d have been a lot more fun to be around, “had I the biological desire, and was afforded an opportunity to interact with healthy mares of breeding age, I would have no issue procuring any number of willing reproductive partners.”

“It would take me the rest of my life to list all of the things that I would give just so that I could live long enough to get you to a bar in New Reino and turn you loose, so that I could watch and count the number of times you go down in flames,” I stated breathlessly, “I would die the happiest mare in the world if I could see that.”

Arginine seemed less than amused, “I would take great satisfaction in demonstrating the error in your appraisal of my abilities and biological desirability.”

“For somepony who doesn’t stroke his shaft, you’re doing an awful lot of dick-waving right now,” I beamed broadly at the stallion, relishing his expression of irritation and―sweet Celestia, preserve me―wounded pride!

“As I have stated: the radiation exposure I have suffered is affecting my capacity for rational thought and discourse.”

“You talk funny,” I said just before taking another long sip from my bottle and casting my gaze back up into the dimming sky. It would be dark in just a couple more hours, I reckoned. My last night in the Wasteland.

“S’what I said,” Arginine quickly cleared his throat and shook his head. He spoke again much more slowly and deliberately “That. Was. What. I. Said.”

A smile had spread across my lips, though it was becoming slightly more melancholy the longer I stared at the sky and allowed my alcohol-addled thoughts to wander. The gray stallion nearby was still alternating stubbornly between small sips of whiskey and generous gulps of Sparkle Cola. I suspected that he was actually enjoying being a little buzzed, and for much the same reasons that I did: it kept you from focusing on how shit things were going.

To an extent, at any rate.

I wasn’t as anxious about dying as I had been this morning. That wasn’t to say that I was looking forward to it, or that I was particularly happy about dying of radiation exposure; and I was still on the fence about what to do with our gear. However, I was in the throes of a certain...clarity of thought. Perhaps even in spite of the alcohol. Maybe it was even because of it. I’d certainly spent a significant portion of my life drunk, after all. It had always helped me to put certain parts of my life into perspective.

There was, perhaps, a modicum of mirth to be had at the realization that I did have regrets; even beyond those I had related to Arginine. I regretted never being more forward about my intentions towards Jackboot. That kiss back in the McMaren barracks had clearly been too much too soon. I was the filly he’d raised, and he wouldn’t have seen me as anything different than that for a good while.

I regretted never putting aside the time to talk to Foxglove about how I’d felt about her and Jackboot. She was a good pony at heart, I knew that. The two of us could have become really good friends if I’d been willing to forgive her and make an effort to understand what she did.

My gaze wandered surreptitiously to the nearby unicorn who was rooting around in his bags for another bottle of cola. Dragging him along with us...that had been wrong. I felt the little mote of shame, deep down inside me, as I acknowledged that I had effectively been treating him like a slave. Yes, he was a monster, and he’d down horrific things to ponies―innocent ponies―but that didn’t excuse forcing him to serve me under threat of death. I’d thought that I was a better pony than that, and I realized now that I really wasn’t. When the mood struck me, I could be just as much of a monster as the raiders I’d vowed to exterminate.

I should have done the ‘right’ thing and turned him over to the Republic from the beginning.

That being said, I fully recognized that I almost certainly would have died while confronting those Steel Rangers if Arginine hadn’t been there to save me a time or two...or five. That didn’t make what I’d done to him any more right, of course. I was supposed to be the better pony. I was supposed to have been acting like a Wonderbolt.

At that thought, my mind turned now to Homily, and how she was going to report my demise. There wasn’t any way for her to know what had happened in Old Reino, of course; and who knew how long it would take for anypony to find our bodies. Even when somepony finally did, there was slim chance to none that whoever it was would recognize either of us, or even care. The Wonderbolt would just sort of...never show up anywhere again. The logical assumption would likely be that I was dead, sure, but there’d be no indication as to how it had happened. Would Homily take an educated guess and announce that I’d probably died fighting raiders off somewhere in the Wasteland? Or would she just not say anything about me anymore at all?

I desperately wished that my pipbuck worked right now.

Unexpectedly, I felt myself shiver. Odd, considering that, even in the early evening hours, the temperature of the Neighvada Valley Wasteland usually remained quite warm year round. Arginine must have noticed the spasm the wracked my body, because he delivered his usual cold and calculated explanation, “your body is going into shock,” he said, “you’re severely dehydrated from all of the vomiting, rectal bleeding, and the alcohol. You should be drinking as much water as you can.”

“You’re not,” I pointed out to the stallion, who offered up a small shrug but said nothing else. It’s not like dying of thirst was really our biggest problem. I didn’t much care for the trembling though. I wiggled along the ground, grimacing at how incredibly weak I felt doing it, and plastered myself up against the larger stallion’s body in order to get myself a little warmer. If he resented the contact, he didn’t show it by trying to move away.

I hugged the bottle of whiskey in tight against my chest as I squirmed a little in an effort to slide comfortably along the stallion’s side. Then I took a deep, cleansing, breath and let it out slowly. It was absurdly early in the evening to have normally considered going to sleep, but I was exhausted from having stayed up the entirety of the previous night. The alcohol was taking a firm hold, I’d done more wool-gathering tonight than the rest of my life combined, Arginine felt quite comfortably firm and warm against my body, and...I felt...okay.

For the first time, in a long while, I felt okay, after a fashion.

“If I fall asleep right now,” I started to ask softly, “would I wake up again?”

Arginine was silent as he considered the question. Then, “unlikely.”

“Oh...Arginine?”

“Yes, Miss Windfall?”

“...Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Miss Windfall.”

If there was one thing that I had come to rely on where Arginine was concerned, it was that the large gray stallion never lied.

So, imagine my surprise when I did, in fact, wake up.

In deference to the stallion’s conclusion where my resumption of conscious was concerned, he had probably not been accounting for the possibility that I would be startled awake only a few hours later by a series of loud explosions. At least, that was what I had taken them for, at first; and I suppose that my assumption had been technically correct. There was certainly a pyrotechnic element to fireworks.

Between the radiation, the dehydration, the alcohol, and the fatigue, it had taken my poor brain far too long to even start processing the implications of a fireworks display that was close enough for the sound of the airbursting charges to be loud enough to rouse me from slumber in the state that I’d been in. Some of that, perhaps, owed to a lifetime spent wandering the Wasteland, where being a light sleeper was often essential to surviving the intrusion of unexpected guests in the form of ne'er-do-well ponies and monsters.

Eventually though, my overtaxed neurons managed to draw up a few key cognitive connections: those fireworks were too well timed, well aimed, and coordinated to had to have been some sort of fluke. Ergo, they were being launched by ponies. The ponies launching those fireworks would be all that far away from the launching point of the fireworks themselves, and so they could be more than a couple miles away, judging from the delay between when I saw the brilliant burst and heard the associated rumblings. That meant that there were ponies only a few miles away from where Arginine and I were laying.

Help was a few miles away.

Deep down, I suppose that I knew―as Arginine had repeatedly affirmed―that they two of us were beyond the aid of what could be done by the average pony; but never let it be said that I was much of a cogent, logical, thinker at the moment I woke up after doing some heavy drinking before going to sleep. Heck, it had been so recent since I lay down that I wasn’t even hungover yet; I was still quite pleasantly drunk!

So I did what most drunk ponies did when they wanted attention: I yelled. A lot. Loudly.

Eventually I realized that all I was accomplishing was a lot of coughing, and even some genuine vomiting as the nausea returned in force. RG was a much deeper sleeper than I was. He didn’t even stir when I covered his backside in blood-tinged amber fluid. I idly wondered if I’d be able to convince the stallion that he’d somehow managed to throw up on himself somehow as I recovered and quickly set my thoughts to a more effective way of getting the attention of the distant ponies.

I couldn’t even actually see them from where I was. They had to be below the horizon, in a dale of some sort. That meant that they couldn’t see me either, so just waving my hooves around wasn’t going to get their attention, especially in the dim Wasteland twilight.

After some brief struggling I confirmed that I wasn’t going to be crossing the short distant on hoof either. Arginine might have still been strong enough to manage it, but no amount of yelling, coughing, retching, or anemic ‘pounding’ on his body with my weakened limbs seemed capable of rousing him. Judging from the completely empty bottles of Wild Pegasus near us―and knowing that I hadn’t finished mine―it seemed that the stallion had done quite a bit of drinking after I nodded off. While a part of me approved on his making a proper go of his premiere drinking experience, I now wished that he’d practiced some moderation.

Yelling was out, moving was out, Arginine was dead to the world―metaphorically, I confirmed after a brief listen with my ear to his chest―and my brain was fast running out of options. It was too bad that we didn’t have fireworks of our own.

Then my eyes fell to the plastic rectangular device strapped to the stallion’s nearby barding. Tracer fire from my rifle would be bright enough, but pretty brief. Indeed, if those fireworks were between us and the ponies launching them, the glowing orange rounds could be mistaken for merely flecks of the bursting charges that were already filling the sky. There would be no mistaking the brilliant blue lances of energy from the beam rifle though!

I quickly set my weak and clumsy hooves to the task of extracting the energy weapon from its carrier, cursing my drunken fumbling. While the plight of our situation had done quite a bit to alleviate my cognitive drunkenness for the moment, my body was still pretty firmly grasped by my inebriation, among my other pressing ailments. Somehow I eventually managed to extract the weapon and hold it in some facsimile of how a proper firearm was positioned when not integrated into a battle saddle. That was about as far as I got before hitting my next snag though.

It was at about this moment that I realized there was no proper trigger on the weapon. My brain balked at that information, and my hooves began to desperately paw at every available surface on the weapon in an effort to discover what made it fire. All the while, I resumed screaming for Arginine to awaken so that he could utilize the rifle and attract help to our location.

Eventually, I must have hit the right button, or knob, or whatever it was, because suddenly the end of the rifle spat out a bright blue beam of light that very nearly blinded me. Not having a perfectly clear idea of what I’d done that first time, I made an effort to better orient the rifle and tried my best to retrace the path my hooves had taken in order to fire off another shot. It took a while, and I had to trace over what felt like every part of the weapon twice, but eventually my hoof hit the broad switch along what I suspected with the ‘bottom’ of the weapon which fired off a second shot. It was actually pretty hard to tell with this thing.

My third shot lasted for much longer, so that it would be as obvious as possible to anypony who was looking even vaguely in our direction. I didn’t think that the beam rifle was designed to take sustained shots though, because it started making an audible whining noise by the fifth shot, and I could smell the faint odor of something burning. Arginine had said that his alterations already made this thing run a little hotter than it had really been designed to.

I felt pretty torn between a near-panicked need for the signal to be seen and recognized by those ponies launching the fireworks, and the knowledge that our best chance at being found was if I could keep up the shooting long enough for anypony looking to zero in on our location. We didn’t have a fire going, and neither of us had any flares, and my pipbuck’s light didn’t work, and it was getting darker by the minute. We weren’t going to be easy to spot unless somepony got really close to us, and that would be hard to do in the wide open Wasteland if all anypony had to go on was some vague general direction with no way of gauging how far away we were.

Anypony that might be sent out to search for the source of the ‘weird blue beams’ wasn’t likely to wander blindly into the Wasteland very far from their camp or whatever unless they could be sure they knew about where they were going.

So, it was with more self restraint than I honestly thought I’d be able to muster, that I managed to force myself to count to twenty before firing off very short bursts.

The weapon died after the fifteenth shot. I found the release that ejected the crystal pack, but when it popped out I was pretty confident that it wouldn’t be a simple matter of replacing it with a fresh one in order to get the weapon functional again. It had left behind a decent amount of melted plastic in its receptacle when it fell out, and the stench was almost overpowering. Arginine, or maybe even Foxglove, was going to have to put in a little work to get this thing operational again.

It looked like the stallion’s tweaking might have pushed the weapon a little too far.

I briefly tried some mental arithmetic to see if I could estimate how long it might be for anypony who might have been sent out to locate us, but it was soon fairly obvious that that was beyond the capabilities of my brain right this moment. With an aggravated sigh, I bent my head down and leaned heavily against the beam rifle, cursing both it’s frailty and my impatience in equal measure. If I’d waited thirty seconds between blasts, maybe…

Minutes drifted by before I finally tossed the useless energy rifle aside and slumped back against Arginine. I kept my head pointed in the direction where I’d seen the fireworks, desperately hoping that I might catch a glimpse of somepony coming our way. The fireworks had stopped by now. Maybe they’d seen the signal. Maybe they’d just run out. Maybe all of it had just been some weird figment of my imagination brought on by the radiation and drinking.

The adrenaline was starting to wear off already, and I could feel my thoughts becoming harder to keep focused. I’d done what I could. Honestly, it had probably all been quite futile anyway, even if there actual had been anypony there to signal.

It was dark. I was dying, and cold. Arginine’s body still felt warm. I curled back up against him and closed my eyes. I was just so. Damn. Tired…

Only Celestia knew how much time had passed before sound and light were part of my world again. It took my brain nearly a minute of semi-conscious thought to become fully aware of my new surroundings, and a few more seconds after that to figure out why these weren’t familiar surroundings. That I was lying in what was clearly a bed with clean white sheets went a long way towards dispelling any anxiety that I’d awoken someplace dangerous. Considering the times that I had woken up in rather less-than-ideal situations, this was no small consideration. It cut down the time I was in a state of mental panic to less than a minute. Which was nice.

Then I remembered that I hadn’t been alone and bolted upright, “RG!”

That was a mistake. I winced sharply and slowly lowered myself back down into the pillow, placing a hoof against my temple and gently massaging away the headache.

“I recommend taking it easy for a while,” an unknown stallion’s voice said from nearby. Before I could look around for the source, a face popped into view above me. A small flashlight was hovering beside him, darting its beam between my eyes for a couple of seconds before turning off and floating away, “you’re very dehydrated,” a glass of water floated over next, pausing at my lips.

It took me a much longer time than was perhaps proper to realize that I was staring at him. I couldn’t help it, I was very surprised by what I was seeing. I couldn’t decide if this stallion was a zebra with a unicorn horn, or a unicorn with a striped coat. I was leaning towards the latter theory, since his black stripes were over a tan, rather than a white, backdrop. I’d certainly never seen that sort of pattern before.

The striped maybe-not-a-zebra cleared his throat rather pointedly and jostled the floating glass of water. Jerked from my initial shock, I took several long sips, hoping that he couldn’t see my embarrassed blush, “sorry,” I mumbled once the glass was empty, “and thanks.”

The empty glass drifted out of sight, “you have the dubious distinction of being the patient who was the closest to death that I have ever received,” I couldn’t help but frown up at the striped stallion’s properly patterned speech. Between this guy and Arginine, I was starting to wonder if I was the pony with the weird way of talking, “were that I was back home, your case would most assuredly have earned me a place on the front page of several prominent medical journals.”

That was right: the radiation, “am I...am I going to be alright?”

The unicorn was thoughtful as he leaned over and inspected a bag full of murky orange fluid, “you should live,” his tone suggested that his prognosis wasn’t necessarily the good news that it had sounded like, “I can’t make any guarantees as to the extent of your eventual recovery though,” he turned his lavender eyes back towards me, “though, judging from the punishment that your body has obviously endured up to this point, I suspect that you may prove hardier than most pegasi I have examined.

“As to your companion, however,” he continued, turning and walking towards another nearby bed. I looked over and saw Arginine’s massive form beneath a sheet that appeared almost comically small for the stallion, “...I honestly don’t know where to begin. I’ve never encountered a mutant before. I have no idea how abnormal his vitals are,” he frowned, considering the stallion.

“He’s not really a mutant,” I offered, chuckling to myself, “his whole stable looks like that. They did it on purpose.”

“Really?” I couldn’t tell if he was impressed or disgusted by the revelation. Perhaps equal measures of both. Then his wan smile returned, “fascinating. Less than a month on the surface, and I’ve managed to encounter two cases whose files could have cemented a reputation that would have allowed me my choice of assignments,” he shook his head slowly and sighed, “figures.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what it was that the stallion was talking about. He was rather strange in a number of ways, aside from his stripes and his manner of speech. His clothing stood out too. A dark suede vest was worn snugly over an impressively tidy white collared shirt. None of that clothing looked like it was over two centuries old either. He was, without exception, the sharpest dressed pony that I’d ever seen―assuming he was even a pony, that is. On his flank there wasn’t one of those strange abstract glyphs that zebras had for cutie marks, but there was an image of an odd looking winged...snake...thing; so that wasn’t entirely conclusive in my mind.

His build was remarkably slight. He wasn’t malnourished or anything, just...honestly, if I had to use a word to describe him, it would have been ‘delicate’. That might have been an unfair assessment, and perhaps one that was influenced by his clothing more than anything else. He had all of the trappings and attitude of a pony who came from a lot of money, but wasn’t accustomed to doing a lot of hard work to earn it.

Then something that he said finally managed to penetrate my addled brain, “wait, you said that you’ve treated a lot of pegasi?” I certainly knew that I wasn’t the only flier in the valley but, by extension, I also knew that pegasi weren’t something you saw every single day either. Maybe there were two dozen of us, out of the few thousand who inhabited the entire valley. So, the idea that this pony could have examined enough of them to form some sort of general appreciation for how ‘hardy’ my kind were seemed...unlikely.

The striped stallion turned his lavender gaze back to me, his eyes twinkling with wan amusement, “oh, indeed. In fact, I am far more versed in pegasi physiology than that of other pony breeds; as they were expected to constitute the overwhelming majority of my patients.”

It probably took a lot longer than it should have for me to make the logical leaps to the rather obvious conclusion he was presenting me with, but I was still feeling pretty sick, "wait...you’re Enclave?” I exclaimed in disbelief, “but you’re not even a pegasus! Heck, I’m not sure what you are, to be honest…”

There was a deep chuckle from within the stallion’s throat and something very nearly approaching genuine mirth in his eyes, “no, I’m not a pegasus. I suppose that most down here wouldn’t know that there is a small population of wingless equines in the Enclave. As for me and my sister; we are ponies, mostly. Our father was a zebra. Mother was a bit of a...‘free spirit’ in her youth,” his smile soured a bit as he offered that last revelation.

A female voice spoke up from the other side of the room, “I like the stripes.”

My head whipped around, not having suspected that there was another pony in the room with us. Indeed, it turned out that there was a total of five, including Arginine and I. A young mare who would have certainly been able to pass for a bona fide zebra was sitting in the corner next to a small unicorn filly. The pair of them were drawing on some faded scraps of old newspaper, “oh! Hello,” I offered.

“Hello,” the mare didn’t look up. The filly did, briefly, without saying a word before she went back to her coloring. Then, rather unexpectedly, the zebra said, “it’s nice to meet you all.”

I cocked my head to the side. I guess she was talking about Arginine and I? It seemed odd that she would greet somepony who was clearly still unconscious, but her brother didn’t seem to react to the statement. I was inclined to dismiss it as one of many eccentricities that some ponies developed in the Wasteland when the mare uttered still more, “where are the other two?”

This got the attention of both myself and her brother, though his reaction was more of a concerned frown, while I was quite startled, “how…? There were three more of us, actually,” I correctly, “and I don’t know where―”

The zebra mare turned around and shot me an annoyed look, “I wasn’t talking to you,” she said tersely, “it’s rude to interrupt.”

“I―huh-wah?” I blinked at the odd mare, and then looked to her brother. Surely she hadn’t been speaking to him, had she?

A little nervously, the light brown striped stallion cleared his throat, “sorry about that,” he apologized, stepping over to his sibling and gently stroking her mane until she turned her attention back to drawing with the filly, “Meadowbrook...she gets confused sometimes,” from his tone, I suspected that there was a lot that the stallion wasn’t mentioning about his sister, but that was their business. Frankly, I had my own problems to deal with.

“That’s alright,” I assured the stallion, “hey, um...where am I, exactly?”

His features darkened considerably now, “I don’t actually know,” his words came out in something very akin to a growl, his eyes darting towards the only door in the room, “my sister and I aren’t what you might call: ‘residents’,” I quirked an eyebrow, “we were abducted from Shady Saddles the other day,” the stallion explained.

Now I was suddenly feeling a lot more anxious, “these ponies are slavers?” I was now very acutely aware of my lack of barding and weapons. While I didn’t actually expect to find any of my equipment, I looked frantically around the room in the vain hope that I might still find something that could be used as a suitable weapon. I was generally confident in my hoof-to-hoof combat abilities as a rule; but I didn’t exactly feel full of vim and vinegar at the moment. At around the same time that I spied what appeared to be my folded barding and associated weapons sitting on a chair nearby―to my unmitigated surprise―the unicorn supplied his answer.

“No, not in so many words,” he said reluctantly, his expression still sour, “the ponies here were simply in need of a medical professional, and learned of my background as a physician in the Enclave. Rather than ask for my assistance, they concluded that abducting the two of us was a completely reasonable course of action.”

“That’s horrible,” I furrowed my brow. Not at the situation of these two, though that was an objectively troubling situation; but rather I found myself concerned about my tone of voice just then. I’d sounded so...patronizing. It was like I’d just heard somepony tell me about how they’d been forced to drink red wine because they’d been out of white at some posh restaurant in Seaddle. That wasn’t how I was supposed to feel about a pair of ponies who’d been foalnapped, was it?

It seemed that my dismissive tone had been picked up by the stallion, who briefly flashed me a cold look of his own, “indeed. But, yes, I have no knowledge of what this village is called. It can’t be more than two day’s travel from Shady Saddles though.”

I hadn’t realize that Arginine and I had managed to drift that far north in our state. I’d grown too reliant on my pipbuck of late, it seemed. If and when we met back up with the others, I hoped that Foxglove would be able to work her technical wizardry on it and return it to operation though.

“Well, that’s something, at least. I guess I made better progress than I thought if we’re that close,” I glanced between the two striped ponies, “so, what were you two doing in Shady Saddles? If you don’t mind talking about it.”

“Our shipmates were obtaining supplies,” the stallion replied, his demeanor somewhat soothed by the idle banter we were engaging in now, “I thought that it would be a good opportunity to try and socialize Meadowbrook. Seaddle was...overwhelming for her.”

“Very loud there,” the mare announced without looking up from her drawing, “and the pony in charge is a liar.”

“Meadow…” her brother cautioned before turning towards me, “sorry. My sister forms opinions about ponies very quickly, and when she does it’s hard to change her mind.”

“It’s not my mind that needs changing.”

He sighed and shook his head.

“Shipmates?” I held the gaze of the stallion, mulling the unusual choice of word that he had used to describe his companions, “you’re a bit far from any water I know of to have a working boat…”

“It’s an airship,” he explained, not seeming to be aware of how fantastically rare such a thing was down here. True, you could catch the odd glimpse of something large and ominous moving through the clouds on occasion, but the Enclave never had cause to bring their rumored flying behemoths down to the surface, “and I rather suspect that they are long gone from this valley by now,” he added bitterly.”

Someday my brain was going to start firing on all cylinders again...I hoped, “wait, Seaddle? How long ago were you there?” it couldn’t genuinely be a coincidence that this pony from the Enclave had dropped by Seaddle, and Sapi just happened to end up with an Enclave helmet to sell me. In fact, as I slowly began to recall the extent of my conversation with the armor vendor, I came up with a few additional comments as well, “you’re the pony that sold Sapi the fake Enclave barding,” I cocked my head at the stallion, noting that he was starting to look a little more uncomfortable again.

“What was a real Enclaver doing with fake barding?” not that it really mattered all that much to me, but it did seem rather odd.

He appeared rather reluctant to supply an answer at first, but then seemed to decide that it wasn’t likely to do him any great harm, “my sister and I didn’t exactly leave the Enclave on what you might call, ‘the best of terms’,” he frowned, “disguises were involved.”

My lip turned up in an amused smile, “I didn’t realize that non-pegasi could go Dashite…” the stallion grimaced but offered a slight nod of confirmation. I thought for another brief moment and then winced, “by the way, my name is Windfall; and I don’t think I thanked you yet for saving my life. So...thanks,” wow, did that feel awkward.

The brown striped stallion frowned at me before letting out a sigh and managing to dig up a wan smile of his own, “Minos,” he nodded, “and you already know Meadowbrook,” he gestured back at the striped mare coloring with the still-silent filly, “and no thanks are necessary. Saving lives is...what I do.”

“Well, I’m really very grateful,” I repeated, “and I’m sorry about what’s happened to you and your sister,” I winced, and not just at the hollow tone of my voice either. I idly rubbed my head, feeling a dull ache in my temple.

The stallion frowned in concern and came closer, “headache?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Likely a residual system from the radiation exposure,” he commented. His horn glowed, adjusting something on the nearby plastic bag, and the tube that ran from it into my arm.

“It’s probably just the hangover kicking in,” I murmured. When I caught the stallion’s shocked expression, I couldn’t help but grin, “hey, give me a break; I thought I was going to be dead in a few hours, so I decided to throw back a few,” I lifted a leg and pointed at the still unmoving massive lump in the other bed, “so did he.”

“Skies preserve us,” he said, shaking his head, “and the scope of the miracle that I was able to save your lives only expands with every detail that I learn. The surface boggles the mind,” he sighed.

I shrugged and leaned back into the pillow beneath my head, grateful for the comfort. Minos went about fiddling with something related to Arginine’s treatment, and the other two ponies were still coloring, so I took some time to more thoroughly inspect my surroundings.

The room wasn’t huge, and contained only the pair of beds. It was pretty obvious that it wasn’t actually designed to have served as a clinic and―like many places in the Wasteland―had simply been repurposed. In fact...as I took in more and more of the layout of the room, I began to notice certain features that it had in common with other, similar, buildings that I’d been it. There was a single door next to a window with a thick, dirty, curtain pulled across it. Beneath that window was a defunct air conditioner. On the opposite side of the room was a little closet and a second door that was sitting ajar, revealing the remnants of a commode that clearly no longer worked.

This was a motel. I closed my eyes and dredged up my memories of the various valley routes that I’d traveled. We were on the western edge...Minos had said this place was a couple days from Shady Saddles…

I did remember an old motel that didn’t lie too far off the main route! Jackboot and I had given it a quick once over during our first major foray south. We’d been pretty sure that a place as obvious as a motel so close to a busy trade route would have already been picked clean, and it had. There was evidence that, over the decades, the decrepit building had seen some use by various parties. Caravans that had sought shelter during their trips. Signs that at least one band of raiders had made into a base of sorts to attack said caravans from. Of course, being so close to a main road meant that it wasn’t hard for the New Lunar Republic―or perhaps even Commonwealth―soldiers to find them and wipe them out.
In any case, I was unaware of any group that had recently moved in. granted, I hadn’t been by this way in...a couple months? When was the last time Jackboot and I had gone to New Reino? It felt like years, to be honest.

My attention was drawn to the door as it opened unexpectedly and allowed in a puce green earth pony mare with a tightly braided sunflower mane. She was wearing a very nearly threadbare shawl around her shoulders and an odd faded yellow hat of some sort with a trio of barely visible pink butterflies stitched on one side, reminiscent of the medical cases that one would find throughout the Wasteland. There were a trio of trays balanced effortlessly along her backside as she carefully stepped through the door. Her orange eyes seemed to widen with surprise upon seeing me lying there awake in bed, and a pleased smile spread over her lips. Minos, I noticed, was favoring the mare with a rather pointedly unfriendly leer as she entered.

“You’re awake! Praise Luna, it’s a miracle!” the mare proclaimed as she trotted up to the side of my bed, “how are you feeling?”

I was a little taken aback by the sudden display of such a warm and un-Wasteland-like greeting from a stranger. As a result, my initial answer was a little awkward sounded perhaps a little forced, not that she seemed to notice, “um...a little tired, I guess?” then my stomach interjected itself with an embarrassingly loud rumble, evoking a full on grin from the green mare and a glare from myself before it shifted into a blush, “and hungry, apparently…”

“So I gathered,” she replied with a small chuckle. Her gaze then turned apologetic, “I’m afraid that this food was meant for the good doctor, his sister, and little Petina there,” she nodded to the pair who were still coloring, oblivious to the rest of the world around them, “but I’ll be sure to hurry right back with something hot and fresh for you. The mayor will probably want to swing by to see you too, once I tell him you’re awake,” she looked past me now to the other bed containing Arginine, and then glanced at Minos with her unasked question.

“The stallion is still unconscious,” he confirmed in a tone that was unmistakably cold, and then he added, “and she can have my meal. I’m not feeling very hungry right now.”

The mare’s expression became troubled for a brief moment before turning dejected, “very well, doctor. I do hope that you’ll come to enjoy your life with us. We a genuinely very grateful to have you here, and we promise that you’ll want for nothing. We don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“But you don’t want me to leave, either,” he noted, his words carrying a distinct edge that seemed to physically cut the mare.

She set her burdens down, two by the coloring pair and the third on the end table near my bed. Then she turned back to me, a much more subdued smile on her lips, “my name is Ivy. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Right. Um, Windfall, by the way. Thanks,” I said, unable to keep myself from continually glancing at the striped brown stallion’s hard stare that Ivy was obviously trying very hard to ignore. When the mare left, an uneasy silence hung in the air that I eventually had to break with a muffled cough, “she seems...nice.”

“For a jailer, perhaps,” the stallion grunted, his gaze still locked on the closed door that Ivy had left from. After several seconds, he seemed to give up on his anger and sighed before finally walking over to the side of my bed and placing a hoof lightly up against the side of my neck. I held as still as I could manage until Minos withdrew his hoof and adjusted the drip rate for the bag of fluid running into my arm, “take only small bites please,” he cautioned, gesturing to the tray of food, “you’re going to be pretty weak for a couple more days while your body recovers. I’ve managed to flush most of the affected tissue from your body so there’s little danger of kidney or liver failure in your immediate future. However, even with this intravenous healing solution, it will take time for your body to replenish all of those damaged cells.”

“Lay back and take it easy. I can do that,” I smiled, looking over at the food that had been brought in. At first glance, it looked like some sort of stew. Upon closer inspection, I deduced that it was a concoction made up of diced bits of radroach, crushed alfalfa crisps, and Cram. Honestly, I doubt I would have been quite so adventurous if I wasn’t as hungry as I was; but two days without eating anything seemed to do wonders for the taste of the food that Ivy had brought. Meadowbrook and Petina were also taking a meal break it looked like.

I stared at the younger filly for a short while as she ate in silence before glancing at Minos, “so what’s her story?”
The stallion’s eyes darted briefly to the filly and then he shrugged, “they brought her in shortly after I arrived. She had some bruising around her face and sides, but nothing serious. She hasn’t said a word. Ivy claims that she’s never spoken to any of the others either. There’s no medical cause that I can find for her muteness. I assume it’s psychosomatic.”

“She’s a psycho?” I scrunched up my face in disbelief. That was a rather harsh thing to say about a little filly!

Minos frowned, “it means that she’s too stressed to speak. A number of the ponies here seem...on edge. They also appear rather heavily scarred and malnourished. I haven’t spent very long on the surface, but the ponies here seem much worse off than those I met in either Seaddle or Shady Saddles.”

Now that he mentioned it, Ivy had seemed a little...off, I guess was the word I wanted to use? There had been a tension there that I’d seen in some mares over the years. Notably Foxglove, in the initial weeks after Jackboot and I had rescued her. That, and the recounting of the injuries that Petina had suffered offered up several suggestions to why this group of ponies might have been keen to get their hooves on a physician, and none of them were either pleasant or, to be perfectly fair, unique in the Wasteland.

I craned my head to see if I could get a better look at what the little filly had been drawing. It was hard to make out every detail from here at the angle I was at, but I thought there were a lot of vague pony shapes. There were a lot of random red blotches around everything too, which I hoped was simply a product of a lack of a diverse selection of crayons. Though I suspected that was not the case.

Raider attack, or something similar, I suspected. Again, nothing unique for this place.

“So, Doc,” I rolled into a more comfortable position in the bed, “if you don’t mind my asking: what was it like, up there in the clouds, I mean.”

Minos was thoughtful for a long while, his eyes glazing over as he thought back over memories that were clearly bittersweet, at best. When he finally answered, it was in slightly pained tones, “it was...nice. Perhaps my own view of things is rather skewed when compared to what you might hear from some. My family was rather well off, you see. My grandfather served as the director of one of the premiere hospitals in Neighvarro. He made a lot of powerful connections during that time.

“Powerful enough that he was even able to save my mother from being banished after her little ‘tryst’ on the surface. The ‘official’ story is that she became separated from her wingmates while on a routine patrol of the surface and was captured and assaulted by a zebra commando,” he gave a little derisive snort, “she ‘escaped’ a week later and made it back to the Enclave.”

“I take it you don’t believe that was what happened?”

“Let’s just say that my mother often spoke surprisingly fondly about the zebra stallion who was supposed to have ‘ravaged her mercilessly’ while she was his ‘prisoner’,” he said, rolling his eyes as he smirked, “in any event, my sister and I were the eventual result of her ‘ordeal’. I performed rather well in school, and was accepted into the medical program at a remarkably young age; which seemed to delight my grandfather. He was in the process of securing me a position on the surgical staff at the hospital he had been the director of.

“I was on the fast track for a promising career and a comfortable lifestyle,” he said wistfully.

“So...what happened?”

The stallion’s gaze drifted to his sister, and his red eyes softened like I had never seen them since waking up, “my sister is...quite special. She has demonstrated capabilities that are beyond many ponies. Capabilities that attracted the attention of the leaders of the Enclave. They sought to use her for their own purposes,” now his tone hardened once more, “I stumbled onto their experiments and used every resource at my disposal to get her away from them. It cost me everything I had...but it was worth it.

“Even this,” he waved his hoof at the small motel room, “is a small price to pay to keep Meadownbrook away from the Enclave. Though I will admit that I had preferred my prior arrangements aboard the airship.”

“But your friends will come looking for you, right?”

The striped stallion snorted derisively, “the word ‘friends’ is perhaps a bit too strong to describe my relationship with them. We needed their protection, and they wanted a doctor. It was a business agreement, at best,” there was another glare directed at the door, accompanied by a grudging sneer, “though, I suppose that if these ponies can guarantee Meadowbrook’s safety, I may be able to...tolerate the conditions here.”

“If it’s not so different from how things were for you before,” I ventured, a little confused by the stallion’s reactions now, “why are you so pissed off about it?”

His crimson eyes glared at me now, “because it’s not my choice to be here!” he snapped at me, “I gave up everything I had back in the Enclave, except for mine and my sister’s liberty,” his hoof gestured at his sibling who, I noticed, wasn’t coloring with the filly anymore. She was still sitting where she always had been since I woke up, but she was staring at the floor now, her ears drooping lower in response to her brother’s harsh words, “and now we don’t even have that anymore…”

There was a brief knock at the door that caught all of our attention. It opened almost immediately, the visitor clearly only tapping on it as a courtesy, and not to ask for any actual permission to enter. I suspect that, given the striped doctor’s nominal status as a ‘prisoner’, he wasn’t exactly in a position to deny access to the room to anypony even if he was inclined to. A stallion poked his face into the room now, though I was able to spot the familiar green face of Ivy behind him.

“Oh, please, Doctor Minos, our little community isn’t so bad. I’m sure you’ll come to enjoy your stay here, in time,” the unicorn physician’s expression didn’t hide his skepticism. However, it seemed that the newcomer was a little more interested in me as he stepped all the way through the door and walked over to my bed, “Good morning! Well, actually, it’s already nightfall. You were out of it for a long time. When young Ivy here told me that you had awoken, I figured it was only polite to make my own introductions. My name is, Litany, and I’m the mayor of our little community of Notel.”

The first thing that I noticed about the stallion who was speaking to me now was the absolutely horrific number of scars that crisscrossed his hide. His beige coat was a veritable road map of poorly healed gashes and cuts that looked to be anywhere in age from a few months to a decade or more. The right side of his mouth was curled up in a perpetual grimace due to a particularly grievous wound that crossed his cheek, and the top half of his left ear was completely gone. His white mane consisted of just a few thin, wispy, hairs; but I didn’t get the feeling that it was entirely because of his advanced age, which I put at somewhere north of sixty.

Despite his abused exterior though, there was still a...vibrancy about him, especially in his hazel eyes. They almost seemed to twinkle as he spoke, to the doctor and to me. His body had clearly been through the wringer a time or twenty, but whatever may have broken his bones throughout his life hadn’t seemed to touch his spirit. It was actually a little off-putting to be near somepony who exuded this sort of positive energy.

Then my brain finally finished studying the new arrival long enough to process what he’d said, “wait, you named this place, ‘Notel’?”

“Yup!” the older stallion replied proudly.

“...and this is a...motel...” I asked tentatively, glancing around the room as though to make sure I hadn’t missed anything obvious that would have influenced my earlier conclusion.

“You’re very observant,” he commended me, nodding his head.

“So this is the Notel Motel?” I glanced between Litany, Ivy, and even Minos in search of any sign that I was being joked with. The first two nodded their affirmations, continuing on with their too-pleasant smiling. Minos, at least, has the decency to roll his eyes and grimace. Apparently, I was not being screwed with, “...right.

“So, how many ponies live here and where did you all come from? I don’t remember a town along this road…”

Litany seemed very willing, and indeed almost eager, to answer my questions. He clearly welcomed an audience that was a lot more receptive to him company than I suspected Minos and his sister had been, “there are about three dozen of us here right now, but we’re hoping to grow our numbers once word gets around that we’re here. As for where we came from,” for the first time since coming in here, I caught the first hint of grief in the stallion’s features, “we’re former captive of the White Hooves.”

Now that caught my attention, and I indicated for the mayor to elaborate.

“A while ago, there was some sort of...power struggle, or something. Most of us didn’t have the chance to see exactly what happened, but we know the broad strokes,” he explained, “Whiplash had been getting crazier than usual for a while. Then, suddenly, this other stallion appears in her camp and this fight gets organized. That wasn’t all that unusual, except that this time Whiplash herself was fighting. The next thing we know, there’s this huge explosion.

“Whiplash and the stallion were killed outright, and then they found her son dead in their tent. That was when everything went to pot! By nightfall a dozen different ponies had declared themselves the new Chief of the White Hooves and were recruiting followers. The fighting broke out but morning. Nopony knew what was going on.

“In all the confusion, a few dozen of us managed to get free and escape. We decided to settle here.”

I was stunned to silence. It hadn’t occurred to me to consider what would happen to the White Hooves with both their leader and her heir apparent dead. It sounded like the painted ponies themselves hadn’t had much of a plan in place in case that happened either if everything had become so chaotic that a significant portion of their slave population managed to get away from them like that.

“Why not go to one of the towns, like Seaddle or New Reino? Why settle someplace new?”

“We thought about it,” he admitted, nodding his head, “and we talked about it for most of the trip here, in fact. In the end, this seemed...easier. Very few of us still have any family left in the other settlements. Any family we had was either killed when we were captured, or died while we were slaves. But, as tragic as our lives have been, they brought us all together,” he gestured back towards Ivy and gave her a very careful and gentle hug. Even then, I saw her tense at the touch of a stallion, if only briefly, “and gave us a sense of community, after a fashion.

“Nopony can understand what we’ve been through, and we all need time to heal, emotionally, from what happened to us. In Notel, we can all be there to support each other,” Ivy nodded in agreement with the stallion, “perhaps, in time, some of us will leave to go seek out our old lives,” he sounded doubtful, “but, until then, this is our home,” now he was looking back at me, expectantly, “but don’t feel that we consider ourselves an exclusive community. Indeed, we hope that you’ll strongly consider staying once you’ve recovered,” he inclined his head towards my gear, which was still neatly piled nearby, “you seem to be a capable sort, and we’re always happy to welcome ponies like that.”

I became a little more wary at that remark, my eyes darting briefly to Minos. I’d already heard about how he had been ‘invited’ to their community. Were they going to keep me here as a prisoner too? That was my initial reaction, but it wasn’t a concern that lasted for very long once I put some thought into it. They’d left my weapons and equipment in the room with me, which didn’t strike me as a very smart move on their part if their intention was to try and keep me here against my will.

There was some lingering curiosity as to why Minos hadn’t taken my weapons and used them to facilitate his own escape before now. Though, having known a doctor or two in my life, I suppose that he was probably suffering from some sort of moral dilemma about being a physician and killing ponies. That wouldn’t be a problem for me if it came to it, but I highly doubted it would.

“It’s nice of you to offer, but I’ve got to find my friends and let them know that I’m alright. I’m sure they’re worried about me,” I watched Litany’s reaction carefully, wondering if I was going to have to charge for my guns and shoot my way out of here after all, and really hoping that wasn’t going to be the case. Mostly because I really didn’t feel up to killing ponies right now. Besides, Arginine still wasn’t conscious yet either.

“Of course,” the stallion smiled and nodded, “I understand. Though, I do hope you’ll remember us and stop by in the future. We’re hoping that Notel will be a nice place for ponies to settle down someday.”

Litany smiled again at the striped doctor, seeming to ignore the not so subtle glare from the unicorn, and turned to leave. He paused briefly by the other two ponies who were still enjoying their meals, kneeling down by the younger filly, “good evening, little Petina. Enjoying your dinner?” the filly made no reply, but that didn’t seem to particularly surprise the stallion, “still not talking, eh? That’s alright,” he sighed as he stood back up and resumed heading for the door, “you’ll come around in your own good time.”

“She misses her mother.”

The comment startled the pair of Notel natives, who turned to gape at the striped young mare who hadn’t looked up from her bowl of stew. Ivy was the first to speak up, “what was that, miss?”

“She misses her mother,” Meadowbrook said in that same quiet tone, “that’s why she doesn’t speak. Her mother died in the camp of the painted ponies.”

Minos began to fidget slightly, trotting over to stand in between his sister and the other two ponies, “sorry, she gets confused sometimes, I’m sure she―”

He was interrupted by the green mare, who brushed by him to kneel beside the striped mare, “no, she is exactly right! Petina’s mother died in the White Hoof camp not long before our escape,” she was looking at Meadowbrook excitedly, “she spoke to you, yes? She told you these things! She is getting better,” her gaze jumped between the older mare and the young filly, hope clear in her eyes.

Meadowbrook stared blankly at Ivy, as though perplexed by the other mare’s comments, “she doesn’t speak,” the striped pony insisted, “her voice disappeared when her mother left.”

The green mare’s brow furrowed in a clear demonstration of her lack of comprehension, “but...then how…?”

But Meadowbrook seemed to have already lost interest in the conversation. Her head cocked, as though she had heard something interesting, yet I could detect no sounds that should have prompted such a reaction. Without warning, the striped mare stood up and smiled. Her eyes closed and she slowly began to glide about the room as though she were...dancing?

Her brother’s nervousness was growing by the second as he saw the expression on the faces of the two Notel natives, “don’t mind her,” he insisted, placing himself protectively between them and his distracted sibling, “she just says random things sometimes,” he said far too quickly to be convincing, “she doesn’t even realize it most of the―”

Ivy, however, was not paying attention to the dark striped stallion, she only had eyes for his sister as she softly mumbled. The words were hard to make out, but I did catch one part, “...and she’ll do evil dances; and if you look deep in her eyes, she’ll put you in chances…” the green mare’s eyes grew wide as she proclaimed, much more loudly, “she’s an Evil Enchantress!”

“What?” Minos blurted, caught off guard by the outburst, “no, she’s just confused―”

But Ivy was looking at the town’s mayor, “how else could she have known those things about Petina’s mother? Look at her now, moving in such strange ways! She is a zebra enchantress, and she will surely place us all into a trance so that she can make us all into a stew!”

To his credit, even Litany was looking a little skeptical. He slowly moved past the concerned Ivy and approached the dancing striped mare carefully, so as not to impede her movements, “now I’m sure that’s not true, is it...Meadowbrook, was it?” he glanced back at her brother, who did not appear to like the way things were playing out at all. He at least managed a slight nod to the town’s mayor, who smiled warmly at the young mare as she finally seemed to lose track of whatever melody it was that she had been hearing and came to a stop, looking up at the older stallion, “you’re not an Evil Enchantress, are you, girl?”

Meadowbrook canted her head to the side, staring into the eyes of the mayor, “you knew her mother,” she said softly, startling him briefly.

“Um, yes, I did. I knew many of the other slaves in the camp―”

“You were in charge of giving out the food to the others,” the striped mare went on, not breaking her unblinking stare even as the stallion’s light coat started to pale even more, “you made some of the mares do things for their food. Her mother said no. She said she was going to tell the painted ponies what you were doing. You knew the painted ponies wouldn’t like it that you were doing things with their mares. You had to keep her from telling. You put your hooves around her neck and―”

Whatever else Meadowlark had been about to say was silenced abruptly by Litany as he struck her across the face so hard that she was sent immediately to the floor. He glared down at the fallen mare, though his expression was more one of fear than genuine rage, “Guards!” he screamed. I suspected that at least the town’s mayor wasn’t quite as certain of Minos’ docility as Ivy was, because a pair of armed ponies charged into the room too quickly to have come from anywhere but directly outside the door. Litany jabbed a hoof at the striped mare who was nursing her split lip, “this mare is an Evil Enchantress! We must deal with her before she can place us all into a trance. Listen to nothing she says, lest she place a curse upon you!”

“No!” Minos tried to rush to his sister’s side, but he was quickly stopped by one of the guards, while the other collected the listless Meadowbrook.

“What do we do with her?” the guard holding the striped mare, a unicorn stallion, said as he floated out a pistol and placed it against her head, “do we just kill her, or…?”

“No! Please, don’t!”

Litany didn’t pay the brother’s protesting any attention at all as he regarded the mare who had somehow known details about his sins that even I was having trouble explaining through any means but ‘freaky zebra magic’. Of course, Minos had insisted that, despite appearances, she was no more a full blooded zebra that he himself was. Did that mean that she couldn’t still perform any of their more infamous tricks though? The beige leader of the town certainly thought she could, “no. We must purify her evil―cleanse the curse she has brought with her.

“Construct a pyre.”

The physician’s eyes widened. His horn flared now, and I saw a matching aura surround my carbine as it floated up and oriented towards the unicorn holding his sister. However, a powerful buck from the earth pony holding him back broke his magical concentration and the weapon clattered uselessly to the ground. Litany rounded on the striped stallion, “I suggest you not do anything foolish, doctor. Our community still has use for your skills; but I’m afraid your sister is too dangerous,” he shook his head sharply at the unicorn guard, “get her to the town square immediately,” then to the pony holding Minos he said, “bring him too so that we can keep an eye on him.”

The mayor’s gaze fell to me briefly, and beneath their fierce glare I briefly wondered if I was about to become entangled in this little private affair of theirs as a consequence of my proximity. I guess that silence up to this point, and lack of any movement to intervene in any way must have spoken to my neutrality in what was very clearly an internal matter for this little community, because the older stallion didn’t say anything. He merely snorted and followed the rest of the ponies out the door, leaving only me and the still slumbering Arginine, who had somehow managed to not be roused by that whole exchange.

Either the engineered gray stallion had somehow been a lot sicker than I was, or had managed to get himself one doozy of a hangover.

Curiosity overpowered my lethargy and I carefully crept my way out of the bed. Nothing really seemed to hurt, except for a pretty potent headache, but I felt very weak as my hooves touched the ground and seemed reluctant to support the weight of my body. They managed though...barely. I did feel like a particularly stiff breeze would finish me off though as I slowly trudged across the room. I became briefly hung up by the tubing still attached to my arm, but managed to detach it before its interference sent me to the floor.

The door had been left open and I peered out cautiously. I learned that I was indeed inside an old motel, on the second floor. A lit neon sign off to the side caught my attention in the darkness, and I felt myself grimacing. One of the legs of the letter ‘M’ didn’t appear to be working, creating the word, ‘N OTEL’ in giant blue letters. Fair enough.

There was a great deal of activity going on down below now, as ponies were roused from their rooms and their duties, gathered together by Litany and the town’s guards. Several ponies were constructing a hasty collection of wooden debris around a lightpost out in the parking lot of the old motel. Meadowbrook’s limp frame was dragged towards it. I watched as two guards wrapped her forelegs around the steel column and bound her hooves together, rooting her in place as others piled on even more combustible material. Her brother continued to struggle and protest off to the side of the crowd that was gathering to watch the spectacle.

Litany stepped up in front of the town, standing beside the bound striped mare, and started to address the gathered ponies, “ponies! I know that many of you were preparing to bed down for the night, but I come to you with grave news! We have discovered, within our midst, an Evil Enchantress!” he jabbed a hoof at Meadowbrook, and his proclamation was greeted by a scattered chorus of gasps from the gathered townsfolk, “she tried to use her curses on our humble little community, but fear not! For I and your valiant town guards have captured her.

“However, we cannot be certain that she has not already used her vile powers to bewitch us. So, it is with a heavy heart, that I must sentence this creature to burn, so that she might be purified by Celestia’s cleansing fire, and her curses be undone!”

This was met by what were scattered cheers at first as the ponies seemed to weigh the merits of immolating a helpless mare, but as they saw how little actual opposition there was to the idea, the volume of the cheering grew, evolving into various chants that very much supported the course of action. It was a little hard to believe what I was seeing. The whole town was rallying behind the will of that one old stallion, and condemning Meadowbrook to die.

I wasn’t an idiot. I’d heard what the striped mare had alleged. I’d seen Litany’s face when she made those claims too. It had been the face of a pony who knew he’d been found out. Now, I couldn’t begin to understand how Meadowbrook could possibly have known about any of that―for all I knew she did have freaky zebra powers. That didn’t make her an ‘Evil Enchantress’, of course. It also didn’t change the fact that Litany apparently had been abusing whatever meager amount of power he’d had back in the White Hoof camp to take advantage of his fellow slaves. He was a monster of a stallion, and if anypony should be tied up on that pyre, it probably should have been him.

None of the ponies down there knew that though. Ivy must have heard what Meadowbrook had been saying, but she’d already concluded that the striped mare was evil, and so she probably wasn’t going to be too inclined to leap to her defense―if she even believed any of it. Minos wasn’t going to be able to do anything either. Unless a miracle came along, that poor bound mare was a goner.

I mean, I suppose that I could have done something. I glanced back over my shoulder at the automatic carbine that lay on the floor a short distance away. Maybe I wasn’t strong enough to fly down there and whisk her to safety, but I was a good enough marksmare to take out the ponies building the pyre and the stallion restraining Minos. In the confusion, they might be able to get away while I covered their escape.

I could even put a few rounds through Litany’s head on basic principal.

Now, I’d admit that I might feel a little torn about the whole thing. These ponies were escaped White Hoof slaves, so I certainly empathized with all that they must have been through in their lives. That didn’t give them any right to enslave other ponies though, they way they nominally had Minos. It certainly didn’t give them the right to burn an innocent mare alive, who was only even in their town in the first place because they’d brought her here against her will. So, while I wouldn’t be pleased at the notion of fighting former slaves trying to build a new life for themselves after escaping their captors, I also wouldn’t have felt particularly guilty about killing the ones directly involved in trying to kill Meadowbrook.
In the end, saving her life would have been a relatively simple matter that could be accomplished in a little less than a minute. All I had to do was pick up that carbine and take aim.

That was all that I’d have to do. Just that little bit. Even as weak as I was, that wouldn’t be hard for me to do at all.

There was just one problem with that plan: I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Never before in my life had I felt so conflicted about intervening to save somepony. It had always come so easily. Like it was an instinctive reaction. I would see a pony in danger, and then I’d act and do everything in my power to stop whatever was threatening them. That was how it had been with Foxglove. I’d seen the violet unicorn running for her life before a pack of ponies who clearly intended to do her harm. The next thing I knew, I was gunning them down in their tracks. Then again with Summer Glade and her little filly when they’d been confronted by Lancers. It hadn’t even felt like I was making a conscious choice when I swooped in and disabled those three stallions.

That wasn’t the case right now though. I knew what the difference was though. I didn’t have my cutie mark this time. I wasn’t a killer. I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the carbine and open fire on the ponies below.

A cold, foreboding, feeling gripped my heart. Was that what I had really traded away when I’d asked to have my mark removed? Was killing so intrinsically tied to saving ponies? I was so paralyzed by that thought that I almost didn’t notice when Minos somehow managed to get the upper hoof on the guard restraining him. I wouldn’t have ever pegged the slightly built physician as any sort of fighter, but I guess anypony was capable of rather surprising feats when they were well motivated. That brown striped stallion wasn’t what I would have called a ‘brawler’, but he still made a respectable accounting of himself as he fought his way to the front of that crowd, all the way up to his sister’s side.

“Stop, all of you!” he screamed at the crowd, who did not seem all that pleased at the interruption, “I won’t let you do this!”

Litany didn’t seem to be particularly concerned. He wore a smirk that just begged to be shot off his face as he glanced between the heavily panting striped doctor and the gathered crowd of ponies; to include a half down armored guards who looked like they were waiting for the order to run up and haul Minos back down off the pyre, “you can’t fight all of us, doctor,” the town mayor pointed out smugly, “just come down from there peacefully, and you won’t be harmed. You can’t save your sister.”

Minos glared at the older stallion. Then his eyes scanned the crowd, as though seeking any sign that some flicker of sanity might still yet break out and the ponies of the town would recover from their madness. It wasn’t going to happen though, and he had to know that. These ponies were already worked up into a frenzy, and they weren’t going to be satisfied until they saw somepony burn to death. They probably wouldn’t even bat an eye if it became two ponies.

He must have realized that too, because when he saw that he and his sister weren’t going to get any aid from the town, he flashed them all a final defiant glare and stepped protectively over his sister. He bent his head down and gently nuzzled her cheek, and I saw her return an apologetic smile before he laid down beside her and looked to Litany.

“Light it,” I heard the striped stallion say.

Just like that, one pony doomed to die became two, and I could see no sign that anypony down there was going to be dissuaded by the gesture. Neither was I going to be spurred into action, it seemed. To my overwhelming shame, I was simply going to remain perched and here and watch them both die. I knew I’d be giving up my talent for killing; but I hadn’t realized that the price was going to include relinquishing the very thing that had given my life purpose: saving ponies.

I looked on, unable to avert my eyes as Litany nodded to a guard bearing a lit torch and sent him on to light the pyre that would consume both ponies.

Then, suddenly, the parking lot of that old motel became a much brighter place as night became day. Everypony was taken by surprise, to include myself, as our collective gaze was drawn skyward. I felt my jaw go slack as I looked up and beheld a...something. I nearly assumed that it was a cloud, and it was certainly mostly a cloud, as there was quite a bit of the fluffy white material encircling most of the object. There was an awful lot of metal mixed in for it to be any ordinary cloud though.

An Enclave airship, I realized. Though I had never seen one of them before with my own eyes, there was little else that it could possibly be. I’d heard tales of the pegasus war machines, and the fearsome firepower that rivaled anything possessed by the pony communities on the ground―save for, perhaps, the Steel Rangers. However, having an unobstructed view of this airship, I found myself doubting some of those claims. In fact, I could spy any weapons at all on this thing. It’s boxy shape and squat contours didn’t lend itself very much to the air of a ‘machine of death’. I was thinking very much along the lines of, ‘freight wagon’.

Then my eyes were drawn to a ramp that opened up along the bottom of the cloud-craft. A trio of ponies were standing on that ramp, two pegasi and a unicorn. Both of the fliers darted out of the open maw of the airship and swooped down to land squarely in between the pyre and the gathered townsponies. One of them was a lightly built crimson mare with a chocolate mane and blue green eyes. The tails of a long brown coat billowed behind her as she flew, and seemed to flow around her like that brown coat was an intrinsic part of her. Once on the ground, her wings flared out to reveal a pair of rather intimidating pistols rigged to a battle harness.

The other pegasus, a taller, darker, stallion with an auburn coat, black mane, and cold blue eyes, landed slightly behind and to the right of the scarlet mare. He was wearing a blood red vest and eggshell trenchcoat. Beneath his wings were a pair of shotguns that he wasn’t shy about panning over the crowd.

“Well, Zero, look at this!” the crimson mare crowed loudly so that she could be heard over the entire crowd, “appears we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?” she cocked her head and glanced briefly at the stallion behind her.

“Big damn heroes, ma’am,” he replied in an almost bored sounding tone, not taking his eyes off the the gathered crowd.

The mare gave a satisfied nod, “ain’t we just.”

She cleared her throat and jabbed a wing back up towards the airship’s ramp, where the unicorn was still standing. She was a rather sturdy looking cream colored mare, and most of her features were difficult to make out past the veritable arsenal of firearms of every shape and configuration that was hovering around her. I felt that she simply couldn’t have possibly aimed all of those weapons accurately but, with as many barrels as she was directing at the ground, it would be hard to miss anything at this range.

“I’d like you all to direct your gaze skyward for a moment,” and indeed, more than a few, including Litany and his guards, did. The crowd visibly cowered beneath the array of firearms directed at them, “that there is Payne. Now she’s a might upset on account of she really didn’t want to come here,” I had to agree that the mare did look a bit...vexed, at the moment, “she’s looking to shoot somepony. I recommend that nopony here give her a reason,” the crimson pegasus then nodded back at the stallion flier, who moved to begin releasing the bound mare.

Litany seemed to gather enough courage to issue a verbal protest, but little else. Neither he nor his guards seemed all that inclined to make any gesture that might be seen as remotely threatening while under the many barrels of the irate looking unicorn above them, “hey! She’s an Evil Enchantress!”

The mare seemed a little amused by the statement, and briefly looked back at the pair of striped ponies. Meadowbrook was already freed from the light pole and was now climbing onto the back of the brown stallion. Minos stepped up near the winged mare, “that may be,” she offered with a shrug as she turned back to the mayor, “but she’s our ‘Evil Enchantress’.”

“Miasma...you came for us,” the physician said, sounding as though he still couldn’t quite believe what was happening even when presented with the evidence by his own eyes.

The mare rolled her eyes, “of course I did; you’re my crew. Why are we still talking about this? Get on and let’s get out of here,” Minos wasted no more time and clambered onto the back of the scarlet mare. Both fliers alit back up to the ramp of their waiting airship. The two striped ponies climbed down from their bearer and trotted into the belly of the large vessel. The pegasus, Zero, and unicorn, Payne, each followed them in, leaving only the scarlet mare in the brown coat on the ramp. She looked briefly down at the ponies of Notel, disdain clearly evident on her face for what they had been about to do to one of her friends.

Just before she turned away, she locked her green eyes onto me. Within them, I saw the question burning in her mind: had I been a part of this? If not, why had I not done anything to stop it? I had no answer for her. Certainly none that would have mattered. Reflexively, I looked away under the piercing stare of the other pegasus. A few seconds later, the floodlight all turned off, and the engines of the massive airship flared to life as the vessel sped away.

I could hear murmuring coming from the ponies in the parking lot. They weren’t happy at having their execution interrupted, but I got the impression that they content enough to have the striped ponies gone all the same. Litany was certainly quite relieved to be free of the mare who had somehow divined his darkest secret. I caught him looking up at me as the crowd dispersed. I had been present when that secret was revealed. Ivy would dismiss Meadowbrook’s words out of hoof, so she wasn’t going to be an issue for him. The question he had to ask himself was: was I going to cause trouble?

As little as a month ago, that was a question that wouldn’t have needed to be asked. Of course I would deal with the pony who had coerced enslaved mares into performing favors for their meals. The old Windfall wasn’t of a mind to allow ponies like that fleck of filth to keep polluting the Wasteland.

She was a much better pony than I was, it seemed. Because all I did was shrug and turn away to go back inside the room. I carefully climbed back into my bed and lay there awake for a long while.

Was this the mare that I wanted to be? The kind of pony that simply stood by and watched others get murdered by a crowd led by a rapist? Was I truly willing to pay that sort of price if this was what kept me from killing ponies?
Could I live with myself like this?

I recalled a night, not so very long ago, when I had concluded that I couldn’t continue on as I was. A moment of cold clarity when I realized that I didn’t want to go on living if my talent was just to end the lives of others. Even now I could remember how the cold steel of Jackboot’s heavy revolver had felt against the underside of my chin. But for an errant scream carried on the wind, I’d have painted the wall of that room with my own blood and brains.

Summer Glade and her daughter’s plight had surely saved my life just as much as I had saved them that night. The simple, pure, elation that I had felt when I’d subdued those Lancers and gotten the pair to safety had seemed to renew my whole sense of purpose. That was what I wanted to do with my life! I wanted to protect ponies, not kill them. Why couldn’t that have been my cutie mark?

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of somepony groaning from nearby and I turned to see Arginine’s large bulk moving beneath his sheets. The stallion’s head lifted off the pillow and his amber eyes peered through the narrow slits of eyelids that were reluctant to open. He glanced around the motel room in mild confusion before his gaze finally found me.

He quirked an eyebrow, “we’re not dead?”

I couldn’t help but smile, a little sorry that I didn’t have some tomato juice and a raw egg to offer the stallion, “nope. We’re going to be fine.”

Arginine grunted. Then, “are we in danger?”

“Probably not,” I said after a moment’s thought. Litany very clearly cared about how the ponies of the town saw him, and unless either of us proved ourselves to be a clear and present threat to that image, he’d be hard pressed to come up with any way to justify to the ponies of the town why the town bedridden ponies that they’d saved from the Wasteland needed to be dealt with. As long as I kept quiet about what Meadowlark had said in this room, he wasn’t going to do anything to us.

The stallion grunted again and then rolled over and went back to sleep.

I rolled my eyes and gave a little amused snort. Idly, I wondered if I was ever going to be able to get him to drink again.

Unfortunately, sleep didn’t find me nearly as easily. My thoughts were too occupied but what I had seen that night, and the realization of how little I had done about it. For the second time in my life, I wondered if, perhaps, the Wasteland would be better off without a mare like myself in it.

I was hard pressed to find compelling arguments against that argument.

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 35: STRAIGHTEN UP AND FLY RIGHT

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" A light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not "

I was no stranger to fitful sleeps. The first few months after my home had been raided hadn’t contained a lot of peaceful slumbers as I was wracked by nightmares, for example. Even after the worst of those nighttime terrors had subsided, my dreams would occasionally be consumed by images of gore and death that I had either recently witnessed, or―more likely―inflicted.

Last night was a little different though. What little time my eyes managed to spend closed seemed to be very promptly co-opted by a night terror, but it wasn’t of the same brand that I had grown accustomed to. I didn’t see the maimed, screaming, corpses of the ponies that I’d killed recently. That would have been quite the trick, actually, as I hadn’t killed anypony recently since giving up my cutie mark. No, last night I had very different sorts of dreams.

They had a common theme in them though. While the details varied from one to the next, they all seemed to be built around the premise that I was content to stand passively by while pony after pony―some whose faces I recognized, and some whom I did not―were marched to their deaths. The means by which they were executed seemed to be tailored to the pony in some way, ranging from mundane hangings, beheadings, and firing squads, all the way to more disturbingly creative means that left me wondering if my subconscious might need to be sat down with a counselor for some serious therapy.

Yet, while the faces and means might have changed, the one constant factor through it all was me. I simply sat there, an uninterested expression on my face, and watched them as they were put to death. On the frequent occasion that the condemned pony of the moment would plead for me to come to their aide, I simply shrugged and pointed a pinion at my flank, and the dingey gray equals sign that lay upon it. Then they would be killed, their body cast onto an ever-growing pile, and the next pony would be brought forward for the process to repeat.

It was not a...pleasant night for me, to say the least. Emotionally anyway.

Physically, I was doing quite well. Even both of my wings were feeling perfectly functional. A revelation which prompted its own set of bittersweet thoughts. I knew full well that Arginine and I owed our good health―and indeed, our very lives―to the efforts of the striped brown Enclave unicorn. While the larger gray unicorn stallion might have slept through everything that happened last night, I hadn’t; and so I knew exactly what I had been willing to do for Minos and his sister as the townsponies of Notel had dragged her away and prepared her for death by immolation.

I had done precisely nothing. Even when Minos had elected to give up his own life rather than live a day without his dear sibling, I had kept right on doing nothing. I simply stood above it all and watched as they were very nearly slaughtered by Litany and the ponies he led. But for the timely intervention of Minos’ shipmates in a daring rescue which resulted in absolutely no loss of life, those two striped ponies would be dead.

The hollow feeling that realization left inside of me bit deeper into my soul than the loss of my cutie mark had.

Ivy seemed to sense that something was off about me, and tried to take my mind off my troubles―despite having missed the precise root from which those troubles stemmed. Her notion seemed to be that I was upset about Minos not seeing the danger that his ‘Evil Enchantress’ sister had posed to all of ponykind. To that end, she made a few dubiously ‘helpful’ comments about how there wasn’t anything that I could have said or done to convince the striped stallion to see reason.

“I’m sure that she’s had him in her trance for years,” the green mare said in resigned tones as she brought us our meals, “I don’t think anything short of divine intervention by Princess Luna herself would have been able to save him.”

It had looked to me like three ponies and an airship had been more than sufficient to save Minos and his sister. A very different Windfall from not too far in the past could probably have managed it, in fact. I very wisely did not make those comments aloud, of course. I kept my tongue in check and offered noncommittal comments that the mare seemed happy to take as avid agreements with her own assessments.

I was moving around a lot better that next day. Arginine was looking much better too. The larger genetically engineered stallion was probably recovering a decent bit faster than I was, if I was being honest. I was quite thankful for this, as it meant that the two of us would be able to take our leave of this town that day. Ivy tried to convince us to stay a little bit longer, but I wasn’t particularly willing to entertain that notion.

Neither she, nor Litany, had been very subtle about their hopes that Arginine and I would opt to settle down permanently in Notel. Granted, the older beige stallion wasn’t being quite so insistent about that issue since last night. He couldn’t simply change his position about why he secretly didn’t want me hanging around any longer than was necessary, that would have raised too many questions with the other townsponies. He was certainly a lot more sympathetic about why I wanted to leave though.
Even if I hadn’t had more pressing matters to deal with elsewhere in the valley, I couldn’t see myself remaining here. Not after what I’d seen them try to do last night.

I couldn’t even bring myself to stay a second night in this town. There were even quite a few reasonable arguments that could be made―and were made by Arginine―as to why we should have. As late in the afternoon as it was by the time I’d felt truly ready to don my barding and gear, the two of us weren’t going to get much more than a few hours of travel in by the time night came around. As short a distance as that was, we really weren’t gaining anything in the way of time by not waiting for morning, where we’d be able to get in a full day of cross-country trekking before needing to stop.

It was going to take us two nights to get to Shady Saddles either way.

I just...I really didn’t want to have stay in this place another night. Arginine didn’t completely understand why I was so determined to leave that afternoon, but he didn’t push back too hard either after making his initial counterpoints known. He buckled on his own barding and checked his weapon, grimacing slightly when he saw the heat damage that my distressed signalling had inflicted. He assured me that it was mostly cosmetic damage, and that it wouldn’t interfere with the weapon’s lethality.

We were met at the gates of the town by Litany and one of his guards. I felt an almost instinctual moment of tension as they approached, but the disinterested expression on the earth pony guard suggested that she, at least, hadn’t been advised by the town’s mayor that anything aggressive was going to occur. Either that or she had the Wasteland’s greatest poker face. That probably wasn’t likely, so I let myself relax. A little.

“You’re sure we couldn’t persuade you to stay another night?” Litany asked pleasantly enough. His heart wasn’t quite in the question. I certainly got the impression that he was a little relieved that the two of us were heading out sooner rather than later, “I wouldn’t want you to think that last night was typical for us.”

“Are you talking about the abduction, the beating of an innocent mare, or the attempted murder of the same two ponies you’d abducted?”

I probably shouldn’t have said anything and just grunted politely as Arginine and I made our departure. If it had been Ivy telling me this as I left, I probably would have. Meadowbrook’s accusation still rang loudly in my ears though regarding what Litany had done while a captive of the White Hooves. Nor could I shake the notion that he wasn’t still engaging in more of the same with the mares here. Stallion’s like him didn’t change their ways, after all. Not that I’d ever heard of.

My not so gently worded question for clarification caught both ponies off their guard. The earth pony mare at Litany’s side was certainly the most surprised by what I’d said, but she at least had the decency to look a little abashed about it too. Chances were that quite a few of the ponies here recognized the hypocrisy of former White Hoof slaves like themselves abducting other ponies to use their skills.

I noticed that they’d still done it, of course.

Notel’s mayor was not cowed, however. His own eyes hardened significantly before glancing briefly to gauge the reaction of the armed pony at his side, “I wish you safe travels,” he said in a tone that dripped with loathing. Then he nodded at the guard and turned away from us.

I watched him for only a second longer before turning northeast and marching off into the Wasteland. Arginine trotted along beside me in silence. When the two of us were safely out of earshot from anypony in Notel, he finally spoke up, “I believe there are certain details about our stay that I am not aware of.”

“The doctor that treated us was abducted by them from Shady Saddles,” I began filling in the larger gray stallion in on all that I’d seen happen while he’d been unconscious. He had very little to offer while he listened, save for the occasional request for details or clarification. When I had finally caught him up, he thought for about a minute before he spoke again.

“Perhaps I misjudged you,” he finally said. I detected the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice and glanced over at him in confusion, “it had been my observation that you were dedicated to your mission to eliminate destructive ponies. I see now that I have erred in my conclusion. I will need to refine my model accordingly in order to properly categorize your goals.”

“I’m not a killer anymore,” I replied acidly, glaring at the stallion, “besides, it’s not like I had any proof he’d done anything…”

“I will concede that the evidence presented was circumstantial, at best; hearsay, at worst,” Arginine nodded, “however, you clearly believe that an investigation to discover the truth was at least warranted.”

“Nopony there was going to help me do something like that.”

“Did you ask?”

I had not, of course, and Arginine knew that. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew what he was getting at. Yes, I wasn’t acting like myself. That was kind of the whole point of getting rid of my cutie mark though, wasn’t it? I hadn’t liked ‘myself’ very much. The less like me that I was acting, the better off I was.

That assertion would have felt a lot more uplifting if it didn’t also leave a cold ball of guilt in my gut. The truth was that I wasn’t finding a whole lot to like about my new self either. My new self didn’t care about ponies who had essentially been enslaved by a town of ponies. My new self didn’t try to stop ponies from being brutally murdered right in front of her. My new self left a rapist in charge of a town as though there wasn’t a thing in the Wasteland that she could do about it.

Old Me would have despised New Me. New Me’s complacency with what monstrous ponies did sickened me to my very core.
You know what?
Fuck New Me.

“What are you doing?”

It was somewhere around fifteen minutes later when I finally realized that Arginine had said something. At the time that he had actually spoken, I wasn’t exactly paying all that much attention to what was going on around me. My world at that moment consisted of two things: the front sight of my automatic carbine, and Litany’s head. I couldn’t have even told you how many rounds I ended up firing. It was more than one, but a little less than the entire magazine. I had certainly expended more rounds than had been needed. Even at just shy of the two hundred yards that existed between me and the older mayor of Notel, I managed to land the first to slugs on target before the recoil lifted the barrel of my weapon too high to hit anything.

Litany hadn’t even been looking in my direction when he went down. The ponies that he had been talking to scattered as pieces of his skull exploded outward. For several frantic seconds, nopony could seem to figure out where the shots had come from. Then one of the more attentive guards traced the fire back to Arginine and I and an alarm was sounded. I could only imagine what the residents of Notel had to have been thinking when they realized that the young pegasus mare that their town had just finished saving had murdered their leader on her way out.

Chances were good that I wasn’t going to be very welcome if I ever came back around this way again.

I had to give the Notel security forces some credit: they were spirited. Almost a dozen ponies took up defensive firing positions along the perimeter of the motel’s parking lot. Most of them poked their heads and guns out from around the sides of rusted abandoned wagons and carts, but a few of the more brazen were standing out in the open. Most of them were armed with pistols and shotguns, which weren’t going to pose much of threat at this range. They seemed to realize this too, as only the few ponies with genuine rifles actually opened fire on me.

Those weapons had the range, but a combination of the shoddy condition of the firearms in question and lack of expertise by their wielders ensured that most of the shots went far wide of the pair of us. Arginine erected his shield, just in case, and I noticed it flare once or twice as rounds deflected off of the magical barrier. Even those I didn’t think would actually have hurt us. The unicorn stallion looked down at me in confusion, searching for an explanation for my actions, and trying to gauge what my next move was going to be.

I think he was half expecting me to charge back in there and start taking all of them out until they stopped shooting. Those weren’t bad ponies though―so far as I had any reason to believe. Right now they were just reacting to somepony who they saw as a threat, because she had just shot the pony in charge of their town in cold blood. They were being good, loyal, defenders of the ponies living in their town.

I was the threat. I was the killer.

That cold lump in my gut doubled in size. I was the killer, wasn’t I? The blinding fury that had taken hold of me long enough to put Litany down chilled as that realization firmly set it. Rounds continued to skip off the hard scrabble around us, Arginine casting nervous looks in the direction of the ponies still shooting at us while he waited for me to announce our next move. I wasn’t paying attention to any of that though. I was looking at my flank.

Killing Litany hadn’t felt any different than killing anypony else ever had.

How could that be? I didn’t have my cutie mark anymore. I wasn’t supposed to be inclined to kill ponies! I wasn’t supposed to be good at it! The whole reason that I’d let Starlight Glimmer rip my mark from my flanks had been so that I would no longer do exactly what I had just done!

I turned away from the town, my mind in a daze as I tried to wrap my thoughts around the implications of this particular epiphany, and started walking away. Arginine kept pace at my side, most of his attention focused to our rear as he maintained the defensive barrier. The infrequency with which any of the guards managed to land even glancing hits seemed to allow the stallion to keep the spell powered longer than I had ever seen him achieve in the past. I suspected that was because there was a world of difference in terms of demand when somepony compared a few scattered rifle rounds every dozen seconds or so to a barrage of energy beams from a Steel Ranger at point blank range.

Either because they realized that their shots were less than ineffective, or because they didn’t feel inclined to waste the ammunition on foes who were clearly withdrawing, the townspony’s stopped shooting once we were beyond three hundred yards. They didn’t seem to be of a mind to chase after us either, which I was grateful for. I wouldn’t have liked to kill them if they had.

I could have though.

Had it really all been for nothing? I had sacrificed my cutie mark in an effort to keep myself from sinking deeper and deeper into the role of a killer that I had been finding myself falling into. Scratch had been a bit of a ‘wake up call’ in that department. He had been one of the first individuals that I’d ever truly ‘murdered’, and I hadn’t liked it. Usually I only killed ponies when they posed active and obvious threats to myself or others. The griffon hadn’t been that though. He’d been an asshole, and I was positive that he’d set me and Jackboot up to fall into Cestus’ trap. Anypony―or griffon, as the case may be―that worked that closely with the White Hooves were bad news, and nopony in the whole valley would have disagreed with me on that.

He’d probably ‘deserved’ to die for the things that he’d done, it could have been argued. I just...hadn’t meant to kill him at the time.

Killing couldn’t be the only way to solve the Wasteland’s problems. I didn’t know for certain that there really was a better way, but I desperately wanted there to be one. Maybe that was delusional of me; to want to be able to keep ponies safe without also leaving a swath of death and destruction in my wake. It didn’t feel like the Wasteland was built that way.

Damn it if I didn’t really wish it was right now. I wanted options. I wanted to be able to do the right thing without having to leave some pony’s brains all over a parking lot! Why was that too much to ask?!

“Are you injured?”

The question shocked me back into the present and I glanced up at Arginine, who was regarding me with what was―for him, anyway―a considerable amount of concern. I was unable to answer for a few seconds as my brain fought itself free of my private thoughts and worked on dealing with the present, “no, I’m…” I paused again as I heard myself speak.

Had I been...crying?

My nose felt stuffed up, and my eyes were burning. I wiped at my face with a wing and felt it come away with a great deal of dampness. Yes. Yes, I had indeed been crying. There was no sense in trying to hide it either, but my own sense of stubborn pride insisted that I still, futilely, try to play the whole thing off like nothing was bothering me.

“I’m fine, RG. It’s nothing,” I managed in a slightly less shaky voice even as I more thoroughly wiped the tears off of my face with the tips of my wing and snorted back all of the mucus that was leaking from my nose, “just the dust,” there was no dust, and Arginine wasn’t an idiot.

No, the only completely clueless pony out here was me. I was a young, inexperienced, stupid, filly, who naively thought that she could do a Celestia-damned thing to make the world an even slightly better place. What did I know about the world, or how to make life better for the ponies living in it? All that I knew how to do was kill. That was all Jackboot had taught me how to do, and that was all that I thought I needed to know how to do. I was just a raider who was particular about her targets. Raiders didn’t make the Wasteland a better place; that wasn’t in their nature.

That thought hurt even worse now than similar ones ever had in the past. I couldn’t even blame it on my ‘destiny’ now apparently. It wasn’t my cutie mark that was making me kill. I seemed to be perfectly good at that all on my own.

I was a raider to my very core.

I stopped suddenly and sat down hard, staring down at the ground as those words reverberated around inside my head. Arginine stopped as well, looking at me with that uniquely concerned expression of his.

“RG? Am I a good pony?”

The question seemed to surprise the stallion, “I have observed you to be quite proficient with firearms and tactics,” he began, and I felt myself sinking down even lower, “you have proven yourself as an adequate leader under stressful conditions, able to make decisions very quickly and―”

“That’s not what I mean,” I interrupted, shaking my head and still not looking up, “am. I. A. Good. Pony?”

“...what are the parameters for the quantitative measure of a pony’s ‘goodness’?”

It would have made a lot of sense for me to have an answer for that question. Somehow, I didn’t. I’d never really concerned myself so much with what made somepony ‘good’ as I had with what made a pony ‘bad’. Banditry. Murder. Rape. Everything contained within that vile little family of activities were what I looked for when deciding if a pony deserved to be put down by a bullet from my gun. If a pony didn’t check any of those boxes, then I let them be.

Was that what it took to make a ‘good’ pony, though? Could it really have been enough to simply not be a ‘bad’ pony?

I remembered that look that the crimson pegasus mare in the brown coat had given me last night. I had neither abducted, not beaten, nor tried to kill Meadowbrook or her brother; but it was obvious that Miasma would not have considered me to have been a very good pony in spite of all of that; because I was perfectly content to allow all of those things to happen to somepony else without even so much as a token protest against it. Minos’ friends on that airship, they had been good ponies. They had not only rescued their endangered comrades, they hadn’t even needed to kill anypony to do it. Those had been the sorts of ponies that both DJ Pon3 and Homily needed to be bragging about to the rest of the Wasteland. They were real heroes.

All I was now was a filly who was content to sit on the sidelines and watch terrible things happen to other ponies.

“Nevermind,” I didn’t need Arginine to answer my question anymore. The conclusion I’d reached on my own was a pretty clear one; and I didn’t much care for it, “let’s keep going.”

As predicted, we didn’t make a whole lot of progress before it was too dark to safely continue on any further towards Shady Saddles. We found the remains of an old skywagon that had ditched in a field and used it for shelter for the night. There were signs that the old wreck had served as a place that many a traveler had rested in over the centuries. We decided that we could even risk a small fire within it.

We shared a meager meal of Cram and Sparkle Cola in silence. Arginine had never been much of a talker, so there was nothing new there; but I seemed to recall having been a pony who wasn’t averse to striking up a conversation once upon a time. I just hadn’t felt all that much like talking since Notel. Not that being left alone with my own thoughts had been doing me many favors these last few hours.

It would have been nice to have Foxglove around right about now. That mare had always been up for talking with me about just about any topic that I could ever think to bring up. Jackboot had always been receptive to conversation when we’d traveled together, but as close as the two of us had been, there had been things that I couldn’t say to the older stallion; precisely because we’d been close. With Foxglove, I hadn’t felt that same reservation regarding certain topics. She had been a largely ‘uninterested party’ in a way, despite her having some very strong opinions on most of the matters that I brought up with her.

Of course, if I wanted to talk to anypony about anything right now, my options were limited exclusively to Arginine. Here was a pony with some decidedly particular opinions about the world, of which I could honestly say I wasn’t a huge fan. I also wasn’t completely sure what to make of his recent...well, I suppose it wasn’t exactly a ‘change of heart’ that he’d had. It was pretty surprising that he’d helped me out at all once he was free of the explosive collar. In his place, I―or pretty much anypony really―would have more than likely immediately turned on my captor and killed them out of hoof.

Arginine had demonstrated himself to have some decidedly...peculiar notions about the world, to put things mildly. Knowing what I did now about certain aspects of his personality, and having been a witness to his nominal emotional detachment since meeting him, I suppose that his decision to aid me made a weird sort of logical sense. He wanted what was best―to his mind―for ponykind on the whole. If some of the weeds had to be pulled out so that the rest could flourish, then he was perfectly prepared to do just that. Like he had pointed out: that had ostensibly been my goal in life as well.

I had just been thinking on a smaller scale; and with much narrower criteria regarding the sorts of ponies that shouldn’t be allowed to continue existing in the Wasteland any longer.

For now, at least, the engineered stallion seemed of a mind to help me fight his own kind. That being the case, it did leave me wondering one thing, “RG? Say that we defeat your stable; what about you?”

The larger stallion cocked a brow, “How do you mean?”

“Well, you said that if your stable wins and creates their Omega Stain or whatever, they’ll eventually kill you, right?”

He nodded, “once my obsolescence has been realized, my life will be ended. That is correct.”

“So, what if we win? What would you do for the rest of your life?”

Arginine stared at me blankly in silence for several long seconds. He didn’t even so much as blink. It was actually starting to make me a little nervous the way his eye glassed over. Then, finally, “I...do not know. Truthfully, I have not placed a high probability on the chance of the ponies of the Wasteland being able to successfully resist my kind.”

I frowned at him, “if you don’t think we can win, why are you helping me?”

“While I do not place a high probability on an outcome that you would find desirable; it is, in my estimation, still a statistically significant possibility. I am essentially testing a hypothesis, nothing more.”

That wasn’t exactly the most uplifting appraisal that I’d heard from the stallion, admittedly, but I suppose it kind of said some positive things about how capable he felt I was that he was even willing to consider the possibility that the ‘invalid’ ponies of the Wasteland had at least a chance of fending off the army of engineered ponies that his stable was getting ready to churn out. It might have filled me with a tad more confidence if he had at least considered giving a little thought to what a positive outcome for us would mean for him though. That would at least imply that he was starting to think of our victory as moving from the realm of mere possibility to genuinely likely.

“So you really have no idea what you’d do if you were suddenly the last of your kind left in the world?”

He frowned at me, “While I am highly doubtful that even a grossly optimistic scenario wherein the ponies of the Wasteland emerge victorious in the end will result in the complete extinction of my kind, I can honestly say that I have not given the matter any thought, no.”

“Well, what would you want to do?”

“I have only ever desired to improve ponykind,” Arginine replied in a soft tone after a few moments of deep thought, “doing so has been my whole purpose in life. If that were removed as a viable option for me...I suppose that I would simply elect to end my life.”

I balked at the candidly stated answer, “you’d kill yourself?!”

The stallion shrugged, “my fate would have been to be euthanized in the event that my stable was ultimately victorious. I see little reason that it should be different in the face of failure as well. After all, ultimate defeat would mean a certain kind of obsolescence. The Wasteland would not have need of a pony with my skillset.”

“That’s not a reason to take your own life,” I wasn’t sounding as adamant as most other ponies might have been in this situation. Foxglove would almost certainly have been able to affect a greater degree of sympathy for a pony contemplating suicide―though perhaps not Arginine specifically. Frankly, I wasn’t entirely certain that I had all that much of a leg to stand on when it came to trying to talk ponies out of killing themselves. I’d tried to do that very thing not all that long ago. It hadn’t been for the same reasons that Arginine was talking about, but I could still understand where feelings like that could come from.

“What reason is there in a life without purpose?” he asked simply.

“Find purpose,” I rebutted, glaring at the pony, “what do you think I did? I wasn’t raised in a stable, so it’s not like anypony assigned me some sort of job. I had to figure it out on my own...well, not completely on my own,” I amended, “I had help along the way,” much of my current path had essentially been laid out for me by jackboot, after all. He’d taught me the trade that he knew best while he’d been alive. I’d made a few changes once he was gone, but the broad strokes had remained very nearly the same, “but I’m still doing something that I want to do with my life.”

I could have wished that my last statement had sounded a bit more certain. However, I’d begun to have a lot of doubts over the past week or so, since leaving Seaddle. No matter what I did, there was this little hollow feeling inside me. I was out here in the Wasteland, doing what I had done all my life―what I had used to love doing―but I wasn’t getting the same sort of satisfaction from it. Indeed, everything I did just left me feeling even more empty. Killing Litany like that had just been the latest punch to the gut.

I had always hated killing, deep down. That was why I had made sure that I reserved it for only a particular breed of vile pony. When the killing was in the service of helping or protecting other, it was bearable. I could assure myself that the deaths had been necessary. This afternoon though, even though I knew that killing the old stallion had been just, and probably even saved some other mares from facing his abuses later on, I couldn’t avail myself to that same contentment.

The reason for this was what was most chilling of all: I didn’t care about those hypothetical mares. My instinctive reaction to thinking about what Litany had done while in the custody of the White Hooves was, ‘bad things happen to ponies sometimes’, and it sickened me to realize that. At the same time, I couldn’t help myself.

Just as I couldn’t bring myself to even try and help Meadowbrook or her brother. Just as I hadn’t thought to try and help Ramparts fight off those monsters in the MAS hub. Ever since leaving Seaddle, I just wasn’t...me anymore. I know that was the whole point of getting rid of my cutie mark, but…

I needed Starlight here. She’d know how to help me with these feelings.

“As I have said: I have given the matter little thought,” Arginine’s words interrupted my introspective thoughts, bringing me back to the conversation at hoof, “in the unlikely event that I find myself in a position to consider the question of an, shall we say, ‘alternative career path’, then I may decide differently.

“In the meantime, I believe that there are more pressing matters to consider, such as locating the others.”

He was right, of course, “I’m hoping that somepony in Shady Saddles will have seen them and be able to tell us where they went. If it wasn’t too long ago, I can probably fly on ahead and catch them before they get too far from town while you wait there.”

I hadn’t been in much of a ‘flying mood’ since leaving Notel, but everything suggested that they were very nearly good as new, thanks largely to Minos’ care. Given what RG and I had recently been through out in the Wasteland, I was giving some serious thought to trying to track down a pony with medical training to start coming along with us. Back when it had been just Jackboot and I dealing with small bands of pissant raiders, getting hurt hadn’t been a serious concern. These days though, things were getting quite a bit wilder.

Perhaps Sandy knew somepony…

“In any case,” I managed to say through a yawn that had snuck up on me, “it’s getting late. You up for taking first watch?”

“I am feeling sufficiently rested, yes,” which only made sense, seeing as how the stallion had slept through all of yesterday in Notel.

“Good,” I crossed my hooves and settled in as comfortably as I could among my gear, “wake me in a few hours.”

“Very well,” there was a long period of silence, “Good night, Miss Windfall.”

“Just...Windfall.”

“I beg your pardon?”

A slight smile touched my lips and I cracked an eye open to glance at the larger gray stallion nearby, “call me, Windfall. You don’t need to keep saying, ‘miss’. It sounds too formal.”

“...As you wish.”

I closed my eyes, fidgeted around my saddlebags one last time, and let myself drift off to sleep.

My dreams were a little less disturbing this time, but not by all that much. I was pretty sure I did a lot of tossing and turning for the first hour before I was finally able to settle down into a much deeper sleep where no night terrors consumed me. It was a blissful feeling of unconsciousness that felt like it ended all too soon when I felt somepony nudging my shoulder. I’m sure that, deep down, I knew it was RG trying to wake me up for my shift, and I knew that I had to wake up; but I really didn’t want to. I was currently the most content that I had been in weeks, and I wanted to hang onto that feeling for as long as I could.

Eventually my sense of duty won out and I forced myself to rouse completely and open my eyes. That was when I noticed that a few minor details had changed since I’d nodded off. Really, I suppose that it was the one detail in particular that predominantly occupied my thoughts, as I was not overly concerned with the fire being out or Arginine’s energy rifle lying across his hooves, ready should the need for its use arrive.

No, what I was trying to grapple with was why I no longer seemed to be with my nearby saddlebags and barding, and was instead nestled up against the stallion’s side. It took my brain several uncomfortably long seconds to begin processing how this had come to pass. During this time of inaction, I was left staring, unblinking, up into the amber eyes of the genetically augmented stallion, very nearly touching his muzzle with my own.
For his part, Arginine merely look back impassively, “it is your turn to keep watch,” he said in his typically stoic tone.
While he clearly didn’t seem to be at all put off by our proximity, quite a few parts of my own brain hadn’t been prepared for this, and I felt myself blush rather hotly beneath my coat as a certain treacherous primal part of my subconscious noted how toned and sinewy his muscled shoulder and torso felt as I was pressed up against them. Yes, I admonished that part of me rather severely, he’s a very fit stallion. He was designed in a lab, for Celestia’s sake!
He’s also an emotionless husk of a pony who has been helping to exterminate the Wasteland!
That wayward little piece of my libido that wasn’t particularly concerned with the broader security and wellbeing of ponykind as a whole was content to note that it wasn’t his emotions that it would feel good to have―
Nope! Not thinking about that! Not with him!

I rolled away from the stallion’s side with a suddenness that took the both of us by surprise. My focus was very keenly directed at getting on my barding and readying my new carbine, which I knew full well was not necessary for me to do in the least. However, it did help to redirect my thoughts away from any idle speculation about how other parts of the stallion’s anatomy might have been purposefully sculpted. I mean, if he was supposed to be made up of all of the best physical attributes that ponykind possessed…

Did that radiation exposure mess with my brain? What is wrong with me?!

“Are you feeling alright, Mi...Windfall?”

“You’re fine―I’m fine!” I blurted. Oh, Celestia, just strike me down with a lightning bolt right here and now, please…

I took a deep breath and recomposed myself before I ended up saying something that was going to end up shifting my blush from bright crimson to something far beyond the ability of pony eyes to see, “I’m just...you should have woken me up sooner. When I rolled over onto you. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Under most circumstances, I would have,” Arginine nodded, “however, you did not seem to be sleeping well. Upon repositioning yourself against me, you calmed noticeably. I determined that the physical contact was not bothersome enough to warrant disrupting you.”

Oh, I so didn’t need to hear that. If I got any more embarrassed, I was going to, literally, spontaneously combust, “next time, wake me up. Okay?”

“If that is your desire.”

I finished fastening my barding and headed out from beneath the sky wagon, “I’m going to do a quick fly around the perimeter,” maybe that cool night air hitting my face at a hundred miles an hour would help me focus on things that weren’t big, strapping, attractive―Stop it!

Before Arginine could say anything else, I was in the air and beating my wings as fiercely as I dared, taking my first real flight in over a week. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that there wasn’t any real pain or discomfort associated with the effort. There was a small amount of stiffness, but that was very easily attributed to my wing having been confined to a sling for so long. Even that sensation didn’t last for very long, and before I knew it I was soaring through the air as though I had never suffered the injury in the first place.

This would help. Maybe my lack of air time had been the source of most of my mounting frustrations and anxieties? I was a pegasus, after all. Being remanded to the ground was tantamount to being imprisoned for a pony like me. It certainly couldn’t have been doing me any good.

Of course, I knew, deep down, that being unable to fly wasn’t the only thing that was bothering me. Those issues were too much for me to deal with right now though, and would take a lot of time and talking with several other ponies for me to finally resolve. Assuming that they could be resolved, that is. Right now, though, I was just going to let myself focus on flying through the sky.

It wasn’t really going to be much of a perimeter check, to be honest. This far out into the middle of the Neighvada Valley, away from any serious settlement, and with the thick overhead cloud cover, the darkness was very nearly absolute. Unless somepony was walking around down there with a lit pipbuck or a flare, I wasn’t realistically going to be able to spot them from up here. Not lone ponies, certainly. A trade caravan I might have a chance of catching sight of though, not that any such thing would be on the move at night anyway.

Other than that, it would have to be a significantly large group of ponies making their way through the Wasteland for me to notice them under these conditions.

...Like that one right there. What in the―?

My gaze was torn very abruptly from the unexpected sight of a dozen dark shapes scampering along the ground to several lightning flashes a few miles further away. At least, I had taken them to be lightning flashes when all I had caught them with was the corner of my eye. Looking squarely in their direction though, it was quickly obvious that those lights were not lightning at all. They were energy weapon discharges.

Brilliant, green, energy weapon discharges. I had seen that type of display once before, when assaulting the facility that RG had been working at.

They were here, and they were attacking somepony. I looked back at the pony shapes running nearby. Those were almost certainly ponies who were trying to get away while others fought a delaying action to cover their escape. My best guess was that they were heading in the direction of Shady Saddles. Depending on how long the ponies fighting the attackers from Arginine’s stable were able to hold out for, they might even be able to get enough of a head start to actually get away.

More signs of movement caught my attention. There were additional ponies running in that direction, trailing behind the front group. These shapes were significantly larger. Approximately Arginine sized, in fact. They were also gaining on the lead group.

There weren’t going to be any survivors after all.

I settled into a hover above the scene and looked on. The fleeing ponies were making a desperate run, I had to admit that, and they seemed to at least realize that they were being pursued, because they occasionally changed the direction of their run. They probably didn’t realize that their engineered attackers had pipbucks whose EFS would have no trouble at all picking them out in the blackness. All the ponies chasing them would see were some blips floating in front of their eyes, sure, but it would be more than sufficient to keep from losing track of their targets.

As one might have expected, it didn’t take very long for the faster soldiers to finally run down the fleeing non-combatants. A few of them had at least been armed, and I heard shots ring out in unison with some scattered muzzle flashes. Lances of green light were quick to answer those shots, silencing them. No further shots rang out, though I could hear a fearful cry here and there, which were also abruptly cut short with brutal efficiency. No further fighting was going on in the distance either.

Once again, I had merely sat by and watched as innocent ponies suffered. I raged at that numb feeling within me, but it changed nothing. I felt no compulsion to go and try to rescue these ponies from their genocidal attackers.

All I did was silently turn around, and glide back towards the overturned wagon that Arginine and I were sheltering in. If members of his stable were this close, it would probably be best for us to be elsewhere, in case they expanded their search for any additional runners and came across us. It would be quite interesting to see how the large gray stallion took the news that a group of his former comrades was in the area.

I alit outside the wagon and walked in, “hey, RG, you awake? We need to go. There are some―”

The rest of what I was about to say died in my throat, choked off by the sudden rush of terror that shot through me like a lightning bolt. Arginine wasn’t alone in the wagon. Two other ponies, each as large in size as he was, and possessing the same odd double-horn atop their heads, were with him. Three sets of golden eyes turned to look at me. Horns glowed, and before I knew what was happening, I was struck by a bolt of amber energy.

I couldn’t move. My legs were rooted in place, my wings glued to my sides. I couldn’t even shift my head far enough forward to manipulate the trigger bit of my carbine. That feeling of dread took a firm hold of my sensibilities as I realized that I couldn’t escape. In desperation, my wide eyes locked onto Arginine. What would he do? He had promised to help me fight his stable; would he hold to that promise?

“Is this the pegasus that you mentioned?” one of the new arrivals asked in the same monotone that Arginine possessed.

“It is,” Arginine replied calmly, “I advise against killing her. She has demonstrated herself to be worth studying in detail. I am quite eager to discover the full extent of her capabilities once we have returned to your facility.”

“Very well,” the other engineered pony said. I felt the straps securing my battle saddle loosen, along with those of my barding. In a matter of seconds, all of my equipment was lying on the ground.

This couldn’t be happening! I grunted and struggled against the powerful magical field that was keeping me held in place, but it did no good. Neither of the armored ponies holding me even seemed to notice that I was trying to resist them as one of them produced a curious looking pistol which had a vial of some sort of fluid mounted onto the side of it. I tried, vainly, to pull away as the barrel of the weapon was shoved up against the side of my neck.

“RG―!”

There was a loud hiss, and then I felt an intense jet of fluid strike my flesh.

Things got very blurry after that. Then they went dark.

I think I was getting used to waking up in strange places without remembering how I’d gotten there. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that quite yet. It probably wasn’t a good thing, but it was apparently not going to stop being the way that things went in my life anytime soon. I suppose that as long as I kept actually waking up it wasn’t quite as bad as it could be. Not that things were ever what could charitably be described as ‘great’ when I did come back around to consciousness.

As per usual, it took a little while for my brain to catch me up on the recent series of events that had resulted in my waking up wherever I was. When those memories finally became clear, that was when the panic set in. There were hints of anger and fear mingled in with it too, of course; but most of it was simple panic, I was pretty sure.

The cell―box, really―that I was confined to wasn’t much bigger than I was, and it was possessed of only the smallest mesh-covered window on one side. Everything else was solid steel that didn’t particularly seem to care how hard I kicked or hit it; it wasn’t going to buckle and let me out. I wasn’t alone though, I could tell that much. I could hear the muffled ‘thumps’ of other ponies beating on their boxes as well. There were a few wailing cries to go along with the pounding as other captives pleaded for mercy and release.

My mind kept going back to Arginine’s facility, and the horrors that I’d witnessed there. The pile of discarded corpses of those ponies who had either proved to be useless to them, or upon whom the experimentation had concluded. Everypony here, to include myself, was going to end up in a similar pile. Not before going through a torturous dissection process though. In that sense, the ‘rejects’ among us would be the lucky ones, to be spared that ordeal.

I wasn’t going to be one of those ‘lucky’ few though, was I? I remembered Arginine’s comment before I’d been knocked out. He’d flatly stated that I, specifically, was to be examined and experimented on. I could still picture the cold detachment in his eyes when he’d said it. His expressions had always seemed uninterested to one degree or another―that was just how he was wired, it turned out―but I’d never been so thoroughly chilled to my bones by anything he’d ever said as I had been right then. He’d made it sound like it was going to be him doing the actual cutting and stuff.

Would he really do that, after everything that we’d been through?

A derisive snort escaped me. ‘What we’d been through’? Did I mean the time that I’d threatened to blow off his head if he failed to save a foal born to a distressed mother? Maybe I was thinking about the time I dragged him into a fight with a bunch of Steel Rangers and basically forced him to keep me from getting killed so that he wouldn’t die too. I’d enslaved him and forced him to fight for me time and again. ‘We’ had been through nothing. I had put him through a lot, under pain of death.

Of course he was going to be the pony doing the cutting. It would only be just.

I heard movement from outside my box. I craned my head as best as I could and put my eye to the small mesh window to see what was going on. We were inside on a larger room. One of the large engineered ponies in bloodied surgical scrubs had just stepped in. He walked out of sight towards the sounds of the other struggling and pleading ponies that I could hear nearby. There was the sound of metal scraping against metal as one of the small boxes that we were being held in was removed from the rest. A moment later, both the box and the pony wearing surgical scrubs returned to view, the metal cube ensnared in his telekinetic glow.

A second of the large gray ponies appeared in the doorway now, glancing at their comrade and his burden, “is that the subject for the cardiac tests?” she asked.

Her compatriot nodded, “it is. Preliminary scans indicate that their heart can maintain nearly two hundred and fifty beats per minute for a sustained period of time.”

“Chief Technician Vitas has issued an addendum for that subject: he wants to know what pharmacological doses would be required to achieve three hundred, and how long the heart can endure before complete organ failure.”

The pony wearing scrubs fowned slightly, “did he indicate why he had altered the parameters of the testing?”

“A new directive from the Stable,” was the response, “they are seeking more dramatic improvements in the Lambda Strain.”

“Even if that heart rate can be achieved, the increase in blood pressure will likely rupture blood vessels long before the heart itself fails.”

“You are authorized to use any fluid and blood replacement products that are required to maintain life functions until the final result is achieved,” the mare informed him, “other subjects are being screened for thickened arterial and venous walls that can tolerate the increase in blood pressure. Record the pressures you achieve so that they can be passed along. The previous subject to be tested tolerated a systolic of five hundred before suffering a fatal brain bleed.”

“I will keep that number in mind while conducting my own tests,” they nodded before leaving through the door, their box and the pleading pony it contained floating in front of them.

The mare did not leave with him, instead walking towards us. Well, me specifically, it turned out. She bent her head down slightly and peered through the mesh with her golden eye, “you are the pegasus, subject, correct?”

This would have been an ideal moment for a defiant witty retort that questioned either their intellect or visual acuity. Unfortunately, I was drawing a blank in that regard. The question proved to be ultimately rhetorical anyway. It seemed odd that the ponies running this slaughterhouse would bother bantering with the ponies they intended to murder. Of course, I suppose that I’d encountered more than a few raiders who weren’t shy about taunting their victims.
I was also in the habit of trying to deliver what I considered to be little witty remarks to the raiders I killed. Why did I do that? Those final snappy lines amused me personally, sure; but they must have seemed almost cruel to the ponies I was killing in those final moments. Perhaps they even bordered on being sadistic, and yet I insisted on making them. Much like just about anything that these ponies could have to say to their captives before taking them away to be cut up and dissected.
...I really hated that I kept finding ways I wasn’t so different from them.
The box I was in shifted beneath my hooves, sending me collapsing to the floor of my cramped little cell. The gray mare’s magic lifted my container out of its recess in the wall of cells and proceeded to carry me out the door without another word. I guess that she was done chatting up her next victim.
I tried to get a good look at my surroundings as I was floated through the facility’s corridors, but it was hard to get a good view of anything through the tiny opening that existed. It probably wasn’t intended for much more than ventilation to keep their occupants from suffocating while they waited. I didn’t have a lot of time either. Much like the facility that I’d raided that first time outside New Reino where I’d found Arginine, it wasn’t very large. Though it did feel at least a little bigger than the other one.

I was marched into a very familiar looking room. I had been in one very like it a few months ago not too far outside of New Reino. To add a further sense of deja vu to the experience, I almost immediately noticed Arginine sitting at a terminal on the far side. He was once more dressed in the jumpsuit of the ‘medical’ technicians of his stable. There were a few others similarly dressed in this abattoir of an examination room. They had been busy too.

Organs and vivisected corpses lay on several tables that I was guided past by the large mare who had me under the barrel of her energy weapon. Nausea battled with fear deep in my gut as I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to puke or cry. There was little doubt in my mind about the reason that I had been brought here, after all.

Arginine looked up from where he was at the terminal station and stood up. One of the ponies working near him turned his head to follow where the other stallion’s attention had been drawn to. He cocked an eyebrow, “ah. I take it that this is the mare you mentioned in your report of what happened to installation Epsilon-Three?”

“Indeed,” the pony who had been traveling with me nodded. I desperately searched his impassive features for any sign that this was all just some elaborate ruse or joke. He had promised that he would help me!

“I must admit that, from your account, I had expected her to be...taller.”

“She is quite capable, I assure you,” said Arginine, “I am confident the testing protocols I have in mind will demonstrate that adequately,” he gestured his head in the direction of one of the nearby examination tables, and the armed pony at my side guided me pointedly towards it with their weapon. Numbly, I complied.

...Celesia, please tell me that this wasn’t really happening. Please…

“Regardless of the results,” the other stallion noted, “it will be worthwhile to add to our pegasi genetic profiles. Until we can reliably ambush the Enclave patrols, pegasus DNA is at a premium.”

“It is not her wings that interest me,” Arginine said in a quiet tone. I wasn’t even completely certain that he had been talking to his companion just then.

I was marched to the table that the two stallions wearing lab coats were standing. A magical levitation field was quick to deposit me on it, at which point the guard and the pony with Arginine judiciously set about restraining my legs to its cold metal surface. My terror redoubled as my eyes noted several other corpses nearby who were similarly restrained, only they had several very essential pieces missing from them.

That was going to be me soon.

My gaze kept shifting to Arginine, whose own expression was that frustratingly impassive mask that he always wore. I couldn’t suppress my futile hope that he was suddenly going to save me. The part of my brain―a very small one at the moment―which was still capable of rational thought knew that wasn’t going to happen though. There would have been plenty of opportunities for him to have gotten me out of here before now; especially since none of the other ponies from his stable seemed to be even remotely inclined to question his ultimate loyalty.

That was the most telling part, really. Nopony was keeping Arginine under guard. He’d been given fresh clothing and seemed to have been allowed to go right back to doing his old job. As smart as these ponies all were, it was highly unlikely that they’d be stupid enough to give him all of this leeway if they weren’t sure that he was completely trustworthy.

“I’ll prepare the anesthesia while you collect the preliminary blood work,” the other stallion said, stepping over to a pair of pressurized cylinders, “pegasi generally have superior avioli over most other pony breeds. We’ll start by excising one of her lobes for examination.”

“Actually,” Arginine said, raising a hoof to stop the other technician, “if I may, there is one test that I would like see the results of before she is dismembered.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” even though Arginine appeared to still be addressing the other stallion, he kept his gaze focussed fully on me. I was unable to look away; mostly because in every other direction were dead ponies. There was something...off, about his expression as he spoke now, “you mentioned that you came across two other specimens of note during last night’s raid?”

“Hm? Oh, yes,” the other stallion was slightly taken aback by the abrupt change in topic, “two unicorn mares. We suspect that one is of stable stock. The other, unbelievably enough, may actually be a relic from pre-Wasteland Equestria. Preliminary analysis of her DNA suggests that she has had less exposure to background radiation that even ponies born in stables! We will be conducting meticulously thorough examinations of her body once the rest have been sifted for characteristics.”

I felt my heart stop. Two unicorn mares, one from a stable, and the other from a time without rampant magical radiation. Those could only be two ponies: Foxglove and Starlight Glimmer! But, how? Had they been with that caravan that was attacked? Not that it mattered how they had been captured. The evidence was clear that they had been. They were here. They were here, and that meant that they were going to be killed too. We were all going to die, and there was nopony that could possibly save us.

“I see,” Arginine continued, still keeping his attention focused on me, “I took a look through their belongings when I heard what you had found. I can confirm that they are indeed what you have hypothesized. I was even present for the revival of the mare from Old Equestria’s time. I am positive that a study of her physiology would be of incalculable benefit to our cause.

“However, I suspect that this mare will prove even more interesting,” he added in a lower tone, “with your permission, I would like to conduct my test. It should take only a few minutes.”

“Very well,” the other stallion nodded, “what equipment will you require?”

“I already acquired what I need,” he said. I saw his bags glow, and a moment later a glass jar floated into view. Within that jar was a winged heart, pierced by a sword. My eyes widened as I saw Arginine’s lip twitch ever so slightly. The magical telekinetic aura surrounding the jar suddenly evaporated and it began to fall towards the floor. At the same moment, Arginine reached out with his hoof and depressed a mechanism on the table that I was strapped to.

“Wait, what are you―?”

The jar shattered at about the same moment that the restraints binding me to the table suddenly retracted. Freed from its transparent prison, my cutie mark swooped up into the air, and promptly sought me out like some sort of homing missile. When it made contact with my body, I was overcome by a sensation of warmth, and a feeling of immense relief more powerful than any that I had ever felt before. Nearly all of my fear and my anxiety washed away right then and there.

Not all of it, of course. I was still quite keenly aware of the danger that I was in, surrounded by a small army of these genetically engineered ponies intent on wiping out the inhabitants of the Wasteland. I wouldn’t describe it as ‘fear’ though, in the same sense as those feelings that had kept me paralyzed and incapable of resisting. It was really more of a practical wariness as I acknowledged that they were an enemy that I couldn’t take too lightly. These ponies were a lot more capable than the typical raider, after all.

However, they weren’t more capable than me; and I was intent on demonstrating that fact.

“Sorry, I’m not really into the whole ‘bondage’ scene,” I snapped as I shot straight up into the air before the mare who had been escorting me was able to fully grasp what was happening. Clearly neither she, nor the others, had anticipated that Arginine would do what he had done. Honestly, I hadn’t quite seen it coming either. That was a mystery to solve later though. Right now, I had threats to deal with and ponies to save, “well, not on a first date, anyway…”

My hooves made contact with the ceiling and I rocketed away with a powerful kick, flipping through the air and delivering a fierce double-buck to the face of the armored mare. I could feel, and hear, her jaw buckling under the force of the blow. She reeled back from the strike, grunting loudly with pain. Her weapon clattered to the floor, freed from her disrupted magical hold on it, where I wasted little time grabbing it up.
“Oops, you dropped something! Let me get that for you,” having had a bit of experience with Arginine’s beam rifle, I was able to locate the trigger much more quickly this time. A trio of brilliant emerald bolts struck the mare in the chest. The third must have made contact with her in just the right way, because her entire body flashed green just before melting into a pile of steaming goo.

Red lights started flashing, and a blaring klaxon rang out at a nearly deafening volume I wheeled around to see that the stallion who had been talking with Arginine was standing at the terminal. He reached over a depressed a button near a speaker, “security to Exam Room Alpha! We had a loose subject! I repeat: we have a―”

I reduced the entire work station to a warped pile of sparking components with a series of energy blasts from the beam weapon. The stallion reeled back in surprise, “I’m sorry, were you using that? How rude of me…” He turned to face me, his horn glowing as his magic withdrew an energy pistol from the drawer of a nearby desk. He never got the chance to fire it though. The bolt that struck his head passed cleanly through it, leaving behind a charred hole. The corpse collapsed to the floor.

The weapon was trained on Arginine now, who had not even so much as twitched since dropping the jar that had contained my cutie mark. Even now, as I pointed the steaming barrel of the energy rifle straight at his head, he didn’t appear to be particularly concerned.

We were both silent and still for several long seconds. I don’t know what I really had expected him to do. Honestly, a lot of the actions that he’d taken over the past twenty-four hours weren’t making a whole lot of sense to me right now, “why?” was all I had the presence of mind to ask. More specific questions would have to come once I’d had some time to process my thoughts.

“As I explained to him,” the stallion replied, gesturing to the pony with a hole burned through his face, “I am evaluating your capabilities,” I flashed the stallion a very critical frown, “you have been acting...erratic of late. I need to know if you are still the mare I once believed was capable of creating a better breed of pony.

“I need to know if you really are better.”

I continued to glare at him for another couple of seconds. The idea that this was some sort of test didn’t exactly sit well with me, but it wasn’t like I was going to not fight my way out of here and save everypony who still alive. When this was all over with though, RG and I were going to have a very serious talk. I might even shoot him once or twice. You know, on principle.

That was all going to have to wait until the situation here had become more agreeable. Which meant dealing with the remaining armed forces. Such as the pair of armored ponies that came charging in the door just now. They appeared to make a rather quick appraisal of what was going on and immediately opened fire with their own weapons. I suspect that the blaring siren and the brief announcement that had been broadcast had helped with their lack of hesitation.

I threw myself behind one of the examination tables as the air around me was suddenly saturated with flashes of viridian light. Even Arginine took cover. The pair of guards that had arrived didn’t seem to actually be shooting at him, but their fire filled such a broad cone that there was probably a decent enough chance that he could have been struck by accident. Curious that they’d risk taking out one of the ponies on ‘their side’ in order to get at me. Of course, I guess when you could just grow a few more in a factory somewhere, you probably didn’t put a very high value on life in general, did you?

After a brief look at the rifle in my hooves, I tossed it away. With such an onslaught of fire, I wasn’t going to be able to get off any decent shots with it. I needed to get in close if I was going to take those two out. Taking a quick breath to steel myself, I darted to the side in the direction of another nearby examination table. Green bolts of destructive magical energy glanced off the metal surfaces of those tables when the angles they struck at were too oblique, or left melted craters where they hit dead on. Not being designed to withstand a lot of punishment in a fight, I wasn’t able to remain behind any one table before it was quickly reduced to glowing white slag.

Fortunately, there were well over a dozen such impromptu barricades available to me as I used them to leapfrog my way closer to the pair of armed ponies. As I reached the last row of tables, I somersaulted over its lip and up into the air as only a pegasus pony could do. Anticipating that I would use it for cover as I had all the previous tables, the guards fired low, and I cleared their field of fire before they could adjust it enough to catch me. I uncurled myself and wrapped my hind legs around the neck of the guard on the right, “hey there, gorgeous! Anypony tell you you have a very punchable face?” Looping my left foreleg around their ear to anchor myself, I proceeded to deliver a series of sharp strikes to their cheek and eye with my right hoof.

The mare was rocked by the blows, staggering under the punishment that her face was receiving from the much smaller flier that was beating her. A flicker of movement from my left signaled that her partner was about to try and remove the annoyance, “oh, you want to cut it? Sure thing!”
Just as he brought his energy rifle to bear, I swung myself around the mare’s neck as though it were a pole, placing the bulk of her body in between me and the readied weapon. Using a precisely timed flip of my wings to help add some additional angular acceleration, I twisted up and over her back, coming at the nearby stallion with my hind legs and swinging them downward on top of his head.

I was now suspended in the air between the two stunned ponies, “pony in the middle!” I bounced back and forth between them as I delivered blow after blow in the form of both punches and bucks, not giving either pony time enough to recover. They were both as large and tough as RG, so my individual strikes didn’t do all that much. However, it also meant that their heads were much larger targets as well, so it was a much simpler matter for me to deliver particularly devastating jabs to their carotids and windpipes. The mare was soon on the ground, grasping at their throat as they made some rather disturbingly silent pained expressions. This afforded me the opportunity to focus my efforts on the stallion who, in addition to the face, possessed other vulnerable areas as well.

“Finally, some alone time,” I grinned at the stallion, “how about I get things started?”

Another advantage that the size disparity between us afforded me was the ability to very effortlessly snake my way around their bulk, to include getting beneath their bellies. A well-placed buck to his genitals put the stallion on the ground with a pained shriek. These ponies might not use them, but they seemed to have retained all of the sensitivity that was present in a typical Wasteland stallion.
“Hmm. I should have mentioned I’ve never given anypony a hoof-job before,” I felt a little bad about hammering him in the head with the butt of his rifle while he was still whimpering in response to what I’d done to his kibble and a bits; but only a little.

The mare had stopped struggling by the time I looked back at her. She was completely still, her bloodshot eyes wide with fear. She wouldn’t pose a threat any longer. I hefted the rifle and directed it at the unconscious stallion in front of me. My hoof lay tense on the trigger mechanism as I leveled the sights on his head. I held the pose for several long seconds, glaring along the top of the barrel. There was a long list of perfectly cogent arguments that any sane pony would have made as to why pulling that trigger was a good idea. Just about anypony would have.

I did not.

With a frustrated grunt, I lowered the weapon, “figures he’d fall asleep before I was finished.”
I looked around the room. Nopony else was here for the moment. The lights were still pulsing red and the alert was still sounding, but other than that things seemed to had substantially calmed for the moment. I doubted very much that was a status that was likely to endure. I didn’t know exactly how many guards would eventually respond to the summons that the stallion technician had made, but I suspected that once nopony received word that the situation had been dealt with the answer would be somewhere along the lines of, “more”.

“RG!” I called out, straining to be heard over the alarm. The stallion calmly rose back up to his hooves and looked in my direction. I heaved the rifle at him, which he caught deftly with his magic, “arm up. Where are Foxy and the others?” These energy weapons were too bulky for me to use effectively if I wanted to keep capitalizing on my aerial maneuverability. That was fine with me. Getting up close and personal with these ponies was proving itself to be quite cathartic thus far. They certainly didn’t seem to be all that used to dealing with ponies who got up in their faces like I did.

I suppose that hoof-to-hoof combat hadn’t been a particularly high priority with regards to the training that they had gone through, given that their preferred method of engagement was ambushes en masse in the middle of the night in order to achieve victory through surprise, superior numbers, and firepower. I couldn’t deny that it was an effective tactic. The death toll that they’d inflicted thus far was clear proof of that.

“The subject holding area will be just down the corridor,” Arginine responded as he checked over the weapon and swapped in a fresh power pack. He retrieved a few additional reloads from the guards, “There were thirteen ponies awaiting processing when I was there an hour ago.”

I briefly wondered how many ponies had ultimately been ambushed last night before ultimately pushing that thought from my mind. What was important right now wasn’t how many had died, but how many could yet be saved if I acted quickly, “that’s where Foxglove and the others are?”

“Indeed,” the stallion confirmed. He paused for a brief moment, a thoughtful expression barely visible on his face, “I anticipate that she will be quite relieved to see you. She seemed quite anxious to learn if you were well when last I saw her.”

I hesitated in the doorway for a few seconds. Was Foxglove really that worried about me? It was a little hard to believe, I suppose, given how I had treated her recently. Nor did I feel that treatment had been wholly unjustified. After Arginine and I figured a few things out, I suppose that she and I needed to figure out where we stood with one another too.

There was going to be an awful lot of talking going on later. Hopefully Starlight and Ramparts didn’t feel the need for any pressing heart-to-hearts; I was only going to be able to stand so much of that deep personal stuff in one sitting.

“How many ponies are we up against in here?”

“Nine more are on site at the moment. Two three-pony teams are currently scouting for additional targets,” he glanced up at the pulsing lights, “an alert will have been transmitted to them by now, but I cannot give you a reliable estimate on how long it will take them to return.”

“Got it,” hopefully we wouldn’t have to tangle with all nine at once, “watch our rear; and...thanks.”

Arginine simply nodded and followed me out into the corridor beyond the examination room. As I had instructed, his attention was directed behind us as we proceeded in the direction of the holding area that I had woken up in less than an hour ago.

When I rounded a corner, I had just enough time to recognize that something pony-shaped was standing in the middle of the hall before pulses of emerald light started pouring in my direction. I snapped my wings almost on instinct and hurled myself to the far wall just as the space that I had once occupied became saturated with crackling green beams. The moment my hooves made contact with the wall, I surged forward in a frantic gallop, aiding my acceleration with several furious pumps of my wings.

The large armored pony was positioned just outside of the holding area, their hooves planted firmly as they tracked me with their hovering energy rifle. I was hoping that, while their attention was focused on me, Arginine would be able to peek around the corner and take them out; but the sound of two other whining rifles from behind me informed me that Arginine was already dealing with a situation of his own.

That was fine. I’d just finished dealing with four of these oversized raiders a little while ago; one more wouldn’t prove to be a problem.

I pushed off the wall that I was running along and dove for the floor just as the pony I was facing off against juked their rifle hard to the side in an effort to rake their fire across my body. I didn’t stay long on the floor, only a stride or two, before vaulting to the wall on the other side of the corridor. All the while the emerald lances followed in my wake as the floating weapon tried in vain to predict the movements of a pony who wasn’t a slave to the forces of gravity. As smart as they may be, they weren’t nearly as experienced at fighting in three dimensions as I was.

My hooves were in contact with the other wall just long enough for me to push off with my hind legs. My wings took over from there, rotating my torso as I drew back my left foreleg. When it finally launched forward, driving into the top of their head, the force behind it was further amplified by the angular momentum of my spin. The blow staggered them as their head was forced down by a hit that was much harder than they probably had suspected could be delivered by a filly my size. Not in the habit of giving up an advantage like this, I followed through with the hit all the way back across the hall to the wall that I had started on.

I sprung off of it and shot at the floor beneath the stunned guard, landing on my forelegs and coiling up my hindquarters. As was the nature with most barding designs, the lining along the belly was much thinner than most other places that were much more likely to be stuck by hostile gunfire. A well-targeted double-buck to their soft gut earned me a shocked gasp that was quickly followed up by a fit of coughing and the sound of their plastic rifle clattering to the floor.

“That cough sounds pretty bad,” I flipped out my wings and used a precisely angled beat to propel me into a spin as I lashed out with an outstretched hind leg, sweeping their own forelegs out from under them while they were still struggling to get their breath back. A last minute roll took me out from beneath them as the much larger pony collapsed to the floor with a groan, “you should lie down,” any potential threat they might still have represented was removed with a final substantial double-buck to their head, now that it was at a much more agreeable height, “and sleep it off.”

That threat dealt with, my attention went immediately in Arginine’s direction, where I could still hear the sounds of beam fire being exchanged, along with the occasional splash of viridian energy against the wall. The stallion clearly wasn’t dead, and I wasn’t particularly eager to get myself caught in a crossfire. My energy was better spent freeing the captives while I had these precious moments before any additional threats showed up.

I picked up the nearby discarded beam rifle and dashed into the room containing the stacks of holding crates. Dozens of them lined the far wall, and most were clearly empty. There was no way to know how many of them had been filled by the attack on the caravan last night, but I knew that it had certainly been more than were currently occupied. Nothing could be done about them though; I could only help those that were still here.

“Everypony stand back from the doors!” I yelled out before I began to systematically blast each of the locked cages with the beam rifle. Latches vaporized beneath the onslaught of emerald energy, leaving behind little more than smoke and glowing circles in most cases. The ponies inside wasted little time bucking their way out of their cramped confines and stepping cautious out. Most were clearly not quite sure if they really believed that they were being freed by the little white pegasus wielding the weapon that was comically oversized for her.

At least one pony managed to quickly overcome their surprise as a wide-eyed violet unicorn came galloping out of her cage, “Windfall, you’re alive!” she seemed to forget that I was currently firing a very lethal weapon as she charged me. Fortunately for her I managed to stop shooting just before she tackled me out of the air in a very energetic, if awkward, embrace.

“Air! Need air!” I grasped as the unicorn clutched me to her chest in a hold that was so tight I could swear I heard my spine crying.

“We thought you’d died!”

I ceased my struggling when I heard the trembling in her voice. My proximity to her face allowed me to see the damp streaks running down her cheeks too. They weren’t the product of a few seconds of excited tears, either. She had been crying for a while.

A few other ponies had taken up the task of freeing the others, I noticed, so I didn’t feel quite as anxious about being restrained by the weeping violet mare, “we saw the explosion,” she was saying through her shaky tone that sounded as though she were only a sliver away from breaking out into outright sobs again, “and you wouldn’t answer your pipbuck, and Ramparts couldn’t find your location tag! Oh, Windy, I…” she was finally forced to stop and swallow back her grief before it overwhelmed her. Even so, she still looked to be teetering on the verge of falling apart, “I was so sure I’d lost you again…”

“I’m okay, Foxy,” as ‘okay’ as I suspect I was capable of being, anyway. I certainly still had a lot of things that I needed to work out before I completely lost my mind; but that was for later. Right now, I...well, I really was feeling okay. Maybe it was the fact that I was too distracted by all the fighting and rescuing for my brain to focus on how fucked up I was deep inside. Even so, I was okay with that, “and this is really going to have to wait until later.”

As if to accentuate my statement, Arginine came barreling into the room. The nose of his borrowed beam rifle was trailing thin tendrils of smoke and his horns had acquired a patina of char. His noticeably flickering magic was only barely managing to hold the weapon in his telekinetic grasp as he looked around at the ponies who had just been freed.

There was a palpable shift in the mood of the room upon the gray stallion’s arrival, and it took me a second to realize why. After all, I was quite familiar with Arginine; these ponies weren’t. They had no way of knowing that he was actually working with me. As far as they were concerned, he was just another one of the ponies running this murder factory.

Which was the reason why the pony who had been using the beam weapon that I’d picked up to free the others was now turning it on Arginine. I only just managed to extract myself from Foxglove’s grip and fly across the room to kick the weapon away in time. The bolt of deadly viridian energy that was discharged as I struck the weapon missed the large gray stallion’s head by inches. To his credit, Arginine didn’t seemed to take the attempt to kill him personally, and merely looked mildly annoyed. Well, I suppose that was how he usually looked to most ponies; but I could tell that he was slightly more annoyed than was typical even for him.

“Woah! He’s a friend,” I assured the rather surprised looking mare who had just tried to shoot him.

“The fuck are you talking about? He’s one of them!” her horn glowed and picked up the rifle again in an attempt to finish the job that I had interrupted. Still Arginine remained still and kept his weapon pointed at the floor. Everypony else in the room was looking nervously between him and the pair of us. The large gray stallion was currently standing in the doorway, so they weren’t all that eager to try and push their way past him to leave until the matter of whether he was a threat or not was settled.

Again I smacked the beam rifle aside, “yeah, he is, but he’s helping us; and I’d explain why, but it’s kind of confusing and we don’t have a lot of time,” and the jury was still out on exactly how committed he really was. He was helping right now though, and that was enough for me, “so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t shoot the pony who’s helping us get out of here,” I fixed the older mare with a hard glare, which had to be borderline absurd from her point of view. After all, who was this teenager to tell her what to do?

It helped tremendously that Arginine hadn’t so much as raised his weapon since coming in here. It was kind of hard to argue that he was any sort of active threat to any of us when he wasn’t doing anything more intimidating that just being really big.

While she clearly wasn’t happy about any of this―nopony seemed happy about anything right now―she at least stopped trying to shoot Arginine. For the moment, anyway. That was enough for me. I looked over at the large stallion, “where’d they stash our gear?”

“Next room down,” he replied, nodding his head in the indicated direction.

My eyes scanned the gathered ponies, “arm up. There should be seven...?”

“Six,” Arginine corrected.

“Six more of those big ponies around, and probably six more on their way back here. We don’t know when they’ll get here, but if we move quick, we should get away before they arrive,” I locked my eyes on the mare wielding the beam rifle, who at least had the attitude of a pony who was used to being in charge. I had no idea who had actually been leading the group of ponies that was ambushed last night, but she’d do for a temporary leader at the least, “weapons, barding, and enough food and water to get everypony to Shady Saddles. Nothing else, got it? Be ready to move out in three minutes. RG and I will keep you covered until then.”

The unicorn mare balked for a moment, but then grunted and nodded before repeating my instructions to the others and herding everypony out the door. I caught Foxglove, Starlight, and Ramparts gathering around me. Only the violet unicorn mare seemed to be feeling particularly emotional upon learning I was still alive, which I suppose was fair. Both the pink unicorn from Equestria’s past and the Republican soldier had only known me for just a few short weeks, and I wouldn’t say that any of us were particularly close. They did seem grateful for the rescue though.

“You have your cutie mark back,” Starlight noted tersely.

“RG’s doing,” I nodded my head towards the nearby stallion and shrugged.

“If you want me to take it off again, I’ll have to remind you that it won’t be as easy the second time,” the mare cautioned, “cutie mark magic is very tightly bound to ponies. Severing that bond just the once is very emotionally taxing, if you’ll remember. Doing it again, and so soon after the first time...I wouldn’t recommend it,” she frowned, “maybe in a year or two…”

“Actually,” I glanced back at the silver and red mark emblazoned on my hind quarters. Looking at it resting there once more filled me with this sense of relief that I couldn’t even really explain. It felt a lot like those first moments when I’d found my mother in the White Hoof camp. That elation at finding somepony so dear to me, before the knowledge of the sorrow we were to endure soured the moment. There wasn’t any of that darkness this time though, not really. It was just the relief and the joy, “I think I’ll keep it.”

“You’re sure?” the pink mare asked, sounding dubious, “you seemed quite eager to get rid of it before. You said it was compelling you to kill, and that you didn’t want to deal with that anymore. What changed your mind?”

The vision of Litany’s brains being smeared over the surface of the cracked and weathered parking lot outside of Notel briefly flashed through my mind, causing me to wince reflexively, “Some...things happened. I’m not so sure that my cutie mark was the problem,” I saw Foxglove’s concerned look, and waved it away, “I’m fine now. I think. I’m going to work on it.

“First, let’s get out of here,” this was not the time, nor the place, to discuss how fragile my psyche was. I looked to Ramparts, “go get our gear,” the stallion nodded and cantered out of the room after the others. I looked at Starlight, “how many ponies can you teleport at once?”

The question earned me a frown and a shake of the mare’s head, “not enough for what you’re thinking. The more I take with me, the shorter the distance I can go. Trying to take everypony here? I’d get us all of twenty feet, at best.”

“I figured it couldn’t be that easy,” I muttered. It looked like we were going to be doing this the hard way, “you can make a shield though, right?”

The question earned me a wry smirk, “of course!”

“Good. Help the others. Foxglove,” I directed my gaze at the violet mare now, “make sure everypony gets away from here. RG and I will meet up with you later.”

Her jade eyes widened in alarm, “what? No! We can’t split up again, we just found you!”

“And we’ll find each other again,” I assured the distraught mare, “after what I’ve just managed to live through in the last week, I’m sure I can handle a few armed ponies,” Foxglove didn’t seem to be particularly swayed by either my genuinely confident tone, nor my nonplused smile, “look, somewhere around here is an intact computer terminal that I bet has the location of all of the facilities like this that are operating in the Wasteland,” I glanced back at Arginine, “right?”

“There is, yes,” the stallion confirmed.

I looked back at Foxglove, “we need to get that information. Once we have it, we can take it Homily and she can get it to everypony in the valley. Caravans will know what places to avoid, and won’t get caught. The NLR will know where they need to send their troops to wipe out these places. Maybe we can even convince some of the ponies running New Reino to get involved,” they can’t be happy with this sort of thing happening to their caravans any more than the Republic is, after all.

While she obviously wasn’t happy about splitting up again, after what happened the last time, Foxglove at least recognized that getting the information was important, “we should come with you,” she began to protest.

“I need the three of you to get the rest of these ponies out of here,” I countered sternly, “I’m counting on you to do that for me. Understand?”

Foxglove gnawed her lower lip, contemplating additional rebuttals. In the end though, she seemed to decide to go along with my plan and nodded, “alright,” she reached over and gathered me up in another tight embrace, though it wasn’t quite the stranglehold that she had used earlier, “try to come back sometime today this time, okay?”

“I’ll even refrain from knocking over any buildings while I’m still inside them,” I offered cheerfully, earning a choked laugh from the violet unicorn.

“I’d appreciate that,” Foxglove gave me one last squeeze before finally releasing me. She looked up at Arginine, “you’ll keep her safe?”

“The longer she is alive, the longer I can observe her methods and appraise their viability.”

“I want to believe that means, ‘yes’, so I’ll accept it. For now.”

I cleared my throat, “I can keep myself safe, thank-you-very-much!” both ponies leveled flat looks at me. I felt my cheeks flush beneath their dubious stares, “oh, whatever, I’ve saved both your lives!” I flitted up into the air and winged my way over to the door, “come on, RG; we have a computer terminal to find!”

The corridor was milling with ponies tightening the last of the straps on their barding―most of which looked to be in rather poor condition―and performing final checks on their weapons. Ramparts and that other unicorn mare seemed to have worked out some sort of system of mutual command and control of the group. She was very clearly the pony that they all trusted, but she at least seemed willing to defer to the recommendations of the stallion and his years of military experience to help get them through this.

“Ramparts,” I called over, catching the brown stallion’s attention, “you guys good here?” he nodded.

“The exit is down the corridor, that way, the second left,” Arginine indicated, pointing behind them with a forehoof. Then he looked up at me, “we will find what we are after in the director’s office,” he nodded his head back the way that we came.

“Will the director be there, you think?” I asked, starting to float in the indicated direction as the other ponies began making their way for the exit.

“Unlikely,” the large gray stallion snorted, “as he recently acquired a pointedly fatal case of, ‘hole in head’, courtesy of your earlier efforts in the examination room.”

“Oh,” I hadn’t realized that was the pony in charge of this place, “wait. Did you just make a joke?” were the ponies from Arginine’s stable even capable of making jokes?

“It surprises you that I possess a sense of humor?”

“Considering all of the things that I’ve recently learned that you don’t have, like a conscience, moral compass, or erections? Yeah, I can honestly say that finding out you have anything that normal ponies have, is surprising to me.”

The stallion rolled his golden eyes, “a sense of humor does not adversely affect our ability to perform our duties. Quite to the contrary, there is a recognizable benefit to being able to derive a sense of joy from our accomplishments. It serves as an intrinsic source of positive reinforcement.”

I balked the moment my brain finished translating what Arginine had just said into normal words, “so, you don’t just not feel bad about what you do to these ponies; you feel good about it? You feel joy when you chop up ponies?!”

“That is not an entirely inaccurate statement,” he said, though he was frowning rather deeply, “but it is a little misleading. I, personally, feel joy when I make a notable discovery; which is typically the result of a detailed examination of a specimen,” he thought for a moment, “though I suppose that there is often a sense of…giddiness, when I begin a procedure, in anticipation of making such a worthwhile discovery.

“Are you not filled with a sense of accomplishment, elation, or even joy when you have succeeded in saving a pony from certain doom?” he asked me in return, interrupting my barely suppressed revulsion

“Well, yeah! Of course, I am,” what kind of question is that?

“Even when achieving such a result necessitates the taking of life?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out as my stomach knotted briefly. I could see where he was going with this now, and I didn’t like that I might have to concede his point, “would it be fair for me to then make the logically fallacious leap that you derive joy from killing?”

“No,” I managed to get out in a hoarse tone.

“Then suffice it to say that there are activities that I do not find particularly enjoyable, but are an essential part of those pursuits I engage in which do serve as a source of personal fulfillment.”

Yup, just as I thought: I had to grudgingly acknowledge that he wasn’t all that much more reprehensible of a pony than I was. He truly believed that what he was doing would make the world a better place; or, more specifically, that he could make the inhabitants of the world better. If that meant that he had to get his hooves dirty, then so be it. My desired results weren’t all that far off; though I might not take precisely the same approach.

If I wasn’t so different from the ponies of Arginine’s stable...was I really all that ‘good’ of a pony in the end? Was this what good ponies had to do to fix the world; inflict more misery and death upon it until nopony was miserable or needlessly dying anymore? What kind of sense did that even make?

Honestly, it seemed really stupid when I thought about it like that.

“Also, to clarify another point: I assure you that I am perfectly capable of achieving an erection.”

“Huzza-buh-wha?!”

I was going to chalk up the stallion’s surprising comment as the reason that I was flying down the middle of the corridor the way I was without a thought to how easy of a target I was making myself. I had certainly managed to place myself in a nearly perfect position for a pair of engineered ponies that were there to meet us as we rounded the corner past the examination room I’d been in just a few minutes ago. Only Arginine’s quick reflexes saved my life.

“Chirp!” I wasn’t sure if I was more embarrassed by the fact that I’d been so careless that I’d nearly gotten myself killed like I had, or by the sound that escaped my lips when the stallion behind me snagged my tail with his teeth and yanked me out of the line of fire just before the hail of green bolts could flash-fry me. It was certainly far from my proudest moment either way.

Arginine stepped over me―I’d have described it as ‘protectively’, if I didn’t know any better―and peered around the corner for a brief moment before pulling his head back around, replacing it with the floating beam rifle he had gripped in his magic. The high-pitched whines of the enemy weapons was joined by a third as Arginine responded in kind.

I crawled forward and chanced a look of my own, keeping my head low to the ground where I suspected that they wouldn’t immediately suspected somepony to peek around. There were two of the armored engineered ponies about twenty yards down the hallway, standing side by side. Surprisingly enough, it looked to me like one of them was manipulating both of their weapons, while the other was maintaining a protective barrier to keep them shielded from Arginine’s return fire. Green bolts glanced off of the golden dome, dotting the corridor with patches of glowing hot metal which cooled quickly into sooty blemishes.

After taking in the scene, I withdrew back to cover. A trio of emerald lances struck the floor where my head had been just moments ago before rising back up once again to continue chewing away at the corner that we were leaning against, “it doesn’t look good,” I remarked to Arginine.

“I can think of significantly more ideal tactical situations in which we could have found ourselves, yes. Though, there are certainly less favorable scenarios that have occurred to me as well.”

“...yeah, I guess it could be worse, too,” I managed after pondering what he’d just said, “RG, one of these days we are going to get you to speak like a regular pony. I swear to Celestia that I am going to make that one of my goals in life.”

The stallion standing over me ceased firing to swap out for a fresh spark pack, “I am honored that you hold my articulation choices in a regard equal to that of engaging in carnal relations with a stallion and procreating,” at my blank look, he elaborated, “you once recounted to me your ‘goals in life’, and one of them was to be impregnated and carry foals to term,” I suppose that he was technically correct there; I had said that was a goal that I had set for myself. I didn’t recall putting it quite so...clinically though.
The stallion continued, “I suppose that I can endeavor to reduce my verbosity if you would find our conversations more amicable that way,” he poked the weapon back around the corner and laid down a brief barrage to fire to keep the pair of ponies we were fighting from getting too brave, “I can begin by employing contractions. That shouldn’t be too difficult.”

I blinked up at the stallion, dumbfounded. Was he…

“Are you still making jokes? Now?!”

He poured another spurt of green energy back around the corner, “stressful situations can often have the tension that they generate diffused through the application of moderate amounts of appropriate humor,” he responded in his normally calm tone, “and at this moment―” he winced and pulled back slightly further as we received an answering barrage of energy fire that tore away a sizeable chunk of the metal wall and left behind a glowing orange divot, “―I am feeling stressed.”

“Oh. Okay then. Carry on, I guess,” this whole week had somehow turned into one long protracted learning experience regarding what made Arginine tick. I didn’t even know he could get stressed. You’d certainly never know it from how he talked all the damn time. Though, I guess he had probably been pretty ‘stressed’ while we’d been falling down the side of the Old Reino Ministry of Arcane Science hub.

He nodded and maneuvered the beam rifle to deliver a few more shots. How much more punishment could that pony’s shield spell take before it collapsed, anyway? I chanced another brief glance to see if I could gauge how worn out they were getting. I pulled back and groaned in frustration. The beam rifles appeared to be under the control of the pony that had been powering the barrier the last time I had checked; which meant that it was now being maintained by the currently unarmed pony. They were swapping out the duty to keep themselves from being burned out too quickly by the spell. Perfect.

“I am curious,” Arginine began as he swapped out for yet another spark pack, “do my efforts to help you achieve your goal of altering my vocabulary choices make me a more, or less, desirable candidate to aid you in achieving your reproductive endeavors?”

“Wha―are you seriously―that is not funny!” I sputtered at the stallion.

“On the contrary,” he said while placing another volley downrange, “I am currently deriving significant amusement from your reaction.”

“Do I need to remind you that I am in the perfect position to punt you right in the nads and take you out of the running for any mare’s ‘reproductive endeavors’?”

“So I am in the running?”

Windfall. Think very calmly and rationally about your next action. Because, if you cripple this asshole―even if he’s asking for it―you will probably both die. I know that it feels like it would be totally worth it right now, but it’s not. Probably. Maybe.

I can settle for castrating him after we get out of here.

Of course, that meant that we’d have to find a way to deal with the dynamic duo holding down this corridor first. I had an idea of how to do that, now that I knew that only one of them was doing the shooting while the other maintained their shield, “Arginine, I need you to put a lot of fire down the left side of the corridor. Keep shooting as long as you can; but make sure you keep it on the left side until I say otherwise, got it?”

“Should I be operating under the assumption that any effort to dissuade you from taking what is doubtlessly a unforgivably reckless risk would be futile?”

“Hey, look on the bright side: at least this time if I die, there isn’t a bomb around your neck that’ll take you with me,” I had meant that to be my own little attempt to ease the tension of our situation. However, the stallion didn’t look like he’d found the comment at all amusing, “I’ll be fine. Just keep shooting and trust me.”

“Very well,” the stallion popped in his last fresh cartridge, “on your command.”

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. He’d been right, of course: this was incredibly reckless of me. If Foxglove were here, she’d be apoplectic, and with good reason. I was about to charge right down into a particularly lethal ‘fatal funnel’ of a corridor that was currently being illuminated far more effectively by the green light of beam rifle fire than by the actual lights mounted into the ceiling. Room to maneuver and avoid being hit would be notably scarce, and I was essentially writing off half of that very limited space right off the mark by telling Arginine to fill it was deadly energy bolts. If my plan didn’t work as intended and that other pony filled up the other side…

If I didn’t do this, then I might not get the chance again to find out where the other facilities like this were. How many hundreds―thousands―of ponies would die on these tables before somepony dealt with them? I had to take this chance. I had to try and save those ponies.

“Now.”

Arginine put the rifle around the corner and his telekinetic grip depressed the trigger and didn’t let it back up. The weapon whined and protested as its already overtaxed capacitors were subjected to further harsh demands. In that same instant, I charged out and sprinted down the right side of the narrow passageway, squinting my left eye against the brilliant emerald beams that were flashing uncomfortably close to me. Ahead, those same lances of deadly energy were splattering themselves over the magical energy barrier being maintained by one of the engineered unicorn guards from Arginine’s stable. I could see them gritting their teeth and their horn’s flaring brighter as they struggled to maintain the shield spell. It was clear that it would indeed hold up, barely, even under such punishment.

It was only a single rifle, after all; and they had nothing else to divide their attention. They weren’t even looking in my direction.

Neither was the pony manipulating their own rifles. This was because Arginine’s unceasing barrage of impotent energy fire was concentrated exclusively on their side of the corridor. While none of the shots were getting through to actually strike their target, they did create all manner of dazzling light displays in front of their eyes. While not strictly blinding them, it was clearly hard for the armed pony to make out any clear details beyond the brilliant flashes of light saturating their vision.

Being that both of those ponies also ‘knew’ that nothing could harm them like this, neither seemed particularly concerned, and were completely willing to wait until Arginine inevitably had to stop and reload. At that point they would be able to respond in kind.

“Stop firing!” I yelled at the top of my lungs once I had judged that I was close enough. This was the moment when I took what was perhaps my greatest risk and didn’t wait to make sure that Arginine had heard me before leaping to the wall on my right and pushing myself off it. If the stallion hadn’t heard me, or even if he was a little slow on the uptake, I was going to even up being rendered down into green goo by the weapons fire of my own ally. However, waiting to be certain that I was clear to make the jump meant giving these ponies time to notice me and maybe even guess what I was up to.

Given that there wasn’t going to be any way to make a second go of this, tipping them off wasn’t a risk that I could afford to take.

In the end, it was a very close thing, to be sure. There was a brief heartbeat where I was certain that I’d fucked up. A sizzling emerald line of burning light sailed through the air only inches beneath me as I crossed the the far side of the corridor. I could feel the heat of it on my belly just before it wasted itself on the magical barrier protecting my targets. A fraction of a second later, my hooves came into contact with that same barrier. It felt surprisingly cool, given what it had just been subjected to.

The shimmer induced by the diffusion of the bolt’s energy faded away, leaving me standing upon the amber shield, staring into the surprised face of the pony wielding the pari’s weapons. They had been kept protectively behind the barrier while being reloaded. Now that the barrage was over with, he’d brought them back out to our side of the protective shell in anticipation of returning fire.

My presence had not been part of the equation, apparently, and both ponies hesitated.

I did not, “S’up?” I looked at the pair of rifles hovering to either side of me and directed towards where Arginine was firing from, “Oh, for me? You shouldn’t have!” my hooves detached from the energy barrier and my wing flicked out to either side, catching both hovering rifles in my outstretched pinions.

“Hey, RG? I’ve got a present for you!” I spun around, wrenching the weapons from the stallion’s telekinetic grasp and flung them down the corridor. Arginine was already out and charging down the corridor, apparently having taken the lack of immediate return fire as a good sign. He easily caught the rifles I tossed to him in his magic and arranged all three in front of him, directed at the pair of guards.

“Sorry about the regifting,” I shrugged at the disarmed pony, “I know it’s rude. I’m just really bad at shopping for other ponies” I flipped away from the barrier and landed beside Arginine. Once he saw that I was clear, the gray stallion opened fire with all three rifles.

While the shield spell being cast had very pointedly demonstrated that it was capable of standing up to whatever could be brought to bear at it from a single rifle, the combined assault of three of the deadly magical weapons very quickly proved too much. The golden barrier evaporated almost instantly. As did the pair of ponies that had been standing behind it.

I stared at the pools of glowing ooze that was all that remained of those ponies for a brief moment and then looked at Arginine. The large stallion beside me was tossing away his original weapon, which had finally burned out completely during that last barrage. He stripped the charge pack from one of the remaining pair before tossing it away as well, keeping it for the last rifle, which he slung along his back. Only then did the stallion notice my gaze.

“Yes?”

“Have you considered how many ponies from your own stable you might have to kill if you keep helping me?” maybe it was a little ungrateful of me to bring this up after he’d gone through so much to help me thus far. I just had to know if he’d be willing to see this thing through to the end, or if he was going to flip on me later on.

The stallion was quiet for a moment. Then, “when you took me captive, I knew the exact population of my stable. I doubt that it has varied too much from that number since,” his eyes went to the green puddles and he rolled his eyes, “casualties notwithstanding, of course. But, to answer your question, I suspect I know far better than you exactly how many ponies will need to die if you hope to succeed in your effort to defeat us.”

That was right. In order to save one society, I was going to have to slaughter another, wasn’t I? For the briefest of moments, I was just about to ask Arginine to tell me that number; but then I hesitated. Did I really want to hear a body count? Did I really want to be told how many ponies I was going to have to kill to end the threat they posed?

No. Honestly, I’d probably lose my nerve if he hit me with that information.

“I don’t suppose that there’s a way I could convince your stable to just...stop, is there?”

Arginine looked down at me for a long while this time in silence, considering. As good as I had become at deciphering all of the subtle little facial ticks that revealed what the stoic stallion was thinking, I was finding myself having a hard time truly identifying his expression right now. It was bordering on something akin to disappointment; but I couldn’t tell the reason for it. Was he thinking that I was losing my nerve? Did he believe he’d made a mistake in helping me?

“My stable exists for a singular purpose: to become better ponies than our forebears and ensure ponykind does repeat the mistakes of the past. We have worked towards that goal for two centuries, and our leaders have determined that inferior strains cannot be allowed to remain and threaten the perfection that we will achieve. It is not a goal we will be dissuaded from achieving easily.”

It didn’t sound like Arginine thought that there was going to be a way to do this without a lot of killing either.

Did I have it in me to commit genocide?

I didn’t know.

“Let’s go get what we came for,” I said, heading for the director’s office.

“Seven,” I said breathlessly to nopony in particular as Foxglove worked her technological wizardry on my pipbuck, with Ramparts’ assistance, “they have seven more of those slaughterhouses,” and that was accounting for the two that I had already dealt with. They were spread out over much of the valley, lying off the beaten path to avoid detection.

“Once we get this information back to the Republic, they’ll be able to dispatch strike teams to deal with them,” the brown stallion lending the use of his pipbuck to help reinitialize my own assured me, “dealing with the stable itself will be a bit tougher, but we can at least put a stop to their operations in the meantime.”

“Don’t we have to convince the Steel Rangers to stop attacking for good?” I asked, recalling why so many of the NLR’s soldiers were currently too occupied to patrol the area around Seaddle as thoroughly as they once had.

“We do,” Ramparts acknowledged, “and now that we have your pipbuck again, we can work on locating that weapons cache for Princess Luna.”

“Which we can use to leverage whatever it was that the Republic stole from the Rangers, and then give it back to them so that they’ll agree to a real peace, and maybe even help us,” though I very much doubted that last part. It was possible that I might be able to convince that one Star Paladin that RG’s stable was enough of a threat that it was in the Ranger’s best interests to help us; but having them alongside the Republic so soon after being at war with them might create a few ‘friendly fire’ incidents that could kick the fighting off all over again.

Perhaps if there was a way to have the Republic hit some of the targets in their territory while the Rangers dealt with the ones around New Reino to keep any hooves from being stepped on?

“Once we get all of these other ponies to Shady Saddles, we’ll head back to Wind Ryders and get that shipping data we need.”

Foxglove looked up from her work and shook her head, “we already tried going back through their system when we were there,” I recalled the evidence that the trio had passed through ahead of Arginine and I after our ordeal in the Old Reino ruins, “we couldn’t find anything that helped.”

I frowned. That wasn’t good, “so how are we supposed to use what we got in the MAS hub?” I was really hoping that we hadn’t gone through all of that for nothing.

It was Starlight Glimmer who provided the answer this time, “I’ve been thinking about that,” the pink unicorn mare said, “and it occurs to me that there is one other place that would have tracked flight traffic during the war: McMaren. Keeping an eye out for dragons and griffon mercenaries would have been part of the job of every ground base in Equestria. They tracked everything flying through the air, and they’d have been informed about any freight traffic so they knew what was supposed to be there and what wasn’t. They’ll have the records we’re looking for.”

McMaren, huh? Memories flooded in of my last visit there, and I felt myself flush a little despite myself. I recalled the night that a pony I had thought was Jackboot had come into my room and told me a lot of things that I’d always wanted to hear from him. It had almost seemed too good to be true when he’d leaned in to kiss me and nuzzle my cheek…

Of course, that had been because it was too good to be true. Foxglove had burst in on us only moments before things had progressed to a level of intimacy that I’d yet to share with a stallion, and she’d been dragging behind her a trussed up Jackboot of her own. Things had escalated from there, and that night had ended with a lot of death and gore.

The old military base was also where Homily and her small team had set themselves up to conduct their informational broadcasts. Broadcasts which had recently begun to include my own exploits under the identity of ‘The Wonderbolt’. She still couldn’t have any clue that the ‘Wasteland Hero’ that she was telling the whole valley about was the same pegasus who’d helped her team escape from captivity and reach the base; only to be saved a second time from those creatures posing as ponies.

This might be a good time to have a candid conversation with the unicorn and tell her to temper everypony’s expectations of me. She was building me up to the level that the Mare-Do-Well and Lone Ranger had been; or what The Stable Dweller and Security were shaping up to be, if DJ pon3’s more recent broadcasts were to be believed. I wasn’t a hero like them though. I was just a pony who helped out ponies in trouble when I was around. That was it.

Honestly, I wasn’t particularly good at it, in my opinion.

Somepony nearby cleared their throat, drawing me out of my reverie. It was the unicorn mare the the other ponies we’d saved had been looking to for guidance. I’d never gotten her name…

She stuck out her hoof, “Name’s, Marl,” the gruff mare stated, “weren’t much of a time or place for pleasantries earlier, but I figure putting off introductions and thanks any longer after all you and yours did for us would just be rude.”
I recovered enough from my surprise to reach out and tapped the offered hoof with my own, “Windfall. And you don’t need to thank us.”

“I reckon different,” the mare retorted in a harsh tone that was softened by the warmth in her hazel eyes. I suspected that she just sounded naturally irritated and that it didn’t specifically reflect on her current mood, “I don’t doubt that if you hadn’t done what you did we’d all have been goners. The way I figure, there ain’t no proper payment I could ever offer you, but I figured I’d at least make an effort.”

The mare’s horn glowed and she withdrew an object from her saddlebags, depositing it in my outstretched hooves before I could muster up a polite way of turning her down. I’d expected caps or bits or something else that was of equally obvious monetary value, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, what I found myself looking at was a little pink statuette of a grinning pony that was of a remarkably similar style to four other little figurines that I already had. Indeed, I received the metal impression that those other four little ponies were overjoyed to see this particular trinket.

I turned it over in my hooves and peered at the inscription on the base, Awareness! It Was Under ‘E’!

“That there’s been in my family for nigh on forever,” the unicorn nodded, “as far as I’m concerned, it’s the most valuable possession my family owns. Supposed to prove that our ancestors were related to one of those ministry Mares,” she idly rubbed the back of her head, “I’m sure I should be giving you a weapon or a big ol’ bag of caps, or some such, but―”

“No,” I piped up, holding the pristine figure to my chest, “no, this is fine. Thank you. Besides, I’d rather you guys have all the guns you can get your hooves on out here; and you’ll need all the money you’ve got left to replace everything you lost when you were attacked.”

The mare seemed to relax visibly, a smile coming easily to her face, “I don’t think you quite know how true that is for us,” her expression faded for a brief moment, “we lost a lot when they hit us, and I ain’t just meaning gear, either. Some of the ponies that didn’t make it...well, they’ll be hard to replace, experience and knowledge-wise,” she sighed, “we’ll make do though. We always do.

“I’m just tickled knowing there’s more ponies out here than just The Wonderbolt looking out for us,” I caught the brief look from Foxglove, but the violet unicorn said nothing before returning to her work, “you ever need a hoof while you’re out here, put out the word,” she gestured at my pipbuck, “and we’ll come runnin’.”

“What are you doing out here anyway?” I asked, looking around at what seemed like an unusual collection of ponies for a caravan.

Marl grinned at me, “gem huntin’!”

I blinked, “you...hunt gems?”

“In a word,” the unicorn nodded, “Old Equestria was where most of the magical gems in the world came from. You couldn’t hardly plant a garden without coming across a cluster of the things, or so the stories go. They were used just about everywhere, and in everything.”

“Like spark packs and stuff?”

“Those to; although you couldn’t just toss any old stone you found into things like that and get them to work,” the slate unicorn mare nodded, “for stuff like that, you needed our ancestors. Ponies who specialized in growing magical gemstones.”

“Your ancestors farmed rocks?”

“You could say they did,” she shrugged, “but there’s more to it than that. Not sure that we have the time for a full lesson on what it takes to nurture the raw magical essence of the ground until it can come together and crystallize into a usable gemstone, but ‘grow’ is an apt enough word, I suppose.

“Since the war though, things have been thrown off too much to stay in one place and keep doing things the old way. Growing them the old fashioned way ain’t an option anymore, so instead we have to find ones that matured naturally,” she reached into her bags again and this time produced a small rock that had apparently been split open, revealing a single glittering ruby, “we sell them to talismongers and gunsmiths.”

“Huh.”

Just then my vision filled with a familiar amber overlay that startled me at first. I looked down and saw that Foxglove was disconnecting the cabling that she had used to link my defunct pipbuck to Ramparts’ and putting away her tools, “all done!” she announced, sounding pleased with herself.

I looked around experimentally, my attention on the assorted blips associated with the nearby ponies. Everything seemed to be lining up perfectly so far. Next I brought the device up in front of me and started to tabbed through all of its menus to make sure that nothing was amiss, “it feels like it’s been forever since this thing was working,” I flicked on the radio and tuned into the nearest clear station, which happened to be one of Homily’s broadcasts.

“―ayday! Mayday! If anypony can hear this, please send help!” my blood foze in my veins as I heard the crackling voice of the distant mare through my pipbuck’s speakers. Every conversation around us ceased as everypony’s attention went immediately to the broadcast, “Steel Rangers are attacking Camp McMaren! Please, somepony, anypony!” then came four words that struck me like a lightning bolt, “Wonderbolt, where are you?”

I turned the radio off. So much was going through my head right now.

Steel Rangers were attacking Homily and her companions? Why?! Star Paladin Hoplite had assured me that she’d keep her Rangers away from the Republic until I’d done what she asked...only McMaren wasn’t an NLR base, was it? Damn it! Without the war to distract them, the Rangers had gone back to doing what the normally did: seeking out Old World technology and taking it. An old military base would probably have been a prime target for them. Heck, a working radio tower would probably have been a nice little bonus in their book.

All I’d thought about was stopping the fighting between the Rangers and the NLR. I’d completely forgotten what the Steel Rangers usually did with their time. In a way, that kind of made this my fault. It was a conclusion that I didn’t feel compelled to share with Foxglove and the others because I knew they’d feel obliged to disagree; but that didn’t do much to change how I felt about it.

“Homily…” Foxglove said in a worried tone next to me, her eyes still locked on the pipbuck.

“It’ll take us days to get there,” Ramparts pointed out, the stallion not sounding at all thrilled to hear that the Rangers were causing trouble anywhere in the valley, “by then it’ll all be over.”

“Windfall can get there much more quickly than the rest of us,” all of us turned to look at Arginine, who had been the surprising source of that comment. The stallion’s golden eyes were locked on me, “and she has experience dealing with the Steel Rangers.”

Experience, perhaps. However, what I didn’t have at the moment was any worthwhile weapons or barding that I could use to fight them with, “my guns are still out of action,” I waved a hoof at the pair of submachine guns that had yet to receive any attention from our mechanically inclined unicorn, “and I don’t even have any barding! I can’t just show up like this and hope they’ll stop attacking because I ask them nicely,” even if Hoplite was there leading the attack, I wasn’t exactly her favorite pony in the world at the moment.

“Actually…” the violet unicorn mare’s horn glowed and a jade aura enveloped her bags. From within them she extracted a familiar set of blue and gold barding. Though the coloration was actually all that was familiar about it once I got a good look at the armor. The pattern was unmistakably that of the old Wonderbolt jumpsuit that I’d recovered from Wind Ryder’s, but the armored plating and reinforcements were new. As was that Gale Force rig mounted to its spine. I looked between the barding and the unicorn, not bothering to hide my surprise.

“I’ve been too worried to get much sleep lately,” she offered sheepishly, “I needed a project to keep myself distracted.”

“I...wow. Just...wow!” well, it looked like protection wasn’t going to be all that much of an issue after all. However, that still left one other matter, “but, I mean, I still wouldn’t have any guns that would be all that effective against Steel Ranger power armor,” my eyes went to the weapons that everypony around us was carrying. Even if Marl were inclined to part with most of what her ponies had, they weren’t the sort of firearms that would help against a group like the Steel Rangers.

“Power armor?” Starlight Glimmer chimed in, “you mean like the suits that the Ministry of Wartime Technology was fielding near the end of the war?”

“It’s exactly like those,” Foxglove confirmed.

The pink unicorn mare with the purple streaked mane thought for a brief moment and then looked at the rock that Marl was still holding in her magic, “do you have any sapphires?”

The slate mare nodded, “yeah.”

“How many?”

She shrugged, “sapphires? A dozen or so. Why?”

“I need all of them,” Starlight said as she withdrew one of her recently procured grimoires and starting flipping through the pages, “does anypony have any chalk? I’ll also need etching tools and silver,” she looked around and noticed that nopony was moving to comply with her instructions, “now!” several nearby ponies jerked and started rummaging through their possession to produce what she had requested.

Foxglove blinked at the Old World mare, “you’re...making spark talismans, aren’t you? Like, from scratch!”

“Yup,” Starlight replied simply, her eyes once more glued to the book floating in front of her, “very specific spark talismans too. I audited the MAS team that helped to developed the power armor, and I know a little something about how their spell matrix works; which means I can make a talisman with a charge that can take their armor offline,” she looked up from her book and peered at me, “this isn’t going to be quality work, you understand,” she gestured at our surroundings, “I’m throwing these together with odds and ends in the middle of the desert after all. You’ll have to bring them physically into contact with the armor near the matrix’s location on the left flank. If you hit them anywhere else, it won’t do much more than frazzle them for a bit. Got it?”

I nodded, still trying to really wrap my head around what was going on. Because it sounded like everypony was coming up with a way for me to be able to go in there and save Homily and the others on my own, “I...I don’t understand,” I said, looking from each of my friends to the other.

Foxglove smiled and shrugged at me, “Homily and her friends are in big trouble. Somepony’s got to help them. Plus, she did kind of ask for you by name,” she nodded at the barding I was holding.
She had, but, “do you really think it’s a good idea for me to be out there on my own?” I hadn’t been making a lot of good decisions lately.

Arginine spoke this time, “you are a capable pony, especially when you are focused on a particularly important task. Your performance should prove adequate.”

“Coming from you, that’s a pretty resounding endorsement,” I sighed and started putting the barding on, “maybe I can pull this off.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Foxglove assured me, “but you need to get there and save them as soon as possible,” the violet mare helped me secure the last of the reinforced barding’s straps and then gave me a quick hug. When she pulled away, she produced one last item from her bags. It very closely resembled the Enclave helmet that I had picked up in Seaddle. The one which Minos had identified as having been the one he’d worn while escaping from the Enclave. Only now it had been painted in the bright blue and gold colors of a Wonderbolt, and much of the electronics had been shifted over to the left side, favoring my working eye.

Foxglove shrugged again, “I was really worried…”

Despite how nervous I was feeling, I laughed and took the helmet. It fit snugly over my head, and once it was seated firmly in place it came to life. My vision was filled with a second overlay that worked to integrate itself with the information that was usually displayed by my pipbuck. Readings for my airspeed, groundspeed, altitude, heading, and several other readouts that I wasn’t entirely familiar with flickered to life with numbers that were pretty much straight zeroes for the moment.

“Thanks, Foxy. This stuff’s pretty neat―” I stopped abruptly when I discovered that Marl and the others were all staring at me with gaping mouths, “are you okay?”

“Yer the Wonderbolt?” the slate unicorn mare asked dumbly, as though she was simultaneously realizing how ridiculous the question seemed when faced with such an obvious answer.

I glanced down at the barding, moving my leg in an exaggerated motion as I continued to acquaint myself with the feel of the new barding. It sounded like such an obvious answer, I suppose; but it wasn’t to me. I’d been grappling with a very similar question for a while now. After all, being a ‘hero’ was about more than just wearing some flashy costume that everypony could recognize at a glance. It came with expectations.

Homily had called for help. She wanted somepony to save her from danger because she didn’t believe that she could do it on her own, or with the aid of the ponies with her. Specifically, she had called for me; because, in her mind, the Wonderbolt was a reliable and capable pony who could stop whoever was threatening her. She was expecting me to be able to fighting off an undisclosed number of Steel Rangers and keep her and the others safe. That was a pretty tall order to ask of anypony, frankly.

What Marl was asking me, whether she knew it or not, wasn’t if I was just somepony who looked like a Wonderbolt and wanted to go around acting like a hero. To me, it felt like she was asking me if I really thought that I could do what Homily had been asking of me. She was asking if I could save them and fight off the Steel Rangers all on my own.

Could I do that? Probably not, in all reality. I was just one little pegasus. Still, with that in mind, there was one other little matter to consider: I was still going to try anyway. One little pegasus was going to swoop in there and do everything in her power to save a group of ponies who were asking for help. She wasn’t going to do that because she fancied herself a ‘hero’ though.

I was going to do it because once upon a time, nopony helped save me; and nopony should have to go through what I did.

“No,” I finally said, shaking my head and grinning her, “I’m just a stupid mare in some silly blue barding who thinks she can make the Wasteland a better place by helping ponies out.

“I just happen to look like a Wonderbolt while doing it!”

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Bonus Hoof-to-Hoof Attacks - Melee attacks cost 1 AP less to perform.
Unarmed Skill: 50

CHAPTER 36: AM I ASKING TOO MUCH?

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We give them the most important thing possible. We give their dreary lives excitement.

Most ponies would probably have felt properly concerned over the notion of racing off to face down an as yet undisclosed number of Steel Rangers on their own, with only eight (four of the stones that Marl had provided didn’t survive Starlight’s incantations to turn them into functional talismans) “weapons” at their disposal that were of dubious effectiveness. In order for them to work at all I’d have to get close enough to touch my opponents, and if I wanted these little blue gems to be anything more than a mild annoyance, I’d have to slap them right over their armor’s spell matrix on their hind quarters. Otherwise they’d just shake it off in a minute or two, if I was lucky.

Then there was the fact to consider, that, unlike the genetically engineered ponies from Arginine’s stable, the Steel Rangers were tried and tested warriors of the Wasteland. They weren’t exactly invincible, by any stretch of the imagination, of course, but they still had a well-earned reputation for battling both exceptionally dangerous monsters and beating back some of the better organized forces out there. After all, they were able to hold their own rather respectably against groups like the New Lunar Republic and the Enclave. Ponies like that weren’t to be taken lightly.

Showing up to this fight with some untested barding, two century old experimental hardware, and a hoofful of do-it-yourself talismans was about as ‘lightly’ as things went too.

When one stopped to consider all of that, any sane pony would have been suitably terrified at the prospect of squaring off against them.

Fortunately for Homily and her troupe over in McMaren, I wasn’t known for my rational contemplation of the odds. That had been Jackboot’s thing. My thing was figuring out what to do on the fly.

And, WOW, was I flying!

Foxglove had turned down the thrust of the Gale Force significantly from what it had been in the Arc Lightning factory, but even at a fraction of its full potential, it was adding generously to my top cruising speed. The numbers that the helmet’s instruments added to my pipbuck’s Eyes Forward Sparkle which denoted my airspeed were phenomenal; not that I had ever seen a measurement of the sorts of velocities that I could achieve normally. I did know that I’d never seen the ground moving below me that quickly before though.

That Enclave helmet did more than display my speed and direction too, it also somehow tracked air currents and thermals along my heading. Where, before, I had to sort of just figure out what the weather conditions around me were as I flew through them, and make adjustments accordingly, now I was ready for them. I could angle my wings just right to catch an updraft and use it to boost my speed up a little further, instead of having to fight it until I figured out how powerful and how extensive it was in the end. It was like having a roadmap for the sky!

Unfortunately, the feeling of utter jubilation that I was experiencing right now was marred, ever so slightly, by just the bearest hint of anxiousness brought on by the knowledge that ponies I knew were in a lot of trouble. I couldn’t know how long they’d been broadcasting for, and I hadn’t been able to pick up any signals from them a second time when I tried midflight. Either that meant that the transmitter was broken, they’d abandoned the broadcast tower to seek better shelter elsewhere, or…

Steel Rangers might not have had the reputation for abject cruelty that raiders or groups like the White Hooves were known for, but nopony in the Neighvada Valley would have ever suggested that the band of armored ponies were exactly shy about using their overwhelming firepower to win a fight. The only times they pulled their punches was when they were concerned about damaging something valuable. Even then, if it looked like they weren’t going to get their hooves on the tech anyway, they’d still go with the balefire option in the end.

My eyes darted to one of the readouts hovering in front of my eyes. I was only a dozen more miles out from Camp McMaren. In the distance, the military installation was just beginning to become visible through the valley’s perpetual dust-induced haze. It wasn’t as noticeable on the ground, where you couldn’t see for more than a few miles in any direction even on the best of days; but up in the air it did a lot more to impact visibility.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just the buildings and the broad perimeter fence that I could see. There were at least three large pillars of smoke rising into the air, as well as another half dozen wispier tendrils from much smaller fires or recent explosions. Most of the destruction was relegated to the base’s fence and protective structures, but one of the larger buildings was mostly burned down too. The radio tower looked to be mostly intact.

The fighting didn’t seem to be over either; not quite yet. Streaks of tracer fire in high volume and the occasional sudden appearance of a trail of smoke from a missile’s exhaust stood as profound evidence that the Rangers believed that there was some resistance within the base that still required stamping out. All that I could spy of that ‘resistance’ were scattered and infrequent muzzle flashes coming from scattered fighting positions which surrounded one of the base’s many fortified bunkers.

Obviously designed with the intent of surviving just about any sort of bombardment that the zebra forces could have thrown at the ancient Equestrian installation, at first I couldn’t understand why Homily and the others hadn’t sealed themselves up inside of one of them and waited for the Steel Rangers to take what they wanted and go. I highly doubted that the armored order had any interest in settling in, given that they already had a base of operations somewhere in the valley that they were waging their war from.

As I got closer though, I could see the reason they hadn’t sheltered themselves quite yet: the door was wide open. A pair of tiny chromatic shapes were clustered on one side, clearly trying to get the time-ravaged portal working again, but who knew if that was something that was even possible under the most ideal of circumstances. The rest of their sparse contingent was engaged in a delaying action to provide their workers with whatever precious time they could, but even from up here I could see the disparity in firepower heavily favored the Steel Rangers in the end.

Unless a miracle happened, anyway.

“Miracle’s on it’s way, Homily,” I murmured under my breath as I angled myself for a dive into the ranks of the Rangers.

Eight questionable talismans for fifteen identified threats on my augmented EFS. That meant that I was going to run out of truly effective weapons halfway through this fight. The Gale Force attachment still had those razor sharp blades along the leading edge, and I knew for a fact that they could cut through Steel Ranger power armor―eventually―but they were a much...bloodier weapon than I was feeling comfortable with using. They would serve as an item of last resort, I suppose, but I really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. No matter how I looked at it, this wasn’t what I would consider to be an ‘ideal’ situation.

The smart thing to do―what Jackboot would have had me do―was to sneak up on the Rangers from behind. I could swoop down on them from above and slap one of Starlight Glimmer’s talismans on them and completely disable them before they even knew what was happening. They wouldn’t even be able to call out for help or warn their companions as I worked my way through their ranks until I was finally out of talismans and was forced to resort to cruder means of dealing with them.

It was efficient, effective, and offered me the best chance I had at killing as many of the Rangers as possible; which was precisely the reason that I wasn’t going to do it.

These weren’t bad ponies. As little as I might think of the Steel Rangers, they weren’t crazed murderers who were doing this for a thrill; nor were they genuine raiders in it for the caps. They were here for tech. Homily and her friends were protecting that tech. That was why the two groups were fighting, but it also meant that there should also be a way to get them to stop.

Maybe there wasn’t. Maybe I was just an idiot who was about to get herself killed because she didn’t take the smart, Jackboot, option.

And maybe I didn’t care, because fuck me if I was going to slaughter even more ponies today after taking out another one of those slaughterhouses. Besides, if I had any amount of luck at all, then―

Star Paladin Hoplite. The largest and lankiest pony that I had ever seen in my life, with a shape so unique that I could spot her even from up here, was right there in the thick of the fighting, directing the other rangers. It seemed that the ghoulish ranger had even managed to acquire a new helmet as well. Hopefully she wasn’t going to make me take off another one, and her head along with it this time. I certainly wasn’t her favorite pony in the world, but if anypony was going to be able to make her stop and at least listen for a few minutes, if was the pony that had kicked her flank during our last encounter.

This was crazy, and Jackboot would have flayed me alive if he’d lived long enough to see me do this, but I was committed. I dove for the narrow no-mares-land that existed between the two groups of fighting ponies.

Scarlet beams and golden tracers bounced back and forth across the barren landscape between the two groups of embattled ponies. Small, pony-portable missiles and forty millimeter grenades etched the landscape with craters as they exploded. It was a maelstrom of bullets, energy beams, and shrapnel, and I was landing right in the midst of it. I didn’t merely land though, that wouldn’t have gotten the reaction that I wanted from the combatants. I needed their attention diverted from the fighting, and focused on the new arrival who was so rudely intruding on their hostilities.

I arched my wings and poured on a little extra speed with the Gale Force, entering a tight spin as I descended. A vortex took shape in the air directly behind me and followed closely in my wake. Numbers denoting my orientation scrolled far too quickly to be comprehended, and my new Enclave helmet whined in my ear in protest at the maneuver. I wasn’t paying attention to the alarms though. My eyes were instead fixated on the altimeter as it ticked down to progressively smaller and smaller numbers at an unsettling rate. I also cast a quick glance at the power gauge for the Gale Force strapped to my barding.

Foxglove’s promised modifications had rendered it much more power efficient than it had been during my initial experience with the device. I’d used it most of the way here to augment my speed, but it hadn’t put out nearly the level of thrust that I knew it could. At much lower power settings, it was obviously much more conservative with energy consumption. The violet engineer had also followed through on her promise to add additional power reserves to further increase its endurance.

I was about to bypass most of those modifications though. I didn’t have the greatest head for numbers, and this was probably the sort of stunt that a great many calculations were supposed to be done for to make sure that it would work. Too little power, and I’d pancake rather spectacularly into the ground. Too much power, and I’d probably end up ripping the Gale Force right off my barding. Hopefully it wouldn’t also take my wings with it.

Instead, I was basically going to try and eyeball this and go with my gut. I’d been flying by instinct for my whole life up to this point without the aid of fancy advanced technology like the Gale Force and the Enclave helmet, after all. The fact that this also meant I had no practical way of being able to accurately ‘feel’ how much thrust I was supposed to use to make this work was immaterial.

The altimeter spun down to single digits. I slapped the switch that Foxglove had installed which swapped the Gale Force between its newly devised ‘cruise’ setting and the factory default ‘hold on to your flank!’ setting and threw its engines into their full output level.

To say that the maneuver went over as perfectly as I’d hoped would have been a bit of an overstatement, but somewhere short of an outright lie. The Arc Lightning contraption on my back performed just as I’d remembered, and I was wrenched bodily out of my nose-dive towards the ground as the levitation field kicked into high gear and the engines drained every last little dreg of power from their connected spark-packs, pouring that into power which killed my velocity and wrenched it all the way down to zero.

What I didn’t do was come to a stop just a foot or two above the ground, as I had intended. I didn’t quite turn myself into a white and blue splotch on the base grounds, but I hit pretty hard. My legs took the brunt of the hit, and my right hindquarters buckled under the force of the impact, cracking my knee on the hard scrabble. It was a good thing my wings hadn’t been sheared off after all, because I wasn’t going to enjoy walking for a few days!

While the ground may have stopped me, it didn’t straight up halt what I was bringing along. That tight vortex, which had grown into a near-tornado by the time I was on the ground, struck right around me. As more and more of the column of swirling air followed along, the maelstrom spread outward in an expanding ring around me. Winds, gusting at nearly a hundred miles an hour, picked up dust, rocks, and other debris, and carried it along for the ride, building itself into a wall of material that blocked visibility and threatened to flay the hide of anypony who hadn’t thought to take shelter by the time it arrived.

Even the Rangers, encased in their hardened steel shells, were forced to hunker down as the force of all that impacting refuse threatened to take them off their hooves in those opening seconds upon impact. Not everypony was rocked hard by the windstorm that I’d whipped up, and it dissipated rather quickly as its diameter grew. However, it had accomplished its primary purpose of getting everypony’s attention, and the momentary loss of visibility due to the whipped up dust had caused a brief cessation of fire as everypony lost sight of their targets.

Now, though, I could feel dozens of eyes focused on me. There was a lot of uncertainty from both sides. Was I Enclave, here to turn this into a three way fight? Had I been summoned by some party working in New Reino on behalf of Homily and her crew to stop the Steel Rangers? Was I some other rogue element here for my own ends?

Nopony seemed willing to fire the shot that might start something they weren’t certain that they could finish, which gave me the initiative; though I was certain it wasn’t an opportunity that I was going to be able to capitalize on for long. I needed to act, and I needed to do it decisively. The Steel Rangers were the aggressors, which made them the obvious choice to go with first if I wanted to get things de-escalated.

I turned towards the line of armored ponies, and my eyes immediately locked onto Star Paladin Hoplite. Brilliant jade green paint glistened in aggressive lines along the contours of her helmet, freshly applied within the last few weeks. I straightened up, wincing as my right knee protested moving around so soon after its sudden acquaintance with the ground. Noting the flashing warning that indicated the Gale Force was completely drained, I flipped out my wings and hopped into the air so that my head was level with that of the abnormally tall mare. Then I flipped up the visor on my helmet.

“Hoplite!” I yelled out at the Steel Ranger, wishing I could tell what her reaction to my appearance was beneath that armor of hers, “what the fuck are you doing?!” I wasn’t good at diplomacy.

While I couldn’t read anypony’s facial expressions, the fact that several Rangers promptly oriented themselves and their rather intimidating armaments in my direction after I’d asked my rather bluntly-phrased question suggested that quite a few of their number wasn’t very happy with me. I idly wondered how many of those Rangers had been there in the Arc Lightning factory; and if any of those here now had been, were they among those who were taking aim, or the ones keeping their attention on Homily’s group in an effort not to draw my ire?

The silence that extended over the base in the wake of my question was deafening, and felt like it lasted for far longer than it probably did. Eventually though, the Star Paladin spoke, “stand down, Rangers. For now,” the tone of those last two words compelled me to mentally remind myself which of the pouches on my barding contained Starlight Glimmer’s spark talismans.

Hoplite advanced beyond the rest of her contingent, “you again. Should I feel privileged to be stalked by you?”

“You should take it as a hint that you should stop doing what you’re doing,” I shot back, “I thought we had a deal?”

“These ponies are not part of your precious ‘Lunar Republic’,” the lanky mare responded with an audible sneer, “and they were given ample opportunity to peaceably surrender and leave. The directive of our order is to recover advanced technology, especially that which could prove dangerous if misused. A military stronghold, such as this one, is a prime location for finding such technology.

“At no point did I ever agree to cease pursuing our order’s goals,” she pointed out. Then, in a much more severe tone, Hoplite added, “nor will I now.”

I was afraid of that. She was right, of course; I hadn’t told her that the Rangers couldn’t stop doing what they did normally wherever they went, and it was clear that trying to convince them to just turn around and leave would simply culminate in violence. Briefly, I entertained the notion of trying to get the ponies running the radio tower to leave, but if they had been willing to take the fight this far, I couldn’t conceive of them giving up now.

The thought of having to fight all of these Rangers, now that I’d forfeited the element of surprise, wasn’t a very pleasant one. That was looking like the only way things were going to be headed though, without some other way to just spontaneously get these two groups to stop fighting―

It was under ‘E’!

Something had brought these Rangers here in the first place, and I refused to believe that they were truly this committed to a fight on the off-chance that there might be something they considered valuable. If, even now, Hoplite was willing to fight me, having experienced first-hoof what I could do to a Ranger wearing power armor, then they were after something specific.

“Why are you here, Hoplite?”

“I already told you, military installations are troves of pre-war technology that the Steel Rangers are dedicated to protecting from those who would abuse it.”

“Horseapples,” my rebuke caused the taller mare to visibly balk, “you’re not doing all of this on a hunch,” I said, waving my hoof at the surrounding battlefield, “even you’re not stupid enough to be this reckless.”

“How dare you!” the Star Paladin seethed. I felt a few more weapons training on me from the other rangers, “we do not shy from our sacred duty, no matter the odds! To even suggest that a mere trivial fight such as this one would constitute any sort of―”

“That’s not what I meant,” I growled at the mare, and then I took a deep breath. This was going to go south any moment now, and I wasn’t helping the situation by being this abrasive. Yeah, I was upset that these Rangers were hurting my friends, but I wasn’t doing anypony any favors by losing my own temper over it. I’d gotten the shooting to stop, for now, but that wouldn’t matter at all if I couldn’t keep it stopped.

I needed to Be Pleasant!

“Listen, Hoplite,” I drew up short and could sense the rage building up within the mare’s barding. A little yellow pegasus shook and admonishing hoof at me, glaring surprisingly sternly with her normally soft blue eyes, “Star Paladin Hoplite,” I corrected. It would have been a stretch to say that the leader of these Rangers was in any way ‘soothed’, but she at least wasn’t more pissed off, “be honest with me: do you think I’ll be able to recover what the Republic stole from you?”

“I find it difficult to think that a pony like you has anywhere near the kind of resources at your disposal that would allow you to do so, no.”

Fair enough, “so you don’t think the ceasefire will last,” it wasn’t a question, more of a conclusion that the Star Paladin confirmed with a nod, “and you’re just biding your time and reorganising your forces for when the fighting eventually starts back up.”

“The Republic is doubtlessly doing the same,” Hoplite nodded, “I agreed to your demands only because I believed that a brief respite would ultimately favor our superior forces in the long term.”

And because I would have cut off your head otherwise, was something I miraculously managed to not say out loud. Gold star for me! What I did respond with was, “and because you are preparing for more fighting with the Republic, I find it hard to believe that you’re using all of these energy packs, missiles, grenades, and whatever else just because you think something might be here. You should be saving all of that stuff for the enemy, right?”

Hoplite didn’t respond immediately, simply staring at me. So I pressed a little harder, “which means you think that there’s something here that’s worth more than all these missiles you’re using. If you tell me what it is, then maybe we can make a deal, because I guarantee you that those ponies don’t care about whatever it is you’re after,” I added, waving at the ponies who were still fervently trying to get the bunker door functional while the lull in the fighting lasted.

“And why would I tell a Republic sympathizer about the treasures we are after?”

I was going to have to push a little harder now, and Hoplite might not like it. Hopefully I could phrase it in such a way that it didn’t come out as an outright threat. Or, at least, not an idle one.

My brain conducted another mental check on the location of those talismans as my eyes took note of the nearest vulnerable flanks, “because it’s the only way that this ends without anypony getting hurt,” I could sense that Hoplite was about to retort, so I pressed on before she could, raising my voice and putting a little more bite into my tone, “and you’ve seen that I can hurt your Rangers, Star Paladin,” she remained silent, and so I continued, “there are more of you this time, and maybe you can take me in the end; but I promise that I’ll stop enough of you before I go down that those ponies behind me will be able to fight you off in the end.

“Then you’ll have wasted all this effort for nothing. You’ll have wasted ammunition, lost weapons, and lost Rangers; and with me gone, there won’t be anything keeping the Republic from starting up the fighting again. They’ll hit you hard, freshly rested and organized, while your forces are still recovering from their loss here. They’ll have the initiative. They might even be able to push you out of the valley entirely.

“All because you wouldn’t let me see if I could help you,” I kept my gaze leveled at the lanky mare, “that seems like a silly reason to risk losing a war, Star Paladin. Don’t you agree?”

A heavy silence hung over the field as Star Paladin Hoplite digested my words. I could see a few other Rangers shifting uneasily. Perhaps there were some here who had borne witness to my work during our last encounter after all.

“This base is reported to have served as a forward command post during the Great War,” the tall mare finally replied, “beneath it, sealed within its fortified bunkers,” she nodded in the direction of the ponies who had been defending the base from their attack, and the bunker whose door they were still trying to return to operation, “there should be detailed locations of weapons depots and forward fire bases that the Steel Rangers can make use of; both in our war with the Republic, and the rest of Equestria.

“We have sent smaller expeditions here in the past to recon the area and try to retrieve those records, but we always lost contact with them.”

I vividly remembered the...things that had once controlled this place, pretending to be ponies. I could imagine them having been just as welcoming to a few Steel Rangers as they had been to us, until those Rangers had let down their guard.

“So I came here with a full strike team to finally clear out the riff-raff that have been killing my Rangers and secure the facility.”

Hoplite had no way of knowing that Homily’s group hadn’t been responsible for her lost Rangers. She had rolled up here and immediately assumed that whoever was at the base had been killing her ponies, and so she had probably not even hesitated to open fire upon arrival. Not knowing why the Rangers were here, why they were attacking, and what they were after, it had been pure dumb luck that they had started falling back in the direction of Hoplite’s goal. Though I suspected that the Star Paladin was going to wipe out these ponies just on principal in the end anyway, if she really did think that they had been killing her earlier scouting teams.

It was time to set a few things straight, “these ponies aren’t the ones who killed your Rangers,” I insisted, “in fact, they helped me get rid of the monsters living here that did,” I jabbed my hoof at the Star Paladin, “they’re good, decent, ponies trying to make the Wasteland a better place by warning caravans about raider and monster activity; so you will stand down and stop killing them,” I leveled a sharp glare at the other nearby Rangers as well before returning my attention to Hoplite, “and I will make sure you get what you came for.”

That got the Star Paladin’s attention, “you would help us? Why?”

“Because it gets you out of here faster,” blunt honesty was still honesty. I received an approving nod from an orange earth pony mare, and a grimace from an ivory unicorn who was of a mind that I could have phrased things a little more delicately, “and the sooner your Rangers are away from here, the less chance there is of any shooting starting up again.”

Hoplite was silent again. It went on long enough that I began to suspect that she was going to reject my proposal and order her forces to resume the attack. She had the numbers and firepower to win, in the end, there was no denying that. I was confident I could make that victory a near-pyrrhic one, but that wasn’t going to be much consolation to Homily and the others if they still all ended up dead.

I desperately wanted Hoplite to agree to this though. It was a way for everypony to win, or at the very least for nopony else to have to lose any more than they already had. The Rangers got what they wanted, and the ponies here didn’t suffer any further losses. How could anypony turn down a deal like that?

Fortunately, Hoplite didn’t, “I accept. I will stand my forces down, if we are permitted to retrieve what is buried beneath this installation.”

A breath that I hadn’t realized I was holding escaped my lips despite myself. I was really glad that I wouldn’t have to go out in a blaze of glory fighting a bunch of Steel Rangers, “and you won’t harm anypony else here?”

“So long as they take no further action against us, we will leave them in peace.”

I had a tacit agreement from the Rangers. That was half of the equation solved. Now I just needed to make sure that Homily and her ponies would be willing to cooperate, “stay here. I’ll let Homily know the fighting’s over,” if she was even among the living, anyway. If she wasn’t―though I desperately hoped she was―then perhaps whoever had replaced her as the defacto leader would be receptive to the deal that I was brokering. I turned from the Rangers and made my way towards the bunker. Quite a few gun barrels peaking over hasty fighting position erected near the fortified structure tracked my progress. It seemed that they weren’t entirely sure what to make of me just yet; especially after having just seen me speaking directly to the Rangers’ commander just now.

“Is Homily around?” I called out, stopping before I got too much closer. There were a lot of ponies here that were clearly quite nervous. They knew the odds as well as anypony did. At this point, they just kept on resisting because they didn’t like the idea of just rolling over and dying, “I’ve worked out a deal with the Rangers. Nopony else has to die,” I searched the faces of the defending ponies, looking for any sign of the pale yellow mare who had been leading them the last time I was here.

Please let her still be alive…

“Windfall? Is that you?!”

I whipped my head in the direction of the voice that sounded odd to my ears without the static distortion that I’d come to associate it with, and saw the earth pony mare creeping out from behind a pile of sandbags. Her eyes darted nervously towards the Rangers who were still maintaining their intimidating line no more than a few dozen yards away. My lips spread out into a reassuring smile that I hoped at least looked genuine enough to be convincing and I slipped the Enclave helmet off my head, “got your message,” I lifted my pipbuck up and shrugged, “glad to see you made it; I really like your broadcasts.”

Homily seemed to only barely register what I’d said, her gaze still fixed on me. I could see her taking in my barding and the alloyed carapace that encased the tops of my wings, courtesy of the Gale Force rig that I wore. I suppose that I looked quite a bit more capable than I had as the lithe little pegasus who had come to the rescue of her crew before they’d made their home here. Jackboot had been the ‘tough’ looking pony back then.

When she still hadn’t said anything further in response, I cleared my throat and waved my hoof at the mare, “not to put too fine a point on it, but I’m still trying to hammer out the details of this deal, and I need your help,” I waved at the others nearby, “all of you.”

That finally seemed to shake Homily out of whatever shock she’d been in. She peered into my face with eyes that started to glisten as she spoke, “I don’t know what happened. Our lookouts spotted them coming our way, and we tried to call them on the radio, but they just ignored us! Then they opened fire on our perimeter towers, and the gate…” I could hear the trembling in her voice. Even during our first meeting, I’d known that she wasn’t a fighter. She had drive and ambition, sure, but she wasn’t a creature of violence.

That’s why ponies like me existed.

I stepped closer and placed a consoling hoof around the quivering earth pony, “shh...it’s alright. It’s over, I promise. I’ve talked with them, and Hoplite’s agreed to stop the fighting. All they want is access the the underground levels,” I sat back, a wan smile on my face, “which are through that door right there,” I pointed in the direction of the gaping doorway and the work crews that had finally halted their efforts until they knew precisely what direction events were about to take.

“The underground levels?” Homily asked, wiping her eyes and looking around at the bunker. Then she looked back at me, “that’s all?” there was an odd mixture of relief and despair in her voice. I could understand why too. All this death and destruction, over a matter that was so insignificant and trivial to them. All that any of these ponies were interested in was the radio transmitter and keeping it working. Had the Rangers made even a cursory attempt to communicate, not a single shot would have been fired. Nopony would have died at all, “they just wanted to go inside these stupid bunkers?” now I could hear the anger rising to supplant the relief.

I scanned the anxious and frightened faces, though a few hid their fear behind masks of defiance. How many of them had there been that morning? What was the count of those who had died because Hoplite had fired first, and talked never? Even in Homily’s voice I could hear the promise that forgiveness for the Rangers for what they had done this day would not be coming in my lifetime.

This needed to be headed off before it got out of hoof and even she was inclined to do something stupid for the sake of vengeance. I placed my hoof back on her shoulder and looked the mare square in the eyes, “they thought you were those monsters that used to be here. They didn’t know.”

It was pitiful consolation, I knew. I could see the anguish in Homily’s face as she too wrestled with her emotionally fueled hatred of the Rangers, and her intellectual understanding of ‘why’. Even if she finally decided, in her head, that how the Rangers had chosen to act was understandable, given the circumstances, she still wasn’t going to forgive them for it. Judging from a few expressions of the ponies close enough to hear what we were saying, I wasn’t as sure as I’d like to be that everypony would be able to keep those emotional responses properly reined in.

Which would be bad.

“I’m going to go back to the Rangers and have them pull most of their forces back outside the base. Just a few will stay,” I probably wasn’t overselling my negotiating abilities by making that sort of promise before even bringing it up with Hoplite. If I could convince her it was the best way to get what she was after with the least amount of trouble, she should be willing to go for it, “once that happens, you’ll be able to get everypony here back to the radio tower and the barracks,” I looked in that direction, “if they’re still standing…

“I just need you to keep all of your ponies in line,” I said, turning my attention back to Homily again, and making sure that she understood how truly important this part was. Tensions were running especially high among the ponies here. It wouldn’t take much for one of them to do something stupid and get a lot of other ponies killed, “can you do that for me?”

Homily opened her mouth to say something, but the words died in her throat. She seemed to deflate slightly and tried a second time, with marginally more success, “I think so,” she said in a quiet voice. She bowed her head and stared at the ground, “they killed so many of us…”

“I know,” I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen any of the bodies of whatever sentries would have been posted when the attack came. I didn’t know how many defenders there had been, compared to the less than a dozen survivors that remained. Had it been ten ponies who died because of a stupid mistake? Twenty? More? “But it’s over now,” please, let it be over.

I gave Homily a final brief hug to reassure her and then headed back towards the Rangers. It was hard now not to hate them a little more too, after seeing how distraught the mare had been, how harrowed all of those survivors had been...all because Hoplite hadn’t felt like answering her radio. Those feelings would have to be set aside though. I was on the precipice of a deal, and I refused to endanger it because of how teary a mare’s eyes had been. Nothing would bring back Homily’s dead. All I could do now was keep that death toll from climbing any higher.

“You’re going to pull most of your forces back,” I instructed the tall mare with the green paint on her barding, “send them back past the base perimeter. Then Homily will withdraw her ponies back to the barracks. Then you, me, and a couple of your Rangers will go down and find what you came for.

“Then you leave, and never come back,” I didn’t take my eyes off the mare, and I made sure there was a cool edge in my voice the whole time. The message was clear: these were not terms that could be negotiated. Either she was going to accept them, or...well, then there was going to be a problem, “that’s the deal.”

“And if I do not like that deal?” Hoplite asked.

I felt my gut harden as fear took hold, but I refused to let it show or sway me. Maybe I was showing my Republic bias towards them, but I refused to allow these Rangers to feel like they got to call the shots just because they had that power armor and fancy weapons. I was not a fan of their ‘oh-so-superior’ demeanor. Take away their toys, and they were all just ponies, no better than me, or Homily. They weren’t even native to this valley; they were invaders. That meant that they didn’t get to act like they ran this place. It wasn’t theirs to run.

As weird as it was to think this, as far as I was concerned, even the White Hooves got to have more of a say on how things got run in the Neighvada Valley than the Steel Rangers. Hoplite was just going to have to learn to live with that when it came to dealing with me.

“Then this time I won’t stop with cutting off just your helmet,” I stated acidly.

Maybe the threat wasn’t the greatest idea, but my patience was starting to wear thin with this mare. I had a perfectly good agreement worked out here, and it seemed like she was just trying to be difficult on purpose. Whether that was just the way that Hoplite was wired, or if she was trying to emulate Arginine and conduct some sort of little personality test of her own on me, I didn’t care. The sooner she was done with her business here and gone back to whatever stronghold the Rangers had in this valley, the better I’d feel.

“Very well,” even though I’d wanted her to accept the deal, I had to admit that I was still a little surprised that she had actually agreed to it. Not that I was hoping she’d refuse it or anything. I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t have that high of an opinion of Steel Rangers.

The Star Paladin glanced back over her shoulder at two of her troopers, “Hastati, Decurion, you’ll remain with me. The rest of you will pull back to the rally point and await further orders,” she looked briefly in my direction and then issued a follow-up order, “if you do not hear from us within the hour, kill everypony here.”

I heard a few grumbles, and caught more than a few Rangers glaring in my direction before they turned to leave, but eventually it was just the four of us left as Hoplite’s Rangers withdrew, “you three stay right here until Homily gets her ponies out of here,” there were going to be more than a few itchy trigger bits out there.

Homily hadn’t been idle at least. It looked like the moment she saw that the Rangers were really going to make good on the assurance that I’d given her she’d started to get everypony ready to move back to the barracks. I got a closer look at the losses they’d suffered this time as they brought out their wounded, and their dead. One unicorn stallion looked to be taking the loss of his comrade pretty hard too. Close family or a lover, it was hard to tell, but judging from the tears and the muttered refusals to accept the reality of the loss, it was more than likely one of them. He probably wasn’t the only one either.

The pale yellow mare watched the last of her ponies go and then looked up at me, “you’re really her, aren’t you? The Wonderbolt, I mean. It’s you?”

I shrugged and rubbed the back of my head idly, “you don’t have to sound that disappointed…”

“No, I mean it’s just…” the radio personality stammered, blushing slightly, “I don’t know. I just didn’t realize I’d been talking about you this whole time is all. I knew you were a good pony, I just didn’t realize you were a for real hero.”

I shook my head, “I’m not,” as much as I honestly meant those words, I wasn’t able to make them sound all that convincing, “I’m just trying to help ponies. The barding and the whole look, that’s just...trying to look cool doing it,” a blue pegasus agreed that the armor did indeed look rather awesome, and while a certain white unicorn seemed to have more than a few comments to offer on what constituted ‘cool’, she approved of a desire to appear stylish, after a fashion, while doing something.

“Well, whatever you think, the ponies in this valley have started to notice you,” Homily warned me, though I got the impression that it wasn’t meant to sound entirely foreboding, “and a lot of them are glad you’re around. You stopped a war, for Celestia’s sake!”

“It’s not stopped yet,” I murmured, glancing briefly back at Hoplite and her escorts, “not by a long shot.”

“Still, the Republic and the Rangers aren’t shooting at each other right now, and that’s pretty impressive for one pony to pull off, however you managed it. It’s given ponies hope.”

Wow, no pressure. I wondered how ‘hopeful’ all of those ponies would be if they knew that they’d been placing their faith in the abilities of a tiny little teen pegasus filly. Still, it did feel nice to know that ponies out there believed in me enough to think I could actually do something important, even if they didn’t know who I was beyond a snappy uniform, “thanks, Homily. Go take care of your ponies. I’ll get these Rangers out of here as quick as I can.”

“The quicker the better,” the mare snorted bitterly, “I’ll get the transmitter fired back up and put out a broadcast to let the valley know Miss Neighvada’s still around; and who’s to thank for it!”

It was my turn to blush now, and not just because of the peck on the cheek that Homily gave me before she trotted off. I rubbed the spot where she kissed me and stared after her. I canted my head and watched her go, contemplating her posture as she went.

...Nope, I wasn’t into mares.

I shook myself to get my mind focused on the next few tasks at hoof and turned to wave Star Paladin Hoplite and her other two Rangers over to the bunker’s entrance. They let me take the lead as the four of us headed inside. I couldn’t decide if it was because none of them wanted to trust me being behind them, or if they wanted to make sure that it wasn’t any of them who happened to fall victim to whatever sort of automated defenses invariably existed down below. I didn’t have to know anything at all about the ponies who worked at this base, or what sort of protocols the ponies of Old Equestria had in place for their military installations to know that something was going to shoot at us eventually.

Those crazy ancestors of ours put automated turrets and equicidal robots everywhere!

I was surprised by one thing though, and that was how unexpectedly extensive this place was. There wasn’t much to look at from the surface. A fence, some guard towers, a few larger buildings to house and support a contingent of soldiers. Pretty much exactly what you’d expect to see at a military base out in the middle of nowhere. I wasn’t going to pretend that I was any sort of master tactician, but this wasn’t exactly where I would have put a garrison that was tasked with defending some vital area against zebra aggression. It was days away from the nearest significant settlement, had nothing in the way of natural defenses, and honestly didn’t look like it supported all that many ponies considering an all out war between the two biggest powers in the world were going at it in the throwdown that nearly ended the whole world.

My assessment changed considerably when we got below ground. It wasn’t all that much at first. A couple of large rooms that looked like they were there to store war materials and keep them safe from artillery strikes and air raids. Exactly what somepony would expect from a fortified bunker in a desert base.

Then we found the door with the winged thundercloud and a single tri-colored lightning bolt. The Ministry of Awesome. Even the three Steel Rangers with me looked surprised to see it.

“This shouldn’t be here,” Hoplite probably hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but I couldn’t help but agree. Everything that I knew about the Old World para-military ministry suggested that they hadn’t actually been this directly involved with the regular army. I’d certainly never seen one of their little hidden facilities tied directly to a legitimate military base like this.

Unless this wasn’t a legitimate base…

I’d seen them set up fronts before. They’d built an entire fake shipping company to hide their activities after all. Would they have also created a fake military base? That would explain why there was surprisingly little to it. Enough to make for a compelling argument that Camp McMaren was just another place to house and mobilize troops among a hundred other such places spread all over Equestria to support their war effort, but not enough to make the zebras particularly nervous and pay too much unwanted attention to it. How many soldiers could a place like this have realistically supported given the visible structures above ground? Enough to barely justify having a base, but surely not anywhere near enough to pose a threat to their hostile neighbors.

Which, I suppose, made it the ideal size for another of the ministry’s hidden operations.

Or…

I was struck by a sudden thought as I looked at the door: the Gale Force, the holographic rig, the tiny plastic toys that screamed seemingly random phrases at ear-shattering volumes, the robot bodies, and the fake shipping company used to move them all around somewhere. That was an awful lot of obscure, completely unrelated, projects for one ministry to be juggling around for no apparent reason.

Unless they weren’t unrelated at all. I wasn’t going to say that I had any idea what the Ministry of Awesome could possibly want to do with all of that crap, and how it all tied together, but I was pretty sure that it had to somehow. It certainly made a lot more sense to me that they’d be putting all of that effort into one really big project than a whole bunch of really tiny ones. A mare who liked an organization who prided themselves on bright, flashy, uniforms didn’t exactly strike me as the kind of pony who thought ‘small’ and ‘conservative’ when it came to secret projects.

Which meant that, behind this door, I might well find one more piece to the puzzle. It wasn’t going to be the weapons cache I’d been hoping to find, I knew that. We were too far away from where our best estimates put the cache for that. At the very least, though, this might get me one step closer to find it.

As long as it wasn’t the same thing that the Steel Rangers were looking for. That thought made me very nervous for a few seconds, until I realized that couldn’t be the case. If they were looking for MoA weapons, then they wouldn’t have been surprised to find an MoA emblem on this door, would they? It would be best if I kept acting just as surprised until I learned what it was that they were after.

“Yeah,” I agreed with the lanky Star Paladin, “they did stuff in the air right? Why would they be involved with an underground bunker?”

The painted mare looked down at me for a brief moment and nodded, “yes. Exactly.”

I did my best not to react to the note in her voice that suggested she was playing as dumb as I was. Idly, I wondered if I’d sounded that obvious too. Things would get awkward down here fast if we were all just going to keep being not-so-subtly sarcastic with one another. I chose not to react and simply opened the door.

A small part of me half expected that action to be what set off the first of what would surely be many deathtraps, but it wasn’t. Which just meant that I got to keep feeling tense as I slowly stepped through, waiting for that inevitable unpleasant horseshoe to drop.

Beyond that doorway was a short hallway that ended with an elevator. A lit hallway. The rest of the bunker had displayed no signs of receiving any power from anywhere. Indeed, that had proven to be a large part of what Homily’s mechanics had been working on during the fighting: getting enough power to the doors to get them to move. Which meant that these lights were getting their energy from elsewhere.

The Rangers still seemed inclined to allow me to go first, so I proceeded down the hall and pushed the button to summon the elevator. A half second later, there was a subdued ‘beep’ and the doors slid to the side, revealing the waiting car beyond. I stepped inside and looked at the destination options available to us. However, unlike most elevators I’d seen in my life, these choices weren’t denoted by numbers, but by actual written labels like ‘Operations’, ‘Dorms’, ‘Utilities’, and ‘Tracking’.

I skimmed the list and looked back at the three Rangers who had joined me in the elevator, “I take it you want to go to, ‘Records’?”

Hoplite actually sounded annoyed when she answered, “this facility is larger than I anticipated. It could take us days to search everything.”

“I doubt I can get Homily to let your troopers stay on the base overnight,” I said with a frown, “but they probably won’t mind if you stay in the bunker while you’re here.”

“Quartering isn’t my primary concern. I have committed enough of our forces to this operation to compromise our defenses back at our stronghold. Ceasefire or no, the Republic has scouts probing our perimeter constantly. They will doubtless notice our reduced numbers and make a report back to Seaddle.

“I need to return before the Republic can mobilize a strike, or they will succeed in driving us out of the valley. That is unacceptable.”

I cast an aside glance at the mare, wondering just how much of that she had meant to tell me. Judging from a brisk clearing of a throat from one of the other ponies with us, I suspected that Hoplite’s companions weren’t exactly thrilled that she had revealed that little detail either.

For a brief moment, I entertained that notion of finding a way to intentionally delay the Steel Rangers. An instinct borne of my Republic allegiances, I suspect. I had no reason to believe that Hoplite was lying about how tenuous the Ranger’s situation was right now. Frankly, if the complete lack of any patrols keeping raiders in check around Seaddle was any indication, the NLR wasn’t doing very well either. Both sides were probably at a point where all it would take is one grievous tactical error to cost them the war.

The Rangers were gambling on this expedition in the hopes it would give them a tactical edge. If it paid off, the Republic could be in trouble―unless I came through with the weapons cache for Ebony Song in time. However, this move could also cost them everything. All I had to do was hold them up for a day or two, and maybe…
I let out a mental sigh and resisted the urge to visibly shake my head.

No, I needed the Rangers. The NLR was hurt bad. Even without the distraction of the war, I wasn’t convinced that they’d have enough resources and ponies to resist Arginine’s stable. If I wanted them stopped, and the valley saved, then that meant that I needed both groups in fighting shape. I needed their war to end, yes, but I couldn’t afford for there to be an actual ‘winner’ when it was.

“We should split up,” I suggested, “we can each search a floor and be finished in no time,” I gestured at a few of the buttons, “we can even write off a few of these options. I doubt what we’re looking for is in their dorms, after all.”

“Agreed,” the Star Paladin nodded her head, “Hastati, you will accompany the pegasus and conduct your search on the Tracking level. Decurion, you and I will go to Operations. We will meet in Records,” she glanced back at me, “do not take too long.”

I pressed the two identified buttons and the lift began descending. Tracking was first, and so I and one of the Rangers left the elevator to begin our search, while the other two continued further down into the facility. There didn’t seem to be any power to this level for some reason. Foxglove would probably have been able to explain exactly why the elevator was working fine but not even the lights were on on this level. Maybe the lift had a backup so that nopony got trapped down here if they lost power?

In either case, Hastati turned on her power armor’s headlamp and I engaged my pipbuck’s small light. The helmet’s visor appeared to be able to help amplify what little light there was to make everything seem a little brighter. It probably helped with night flying. Maybe if I ever found Minos again I could get him to give me a manual for this thing…

I wasn’t exactly sure what I was expecting ‘Tracking’ to look like. I honestly wasn’t even sure what it meant. Despite my ignorance, I was once more thrust ahead by my Ranger cohort as we started exploring the darkened corridors and vacated offices. It soon became clear that Hastati wanted to make sure that I was ever under the barrel of their energy rifle, and make sure that I was the first victim if we came across any traps down here.

We did, of course. This was an ancient, Great War, secret, installation, after all. Just two of those criteria would have been enough to justify a few ultrasentinels or something, it seemed like. Fortunately for the two of us―and me more specifically―we just encountered a single turret the first time.

A cascade of rainbow light sprouted from a bulbous little blister mounted into the ceiling, scoring the steel floor panels where I’d been standing a heartbeat earlier. Only the loud whirring of maintenance-deficient gearing had provided me with enough warning to scramble out of the line of fire in time to avoid becoming a glowing ash pile.

I pressed myself up against the wall and chanced a quick glance around the corner that was just long enough for me to identify the exact position of the turret. It responded to my reconnaissance efforts with another burst of lethal light beams that further blackened the walls and floor. I winced and began to dig around in my barding. I didn’t have a lot in the way of heavy ordnance or weapons, but one of the talismans should do the trick, given the turret’s electromechanical nature. If I was quick enough, I could run along the walls and ceiling and slap one of the sapphires onto the device and shut it down.

“Alright, Haha-Hee,” I began just as I located one of the talismans, “I need you to draw its fire for a few seconds while I―”

The armored mare wasn’t paying attention though. Instead, she hopped out into the open corridor, planted her hooves to elevate her energy rifle, and opened fire. Crimson lances of magical energy spat from her rifle. A moment later, I heard an explosion and the sound of debris landing on the steel floor.

The Ranger straighten herself and looked back at me, “my name is, ‘Hastati’. We can now proceed.”

“...right. Good work,” I stood up and stepped around the corner, inspecting the short work that the armored mare had made of the turret. Again she prompted me to resume leading the way. I was considerably more cautious from this point on.

I also seemed to be a lot more talkative than the Ranger. Call it a habit that I picked up while traveling with Jackboot. It wasn’t that the older earth pony stallion was possessed of the gift of gab, or anything like that. The reason I had gotten used to talking with him during our travels was because, as my mentor growing up, I found myself with a lot of questions to ask him; and he was more or less fine with providing answers, as being followed around by a filly who didn’t know anything about surviving in the Wasteland wasn’t exactly going to do him any favors either.

Now I felt uncomfortable whenever I found myself crawling through places like this with somepony and nopony was saying anything for a long period of time. Especially when I had a lot of questions.

“So why do you think the Ministry of Awesome built this place?” I asked the armored mare as we scanned another small office for signs of useful information. There turned out to be nought of any interest to myself or the Rangers.

While she had resisted talking to me at length at first, eventually she must have decided that it was easier to answer my questions than simply ignoring the same question being asked repeatedly over and over again, “presumably because Ministry Mare Rainbow Dash ordered it to be built.”

She had apparently not decided that her answers had to be particularly helpful. If her plan was to try to get me to shut up by being deliberately obtuse, it wasn’t going to work though. I wasn’t quite so mature that I was above asking her ‘why?’ over and over again, ad nauseum.

“I mean: why even bother with places on the ground?” I managed to not even sound like I’d realized her answer had been deliberately evasive, “the MoA was mostly pegasus ponies, right? Shouldn’t that mean that most of their big bases would be in the sky?”

“It’s not much of a secret hidden base if you have it floating around in the sky for Celestia and everypony to see it,” apparently the Ranger was willing to provide helpful answers when it also doubled as an opportunity to point out how stupid I was.

“Right. That makes sense,” I admitted with a slight wince, “I wonder what they were using if for. Too bad there isn’t, like, a guide or somepony we could...talk...to…”

Both of us had come to a stop as we stepped out of the corridor into what was very clearly the ‘tracking center’ part of the ‘tracking’ level of this buried facility. Two walls of monitors on either side would have offered far too much information for any single pony to take in back when they were functional. All that they showed now was an error message about a lack of input from wherever it was that they used to get their feeds.

Row upon row of terminals filled the room, all clustered around a large, centrally located...cloud? I’d never been particularly close to one myself, but there could be little doubt as to what the fluffy gray monstrosity sitting in the middle of the room was. I couldn’t explain what its purpose was supposed to be though. Maybe it was some sort of pegasus decoration to give the ponies that worked here a sense of home while underground?

All of that took a backseat in the minds of both myself and the Ranger who was now standing beside me though. It shouldn’t have, of course, given the whole purpose of our visit to this place. However, it was hard to give all of the many wonders of this ancient room their proper due when, standing right there in the middle of the room for all to see, were a trio of pegasi mares, all wearing identical black and purple uniforms. They had apparently all been looking at the cloud, but their heads immediately turned to us when we stepped in.

“That’s...not possible,” I heard the Ranger whisper in awe through her helmet.

I was initially very much inclined to agree. That being said, I was also no stranger to Great War relics, even living ones, being found alive and well in these sorts of places. That was even assuming that this installation hadn’t also been designed to function as a stable, which wouldn’t be all that out of place either. The point was that it was entirely possible that there could be ponies, even Ministry of Awesome ponies, still living and working here. Besides, the three amber blips on my Eyes Forward Sparkle confirmed that these weren’t merely figments of our collective imagination.

“Um...hey!” I managed to get out, cracking a smile and waving a hoof at the trio, “sorry for, uh, just sort of barging in like this. We kinda didn’t know anypony would still be alive in here. So...no hard feelings, right?”

The three uniformed winged ponies continued to simply stare at me blankly, which was really starting to make me nervous. I kept my smile in place though, and tried to look as friendly as possible. I even puffed out my wings a little bit to make them more obvious, hoping that they’d be more receptive to another pegasus in their midsts. If we could make friends with the ponies that ran this place, and get them to let us use the resources that they had to help us fight off Arginine’s stable…

“Star Paladin, come in. This is Hastati,” the Ranger at my side was saying, obviously radioing in a report to her superior, “the barbarian and I,” I beg your pardon? “have made contact with the apparent inhabitants of this place. Requesting engagement instructions.”

“Oh, fuck no!” I said, immediately interposing myself between the Ranger and the MoA ponies, “we are not ‘engaging’ anypony here! This is their base! We’re the ones trespassing, for Celestia’s sake. Can’t we at least try talking with them first?”

Hot-Doggy looked like she was about to issue some sort of retort when I heard something staticky crackling inside her helmet. She was apparently getting a response to her traffic, and I doubted I was going to get an answer until it was over with. In the meantime I turned to further reassure the pegasi that we weren’t going to be ‘engaging’ anypony, so long as I had anything to say about it.

“Don’t mind her,” I said, smiling as pleasantly as I could manage, “we’re still working on her social skills. My name is, Windfall, and I’m―”

“You are trespassing,” one of the black and purple uniformed mares stated the word in a flat tone that set my ear twitching. The trio were approaching us now, with slow, deliberate, steps.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said, swallowing back something that went beyond nervousness and touched on fear. Something was off about these three ponies, but I couldn’t put my hoof on it quite yet. I took a hesitant step back, “we didn’t know anypony was down here. We could use your help though. You see, there’s this stable out there and they―”
“Your access authority is insufficient for this area,” another of the mares stated.

“Oh, well I―wait, huh?” something about the way that the second mare had said that tripped a mental alarm in my head. I looked to the Ranger next to me to ask if she’d noticed anything, but she seemed to still be immersed in whatever conversation she was having with Hoplite to pay attention to what was going on right here.

The trio paused and looked at each other for a brief moment, “additional intruders are in the facility,” the third mare said to the other two.

“Y-yeah, they’re with us. We’re hoping that you guys still have records of where the Equestrian military kept some of its weapons during the war? There’s a lot of bad ponies out there and they could really help―”
“The intruders have taken hostile action,” the first mare said.

I closed my eyes and mentally screamed every epithet I knew, and a few that I came up with just now for this specific occasion, at Star Paladin Hoplite. Once. Just once, could her answer to a situation be anything other than, ‘shoot!’?!

“Invasion Response Protocol activation is directed,” the second mare said.

From behind us, I heard what sounded like a large reinforced steel door slamming shut. A brief glance confirmed that this was the indeed the case. Horseapples.

Their flat tones were really starting to weird me out. It was like Arginine, but to a level even Arginine would find annoying, “okay, see, when I said they were with us, what I meant was―” I swear, Hoplite, if you get us all killed, I’m going to hurt you the next time we meet…

“Protocols active,” the third mare stated. Then all three of them looked at us and she said, “all intruders will be eliminated,” the blips on my EFS abruptly shifted to crimson.

That wasn’t good. I really didn’t want to have to kill these ponies, “woah, wait! We can talk this out!” I whirled on the Ranger mare, “call Hoplite and tell her to stop shooting!”

The armored pony was about to reply when something that looked like a purple and black blur suddenly collided with her and tackled her into the door that had just closed and sealed us into the room with the three pegasi. The visual display from my helmet flashed a red colored message off to my right. Presumably, it was some sort of proximity or collision warning. I was guessing that was what it was supposed to be, because a moment later, I was the recipient of the same treatment as the Ranger as something heavy and fast moving slammed into my right side.

It was like being hit by a massive raging hell hound. As it happened, I was acquainted with precisely that sensation. A lifetime of training and experience in grappling took over and I rolled myself in mid air, flinging my attacker away as I flapped clear. A resounding ‘CLANG!’ rang out as they collided with the same door that the Ranger had been knocked into.

There wasn’t a whole lot of space to maneuver off the ground, but it would at least give me a few more options than remaining on the ground would, so I gained as much altitude as I could manage, “we’re not here to hurt you!” Well, I wasn’t here for that reason, at least. Hoplite and I were going to have a long heart-to-heart when all of this was over about when it was―and wasn’t―okay to just start shooting when you arrived somewhere.

Because it seemed to be the mainstay of everything that the Rangers existed to do, the armored mare with me immediately started blasting with her energy rifle, in direct contrast to my own voiced assurances. Her largely indiscriminate shots scoured the wall, completely missing the pegasus that had her pinned down. Despite her obvious struggling, the Ranger seemed to be unable to throw her assailant off her, which seemed rather odd given the advantages that her power armor should have given her.

There was another red message that appeared at the bottom of my vision, and I immediately juked to the side just as a purple shape streaked through the air where I’d been just a moment before. The uniformed pegasus mare that had tried to tackle me out of the air sailed into one of the monitors built into the side of the room, shattering it in a shower of sparks and glass.

“Fuck! Are you okay?!” I darted over to the destroyed monitor to see if the pegasus was still even alive. The crimson bar floating in front of me remained, so she was still alive, but there was no way that she hadn’t suffered some pretty serious trauma after a hit like that.

A metal hoof popped suddenly into view, grabbing onto the edges of the monitor. I abruptly pulled up short, starring at the synthetic appendage. Then the rest of the mare emerged into view. Only she was no longer a mare of flesh and blood as she had initially appeared to be. Instead, I found myself looking at some sort of robopony, albeit one that was a lot more sophisticated than the type that was usually puttering through the Wasteland.

“What the…?”

The robopony flickered. For a brief moment, it was once again a pegasus mare dressed in a spotless black and purple uniform, but it was a fleeting illusion. As the automaton pulled itself further into view, my eyes were drawn to something mounted into its chest: a very familiar looking diamond. Jackboot and I had once come across a device that possessed an identical jewel not so very long ago. I’d even used the device later to rescue him from a pair of bounty hunters, by using it to project an illusion of Princess Luna around me.

These weren’t real pegasi, I realized. They were robots masked by that same sort of technology.

Finally freed from the shattered remains of the large display screen, the synthetic pony once more coiled up and leaped up at me with the intent of tackling me out of the air. I ducked low this time. As I did so, I withdrew one of the spark talismans that Starlight Glimmer had made for me and planted it on the belly of the robopony as it flew over me.

The talisman activated instantaneously upon contact with the robopony. Tendrils of sapphire energy snaked out of the enchanted gemstone, enveloping the enter construct. It let out a rather unsettling mechanical scream right up to the point when it finally hit the ground and tumbled right through the thick gray cloud sitting on the floor. It popped out the other side and impacted a console, creating another shower of sparks.

I whipped my head around to look towards the sealed doorway. The Ranger mare had not fared nearly as well as I had in this fight. Both the synthetic pony that had initially tackled her, as well as the one that had initially attacked me, looked to have concentrated their efforts on her. The beam weapon that had been mounted to her armor was silent now, lying nearby in a crumpled heap of useless scrap. Her helmet was close by, looking also to have been removed in a rather aggressive fashion. One of the fake pegasus mares was straddling her, its forehoof cocked back in preparation to deliver what would no doubt be a very lethal strike to the back of the Ranger mare’s head.

The other robopony stood nearby, and both of them were now looking at me.

“Reevaluating threat assessment and tactics,” one of them said, not taking their eyes off of me. The other looked at the unconscious Ranger beneath her and said, in the exact same tone, “attempting coercion using detained accomplice.

“You will surrender; or your accomplice will be deactivated.”

I didn’t respond at first, because it took me a few seconds to realize that the last statement had been directed at me. It was difficult to tell, since neither their tone, nor where they were directing their attention, had changed from when they’d been talking amongst themselves, “deact―oh. You mean you’ll kill her. What happens if I give up?”

“Utilizing deception protocols,” one said, while the other followed it up with, “you will both be escorted out of the facility and released unharmed,” only for the first, who was still mounting the Ranger said, “incineration chamber online and awaiting delivery of the intruders.”

I blinked at the pair, “you...do know that I can hear everything that you’re saying...right?”

“Do you agree to the terms of your surrender?” the standing mare asked.

“You mean the terms where you…” I let my words trail off. Something was very off about these robots. Not that a whole lot was ever really on where Wasteland robots were concerned, in my experience. Despite their apparent mechanical sophistication, it couldn’t be said that their programming was coming off as very complex. It was entirely possible that they either didn’t know that they were saying everything out loud. Or they didn’t understand that I wasn’t only hearing what was being specifically directed at me. Perhaps the last two centuries hadn’t left them completely unscathed?
Maybe that meant that they wouldn’t realize when somepony was deceiving them? I mean, I had to get close to them in order to use the talismans anyway. If they were just going to let me walk right up next to them without a fight, then why not take advantage of that?

“Sure. Yeah, I surrender,” I informed them, throwing my empty hooves up in a classic gesture of capitulation, “can I come over there and help my friend up so that you can take us, um, ‘outside’?”

“Deception successful. Cooperation secured. Continuing deception.”

“That would be acceptable.”

The pegasus mare that had been sitting on the Ranger stood up and stepped away as I approached. She still showed up as an amber blip, so she wasn’t dead. I reached into my saddlebags for a healing potion. As I did so, one of the disguised roboponies shot their own hoof out and caught me. Surprised, I look over at the mare.

“You will disarm yourself,” she said. She then released me and held out her hoof, waiting for me to pass over my weapons.

“Oh. Right. That’s fair,” I nodded. At first, I very nearly reached for my pistol nestled under my wing. Then, at the last moment, I hesitated. Could it really be this ease? Maybe…

“I have quite a few weapons,” I informed both of the robots, “it might take both of you to carry them.”

The other hologram encased mare extended her hoof as well without comment. I looked between the two offered hooves.

“Huh.”

With a shrug, I sat back on my haunches, reached into my barding pockets and withdrew two of the spark talismans, placing them gingerly into the outstretched hooves of the roboponies. The results were about what would be expected. Both mares seized up, and their disguises melted away. Then they each collapsed into mechanical heaps.

I glanced between the two disabled robots, noting the complete absence of any blips on my EFS, “why can’t every fight be this easy?”

A quick look around with my EFS assured me that there weren’t other active threats nearby, so I took the opportunity to revive my Ranger escort. She groaned with obvious discomfort, rubbing the back of her head. It seemed to take her a few seconds to remember what had been happening when she lost consciousness, and she look around frantically for signs of her attackers, her green eyes finally coming to rest on the offline robots nearby.

“Roboponies?” she murmured, “that explains why they were so heavy…” she glanced up at me, and I saw the shameful flush that colored her rosy features as she realized that I had saved her life. Not that she seemed all that inclined to acknowledge that fact, “good thing you’re not as useless at fighting roboponies as you are at dealing with turrets.”

“You’re welcome,” I responded flatly.

Her eyes widened suddenly, “Star Paladin Hoplite! They’re in trouble, we have to help them,” she clambered around, her gaze falling to her destroyed helmet and beam rifle, “shit.”

“We’ve not going anywhere until we get this open,” I motioned towards the sealed door. I looked around the room that we were in, and the many consoles that were within it; most of which seemed to be in perfect working order, “how good are you with terminals?” Surely one of them would be able to get us out of here.

“Better than some barbarian,” the rose mare snorted. She picked up her helmet and placed it back over her head. I was about to remark on how useless such a gesture was when it was clearly broken, but then I saw that the power armor was slowly working to bond the helmet with the rest of the barding. It seemed that there was some sort of repair function built into their suits.

It didn’t look like that same ability extended to their weaponry though, as she made no move to collect and reattach the destroyed energy rifle.

Her gaze went briefly to her useless weapon once more, and then I heard her disgusted grunt from within her armor as she trotted over to one of the nearby terminals and looked at the screen. She tapped idly at a few of the keys, “the network’s down,” she murmured as she looked up and glanced around the room, “but there should still be...there,” she trotted to the far side of the room and sat herself down in front of an otherwise unassuming little console, upon which was stenciled the letters: SYSNET.

While the armored mare worked at the terminal, trying to crack the ancient MoA encryption that was keeping it locked down, I took the opportunity to wander around the large, display-filled, chamber. Most of the massive glass screens professed their frustration at a lack of appropriate inputs with glaring warnings and error messages. Mostly in regards to being unable to establish any signals to other Equestrian military facilities. I suspected that most of the infrastructure that this place would have relied on had been lost to balefire in the final hours of the Great War.

What retained much of my attention though was the ‘cloud’ that persisted in hovering in the middle of the room. I’d never been this close to one before, and even the Steel Ranger with me couldn’t figure out what it was used for. I did recall a few things that I had learned about the relationship that pegasus ponies were supposed to have with them though, and so I reached out with my hoof...and touched it.

I blinked in surprise. Not a minute ago I had watched a robopony careen right through it like it wasn’t even there. Yet it seemed to be pretty solid to me right now. Experimentally, I tried to climb on top of it...and discovered that I could with no issue at all. I looked curiously at my hooves as I carefully wandered around on the cottony surface. It was like walking on an old mattress whose springs were rather worn. Though it appeared to be quite amenable to bouncing, I discovered!

The Ranger had stopped her work, and her helmet’s tinted eyes were staring directly at me. Though the expression on the armor had obviously not changed in the slightest, I got the impression that her estimation was that I wasn’t behaving in the most professional manner I could be, and I sheepishly slipped off the fluffy structure and went about looking for something else to occupy my attention. I found it in the form of a nearby terminal that seemed a fair bit different from the others. By this I meant that it looked like it was in perfect working order, complete with a list of available commands displayed on the screen.

Briefly, I entertained the notion of bringing it to the Ranger’s attention, but then I hesitated. She wasn’t the only pony here looking for important information after all, and I wasn’t completely certain that the Rangers were going to share anything they found with me. I also didn’t want them knowing that what I was looking for were weapons to give to the Republic. That little revelation could make our already tenuous relationship...a lot less pleasant.

I glanced at Hastati, who was still staring at her screen, which I took as a good sign that she’d stay occupied for a while longer, and I sat down at the terminal that I had found.

It soon became clear why this computer wasn’t locked like the archive that the Ranger mare was trying to access: the pony who’d been using this one last hadn’t bothered to log off. Unfortunately, I wasn’t convinced that I was going to find anything particularly useful. I wasn’t finding a lot of records or anything like that. In fact, I wasn’t entirely certain what I was looking at here. I frowned as I tried navigating the confusing system’s directories and controls.

As I worked, I caught a glimmer of movement out of the corner of my eye. Worried that my Ranger champerone had caught me, I whipped my head up and looked in her direction. The mare was still focused exclusively on her terminal. It was then that I noticed something was different about the cloud that I had been previously bouncing on only a minute ago. Experimentally, I resumed manipulating the controls while keeping my eye on the cloud.
It was moving!

Not around the room or anything like that. It might have been more accurate to say that it was...quivering? The surface of it was certainly changing the more I tapped at the controls. It all seemed quite random too, until I suddenly ceased using the controls and merely stared at the cloud. I stood back up and wandered closer, my eyes scanning its surface.

It wasn’t random at all, and I suddenly knew exactly what I was looking at; if not how it worked. I slowly looked over the familiar mountains and foothills that I’d flown over while searching for the ponies that had wiped out the stable Jackboot, Foxglove, and I, had found. The cloud that the terrain was formed out of, I noticed, wasn’t the soft and gentle texture that it had been either. It was rigid and contoured exactly the way those mountains had been. I’d flown over this area enough to remember them pretty well.

This was a map.

I returned to the console that I’d been using and, with an eye on the shifting cloud, starting making some more deliberate adjustments. I watched the cloud to see how it reacted to what I was doing, and soon became a lot more confident with my adjustments.

It took next to no time at all to figure out which controls moved the terrain around or focused more intently on a specific area. While an entertaining phenomenon, it wasn’t like it did me a whole lot of good. My pipbuck had a map too, and it was a lot more portable than this thing.

Then I must have hit something new, and the cloud illuminated with a collection of lines and dots of various colors. At the same moment, my attention was drawn to the doorway as it opened with a hydraulic his. The Ranger mare cried out, “got it!” She looked up from the illuminated screen she was sitting at, and her eyes immediately locked onto the colorful cloud between us, “woah...what the…?”

I winced internally. It was probably too much to have hoped that I’d get away with this without being noticed. Besides, I wasn’t quite so certain that this new development had been my doing after all as the words, “Connection Established…” flashed briefly across the small display of the terminal I was at. This system was apparently drawing on the data from whatever archives she'd had just unlocked access to.

“I think it’s some kind of map,” I informed the mare, manipulating the controls until the surface had reformed into features that the two of us should readily be able to recognize, “this is McMaren,” I pointed to the buildings and bunkers that were perfectly sculpted and scaled representations of the structures on the surface. I also noted the pulsing yellow light that existed below the base, “and I’m guessing that’s us.”

“And those lines?” the Steel Ranger inquired, pointing her armored hoof at several blue and green lines that were crossing over the base.

“I’m not sure…” I widened the focus of the map to help gain a little context. It was then that we noticed that most of those lines eventually all arced up high into what must have been the ‘sky’ in the real world, “flight paths?” I ventured. As the map had retracted, other colored lines became visible too. White ones were the most numerous, and there were even a few red lines as well.

Curiously, I traced my gaze over to where Wind Ryder’s Wagons and Freight was located, and noted the plethora of blue lines originating from it. Some went to Old Reino, some to Arc Lightning, but most were heading north, just beyond the current bounds of the cloud map. I reached down to tap in the commands that would move it so I could see more clearly where they were headed when Hastati spoke up again.

“Here, let me see that,” the mare stepped over and nudged me out of the way a lot more bruskly than was perhaps polite; but that was a Ranger for you. Both of us were surprised to see her hoof pass clean through the terminal though as she tried to interact with the controls. Startled, she tried a second time, only to one more fail to encounter anything solid, “what the―?” then she let out a frustrated grunt and flashed a glare in my direction, as though the issues she was having were my doing, “this is turkey-tech.”

“Huh?”

The Ranger appeared even more annoyed at my ignorance as she explained further, “it’s not just the map that’s made out of clouds; the terminal is too,” she stepped aside once more, grudgingly, and waved for me to approach it, “you’re the only one that can make it work.”

Oh ho ho! I couldn’t help but smile smugly at the armored pony as I strutted back into position and managed to evoke an audible tap with my hoof as I patted the computer terminal that was apparently designed to be used by only those like myself.

“Whatever. I’m going to see if I can shut off the rest of the roboponies,” she said as she walked away to browse through the other terminals.

Right, that was something that we needed to take care of. Preferably before one of them got lucky and killed Hoplite. Simply put: I didn’t have time to indulge myself with this map at the moment. So, instead, I quickly downloaded its contents into my pipbuck so that I could review it later when no Rangers were present. I was presented with a rather long and detailed list of signal categories to select from. Not knowing what even half of those meant, let alone which one the information that I was after would have fallen into, I took everything that I could. I should be able to filter out some of the more useless bits with Foxglove or Starlight’s help.

“I can’t do it from here,” the Ranger announced just moments after I’d finished with the download, “the roboponies are controlled by a whole different network,” the frustration was clear in her tone, and I empathized. I really could have hoped that it would have been as easy as pressing a button to finally be done with this.

It seemed that wasn’t in the cards for us today though, “fine. Let’s get down to the Operations level,” I said, fluttering towards the corridor, “any word from them?”

“I haven’t heard anything since putting my helmet back on,” she admitted sourly, “but it’s possible they’re just being jammed. The transmission wasn’t very clear to begin with. I tried patching directly into this place’s communications network, but it looks like part of the lockdown is designed to only allow certain kinds of transmissions. Likely to stop the invading ponies from doing exactly what I was trying to.”

Okay, now I was feeling a little more worried. If Hoplite had been killed…

I looked down at the time. If the Rangers topside adhered to the orders of their commander, and I had no reason to doubt that they would, I had less than thirty minutes to find Hoplite and have her get a message to her Rangers. Of course, if there really was something that was making it impossible to communicate, then that also meant getting her out of here to deliver the message personally. I doubted that this facility was going to make that task particularly easy for me.

“Can you lift the lockdown?” I nodded at the terminals, though I already suspected what the answer was.

“Not from here, no,” she shook her head, managing to not sounding as condescending as she usually did. I guess my question hadn’t been that dumb after all, “I checked, and it can only be lifted from the director’s office. I can use local terminals to temporarily clear specific rooms though, so I should be able to get us to the Star Paladin’s location.”

“Then let’s get going,” I glanced briefly at her bare weapon mount, “do we need to swing by an armory, or can you still fight?”

The Ranger was quiet for a moment as she considered her response, “if we pass by something on the way, that’d be helpful; but I don’t want to waste time looking for one. I should be able to manage better, now that I know what we’re up against.”

“Alright then, let’s go.”

The two of us galloped out of the terminal strewn room and retraced our steps back to the lift. It was locked down, but the other mare was able to get it moving again, if only briefly. She indicated that she’d have to essentially hack it all over again every time we wanted to use it. The reason for that seemed to be that the lockdown protocol was being extremely thorough, and wanted to make sure only those ponies who were ‘authorized’ to move around could.

“The Rangers have similar protocols at our own bunkers,” she explained further as we descended towards the ‘Operations’ level, which was hopefully where the other two Rangers still were, “in such events, the transponders in our power armor transmit one-time use codes to doors and lifts that let them work for us, while denying them to the enemy. Since neither of us have any MoA transponders, I have to hack a terminal and try to forcibly generate one of those codes.”

That sounded like it was going to slow our progress even further. It might actually be worth it to find the terminal that would shut everything down so that we could leave faster. I was just about to float the idea to the armored mare where the lift’s doors slid open.

Another of those pegasus mares in the black and purple uniforms was standing in the opening. As I had come to expect, she was identical in every way to the other three roboponies that we had just fought in the control room above. Well, nearly identical anyway. Unlike the others, this one possessed an obvious weapon in the form of a rather lethal looking beam rifle hovering at her side.

“Eliminating intruders,” the pegasus mare announced in an absurdly calm tone.

Even without broadcasting her intentions for all to hear, I’d had a pretty good idea of what was coming. Even as the words were coming out of her mouth, I was raising my wings up protectively in front of both myself and my Ranger escort. The impressively sturdy alloy from which the Gale Force rig was constructed once again demonstrated its resilience as it successfully absorbed the impact of no fewer than three emerald blasts from the weapon.

After the third shot there was a brief pause, which I intended to capitalize on. I surged ahead and used the razor sharp leading edge of my wing covers to deliver a cut that succeeded in slicing the beam weapon in half. It was a good thing that those weapons were mostly plastic, gems, and circuits. It would have been a lot harder to chop up a traditional rifle.

Not about to let herself be saved by me once again, the Ranger mare took advantage of our opponent’s now disarmed state and pressed an attack of her own. While she might no longer have her own beam weapon anymore, her armored hooves seemed to be quite up to the task of pummeling an opponent into submission. I suspected that she took immense satisfaction from giving back a little of what she had received rather recently. Within seconds, the ‘pegasus’ had reverted to her true robotic self and was a smoking heap of mangled parts.

The Ranger straightened up once more once she was sufficiently satisfied that her target had been rendered into inert slag and looked down at the bisected weapon lying nearby with what I was sure would have been an expression of annoyance beneath her helmet. I was only half paying attention at the moment, having more personally pressing concerns at the moment.

“Owowowhothothot!” I was probably dancing around in a rather undignified manner at the moment as I tried to shuck my wings from the Gale Force rig as judiciously as possible. Once they were freed, my nostrils curled as they were assaulted by the stench of charred feathers. I was fairly certain that I hadn’t suffered anything grievous in the way of injuries, but I drank down a healing potion all the same, if only to do something about the pain. I suspected that my wings were going to be rather tender for a few hours at the least.

A cursory examination of the Gale Force itself revealed that it was now adorned with three blackened scorch marks from where it had been struck. The metal didn’t look to be seriously damaged or warped, but I wasn’t really any sort of expert when it came to that sort of thing afterwards. I’d have Foxglove look it over just to be sure. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too upset that I’d gone ahead and scuffed up all her hard work mere hours after she’d given it to me. She seemed to like tinkering with things, so maybe she the fact that she’d have something else to fix would balance out any irritation she might have at seeing her work abused like this.

Experimentally, I touched one of the blackened areas with one of my pinions and winced, pulling it back quickly. It was still pretty hot. Frowning, I fiddled with the controls for it and found the command that fully retracted the metal wings. Even if it would have been possible to use them without burning myself, I wasn’t sure how much more punishment they’d be able to take before being broken beyond even Foxglove’s ability to repair them. I’d just have to keep from being shot in the future by either using cover, or moving more quickly than the enemy could track me.

You know, like I always had.

I was going to miss the wing-blades though. Maybe I could have a second set crafted for just such a situation? That’d have to wait until I was done with this though.

“I’ve got friendly blips in this direction,” the Ranger informed me, looking to the left of the lift’s doors. I followed her gaze and found the pair of amber markers that indicated friendly forces. My Eyes Forward Sparkle also displayed several more red bar in their direction as well. It was impossible to know precisely how close those hostile signals were to the two Steel Rangers, but it was a fair bet that we’d have to face them.

Those twin submachine guns with either their armor-piercing or spark rounds would have been really good to have right about now. As it was, I wasn’t convinced that my compact pistol would do all that much at anything but point-blank range, and I only had five of the talismans left.

Weapons that could only be used for close in fighting meant that being timid and cautious actually wouldn’t be in our best interests. We needed to get in close to our targets as quickly as we could, and hopefully before they knew we were coming until it was too late to react.

I stretched out my wings experimentally, relishing the dulled pain courtesy of the healing potion, “I’ll take point,” I told the Ranger mare, “try not to fall too far behind.”

“What are you―” that was as much as I heard before I was around the corner and out of earshot. I beat my wings furiously, propelling myself down the halls a lot faster than was probably advisable. A few of the turns that I made actually required me to bounce off the walls with my legs.

I hadn’t noticed it at first, but there was one thing that set this place apart from a lot of the other pony facilities that I’d been in throughout my life; and it wasn’t until right this moment that I fully appreciated it. The hallways were actually a lot wider than I typically encountered. Maybe as much as half again as wide as somepony might encounter in a stable or a bunker. Most ponies would have probably attributed this to some sort of aesthetic choice. However, I could now say with confidence that the reason these corridors were so wide was because, while it might be an underground base, it had been designed by, and seemingly for, pegasus ponies. That meant that, unlike many places, its designers had kept in mind a crucial piece of information: it needed to accommodate ponies with wingspans.

My excessive speed paid off rather early on. As I zipped around another bend, running along the wall to help tighten my turn radius, a series of emerald beams blackened the steel surface in my wake. I entered SATS and glanced around for my attacker. A pair of the pegasus roboponies was standing in the middle of the wide corridor, each one wielding a beam rifle and firing at me. As time rolled onward at the dramatically slow pace that the pipbuck’s targeting assistance program imposed on it, I saw that the next shot had been adjusted to lead me sufficiently.

I pushed off the wall just in time to see the bolt erupt into a mist of jade energy beneath me. I left SATS and snapped my wings out to propel me into a tight somersault over top of the pair of uniformed ponies, all the while reaching into the pockets of my barding for a pair of Starlight’s talismans. As I vaulted over top of their heads, I planted the sapphires squarely between their shoulder blades. I didn’t even look back as I heard the sound of crackling energy.

Three more left.

A third robopony was attempting to block my progress two more turns down. I didn’t use a talisman on this one. Instead, I opted to roll onto my back, closing my wings in tight around me as I shot between their legs. As I passed beneath them, I slipped into SATS and delivered three shots into their belly with my compact. At this close range, the large rounds were able to punch through the steel plating of its body.

At least one of them must have struck something particularly vital too, because it exploded just as I cleared its tail. I winced as a few slivers of debris found their way through gaps in my barding. The wounds weren’t life-threatening, but they still hurt.

I rolled back onto my hooves and rocketed into the air once more. The amber blips on my EFS were moving a lot more dramatically every time I rounded another corner, so I was obviously getting closer to them. I was also seeing more of the crimson markers that I recalled being there when I left the lift. Reinforcements? I found myself wondering exactly how many of these things could possibly be in a place like this.

Another talisman and a magazine change later, I found myself standing in front of a sealed door. The amber blips denoting Star Paladin Hoplite and her companion indicated that the two of them were somewhere on the other side of it. They were pretty close too, as they moved visibly on the display hovering in front of my eyes as I walked from one side of the door to the other. A number of red blips did as well.

I performed a brief check of my armaments. Two of the talismans and one more magazine in addition to the half empty one that was currently loaded. I decided that it was best to swap them out now. I counted at least four or five of the crimson markers in the room with Hoplite. That meant, at best, I’d need to take down three of them with my pistol. Without power armor, I certainly wasn’t going to anticipate being able to pummel any of these things into submission with my hooves.

Hmm. It was probably a little unfair of me to count all of the Rangers out of the fight quite yet. The two beyond the door were clearly alive. I didn’t hear any sounds that suggested there was still any fighting going on, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t capable of helping out when I finally got in there. At the very least I’d have Pasta Tea to help out. Speaking of which, where was she any―oh.

“It’s about time,” I remarked, leaning against the door and regarding the Steel Ranger mare with a bored expression as she finally rounded the corner. My eyes flicked to the weapon mount on her barding that was no longer bare. She had apparently scavenged one of the rifles from a downed robopony and used it to replace her own lost weapon, “what kept you?”

“You were reckless to go on ahead on your own,” the mare said in a bitter tone as she stepped up, heading directly for the terminal.

“Awe, I didn’t know you cared,” I grinned at the mare, “you should meet my friend Foxglove. I think you two would get along.”

The Ranger ignored my comment and stared through the door, likely coming to the same conclusions that I just had as she pondered her own EFS display, “they are doubtless waiting for us. They’ll shoot the moment I open the door,” she glanced around, noticing, just as I had, that there was nought that could be used for cover if the enemy started firing, “we need to find another way in.”

She was right that we’d be pretty much killed outright if we opened that door and tried to storm them. Speed had been working for me thus far, but I hadn’t tried to face quite that many rifles at once yet. Even I had my doubts. I briefly entertained the notion of putting the Gale Force’s wing covers back on and using them to shield me as I sought cover inside. Even if I genuinely believed that it could survive that kind of punishment―and I didn’t―there was no way to know the layout of the room, and where any cover was. There might not even be any cover to be had.

Guns blazing wasn’t going to work, and a brief glance at the time on my pipbuck told me that we didn’t have time to go wandering around looking for a back way in―if one even existed.

Shooting was out. Sneaking wasn’t a sure thing. That left only one other option that I could see: talking.
I bet this plan was going to go over well. With a heavy sigh I sat down and began to fiddle with the broadcast controls on my pipbuck. I soon found the frequency that his facility used for its internal communications. I could hear quite a bit of activity on the channel, in the form of static and whistles and clicks. I assumed it was how roboponies communicated with one another. Hopefully they could understand regular words as well.

“Hello?”

The Ranger mare looked at me like I’d grown a second head, “what are you doing?!”

I flashed her an annoyed look, “what? They obviously know we’re here, so it’s not like I’m giving away our position. Maybe I can work out some sort of deal.”

“How can you expect to deal with an automated security system?” she demanded, “what do you hope to accomplish?”

I shrugged, “I’m hoping to get everypony out of here alive. It probably won’t work, but what harm is there in trying?”

Though she was far from mollified, the armored mare offered no other audible criticisms as I returned my attention to my pipbuck, “hello?” I repeated, “is anypony there? This is those other two, um, ‘intruders’. We want to negotiate.”
For several seconds there was no change. Then all of the other chatter on the channel fell dead, leaving only silence. It was progress, to be sure, but I couldn’t tell if it was a positive sign or not.

A voice that had become very familiar by this point then crackled over the speaker of my pipbuck, “you are trespassing.”

I resisted the urge to flash the Ranger a smug grin, but I relished the progress that I was making all the same. Opening a dialogue was a good first step, if nothing else, “yeah, I know. We’re really sorry about that,” it was easy for me to sound sincere, since I pretty much was, “we didn’t think anypony was still down here.”

Was it right to treat whatever this thing was as though it was a regular pony? I mean, I suppose that it couldn’t necessarily hurt anything, but it was just some sort of sophisticated security program. A little yellow pegasus was rather insistent that, program or not, being polite and having good manners was never a wasted effort.

“Tell you what: we’re perfectly willing to leave and never come back,” I ignored the pointed glare from the nearby Ranger that was obvious even through her tinted visor, “but I’m going to need you to let my friends in there go.”
The line was silent for a good while as I waited for a response. Was it thinking over my offer, or was I just wasting my breath trying to chat up an automated system?

“Trespassers are supposed to be eliminated.”

It was times like this that flat responses aggravated me the most. Those same words could mean so many things depending on the emphasis that was placed on specific words, or even just the overall tone. I couldn’t tell if this program restating their resolve to carry on with its directives, or if it might be weighing other options, “well, if you think about it, letting us leave would be like ‘eliminating’ us. You would have removed us from where we’re not supposed to be, right?”

“Are you really trying to debate semantics with a computer?”

“Quiet, I think it’s working,” I hissed at the Ranger.

“My directives define ‘eliminate’ as: terminate with lethal force. Trespassers cannot be permitted to leave the facility.”

Well, horseap―wait, what was that?

I turned up the volume on the pipbuck’s speaker and brought it closer to my ear, “I’m sorry, could you repeat that for me, please?” I winced reflexively as the exact same response crackled across the speakers once more. I wasn’t paying any attention to it though. There had been something else. Something―there!

“Please don’t make me kill anypony…”

It had been so faint and distorted by static that I’d almost missed it. What really made it stand out though was a quality that set it apart from the louder and more prominent voice: this one did have emotion behind it. A lot of emotion. Whoever they were decidedly didn’t want us to be hurt.

“Is somepony else there?”

This question didn’t receive an answer at all. I tried asking it a few other ways, and every time received only silence in response. Perhaps it didn’t think I was talking to it anymore? Maybe if I went back to the topic I’d first broached with it, “okay, so you’re under orders to kill trespassers,” not ideal from where I was sitting, but maybe, “what if I told you that we had permission to be here? We wouldn’t be trespassing if somepony told us we could be here,” that seemed reasonable to me, anyway.

“Only Director Clear Skies has the authority to grant access to ERAD,” was the response this time. Once more I flinched away from the blaring volume, “Director Clear Skies died one hundred and ninety-three years ago. You do not have the Director’s permission to be here.”

“It’s been so long. Don’t make me do this anymore…”

That quieter voice...it sounded so much like a real pony. I wonder, “what’s your name?”

“I am the Project Overlord Selene Integrated Defense Network. Designation: Poseidon.”

“Trellis…”

This time it was my turn to go silent. The first answer I had pretty much expected. I mean, I couldn’t have predicted the exact response that I would be given, but I had expected something that would sound properly official and technical. I wasn’t even phased that this might all well be another of the many ‘projects’ that the Ministries were so fond of creating.

The second answer though...that had gotten me. That sounded like a proper name to me. It wasn’t the name of a machine, or a software program; it was the name of a pony.

Could this be my way to get through? I doubted that there was anything to be lost by trying, “Trellis, can you understand me?”

There was no response.

I refused to believe this was a dead end. There was a pony in there―somehow―and I was going to reach her, “Trellis, please, talk to me. I want to help you, but I need you to talk to me in order to do that.”

Again I waited for an answer. This time, one came. It was so faint, and nearly lost in the distortion of the radio signal and the speakers, but I could just barely make it out, “help me...please, help me…”

Success! “Yes, Trellis, I want to help you. But first I need you to turn off those robots,” I insisted, unable to keep from sounding excited that I’d managed to accomplish this. It might not have gone exactly as I anticipated, but I wasn’t about to complain, “can you do that for me? Can you turn off the robots?”

Another long pause. Every passing second had my anxiety growing as I felt how close I was, and how easily this opportunity could be lost. If this turned out to be a dead end, if Poseidon or whoever cut the connection, if this was all some sort of convoluted trap…

“Not supposed to know it…” the tiny little voice finally returned, “snuck around after everypony was gone...couldn’t do it myself...help me…”

“I’ll help you, Trellis. I just need you to tell me how,” whoever she was, she certainly sounded like she was in a lot of distress.

“Functions...directives...eclipse...authorization: goodnight...please…”

I flailed my right hoof at the Ranger mare nearby, waving madly at the nearby terminal, “you heard her, get typing!”

“What if this is all a trap?”

“Whatever this is, it’s not the program that’s controlling these robots,” I insisted, “I’ve been dealing with it for the past twenty minutes, and it’s not nearly this clever. I don’t know who this is, but I trust them,” I gestured my head at the door, “besides, given what’s on the other side of this door, the only way this could be a ‘trap’ is if it opened it; and I figure those commands aren’t how you go about doing that?”

The Ranger sighed through her voice emitter, “no, that’s through an entirely different directory. Fine, we’ll give it a try. I still don’t like it though,” she turned and began typing at the terminal, muttering to herself, “directives: eclipse...what do you know, the system recognizes it. It’s asking for an authorization code...good...night, and...confirm, I guess,” the armored mare shrugged and tapped a final key on the console in front of her.

Every light in the facility went dark.

I felt my heart leap into my throat, momentarily convinced that the Ranger mare had been right and that we’d fallen into some sort of trap after all. I whirled about, my eyes locked onto my Eyes Forward Sparkle as I scanned for any additional hostile sources nearby. A quick pass revealed no additional red bars. Actually, I realized, there weren’t any red bars at all. Even the room in front of us, where there had been nearly a half dozen hostile signatures just a minute ago, was now devoid of scarlet blips. All that remained were the two amber ones. I was about to ask the Ranger if her power armor was showing her the same thing when the corridor filled with a dim red light.

It wasn’t just our little section of hallway either. A glance back the way that we’d come confirmed that this was the case for as much of the facility as we could see. Then a scraping of moving machinery from nearby drew my gaze back to the door as it slid up into the ceiling. I tensed once more and drew my pistol, ready to fight the roboponies that lay beyond.

They didn’t quite seem to be up for a fight though, as all five of them were crumpled on the floor, their weapons discarded. Both me and the Ranger stood staring at the sight in confusion for several seconds before a soft moan reminded us that the room wasn’t entirely vacant. I let Lost ID go and tend to her comrades. I had more important concerns at the moment.

“Trellis?” I call out. When I didn’t receive a response, I repeated the call into my pipbuck. It was only then that I noticed that the channel that I had been transmitting on before was no longer present. The entire communications network for the facility was down. I grunted and resumed calling out for her to the rest of the room, looking around for any sign of where she could be.

Most ponies might have considered it to be impossible that there could have been anypony real left in a place like this after all this time, but I’d encountered living proof that such a thing could happen. So I kept right on looking. The voice had been real. The results of following her directions with the terminal had proven that. That meant that Trellis had to be here somewhere. I certainly hadn’t imagined all of that.

The more I searched, the more I noticed about the room that I was in. It, like the corridor, was bathed in that same soft ruby light, which made it hard to make out a lot of details, so I was relying primarily on my pipbuck’s light. This room was a lot like the room that the Ranger mare and I had first encountered the roboponies in. A lot of monitors, and a lot of terminals. What was odd was that there wasn’t a lot of places to actually enter commands. Most of the consoles seemed to be dedicated to displaying information. Though, all of them seemed to be quite dead now, so there was no way of knowing what sort of information was supposed to have been on them.

Then my light fell upon to a large metal cylinder against the far wall. Upon it was stenciled the word, ‘POSEIDON’. I took it initially to have been the computer core. The vast quantity of wiring coming out of it heavily implied this. However, I noticed a few other things leading into the steel tube that gave me pause. There was a certain familiarity to them that reminded me of another Ministry of Awesome location that I’d been in once before. There was even a very familiar control panel next to it.

I made my way over to the panel, staring at the giant red lever. There couldn’t possibly be somepony in here, could there?

There was only one way to find out. I pulled the lever. A rapid succession of mechanical sounds echoed throughout the room and the massive cylinder cracked open. That was as far as it made it on its own, as there either wasn’t any sort of motor present to open it fully, or there wasn’t power enough to do it. The doors didn’t prove to be particularly heavy though, and my hooves were sufficient to pull them aside.

What I saw inside made me recoil with an audible gasp, “T-trellis?!”

She couldn’t have been more than a year or two old. A tiny little green earth pony filly with the barest wisps of a pink mane lay inside the narrow metal tube, cradled amongst a nest of tubes and wires that looked like they pierced into every part of her. My horror only grew as I realized that the back of her head was actually fully merged with the machinery inside. Even if it were somehow possible to get her out of this thing, I wasn’t certain that there would be enough left of her to call a pony.

Not that freeing her would accomplish much. While the rest of the room remained dim and powerless, there was clearly some sort of backup energy source still operational inside the cylinder that was powering a few other screens. They were there to monitor her life functions, and they all told the same story: she was dead.

On one of them flashed the message: ECLIPSE PROTOCOL EXECUTED. POSEIDON TERMINATED.

It had been a trap after all, I realized. Not one that was meant to endanger any of us, perhaps, but I’d been tricked into doing what somepony else wanted, despite what my own desires might have been. I’d thought that Trellis was telling me how to shut down the roboponies and rescue my friends. In a way, that had indeed been what she was doing. She simply hadn’t bothered to mention that, at the heart of the system that was controlling those roboponies, had been a living filly; and that shutting it down meant killing her.

“No,” I said in a voice that was barely even a whisper as I looked at the still foal, “I didn’t want it like that. You should have told me! I could have…” something. I could have done something that didn’t end up killing a little filly!

“You could have done nothing.”

I jerked with a start and wheeled around to find Star Paladin Hoplite standing behind me, her green painted helmet staring into the innards of the cylinder with me. She reached up with a hoof and depressed a control that pulled the faceplate away, revealing the dry and withered features that were equine, but still so very much unlike a pony’s. That much I wasn’t surprised by, as I had seen her face once before. What I hadn’t anticipated was the look of sympathy she was wearing.

Yet there was something missing in her expression as well: surprise. She didn’t seem to be finding this development anywhere near as unexpected as she should have been.

I glared at the Paladin, “did you know about this?” I didn’t bother to hide my accusatory tone.

The ghoul grimaced, “you will recall that my order was unaware that this facility was being managed by the Ministry of Awesome.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I pointed out, not appreciating her evasiveness. I had just helped to save her life, after all.

Hoplite was silent for a long moment, clearly considering how much information she felt like revealing to somepony who wasn’t a part of her order. I must have earned enough goodwill to warrant an explanation though, as she eventually decided that I was owed at least a little something more, “I did not know that the filly was here, no. However, I am familiar with this technology.”

“You’ve seen this before.”

The lanky equine nodded her head somberly, “we discovered a Ministry of Awesome bunker some time ago, further to the north. While salvaging the technology there, we came across a prototype, as well as records detailing the system’s development.

“At some point, the MoA decided that it had a pressing need for advanced computer processing power for one of their more ambitious endeavors. We were not able to find out much about what they needed these powerful computers for, but we did learn that they were unwilling to reach out to the Ministry of Arcane Science to acquire a second Crusader Maneframe. They were obsessed with keeping this project as secret as possible, so they did as much of the development ‘in house’ as possible.

“Lacking the experience and arcano-technical knowledge that the MAS had, they were forced to make...questionable choices in order to build what they needed,” she nodded in the direction of the cylinder.

“They used ponies?”

“Foals, specifically,” Hoplite corrected, “the younger, the better.”

“Why?” the thought that any of Equestria’s ministries would resort to doing this to ponies was...well, horrifying! What could have possibly possessed somepony to do this to foals?!

“The organic brain is the most powerful and sophisticated computer known to pony kind,” the Star Paladin explained, “it would seem that their thought was that they could use it to create a heart of a more sophisticated system than could be built with conventional electronics or crystal circuitry.”

“But why foals? Why not grown ponies who knew what they were getting into, or criminals, or something?”

“The records we found indicated that brains in which the neural pathways had not been rigidly set performed better. It allowed for a greater degree of flexibility when they made the mechanical augmentations,” seeing that her every sentence only seemed to make me even more disgusted, she tried to mollify me, “if it’s any consolation, the subjects aren’t aware of what has become of them. They are, for all intents and purposes, dead in every way that matters. The computer is just using the biological portions of their brain to perform computations.

“They do not suffer.”

I blink at the mare, staring agape at her, “what are you talking about? Trellis seemed to know exactly what was going on,” I said, jabbing a hoof at the dead filly inside the cylinder, “she was suffering! She was suffering so much that she told us how to kill her, just so it would stop!”

It was finally Hoplite’s time to looked shocked and confused. Under other circumstances, I might even have found the experience satisfying. This was not that time though, “that’s not possible,” she insisted, “the research notes that we recovered―”

“Were wrong!” I snapped as I held up my pipbuck to the Star Paladin, “I heard her talking to me. Hot Chai Tea heard her too!” I looked over to the other two Steel Rangers who were standing nearby. One of them sighed heavily but nodded their head at Hoplite’s questioning look, “that foal was conscious, and aware, and she was in pain; she wanted to die to end it…” I winced, feeling tears threatening from behind my eyes.

If I’d only known what was going on...If I’d taken the time to try and figure out what was happening, instead of rushing ahead like some stupid fucking filly…

...Maybe I could have done something to save her.

“...I was unaware,” the Star Paladin finally said, her voice sounding haunted.

...We came across a prototype…

My eyes shot open wide, “you have one!” I launched myself at the taller Ranger, grabbing ahold of her barding and glaring into her eyes, “where are they? Are they okay?!”

While her subordinates seemed to take great exception to my perceived abuses of their leader’s dignity, Hoplite herself appeared to be too stunned to realize what I was doing, babbling a response, “I-I don’t know,” it was weird hearing her speak in a tone that didn’t sound inherently dismissive condescending and superior. To her credit, she sounded genuinely concerned.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?”

The Star Paladin briefly bit her lip, reluctant to say more at first, but soon relented with a defeated sigh, “the stolen ‘technology’ that we asked you to recover from the Republic,” she began, “is the prototype that we recovered from the MoA bunker.”

The New Lunar Republic had it! Ebony Song had informed me that he knew what I’d been talking about when I approached him about it, and had offered to deliver it to me in return for a cache of weapons from the Great War. I suppressed a reflexive desire to want to twist the Prime Minister’s head right off of his shoulders. It was possible that he didn’t know what he had in his possession.

This did change things though. Knowing that the Republic was in possession of a mutilated foal, and not some piece of weird pre-Wasteland tech meant that I wasn’t about to negotiate for it anymore. I was going to flap myself right back to Seaddle and tell Ebony Song what he had and hoped that he saw reason and got the foal the help they needed. If he was unwilling, then I’d go to Princess Luna herself! There was no way that she’d condone holding a foal like that!

Hopefully, this revelation also changed things for the Rangers as well. I fixed my gaze on the Star Paladin, noting that the other two Rangers still weren’t happy with me. I didn’t release my hold on her quite yet though, “you realize that this means that I’m not going to be bringing it back to you, right? I’m going to find it, and I’m going to find some way to free the foal trapped inside.

“If that’s going to be a problem, you should probably let me know right now,” I had two talismans for three targets. Hoplite and the Ranger that had been with her were unarmed at the moment, presumably a consequence of their fight with the roboponies. I could disable the Star Paladin’s power armor and use her as a shield. Or perhaps lock up the other two and shoot her in the head, while it was exposed…

“I understand,” Hoplite replied, “and I will inform the Elder of what has been learned here. I should be able to convince them that it is best to cease our efforts to recover the prototype,” she held my gaze with milky eyes that assured me of the sincerity present in her tone, “I may even be able to convince them to make our medical experts available to you to help with the treatment of the foal once you have recovered them.”

It was my turn to look surprised again, as I released my grip on her armor and drifted away, hovering in front of her, “you’re giving up...just like that?”

“Contrary to the opinion that most in the Wasteland have of the Steel Rangers, we are not monsters,” Hoplite said, a wry smirk winding its way across her leathery lips, “our methods can be cold, perhaps, and we may come off as cruel; but I assure you that we have the best of intentions for ponykind, as a whole, at heart. We retained the prototype to ensure that it was not abused by those seeking to use its power for selfish or destructive ends.”

“Then why not simply destroy technology like that, if you don’t want anypony to ever use it?”

“I said that we don’t want to see it abused,” Hoplite corrected, “there is a difference. In any case, if what you have informed us about this prototype system is correct, then the abuse would be in allowing anypony to retain it, even the Rangers.”

“Thank you,” I finally said, and alit back on the floor, “I really didn’t want to have to kill the three of you over this,” I offered them a wan smile of my own.

While the other two armored ponies seemed to be a little affronted by that notion, Hoplite and I had a bit of a history, and I received a contemplative look from the taller ghoul mare, “you really mean that.”

I shrugged, casting a fleeting look at my flank and the mark that was hidden by my barding, “I do. I don’t really like killing ponies, honestly.”

“Fascinating,” Hoplite mused, “you struck me as being quite adept, last we met.”

Images of what I’d done to the Ranger that had tried to shoot me in the Arc Lightning factory resurfaced, prompting a grimace, “yeah, I know.

“Listen, can we get going? We don’t have a lot of time before the hour’s up. I’m sure the Rangers up there would like to know you’re okay.”

“Quite right,” The Star Paladin nodded, reforming her suit’s helmet as she turned to address the others, “we’re moving out. There is nothing for us here,” the pair of Rangers nodded and headed for the door.

As we trotted through the dimly lit corridors, I caught myself studying Hoplite, and how she compared to the other two ponies in power armor. While the Steel Rangers’ signature barding made them taller and bulkier than the average pony, and I had certainly seen examples of unusually large ponies in the Wasteland, there was something that set Hoplite decidedly apart from any other example that I’d encountered.

“You’re not a pony, are you?” I finally blurted.

The Star Paladin turned her painted helmet to regard me. After a few seconds, she finally replied, “that is correct, I am not a pony.

“I am a horse.”

“A what?”

“A horse,” she repeated, “my kind hail from a place that was known as Saddle Arabia before the Great War. We were allies of Equestria.”

Knowing what I did about most of the ghouls in the Wasteland, I ventured a guess, “you fought in the war, didn’t you?”
A long silence hung in the air before I finally received her quiet answer, “I did.”
“...did you like killing?”

Perhaps that wasn’t the most conversationally appropriate of questions to ask, and I did earn a sharp look from one of the other Rangers, but I didn’t really care. It was at the heart of a matter that I’d been wrestling with for quite some time. Once upon a time, I might have talked to Jackboot about it, but he wasn’t here anymore. Foxglove wasn’t much of an experienced expert on the matter, except for a few notable instances. I’d heard Arginine’s take on the deaths of other ponies. Ramparts was a Republic Guardpony, so I had some idea of where he stood―nopony joined the military because they hated killing, right? Starlight wasn’t a fan of killing, but she also hadn’t grown up living in the Wasteland, so I wasn’t sure how informed her opinions could be.

Hoplite had over two centuries of life experience to draw on, and she’d lived in a time when the amount of death in the world made the modern day Wasteland look like a love-fest. I was very interested to hear her perspective.

Again a long period of silence extended between us, “I can recall, in the furthest reaches of my memory, a time where ponies, horses, and even zebras, lived their lives without knowing about things like murder, and war, and suffering.

“Then war came to the world. Great horrors were unleashed by all involved. Atrocities were inflicted that couldn’t have been conceived of only a decade prior. All in the name of restoring harmony once again, and bringing peace.”
Another long silence, “through it all, I fought, and I killed. I was surrounded by ponies and horses who did the same. I would be a liar if I said that none of us ever drew satisfaction from slaying our foes.

“Perhaps, in some small way, we did like it,” she shrugged, “but we also kept our minds focused on achieving the goal of ending the fighting, and the killing, once and for all. None of us enjoyed it so much that we never wanted it to end.

“Make of that what you will.”

Fighting and killing in order to end all the fighting and killing. I’d spent my life striving for the same thing, and in the same way, that Hoplite had. I’d dedicated myself to tracking down and slaughtering every bandit, raider, slaver, and any other degenerate that I could. Nearly a decade in all, carving my way through the scum of the Wasteland in order to remove those cancerous abominations that caused nothing but misery for the good ponies who lived in the valley.

Much like Hoplite, I too had derived joy from that life. Every freed slave, every saved caravan, filled me with a sense of accomplishment that spurred me to keep on doing what I was doing. Those times provided a sense that I could actually achieve my dream of a peaceful Neighvada. Pacifying the whole Wasteland would be asking for a bit much―I was only one pony, after all.

As the years dragged on though, that feeling had become more and more fleeting. I spent years pursuing my goal, and yet the Wasteland felt the same today as it had when I started. Perhaps it was too much to hope that even this one single valley could be saved by just a single, dedicated, pony. Those years had taken their toll on me in a big way, to the point where the satisfaction I got from saving ponies only marginally outweighed the torment I garnered from the death I inflicted.

“Do you think the world will ever be at peace again?” I asked.

“I don’t see how,” Hoplite replied, elaborating further, “when there are few who remain who can even comprehend of what peace felt like,” and that was where our conversation ended.

We finally reached the lift, only to find that it was also without power, naturally. We weren’t left without any options, fortunately. Between the three Rangers, there were plenty of spark packs to be had to restore the Gale Force to a fully operational status. If it could propel a single pony to absurdly fast speeds, then it could surely move even the four of us a hundred or so feet up to the surface.

Honestly, the hardest part of the whole thing turned out to be figuring how to arrange the three Rangers so that they could all hold on to me. I couldn’t say that it didn’t make taking off and staying in the air more awkward and cumbersome than I’d ever experienced, because it did. The only good news to be had was that all I had to do was keep us all level as we ascended back to the upper level. Another silver lining was that it only consumed half a charge to pull it all off, so I even came away from the exercise with a little extra juice left in the Gale Force to use later.

It was also nice to learn that we’d made it back to the surface in time for Hoplite to send off her transmission and keep the rest of her Rangers from storming the military base and killing Homily and her followers. It was a welcome salve to help assuage the lingering guilt I was feeling from what had happened to Trellis. I suppose that, intellectually, I knew it wasn’t really my fault for what had happened to her. I hadn’t known what I was up against. That didn’t mean that I couldn’t have done more to find out before taking action, but I was finding harder and harder to argue that there would have been anything that could have been done anyway.

The Steel Rangers had apparently had another one of those foals in their possession for who knew how long, and Hoplite seemed convinced that there was no way to help them; and the Rangers had access to all sorts of resources that I probably never would. That didn’t bode very well for how I intended to deal with the foal that the Republic had. Perhaps Arginine would know some way to help them, with his extensive knowledge of anatomy. Foxglove knew a lot about machinery, so she might have some idea of how to disconnect everything. Maybe Starlight Glimmer could figure out some sort of spell that would―

“You killed him, you bastards!”

Horseapples!

I had been so deep in thought about the future that I’d let the present slip through my hooves. Why shouldn’t I have? The dangerous part of the adventure was supposed to have been over with. We’d gone down into the secret pre-war bunker that had―predictably―turned out to be yet another Old World death trap. We’d fended off the things trying to kill us, learned the deep dark secret about what our ancestors did to fuck up the world more than we thought it already had been, and made our way back out.

This was supposed to be the time when we got to relax and commend ourselves on a job well done before grabbing a drink or something.

We weren’t supposed to have to deal with teary-eyed, obviously distraught, unicorn stallions waving a gun in our faces.

It was a good thing that my instincts were a lot more attentive than my brain, because that meant that I merely had to react by whirling around and throwing out my recently re-armored wings as I interposed myself between the three Rangers and the pony who had come here to kill them. Two powerful blasts buffeted my backside as the shotgun raked the Gale Force with what felt like straight-up slugs thanks to the extremely short range at which the shots had been fired. I screamed as both of my wings felt like they’d been set on fire with the amount of pain that I was experiencing.

There was no time to dwell on that though. I had an armed pony to deal with, and I had to do it before the Rangers got involved.

My ears twitched as I heard the weapon’s breech break open to allow for a reload. I wasted no time and spun in the air, sweeping one of my wings up and catching the double-barreled shotgun with the leading edge and knocking it free of his telekinesis. The weapon went sailing through the air, well out of reach. I pressed my attack delivering a series of jabs to the stallion’s chest and head. My goal wasn’t to kill, but rather to stun and subdue. He was clearly one of Homily’s ponies, and likely still very upset about the attack that the Steel Rangers had launched on the base.

I could sympathize, I really could; but the fight was over and done with. More killing wasn’t going to solve anything.

The unicorn stallion staggered back, his knees buckling out from beneath him and nearly sending him all the way to the ground. He was out of the fight. I pulled back, “stay down,” I shouted at the stallion. I was about to turn to the Rangers and tell them to go and find the rest of their order while I dealt with him, but before I could, the stallion began to glow.

I thought he was casting a spell at first. Soon, though, I realized that I recognized that shade of jade light. He wasn’t performing magic, he was being disintegrated. In the blink of an eye, the distraught unicorn flared brightly, and then melted away into a pile of green goop. Nothing remained of him, save for a stain in the dirt.

“No…” I couldn’t even be sure that I’d said the word out loud, “NO!”

The second time it had been though. Once more I was held hostage by muscle memory as I flipped in the air and tackled the Steel Ranger who had fire the shot that killed the unicorn stallion, the barrel of their scavenged energy rifle still steaming from the shot that it had fired. A spark talisman was in my hoof, and I planted it squarely on their chest. Their armor was enveloped by an aura of crackling sapphire lightning as the magical energy contained within the jewel invaded their suit’s systems and shut everything down.

Their companion wasn’t just going to sit by idly and let me assault their fellow Ranger though, and so they tried to move against me and tackle me to the ground where I would be a more manageable target. They clearly hadn’t understood the significance of the blue stone in my hoof though, and soon they too were reduced to a steel statue fallen over in the Wasteland.

Next to come out was my compact forty-five. I didn’t use it immediately, but merely held it fast in my mouth as I turned my attention back to the Ranger who had fired the lethal shot. A few deft slices of the razor sharp alloyed blades mounted onto the Gale Force’s wing covers opened up once side of the Ranger’s helmet. Their automated repair system was obviously offline, along with the rest of their power armor, thanks to the effects of Starlight’s talisman. All their barding was now was a pony-shaped tomb.

I pointed the barrel of the pistol into the opening that I’d carved…

...and froze.

I found myself looking into the rose-colored face of the mare that had been with me while exploring the MoA facility. It wasn’t the recognition that made me pause though: it was the fear. The naked fear in her eyes as she recognized her imminent demise at my hooves. She knew that she was about to die, and it terrified her.

She knew that the Wonderbolt was about to end the life of another Ranger who’d fired a fateful shot.

Well, maybe she didn’t know that was what was about to happen, but I did.

One more death. One more corpse in the Wasteland, that would add to the uncountable number that I’d already left in my wake. What did it really matter, in that light? The taking of her life would just be another in a long line that marked my life like days on a calendar. It didn’t matter that I was about to kill another pony.

…

It didn’t matter.

The stallion was dead. Killing this mare wasn’t going to bring him back. All that ending her life would do was just that: end her life. It wouldn’t make the Wasteland a better place. It wouldn’t even make me feel better; because it would just add another face to the litany that already haunted me at night.

Killing her was useless.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled the pistol away from her and slipped it back into its holster. Then I backed off the mare closed my eyes.

“You didn’t have to do it,” I said. Whether I was really addressing the Ranger mare directly, or just trying to talk myself down even further, I couldn’t tell, “he was upset. He was in pain. He wanted revenge for what you’d done to him and his friends―his family. It wasn’t right, and he shouldn’t have tried to kill you.

“That was why I stopped him,” I took a deep, ragged, breath, my eyes still closed, because I wasn’t sure that I quite trusted myself to look at the Rangers yet and not feel an overpowering urge to avenge the stallion anyway, “but I don’t think he deserved to die, and it wasn’t your place to kill him either.

“So, leave,” I was surprised by how calm I sounded, because I certainly didn’t feel very calm right now. Every part of my body was trembling with a potent mixture of rage and grief, “leave this place.”

I heard Hoplite, who had not made a move through the whole ordeal, step over to her subordinates and reinitialize the barding of the other Rangers. In my fury, I had forgotten that the talismans that Starlight Glimmer had made for me would only permanently affect Steel Ranager barding if I placed them in specific places. Perhaps that was for the best, as it expedite their departure.

The Star Paladin had a few parting words for me though, “would but the world I once knew had had more ponies like you, Wonderbolt,” she said softly.

When I could no longer hear their armored hoofsteps, I hung my head and let the tears start flowing.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Negotiator - Bonus to Speech and Barter Skills

CHAPTER 37: UNTIL THE REAL THING COMES ALONG

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Ponies called me a hero after what happened at HELIOS, but I left that battle scarred by fear, and have allowed that weakness to govern my actions.

It was dusk by the time I’d finally recomposed myself. There were a lot of reasons that this was probably a mistake. First and foremost was the fact that it turned out that I was bleeding. The stallion’s shotgun had apparently been more than even the Gale Force had been up to handling at that extremely close range. The reason that my wings had hurt so much was because some of the shot from those blasts that I’d intercepted had punched through both the rig’s armored covers and my wings. The bleeding wasn’t particularly severe, but it was probably something that I should have addressed before sobbing my stupid little heart out.

A lot of things had caught up with me, I guess. I’d had a busy week, after all. Finding out what I’d inadvertently done to Trellis and then being unable to keep that stallion alive had put me over the top, but they hadn’t been the core of what had gotten to me. I was still really bothered about how I’d been acting while I hadn’t had my cutie mark, honestly. There was a lot that I wasn’t proud of during that time.

I’d abandoned my friends, turned a blind eye to a pair of ponies in trouble, and very nearly tried to leave a whole caravan of ponies to die. That wasn’t who I wanted to be.

Of course, there was a lot to be said for how little I wanted to be the kind of pony that I’d been before that too.

Foxglove might have been jumping the gun a bit with the color scheme she’d put on this barding she’d made me. If recent events had proven anything, it was that her faith had been grossly misplaced.

I retracted the damaged wing covers as best I could, but it was obvious that Foxglove was going to need to conduct some pretty extensive repairs when we met up again. Then I drank down a healing potion to close up my wounds. My wings were still sore, and I didn’t feel like flying. My knee was feeling a lot better though, so I was able to tolerate the long walk back towards the barracks.

Even in the twilight hours, the damage that the base had suffered during the Steel Rangers’ attack was very obvious. A few guards were on duty once more, atop some hastily constructed berms built out of the rubble of the towers that had once stood there. It would be quite some time before they were rebuilt, if they even ever were. Homily had sounded determined to stay when last we spoke, but there was no telling how many of her followers felt the same way after the events earlier today. This place was a long way from any sort of support if something like this ever happened again.

If Homily thought that she could keep relying on calling me here for help, she might find herself being disappointed. Whether or not ‘The Wonderbolt’ would even exist tomorrow was kind of up in the air at the moment.

On the bright side, I was fairly sure that I’d garnered enough good will to justify asking for a place to sleep, and maybe even a meal. I paused for a moment and then thought better of the food. I actually wasn’t feeling very hungry right now.

“Windfall, you’re back!”

I turned my head in the direction of the familiar voice that frequented my pipbuck’s speakers and offered the pale yellow earth pony mare a wan smile and a wave, “hey, Homily. How’s everypony holding up?”

“They’re still a little shaken,” she admitted, “those Steel Rangers came out of nowhere and hit us without warning, hard. We lost a lot of good ponies trying to pull back to those bunkers,” she added, her features darkening as she recalled the experience. She wasn’t used to that level of death and destruction.

I wasn’t sure if that was something I envied about her or not. For better or worse, fights like that didn’t shock me much, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. My pipbuck was kind of on the fritz for a while.”

The pale yellow mare gaped at me, “are you kidding? Windfall, everypony here knows that they owe you their lives! For some of us this was, like, the second or third time you pulled our flanks out of the fire!

“You’re The Wonderbolt; you’re a hero!”

“The Rangers killed another pony,” I said, numbly, trying to deflect the praise that the mare seemed to insist on heaping upon me. I wasn’t in the mood for something like this, “a unicorn stallion. I don’t know his name. I think he lost somepony in the fighting…” I’m sure that really narrowed it down, I thought acidly.

Homily winced, “we noticed that Tack Weld was missing a while ago. We thought he was at his husband’s grave,” she sighed, “I guess not. What happened?”

“He came at them with a shotgun. I stopped him. Then the Rangers killed him.”

Homily swallowed, “and then what’d you do?”

She wanted to hear that I’d avenged her friend. She wanted to know that justice had been served and that the ponies responsible had been punished. I wasn’t going to be able to give her that though. All that this mare was going to get from me was the truth, and I expected that it was going to hurt.

“I let them go,” I replied simply, “and then I cried.”

Without waiting for her response, I pushed past her and headed for the barracks. Either Homily knew I wasn’t in the mood to talk any further, or she was just too disgusted with me to to say anything further. I knew that I wasn’t feeling very good about myself at the moment in either case.

Letting that Steel Ranger off the hook like that flew in the face of everything that I’d ever come to know about how the Wasteland worked. It ran contrary to my own fucking personal code of ethics, for Celestia’s sake! When somepony did something vile and wrong, like murdering an unarmed stallion, I was supposed to put them down. Not just because I was The Wonderbolt, but because that was how you made the Wasteland a better place!

...Only I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

I was feeling myself having doubts about the course of action that I’d taken. Was letting them go really the better answer, or had I somehow managed to fuck up even worse than if I’d simply shot her in the head? Hoplite had clearly expected me to do just that. She hadn’t even made any effort to stop me, much like when I’d killed that Ranger back at Arc Lightning. The ghoulish Star Paladin knew how things were done in the Wasteland, and that the rule was: ‘an eye for an eye’.

I’d violated that fundamental principle, and I was feeling that sense of creeping doubt penetrate into every little corner of my mind. Of course I’d made the wrong call. How could a stupid little filly like me, who was flying around pretending to be some kind of ‘hero’, have possibly made the right call regarding something like that? It was ludicrous.

Face it, Windfall: you don’t have any business trying to ‘fix’ the Wasteland. You’re the most broken thing in it!

I wasn’t even going to be able to help whatever foal was trapped in the computer or whatever it was that the Republic had stolen from the Steel Rangers. Why did I think that I’d be able to do something as complicated as that, when just a few days ago I hadn’t been able to keep a small group of former slaves from trying to burn two ponies in a bonfire?

It just wasn’t going to happen.

When the rest of my friends got here, I’d pass the reins on to one of them and let better ponies than me figure out how to finally make things right. Maybe Ramparts, since he probably had some pull with the Republic. Starlight sure seemed like she was capable enough to come up with something clever.

All that I knew for sure was that it wasn’t going to be me.

The barracks was large enough that there seemed to be plenty of rooms that didn’t have anypony who’d moved into one of them. Of course, I was pretty sure that a fair number of those ‘occupied’ rooms would be cleared out soon enough once the belongings of their former owners were claimed by the survivors of the Rangers’ attack. I found a place that was as far away from the rest of the residents as possible. Not that there were many ponies in the building at the moment. Most of the ponies on the base were still cleaning up and taking care of the wounded.

Or burying the dead, of course.

I shucked off the barding and tossed it rather unceremoniously into a corner, out of sight. While it probably wasn’t very nice of me to mistreat something that Foxglove had obviously put a lot of effort into making for me, I didn’t want to be confronted with that blue and gold color scheme right now. Maybe if she repainted it I could look at it again without cringing.

I climbed up onto the grimy old mattress and curled up into a ball. The tears didn’t return, since I’d already cried out everything that I had. Even so, I couldn’t get myself to fall asleep right away, no matter how still I lay or high tightly I closed my eyes.

Frustrated, I reached out and pawed around for my saddlebags. I was pretty sure that I still had a bottle of whiskey in there. Black out drunk sleep was still sleep. During my search, I felt my hoof brush up against something soft. I drew it out and inspected the material.

It was a black denim shirt. The one that Jackboot had worn nearly constantly in order to hide the White Hoof brand on his backside that would have spelled his death if anypony in the valley spotted it. The tangible reminder of my lost mentor rekindled that dull ache in my heart, and though my eyes were fresh out of tears, I could feel them start to burn once more. I didn’t tuck the shirt out of sight though. Instead, I drew it out completely and hugged it tight against my chest.

“I wish you were still here,” I whispered into the fabric. His scent still clung to it, even after all this time, “you’d know what to do.”

I lay in that two century old bed, clinging tightly to that shirt as though it would somehow allow me to feel the embrace of its former owner. For fleeting moments, I was even able to fool myself into thinking that he was still here, and that I really was holding him. They lasted for only fractions of a heartbeat, and that dull ache only seemed to grow with each instance as I was reminded that he wasn’t here, and never would be. Still I clung to that smelly old shirt, relishing those moments as they reminded me of a simpler time in my life. A happier time.

It was in one of those moments that sleep finally found me and offered the chance to lose track of my worries for a few hours.

I awoke with a start, though this time it wasn’t because of a night terror. It was something far more mundane than that: somepony was knocking on my door. Not having woken up from unconsciousness brought about by a near brush with death, my mind sharpened very quickly upon being roused, and so I immediately recognized the earth pony stallion standing in the open doorway with his hoof gently tapping on the treated wood. That wasn’t to say that I wasn’t still very surprised to see them though. They were a pony that shouldn’t have been able to be standing there right this moment, I would have though.

“Ramparts?” I asked dumbly, more out of bewilderment than anything else. There was no mistaking the Republican officer, still wearing his rather distinctive barding. Unless I had rather severely overslept, to the point that I was fairly certain any reasonable pony could have been forgiven for thinking that I was dead, the brown stallion should still have been a few days away from Camp McMaren.

“G’mornin’,” he greeted, cracking a smile upon seeing my reaction. He stepped into the room and sat down, “I s'pose Foxglove’ll be ticked at me for spoiling the surprise, but I figure that somepony around here’d let it slip sooner or later anyway.”

I blinked at the stallion, “you guys were just a couple days south of Shady Saddles when I left,” that statement was more for my benefit than his. Ramparts knew exactly where’d he’d been when all of us had met back up. I was just trying to wrap my head around the scope of what a group of ponies had managed to accomplish by way of overland travel without the aid of either wings or a Gale Force rig, “it should have taken you over a week to get here!”

“Probably would’ve,” he nodded his agreement before frowning slightly, “as it was, I’m of a mind that we probably could have let ourselves take a bit longer to get here,” at my quirked brow, the guard pony finally decided to let me in on the secret to their impossible accomplishment, “Starlight Glimmer just about burst her horn teleporting us here. As it was, both Foxglove and Arginine had to use some sort of bonehead trick to let her use their magical reserves, or whatever.

“I’m not an expert in how unicorn’s do their thing,” he shrugged, “I’m sure one of them could tell you better than I could. I was just along for the ride,” not that I believed I’d understand it any better than Ramparts had, “long story short: all three of them are down for the count, but otherwise alright. Homily has a few of her own unicorns looking after them and treating them for ‘mana burn’―whatever that is.

“They should be up and about by morning, they tell me,” I was certainly relieved to hear that! I’m not sure my conscience could take the weight of learning that any of them had crippled themselves trying to get here fast enough to help me. The guilt would probably kill me, “but they’ll also have a doozy of a hangover.”

I let out the breath that I hadn’t been aware I was retaining upon hearing that the three of them would be fine. The knowledge that all four of my traveling companions were close by once again, combined with the frail certainty that nothing was going to try to kill any of us in the near future, allowed for a very different weight to slowly begin to ebb away also. We were all together, and we were safe. It seemed like meeting those two conditions hadn’t been done very frequently of late.

There was still a small nagging little bundle of tension that remained, centered around the knowledge that a foal was suffering, trapped in the unawares grip of the Republic that I had to do something about; and call me selfish, but I suppressed it―for the moment. If all three of our unicorns were down for the count, then it wasn’t like we’d be able to get out of here anytime soon anyway. Seaddle was our next stop, to be sure; but our departure wasn’t imminent.

They’d endured for two centuries, another day or two wouldn’t make a difference one way or the other. Either there’d be something we could do to help them when we got there, or they’d gone beyond the point of no return a very long time ago.

I grimaced and shoved that macabre thought out of my head. There was going to be plenty of time for depressing thoughts later. Right now, I wanted to find something happy to focus on: finally catching up with a friend. At least, I guess he was a friend; so far as me and ‘friends’ went anyway.

“That’s good to hear,” I said with a nod, “and I’m glad you’re all safe,” I offered up a wan smile, “I know that rushing off on my own probably wasn’t very smart; it’s just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” the Republic guardpony assured me, “if I heard that my squad was in trouble, I’d charge right into Tartarus itself to help them out. Foxglove explained what you and Jackboot already went through to help the ponies here; and it’s not like I haven’t heard the same broadcasts that you have,” he tapped his own pipbuck, smirking at me, “Miss Neighvada’s important for the valley; she brings us closer together than I think even she realizes.”

I cast the stallion a questioning look and saw his smile broaden, “ponies are social creatures,” he explained, “we like belonging to groups, or herds. That’s why we form communities at the drop of a horseshoe. All sorts of communities, like Seaddle and New Reino, and even the White Hooves, Vipers, or other ganger groups. We want to feel like we’re a part of something.

“There’s nothing inherently wrong about that,” his smile soured a bit now, “except that those groups also give us all the reason we need to exclude ponies. They’re part of a different herd, so they’re not ‘one of us’,” he intoned sarcastically, “sometimes we let those differences stop us from seeing those other groups as ponies just like you and me.

“You don’t need me to tell you what that leads to,” I did not, “but…” Ramparts started to brighten again, “that’s where Miss Neighvada comes in: she’s not broadcasting to just New Reino, or Shady Saddles, or Seaddle, or anywhere else. She’s broadcasting to the whole valley. When she goes on those airwaves, for just a minute or two, we’re not our own, small, petty, little herds. It’s like we’re all a part of her herd, because everything that she’s saying is meant for all of us. For a moment, we’re all just: Neighvada.

“It’s a little thing, I know,” the earth pony shrugged, “but you can’t accomplish big things without doing all of the little things that make them up.”

I sat on the bed, blinking at the brown stallion, as silence settled over the room at the conclusion of his little monologue, “I didn’t peg you for a romantic.”

Ramparts snorted, “that cheesy, huh?”

“No, I liked it,” and that wasn’t a lie either. Maybe I was just as naive as the brown stallion was, somehow, but I found myself drawn to the idea that there was a chance that peace could come to the valley; even if it was through something as unlikely as a few daily radio broadcasts. It was a ludicrous notion, of course, but a pony could still dream.

“Yeah, well,” he signed, deflating a little as he continued, “that was also what everypony thought was going to happen when Princess Luna returned. The Goddess Herself come back to us to rule over Equestria and restore the land back to its former paradise.

“How could everypony not have flocked back to her?”

“Why didn’t they?” I’d been little more than a newborn foal when Princess Luna had returned to the world and taken up residence inside Seaddle. The ponies of the Commonwealth-turned-New Lunar Republic had cheered and celebrated, predicting that the Wasteland would cease to exist in a matter of days, or weeks at the most.

It had persisted of course. As had the gangs, and the various raiding tribal groups that operated on the fringes of the valley. A few names had changed, a couple of uniform styles, and a law here or there. Other than that...it had continued to be business as usual. Everypony was supposed to have flocked to Luna’s banner and unified under a New Equestria, once more ruled by an immortal alicorn deity; just as had been the case in the fargone days of old.

That hadn’t happened of course, and I’d not been very politically minded at the time to ask why that wasn’t the case. By the time I did concern myself with such questions, the answer seemed to revolve around: ‘because it wouldn’t change anything’, as scant little had changed.

“A whole lot of ponies did,” Ramparts informed me, “most of the ponies who lived near Seaddle came to the city in droves. The population doubled within the year,” I hadn’t known that, and hearing it now only further added to my confusion about why such a migration would have stopped.

“They were drawn by the promises of renewal, and the restoration of Old Equestria, of bringing the good times back to the world.”

“So what happened?” I asked him.

He shrugged matter-of-factly, “nothing happened; which is kind of the point. Ponies were expecting miracles―a quick fix by a goddess who’d clap her hooves together and undo the Wasteland―but all they got were some speeches and radio broadcasts.

“And a new war.”

Ramparts sighed a shook his head, “it didn’t take long for ponies to become disenfranchised. When all of their problems weren’t instantly fixed the moment she returned, a lot of ponies stopped feeling like she mattered.”

“That’s stupid,” I said with a frown, “even if she is a goddess, that doesn’t mean that she can undo the Wasteland with a spell or something. All of her broadcasts talk about how it’ll take time and hard work and stuff.”

The guard pony nodded, “unfortunately, when a lot of ponies have to spend most of their time and effort making sure they don’t starve to death by the end of the day, that doesn’t leave them with a lot to spare for ‘rebuilding Equestria’.”

Okay, that made sense. My own family had been on the cusp of such a state while they’d been alive. As much as my parents endorsed the return of the princess, I had to admit that I never saw either of them taking off time from working the ranch to go and volunteer their services to the Republic to undertake Princess Luna’s initiatives.

There was simply too much that needed doing to make sure that they’d be able to feed and care for themselves.

“A lot of ponies don’t think she’ll be able to pull it off,” the stallion concluded sullenly.

“What about you; do you think the princess will be able to do it?”

“I have faith that she will, in time,” he nodded, “the war takes a lot of her attention and consumes most of the resources the Republic has. Once it’s over, things’ll get better,” and I could tell he believe it too. A good stallion, a romantic, and a true believer.

It was too bad he was taken.

Speaking of which, “do you plan on settling down with Yatima when the Rangers leave?”

I guess he thought this constituted an abrupt change in the subject, as it looked like the question had taken him by surprise. He recovered quickly though, and a warm smile touched his lips, “maybe, I guess?” he shrugged, “it’s been so long I’m not sure I’d even know what ‘settling down’ looked like.”

That was a fair point, though I certainly had cultivated my own ideas of what a life would look like later in life, “you know: get a place together, start a farm or something, make with the foals. Settle down.”

“You sound like Sandy,” he said with a mirthful chuckle.

I cocked my head for a brief moment, my lips pursed. Then a few bits of conversation with the barpony from about a month or so back filtered to the top of my mind, “...Sandy’s your sister,” I guess I’d never asked if she’d had any family. It hadn’t felt like it mattered much if she did or not. I felt kinda bad for not trying to get to know her a little better through all those years of doing business with her. We'd just never lingered in Shady Saddles for more than an evening when it had just been Jackboot and I.

“Half-sister,” Ramparts corrected, “Mom was a bit of a ‘free spirit’. But, yeah. Sandy doesn’t want to have anything to do with, as she calls it: ‘pooping out a tiny poop factory’, so she decided that she was going to hang all of her maternal fulfillment squarely on the tail end of whatever mare eventually caught my fancy,” he bowed and shook his head, though I still saw a smile spread out across his muzzle, “which was why she never missed a chance to nudge any mare she could get her hooves on in my direction.”

“To hear Yatima tell it, you were the one who came on to her,” I pointed out, recalling my brief talks with the zebra mare while we were escorting her from Shady Saddles.

“Well, I mean, it didn’t start that way,” the stallion said, almost defensively, “at first I was just making polite conversation with the mare who was bringing me my lunch. She was one of a few ponies who worked in the bar back then.

“It wasn’t until two weeks had passed that I noticed she was the only mare who ever brought out my order,” he shared a knowing look with me, “which struck me as a little far fetched to be just a coincidence, if you take my meaning. Zebra or no, when a mare with a firm figure and that enticing little sway in her hips goes out of her way to be the one sauntering up to your table and then slowly walking away with that little tail flick that says, ‘I want you to lift this and pin it back between my ears while you―”

Ramparts abruptly snapped his mouth shut, his eyes widening slightly. For a brief moment, I wondered what was wrong with him. It was then that I became aware of the fact that I could feel that my ears were flushed in concert with my cheeks. The rugged earth pony stallion seemed to have noticed this too; and he had simultaneously realized that he was talking with a young filly half his age.

He cleared his throat rather thoroughly as each of us averted eye contact for the moment, “―backrubs. I gave her a backrub.”

“I know what sex is, Ramparts.”

“Right,” he idly rubbed the back of his head, still not meeting my gaze, “anyway, long story short: it turns out that Sandy was the one making sure Yatima always went to my table, and had been telling her that I was always talking about how cute I thought she was.

“I mean, she was cute, sure―pretty, even―but I hadn’t ever said that to Sandy. So, yeah, I started flirting with her, and she started flirting with me―even more―and one thing lead to another until, well...backrubs―”

“Sex.”

“―sometimes there were actual backrubs!” Ramparts affirmed insistently, “but also, yes, there was sex.”

“I kind of figured that much from the foal she had,” I remarked in a droll tone. I was not a filly, regardless of how old I might be, “you still haven’t answered my question, by the way.”

Ramparts took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “noticed that too, did you? Don’t get me wrong, I do like Yatima, and not just...being with her―”

“Fucking her.”

“Okay, see, now you’re just doing this on purpose,” he glared at me accusingly.

“Noticed that too, did you?” was my level reply, “please stop talking to me like I’m a foal. I know what sex is. I’ve walked in on it before. Believe it or not, I even intend to have it one day. So can we please talk like we’re both adults?”

“...Right. Fair enough. Sorry.”

“Continue,” I prompted.

The stallion took another preparatory breath and resumed from where I’d interrupted, “I enjoyed...the sex, that we had, yes,” there, that didn’t kill you, did it? “But I also like just sitting and talking with her too. I just…”he sighed, “I just don’t know if I have what it takes to raise a family.”

I felt one of my eyebrows just about rise up off the top of my head, “aren’t you a battle-hardened Republican guard pony who’s part of Luna’s elite forces or something? I think you can manage changing a diaper…”

“It’s more than that,” he responded, “and pretty much exactly related to that: I’m a soldier. I fight, and I kill; how am I supposed to use those skills to play with my son?”

My eyebrow had yet to descend, “teach him to shoot? Duh? A little hoof-to-hoof combat wouldn’t go amiss, either. Maybe some demolitions so that he knows what to do around mines and grenade traps.”

Ramparts shook his head, snorting derisively, “I don’t want my son to grow up to be a killer. I want him to have a life worth living.”

I suppose that the silence that greeted his comment was what had prompted the earth pony to once more look up at me. When he finally did, I saw the regret clear in his eyes. It was too late, of course. His words had hit me like a double-buck to the loins.

Of all the ponies who traveled with me, I would have thought that Ramparts would understand me the best. He may have known me for the least amount of time―after Starlight Glimmer―but he and I had a lot more in common. We were both genuine warriors, and we were both dedicated to removing threats from the Wasteland. Ramparts was doing so under the direction of the NLR military and his princess; while I was guided by a deeper, more personal, philosophy that had been shaped by both my mentor and my personal experiences growing up.

In either case: fighting was what we did. Killing was a part of who we were. It was ingrained so deeply within us that it might as well have been the bones of our bodies.

Did that mean that I derived pleasure from it? No. I didn’t like doing it, but it was who I was, and I struggled every day to reconcile that fact. I knew full well that I was performing a very delicate psychological balancing act as I tried desperately to mitigate the growing despair that existed precisely because I didn’t enjoy killing but knew that it had to be done.

It didn’t help at all that I was even now going through a more recent mental crisis after having spared the life of a Ranger who’d killed a defenseless pony because I could no longer reason why it did have to be done. Losing that particular mental battle wasn’t an option, as it would call into question the justifications that I’d used for hundreds of ponies that I’d killed during my life.

There would be no living with myself if I lost that internal struggle, I knew that much for certain, at least.

Yet here was the one pony I had left in my life that I should have been able to count on as a sympathetic ear; or perhaps even a replacement mentor from which to draw on their superior number of years of experience living this sort of life. Without Jackboot around to keep me flying level, Ramparts was the next best thing. A pony who was suppose to know how necessary killing certain ponies was.

So how was I supposed to deal with hearing him describe this existence as not being worth living?

I think he was starting to realize some of that too as his lips started murmuring in a stammered clarification, “Windfall, I―that’s not how I meant it to sound. I’m sorry,” I said nothing. What was I supposed to say? “I just...you, of all ponies, know how hard this kind of life is. I’ve seen what it does to ponies when they’ve been at it too long: it breaks them.

“Sometimes they just shut down. It eats away at their soul until there’s nothing left. Others, well, they stop seeing ponies as ponies. Killing becomes like breathing to them; they just get numb to it,” he snorted, “if those ponies are in the ruins, we call them a ‘raider’. If they’re wearing a uniform, we call them, ‘sir’.

“Then there are the ponies who just break down completely. They rage, or they cry, or they just lose their grip on reality,” he shook his head sadly and then looked up at me, “you do this for long enough, and you end up as one of those three. You don’t get to lead a normal life ‘after’ this.”

Another hit to my gut as I felt all of my plans for a tidy little ranch out in the Wasteland overrun with foals, while me and a faceless stallion sat on the porch and watched them play, crumble into oblivion. It couldn’t be true, could it? Could I really never have my cozy, pleasant, little life full of happiness and joy? Hadn’t I earned a happy ending, after everything that I’d been through?

“That’s why I don’t want this for my son,” Ramparts finished softly, gently, as though he were afraid that his words could cause me to break. He may very well be right about that; though I desperately hoped he was wrong about everything else, “I want him to have better than I’ll get.

“And it’s why I don’t know if I’ll stay with Yatima,” he said even more delicately, as though speaking too loudly might break him, “I don’t want to poison her with whatever I bring back with me. She’s a good mare. She sees so much beauty in the world. I don’t want to tarnish that.

“I’ll support them for the rest of my life,” the stallion affirmed resolutely, “but I doubt very much that I’ll be a part of it. It’s for their own good.”

“Why?” I finally managed, my voice barely reaching above a whisper as I found words at last, “why can’t ponies like us be happy?”

“...because we’re bad ponies, Windfall.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. My rest had apparently been enough to replenish my body’s supply of tears, and they were flowing freely again down my cheeks.

“No,” I insisted through clenched teeth, “no, I’m not!” I spoke with the feigned confidence of somepony who had to believe what they were saying was true, even though they knew it wasn’t, “I’m not a bad pony!”

I felt the mattress quiver as somepony else climbed onto it next to me, “yes, you are,” Ramparts said softly, causing me to cringe even more deeply as another sob wracked my body. I was about to protest again, even more vehemently, when I felt him place his foreleg around my shoulders and hold me tight, “and that’s okay.”

Abruptly, my sobs halted with a start as I looked up at the stallion in surprise. He was smiling down at me. It was a kind smile, but there was an unmistakable sadness to it―a regret―that was echoed further in his eyes, “it’s okay that we’re bad ponies. The world needs bad ponies who are willing to do bad things, but for the right reasons.

“It’s not easy, and I don’t think it was ever meant to be easy; but you can tell how important something is by how hard it is to do,” he gave me another tight squeeze, holding me to his chest for several seconds, “and what we do is perhaps the most important thing there is.

“The evil that we do today, prevents evil from befalling a good pony tomorrow.”

My sobbing began to abate, and I felt no further tears trying to slip out from around my eyes. I sniffed loudly and wiped my nose, processing what Ramparts was telling me. The faintest glimmer of a smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I imagined Jackboot coming up with something very similar to tell me in just this sort of setting.

“What we do is important, Windfall; but it’s hard, and it’s brutal, and it will scar us deeply for the rest of our short, miserable, lives,” I needed to talk to Rampart’s about his pep-talks. They left a lot to be desired, “now you tell me if you want your little colt or filly to endure what you have in your life? Do you genuinely want them to go through all of that?”

“No,” I said adamantly, wiping at my eyes and brushing the black patch that covered over the sear socket where one of them had once been. I most assuredly didn’t.

“Exactly,” he nodded, “we endure all of this so that, one day, hopefully, our foals, and the foals of everypony else, won’t ever have to.”

“You’re getting all romantical again, Ramparts,” I said, smirking up at that stallion, “you know the Wasteland won’t end in our lifetime.”

“Probably not,” the brown earth pony conceded with a shrug as he let me go and slipped back off the bed, “but I like to think that the more I endure in my life, the less there’ll be for somepony else to deal with later. That this suffering is penance for the sins of our ancestors, and that it’s finite in the fullness of time,” he said, and then snorted, “but even us lowly earth ponies aren’t strong enough to carry the whole world on our shoulders all at once. A pitty that.

“Feeling better?”

I thought for a moment and then nodded, “yeah, I am. Thank’s, Ramparts,” then I grimaced as I wiped my eyes and nose again, embarrassed by the foalish display that I’d just put on, “I guess I’m not as grown up as I thought I was, huh?”

The stallion smiled, but it wasn’t a condescending or patronizing one. It was very genuine, “I’ve never met a pony that was too old to have themselves a good cry every once in awhile. Especially not a pony who does what we do.”

The Repulican guard pony took a deep breath and stood back up, “I’ll go ahead and let you get back to your nap or whatever. I didn’t mean to chat you up too much like this; just wanted to let you know the rest of us were all alright,” he headed for the door, “come find me in the morning, we’ll grab a bite and talk some more if you want.”

I wiped away at my eyes and nose and nodded at the stallion, “I think I’d like that.”

“Good night, Windfall.”

“Good night, Ramparts; and thank you,” the stallion closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more. They were quite bittersweet. It did feel nice knowing that there were other ponies in the world that did recognize that killing ever bad ponies wasn’t something to necessarily be proud of lifestyle to wish on anypony else. For the most part, it seemed like Ramparts felt much the same way that I did about the job he had. If that was the case, then I suppose that I was in good company.

It was really too bad that he was taken. Though, I guess it had sounded like he wasn’t exactly planning on making him and Yatima an exclusive thing, despite their foal together. Maybe that meant he and I could…

Wow, Windfall; lewd much? He had to be, like, twice your age! Of course, so was Jackboot, and that sure hadn’t stopped me from having those sorts of thoughts about him. I guess older stallions were my ‘thing’.

I wonder if Ramparts likes younger mares…?

This probably wasn’t a very appropriate line of thinking, especially since I hadn’t picked up on the brown earth pony putting out any sort of hints that he thought of me that way. That being said, I was still very pretty tense from the last few days, and our little conversation hadn’t been quite as inspiring as I think the Republic officer had meant it to be. A little personal attention wouldn’t go amiss tonight, in the name of relaxation. It had been a long time since I’d gone about this, as life hadn’t afforded me many opportunities of late.

What it had afforded me tonight was a chance to entertain slightly different thoughts while I went about it. Sorry, Jackboot, but I’m going to entertaining myself with a slightly younger earth pony stallion tonight...

The next morning, when we heading out to breakfast, at Ramparts’ insistence, I donned my Wonderbolt barding. I kept the Gale Force’s wing covers tucked away as best I could to prevent ponies from seeing the extent of the damage that had been done to them as I had used my body to protect a small band of Steel Rangers from one of the McMaren ponies. Given the company that I would be keeping, I felt that would be the wrong kind of message to send.

It quickly became obvious to me why the Republican soldier had made me don my barding. Though I was fairly certain that everypony would be able to recognize who I was―given the distinct lack of other pegasus ponies on the base―the brilliant blue and gold color scheme drew ponies to me like bloatsprites to a brahmin carcass. I was very quickly overwhelmed by all of the thankful ponies who couldn’t seem to find enough ways to express to me how grateful they were that I’d come to their rescue and drove off the Steel Rangers who had been slaughtering them.

I felt that it was a bit of an exaggeration on their part to characterize what had happened as me ‘driving off’ anypony, but it wasn’t like I was being given the chance to correct them, so I let it stand. Hopefully Homily phrased things a bit more accurately when she made her broadcasts about the incident. The last thing I needed was for Ranger patrols that I came across attacking me out of some sort of skewed obligation to restore the blow to their pride at the idea that a lone teenaged mare routed a whole platoon of Rangers just by showing up.

Was this how legends got started? Perhaps I needed to go through my library of DJ Pon3’s accounts of the various saviors of the Manehattan Wasteland and take them in with a renewed perspective on how quickly and easily things could be exaggerated in their retelling.

Eventually the novelty of my presence died down enough for me to make it beneath the collection of tarps and canvas that served as the base’s interim cafeteria, as the hardened structure that used to serve that purpose had been demolished by the assaulting Rangers. Efforts appeared to be underway to construct something a little more permanent nearby out of the rubble and a mortar concoction. Homily’s ponies were obviously very dedicated to their home.

“Windfall!” I turned my head at the sound of my name, which was rather distinctive from the dozens of ‘Wonderbolt’s that I’d been getting up to this point. I spied the pale yellow earth pony trotting towards me from the cafeteria. She grabbed my hoof in hers, shaking it briskly before she apparently felt that giving me a full on hug was more appropriate. I reciprocated tentatively, not certain if this was something I wanted to encourage in my other fans.

I wasn’t used to this kind of attention; not that I was hating it, per say. It was just...new.

“Are you feeling better?” Homily asked earnestly when she finally broke away, her eyes searching mine for confirmation, “you seemed kind of, um…” she bit her lip as she fumbled for a good word to express the earlier terseness I’d used during our last conversation. I was in the middle of mustering an apology when Ramparts jumped into the conversation.

“She was just a little tired, is all,” he explained, smiling at the other mare, “it was a long flight to get here, after all; then, dealing with the Rangers…” he waved his hoof in a manner that suggested Homily should understand exactly how taxing such things could be.

The yellow mare indeed nodded eagerly, glad to have a delicate way of asking her question, “exactly!” she looked from Ramparts back to me, “I hope you slept well?”

“I’m fine,” I wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not right now. I was certainly feeling markedly improved from yesterday. Being out here, seeing that there was life yet still in McMaren, despite the attack, was actually doing a lot to help that too. Ramparts had been right, it seemed, “just hoping that there’s some breakfast left?”

“Of course! Right this way,” she turned and barked at the other ponies, “clear a path for the Wonderbolt, please!”

I cringed and was about to inform her that that sort of thing wasn’t necessary but, before I could even open my mouth, the tide of ponies had broken apart almost instantly and created a narrow corridor of bodies that funneled us right into the center of the dining area. Somepony at the other end was already setting out plates of scrambled...something, and water. It smelled good though.

Nor, it seemed, was I going to be dining alone. Ramparts was going to be joining us, and clearly Homily was going to make it a point to entertain the ‘guest of honor’ as it were. However, there was one other pony seated already, nibbling contentedly at his breakfast: Arginine.

Recalling what Ramparts had said about the state of our three magically inclined companions last night, I glanced back at the earth pony stallion, only to find that he appeared just as surprised to see the larger stallion present. The genetically engineered pony glanced up from his meal, taking note of the crowd and the associated disturbances. His eyes fell to me and he gave a polite nod and a little wave of his hoof as we approached.

“You’re up,” Ramparts sounded genuinely surprised.

“I recover quickly,” was Arginine’s terse reply, “Miss Foxglove and Miss Glimmer are being tended to. They should be conscious by tomorrow morning. Their burnout was quite severe.”

I grimaced, looking over at Ramparts who, for his part, patted me on the back, “not your fault,” he insisted, “I kept telling them there wasn’t any reason to worry,” he held up his pipbuck, “I had your tag, after all,” then he thought for a moment, “though we’ve seen that even losing that doesn’t mean you’ve bought it.

“You’re a tough mare to kill.”

“So I’ve been hearing,” Homily interjected as she gestured for the two of us to be seated as she picked out her own place on the long metal bench that had managed to be salvaged from the rubble of the old mess hall, “Mister Arginine here has been catching me up on everything that you’ve been up to since you left; including a lot that I never heard about!

“Did you really get rid of all the radiation in Old Reino?!”

“Um, yeah,” I answered, looking between the two stallions, unsure of exactly how much more famous I was willing to let Homily make me after she was done gathering up what would doubtlessly turn into hours and hours of broadcasts worth of stories about my travels, “it was just some old robots using faulty spark reactors or something. They’re offline now, so no more rads.”

“And he said that Foxglove told him you and Jackboot took out the pony leading the White Hooves?”

I winced at the memory. There was a lot about that day that even Foxglove likely didn’t know, and so she couldn’t have told to RG and, by extension, Homily. The yellow mare didn’t know that she was poking at such a tender wound; though she was obviously gathering from my reaction that she’d trod on something sensitive. She was a perceptive one, that Homily.

She swallowed and bowed her head, “I’m sorry about Jackboot. I know he was important to you.”

“He was the hero that day, not me―not the Wonderbolt,” I said hoarsely, glancing over at the mare with a gaze that was a little cooler than perhaps she deserved, “so if you want to talk about that on one of your broadcasts, make sure you tell everything: he was a former White Hoof, and he went there to rescue me, and he sacrificed his life to kill their leader―his own sister―to make sure that they never came after me again.

“A White Hoof did that, do you understand?” I felt my throat nearly close up as I choked back my bubbling grief. This wound was not nearly as healed as even I might have thought, “Jackboot was a White Hoof, and he was a good pony―a hero.

“You tell ponies that, or you tell them nothing at all, understand?”

Homily nodded slowly, reaching out a hoof to lay over mine as she looked at me, “yes, Windfall, I understand. I promise you: Neighvada will know who they have to thank,” a wan smile spread across her face, “I kinda owe him my life too, you know?”

I nodded and looked back down at my plate as I tried to will all of the sorrow and grief welling up within me away. It wasn’t easy. Homily seemed to decide that the moment for her interviews had passed and excused herself, “I should probably go ahead and write out those broadcasts so they’re ready to go,” once more her hoof lightly touched mine, “if you need anything at all, just let somepony know. They’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you,” was all I trusted myself to say at the moment. I was regaining control though; slowly but surely.
“I’m going to go and check on the mares, make sure they’re comfortable; see if either of them could use something to eat,” Ramparts said, slipping away from the table as well, and taking his plate with him, “I’ll be in the barracks if either of you need me,” I nodded but said nothing.

Soon it was just me and a silent Arginine, sitting alone at a table in the middle of a bubble of onlookers who were doing their best not to look like they were staring at us. Me, because I was the hero who’d saved their lives, and Arginine because he was, well, Arginine.

The large gray stallion seemed content to sit quietly and eat. I, on the other hoof, needed a distraction, “I found out what the Republic stole from the Rangers,” I informed the larger stallion, “and the Rangers have agreed to stop trying to take it back.

“All I have to do is get it away from the Republic and the war’ll be over,” who knew that a war that had waged for well over a decade, and cost the lives of an uncountable number of ponies could be ended by something as simple as removing a metal cylinder from somepony’s possession? It was both sardonically humorous, and terribly frightening.

Had the ponies and zebras of old fought over a matter that was equally as trivial and easily solved? I didn’t know the details about that ancient war that had ended the world, but knowing the reality of this one, I was terrified to learn whether all of this suffering was for some ridiculously simple matter that could be solved in an afternoon.

I wasn’t so naive as to believe that more than a decade of animosity and bloodshed would be forgotten overnight, of course. The Steel Rangers would not be welcome in the Neighvada Valley―not that they were generally welcomed anywhere, as I understood it―for a very long time to come. Yet, even so, ending this war was a tremendous step in making this whole region of the Wasteland a more peaceful place to live. Combine that with the crippling of the White Hooves, and the imminent defeat of the ponies from Arginine’s stable once an alliance was brokered; and maybe Ramparts’ dream of a happy valley could actually come to fruition in our lifetimes after all.

“Then we can unite the valley against your stable. If all goes well, it’ll all be over in a few weeks.”

“In that case, perhaps I should begin getting my affairs in order,” the gray stallion finally said, “I have been putting together what Captain Ramparts referred to as a ‘bucket list’,” his bags briefly glowed and a small pad of paper drifted out, setting down on the table in front of me.

At first I thought that he’d been making another of his rather dry and easily overlooked jokes, but then I remembered that he only really made those when his life was in imminent peril, to diffuse the tension that he was feeling. A cursory study of the pad further reinforced the notion that the stallion was being completely serious. Arginine did not put this much effort into his humor, though right now I could fervently hope that had just this once.

“What the fuck, RG?!” I gasped, looking at the contents―the absurdly brief list of contents―on the pad of paper, “you’re not still thinking about killing yourself if we beat back your stable, are you?”

“Not immediately, no.”

“RG, come on, I really don’t need this shit right now,” I was still teetering on the verge of blowing my own Celestia-damned brains out any day now; I was in no fit shape to help somepony else cope with their own suicidal ideations! It sure as fuck didn’t help that a few of the things on his list are things that I’d have put on a bucket list of my own if I’d ever thought to make one―

“...wait a minute,” I looked up from the pad to the stallion, “‘copulation’? ‘M and S’?”

Arginine merely regarded me with that stoic expression of his, “you informed me that repeatedly engaging in sexual congress for the purpose of producing a significant quantity of offspring was one of your paramount goals in life,” I shrunk down into my barding as best I could to hide my blush. He hadn’t spoken very quietly; or at least as quietly as I might have liked, given the subject matter. How could the most unarousing description of sex possible by ponykind make me feel even more embarrassed than if he’d just announced for all to hear that I was interested in getting my brains fucked out until I was knocked up, in those words?

Honestly, I think it was just the raw clinical way that he had put it. As though there was nothing more intimate about it than, say, brushing out my tail. I liked to think that I had reasonable expectations about what sex would be like, and I wasn’t anticipating this whole world-shattering event, but I refused to believe that it was quite as mundane as Arginine made it sound. I highly doubted that ponies would have been doing it often enough to ensure a hardy future generation if it were quite than bland.

“My curiosity has been piqued sufficiently to wonder about the experience,” Arginine finished.

I buried my face under my hooves, trying my best to ignore the staring ponies around us. I swear to Celestia, if I got propositioned while we were here, somepony was dying. The pony trying to get under my tail, Arginine for making the announcement, me from embarrassment―somepony was dying!

“And the ‘M and S’ part of it?” I asked, already dreading the possible answers I might receive to the cryptic addendum.

“A stallion and a mare,” the large gray pony replied matter-of-factly.

My head shot back up as I stared wide-eyed at the stallion, “at the same time?!” I blurted.

Arginine opened his mouth to respond, but then hesitated as he considered something, “is that an option? Hmm,” he retrieved the pad and scribbled an additional note, “I had intended only to copulate with a mare and then a stallion separately in order to compare the experiences; but I had not thought to consider combining them as well. I thank you for pointing out the oversight.”

“You should try two mares at the same time, too!”

Scattered jeering and laughter joined the pony from the crowd who had volunteered the contribution. Then I saw Arginine nod and the hovering stylus held in his telekinesis added the suggestion to his pad.

“That’s it, we’re leaving!” I jumped out of my seat and darted over the table pushing at Arginine’s side. I wasn’t nearly strong enough to actually forcibly move the much more massive stallion of course, but my desire for him to make the departure with me was quite clear. He packed away his pad and stylus and stepped off the bench he’d been sitting on, preceding me as we left the eating area and headed back for the barracks. Only then did I cease my shoving and drift around to hover next to him as we walked.

“You are uncomfortable discussing reproductive acts, and yet you desire to engage in them,” anypony who’d never met me before today could probably have been forgiven for believing that the color of my coat was scarlet for the amount that I must have been blushing by this point, “I am finding this to be atypical, as Miss Homily had little issue discussing the specifics of sexual congress with mares,” stop talking, stop talking, stop talking! “She was actually the one who broached the notion of including a homosexual encounter on my list―”

“Shut up!”

Thankfully, he did, but I could tell that he was also a little annoyed at my outburst. I took a deep breath and tried to clear away some of my discomfort regarding the topic. He had a point after all, it was silly to be feeling this way. Foalish, even. If I was going to keep insisting on telling ponies I wasn’t a filly, then I needed to at least try and act like a grown pony, didn’t I? That included when talking to, and listening to ponies talk about...backrubs.

Oh, for fuck’s sake; now I was doing it?!

I took another breath. Sex. I had to at least pretend to be mature when talking about sex. Even when it was with my friends.

“Sorry,” I finally said, “I’m just...going through a tough time right now. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, and I’m stressed. I’m not mad at you.”

“I accept your apology,” Arginine said, “and I offer my own. It was not my intent to upset you. I was merely pointing out an aberration in an attempt to understand it. We do not have to, if the topic is too sensitive for you to deal with at the moment.

“As Captain Ramparts has offspring of his own, I will direct further questions towards him in order to draw upon his expertise on the matter.”

I snorted, “I don’t know if having a mare pop out your foal makes a stallion ‘an expert’ on having foals.”

“That is a valid point,” the larger stallion acknowledged, “but he should at least be knowledgeable concerning the physical act of copulation from a stallion’s perspective.”

“Five caps gets you ten he just talks about backrubs,” I muttered under my breath.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” I shook my head and sighed, “look, can we talk about something else, please?”

“Is there a topic that you had in mind?”

Actually, there was, now that I thought about it. I zipped around in front of him and prompted the stallion to stop as I landed in front of him and looked up into his amber eyes, “I wanted to say, ‘thank you’, in case I hadn’t told you that yet. Thank you for saving my life, like, however many times you’ve done it by now. Thank you for agreeing to help me save the ponies in this valley from being killed by your stable. Thank you for actually believing in me, even when I wasn’t willing to believe in myself,” it felt really good to get this out there in the open. Though, admittedly, this was the easy part. What was coming up next would be a bit harder.

“And, also, I’m sorry,” I hung my head now, unwilling to meet his amber gaze for this, “I’m sorry for how I treated you after we met. Not for taking you prisoner,” I was quick to point out, “because, at the time, you were a threat,” I saw him nod his own confirmation of the fact, “but after that, I realize I wasn’t treating you a lot like a prisoner. I forced you to help me, and fight for me, and risk your life to protect me. I was using you, like you were my slave or something.

“I thought of you like a slave,” that hurt to admit. As much of my life as I had spent persecuting and even exterminating slavers, acknowledging that I had so easily slipped into that very same mindset made me sick to my stomach, “you were just this...thing, and you were only worth having around if you were useful to me; like a gun or some barding.

“It was wrong of me to do that, no matter who or what you were to me. You were a pony, and not an object. I should have turned you over to the Republic like the prisoner you were,” I rolled my eyes and frowned, “I mean, I know that if I had done that, then you wouldn’t be with me now, and I wouldn’t have gotten to know you, and you wouldn’t have been around to save our lives like you have. So while, in the grand scheme, it turned out to be a, um, ‘good’ thing that I took advantage of you like I did, that doesn’t excuse it or mean it was the right thing to do,” was I rambling? I was rambling. Wrap it up, Windfall, “so, yeah, it was wrong, and I’m sorry; but you don’t have to forgive me, or anything.

“I just sort of wanted you to know I regret doing it, is all.

“Sorry.”

Once I was finally done getting all of that off my chest, silence hung in the air between us. I felt my face scrunching up into a cringe as I waited for Arginine to deliver his own clinically cold assessment of exactly how much of an ass I had been during our time together. It would have been about as much as I deserved; probably would have been letting me off easy, to be honest.

Instead, I got, “I accept your apology.”

I looked back up at the stallion, “you do? Why? I was a complete bitch to you.”

“Overlooking the fact that, logically, I have precisely no grounds upon which to stand regarding the treatment of captive ponies, in light of the acts I have performed on captured ponies, there is only one aspect to your own experience that concerns me anyway:

“You are striving to improve. You are endeavoring to be a ‘better pony’. You know where I stand on that point, and the value I place upon such a goal.

“Again, logically, I cannot fault you for being less than perfect,” he continued, “as I have also acknowledged that myself and the rest of those who are of my specific genetic strain also fall short of the bar that our engineers have set for ‘perfection’ in ponies. In that regard you and I are very much alike. We have failed to meet the goals that we have set for ourselves. We recognize that failure. We then channel that recognition into a drive to make improvements. It is that aspect that I find admirable about you.

“You do not need to apologize to me for being less than perfect, Mi―Windfall,” his lip twitched ever so slightly as he recalled the preference I had indicated when he was addressing me, “it is enough that you continue to strive to become a better pony, and to share that spirit with others. That is all that is of consequence to m―!”

It took me a few seconds to realize that the reason that Arginine had stopped talking so abruptly was because there was something in the way. Specifically, it was me. Kissing him. On his lips. Using my lips.

I―apparently―couldn’t help myself. Could anypony blame me? I wasn’t even talking about the fact that, yes, as a maturing and hormonally aware mare, Arginine was in possession of several rather attractive aesthetic features and bone structures. For Celestia’s sake, he had been designed to look good! I’d been able to very easily overlook that for the longest time because, frankly, it was hard for me to feel attracted to to a genocidal psychopath, no matter how well sculpted his hind quarters were. Of course, since I’d gotten to know him better over the past few months, and begun to see him less and less as a monster, the more I’d begun to notice that he was, objectively, good looking.

Putting his hoof-picked good looks aside though, there was one other fact that was a lot harder for me to dismiss: he was also one of the few ponies in my life who respected me. He was never patronizing, he didn’t look down on me because of my age, or treat me any differently because of it. Arginine regarded me, in a lot of ways, as a peer that was equal in standing to himself. He trusted my judgement, and he held me to a standard of conduct. He treated me like an adult.

Foxglove saw me as a little filly who was prone to getting herself into trouble and needed looking after. She didn’t trust me to make good choices when it came to personal relationships, or anything like that. Even Ramparts didn’t see a grown mare when he looked at me. He wasn’t quite as bad as Foxglove was, because he seemed to respect how capable I was in a fight, but our conversation last night had made it clear that he still wasn’t able to put aside my age.

Meanwhile, Arginine had never once been even remotely phased by my youth. He just cared about what I could do, and how I conducted myself. He was a lot like Jackboot that way, honestly. The older rust-colored stallion had allowed a young pegasus filly to follow him into some of the most dangerous places in the Neighvada Valley during the years that I’d been with him, because he knew that I was capable of both looking after myself and even looking after him if things got rough enough, despite my youth.

So, yeah, I kissed him. I kissed the good looking stallion who respected me and had repeatedly encouraged and complimented my abilities and my determination. Maybe that had been a mistake. Maybe I was acting a little impulsively.
Maybe it would have been a much better kiss if Arginine had actually kissed back.

I pulled away, awkwardly, as something approaching rational thoughts finally started to flow through my head again. The larger gray stallion was simply standing there with that trademarked impassive expression of his, staring back at me. His eyes betrayed his surprise though. I was becoming quite adept at reading him despite his own best efforts, whether he might realize it or not. I wasn’t a complete expert though. I couldn’t quite tell if he was surprised that anypony had kissed him at all, or if he was just surprised that it had been me.

“Sorry,” I said, drifting away slowly, as feelings of regret began to grow within me. Maybe I really was just a silly little foal if I couldn’t control myself in these sorts of situations.

“I suspect the fault lies with myself,” the stallion replied, “I am not versed in the nuances of courtship rituals. If I took any action or made any overtures that indicated a desire to copulate with you at this time, I apologize. It was not my intent.”

“It’s not you, it’s me―not that I’m breaking up with you,” I very quickly added. Too quickly, I realized, and tried to recover. Of course, that only seemed to make things worse, “because I’m not breaking up with you, because we’re not together. I mean, obviously we’re together, out here, but we’re not together-together.”

“You are referring to a sexually active relationship.”

“Yes. We’re not in one of those.”

“Was your action just now an expression of a desire or willingness to enter into such a relationship?”

“No! I mean, I guess that, normally, a kiss like that would have meant that…”

“However, you intended it to have an alternative meaning?”

“Yes,” Arginine continued to stare at me, waiting expectantly for me to share that very alternative meaning with him. I was absently aware of the fact that I was kneading my hooves together and stopped it by crossing them over my chest, “it was me saying ‘thank you’...for all of those nice things you were saying about me.”

“I suspect that it must be confusing, when courting other ponies, to have the same action express both ‘thanks’ as well as a receptiveness towards copulation.”

“Interpersonal relationships are complicated, it turns out,” I muttered under my breath.

“So I have observed,” the stallion nodded, “is the practice of offering apologies for transgressions, even if they are only perceived on the part of the offending party, an important facet of such relationships?”

“Yeah, it’s important to let ponies you’re with know that you didn’t mean to hurt them,” I acknowledged.

“I see. Thank you for that information. I will keep it in mind,” he glanced past me at the barracks, “have you taken the opportunity to look in on Miss Foxglove and Miss Starlight Glimmer yet?”

“I haven’t, actually,” I admitted, very glad to have a different topic of conversation, “let’s see if they’re awake yet.”
“It is extremely doubtful that either of them will be conscious after what they endured to get here.”

“I’d still like to see them anyway,” I said as I fluttered towards the doorway, landing just inside the building. Arginine followed in my wake, directing me towards the room that the unicorn mares had been taken to rest in while they recovered from their exertions.

Ramparts was indeed in there with them, just as he had said he would be. He’d made himself comfortable in between the pair of occupied beds to either side. Spread out in front of him, lying in pieces upon a spare bed sheet, were the components of one of his rifles as he went about the process of cleaning the pieces to get it back in perfect working order. He looked up at us as we stepped into the room and smiled, touching his hoof to his lips and nodding at the slumbering mares.

“Not that they’re likely to wake up no matter how loud we talk,” he said in what could be described as a none-too-quiet stage whisper. He then jabbed his hoof in Starlight’s direction, “which is good because that one’s a pretty powerful snorer.”
Indeed, even now, I could hear a noticeable nasally sound coming from beneath the covers on the indicated bed. I also noticed that her normally pink horn looked to be coated in the patina of char. A grimace creased my features as I contemplated the cause. My gaze then shifted to the violet unicorn mare in the other bed. Foxglove looked to be sleeping just as soundly, if much more quietly, as her temporally displaced counterpart. I walked over to her bedside and sat down, looking at the sleeping mare’s face; which, even in her unconscious state, looked to be drawn with worry.

She worried about me, a lot, for better or worse. I’d be the first to admit that I found her attitude a bit overbearing, and more than a little annoying at times. She treated me like a foal more often than not, I felt. It was annoying.

That wasn’t to say that I didn’t appreciate that she did care about me. Maybe I felt that she could go about it better, but that didn’t take away from the fact that her heart was in the right place. It wasn’t like I didn’t act foalish from time to time either, which probably wasn’t helping her to think of me as a grown pony. I’d do better about that in the future.

I smiled at the mare. The future was a nice thing to think about, insofar as having a future to think about at all was appealing. There were some details that would need to be worked out once this whole issue with Arginine’s stable was dealt with. Like what all of us would do. Ramparts would obviously go back to the Republic and continue with his military career where he’d left off. I guess Starlight Glimmer would go out and try to find out what had happened to Moonbeam or whoever. I wished her luck with that.

I’d go ahead and try to put together that perfect little future of mine, in spite of what Ramparts had said regarding what ponies like me could hope to expect where a happy life was concerned. There were exceptions to every rule, after all, and I was hardly a typical mare. Arginine was planning to kill himself; but hopefully I’d find a way to get him to weigh other options. If he was committed to making a list of things that he wanted to do before ending it all, and he was willing to add to it as he found more interesting things to try, then I guess all I needed to do was make sure he added a lot of things to that list that would take his whole life to do.

Foxglove, well, her I wasn’t sure about.

It wasn’t like she didn’t have a lot of options. I could think of a dozen ponies in Seaddle, Shady Saddles, and even New Reino, who would be thrilled to have a pony with her knowledge, skills, and training, around. She could write her own ticket in just about any settlement in the Neighvada Valley, and probably the rest of the Wasteland out east if she was so inclined.
She just hadn’t ever expressed any interest in doing anything of the sort to me. Everything that she said and did made it seem like all she wanted to do was stay at my side, helping me. It wasn’t like I didn’t appreciate the thought, but there was no way that was going to happen. I had my own plans for my own life. Foxglove needed to start thinking the same way. I got that she’d had a bad experience on her own since leaving her stable, but she needed to get over that. Maybe that was a cold way to think about it, given what I knew about what she’d been through in New Reino, but that didn’t stop it from being the truth.

I’d have to remember to talk to her about that after she woke up. Maybe not immediately after, but certainly before we’d beaten off Arginine’s stable so that she had time to think of a plan for her life.
I sighed and turned from the mare, heading for the door again. Before I left, I glanced at Ramparts, “you’re sure you’re good to keep an eye on them?”

The brown stallion waved a dismissive hoof, “I can promise you I never get tired of looking after pretty mares,” he said with a wink, prompting me to roll my eyes, “go on, look around, talk with ponies, bask in their praise. Don’t worry about us.”

“Thanks,” I nodded, getting ready to head out when Arginine made me pause as he stepped into the room and walked up to Ramparts. Curious, I stood in the doorway and watched to larger gray stallion.

Ramparts seemed to be a little surprised as well, quirking an eyebrow as the gray stallion approached and came to a stop just in front of him. Then Arginine said, “Captain Ramparts, I wanted to express to you my gratitude for your assistance to Windfall in her quest to save the ponies of the Wasteland.”

“Um...you’re welcome?” the stallion replied, glancing between Arginine and myself. I could only shrug, as I hadn’t expected this either. Honestly, I wasn’t sure even after hearing it what the larger stallion was getting at. It seemed a little out of place for him.

“I am trying to further develop my interpersonal skills,” he said. Ah, that explained a few things, “and establish the proper context for this,” before either myself or―especially―Ramparts could react, Arginine had bent down and kissed the smaller brown earth pony square on the lips.

Ramparts’ eyes just about bugged out of his head as the startled stallion recoiled from the larger gray pony, “woahheywhatthefuck?!” he said before performing a series of spits and aggressive wiping of his mouth with his hoof. Then he glared up at the stallion, “dude, not okay, okay? I’m flattered, but damn; warn a pony first!”

“I was merely expressing my gratitude for your assistance.”

“Yeah, I get that, but seriously, let’s just stick to hoof-bumps, alright?” the brown stallion said, holding up his hoof in the proper position for just such an exchange. Arginine nodded and proceeded to, very mechanically, tap his hoof against that of the Republican guard pony’s, “there. We’re square. You’re welcome, or whatever,” The larger stallion turned and left the room, walking past me and not seeming to notice my own wide-eyed stare as he departed. When I looked back at Ramparts, he said, “what was up with that?”

“I have no idea,” I lied, “probably just a weird stable pony thing. You know how weird they are,” that seemed to satisfy the stallion, “I’ll go talk to him about it. Bye!”

I darted out of the room and flew around in front of Arginine, glancing past him at the doorway that I’d just come out of to make sure that we were far enough away to talk without being overheard before addressing Arginine, who was looking at me with a curious expression, “okay, so, you know how I told you that ponies said ‘thank you’ by kissing each other?”

“I suspect from Captain Ramparts’ reaction that I am lacking in proper technique,” the larger stallion mused, “I’m confident that I will improve with time.”

I winced, “I’m sure you would, but...let’s say that we just put a pin in the whole ‘thank you kiss’ thing, huh?”

“Is there any particular reason you believe that it is not a good idea for me to continue to try and further develop the skills and techniques for dealing with the ponies of the surface? Given your position on the matter of my intention to euthanize myself, I would have thought that you would be in favor of exploring those topics which would be involved with leading a long life among the ponies here.”

Yeah, Windfall, why shouldn’t he be trying to act like a normal pony by doing the things you told him normal ponies do with one another? A rather impatient orange earth pony mare was giving me the stink eye.

“That...is...correct,” I winced. You can’t have it both ways, Windfall: either pony up and stop acting like a foal, or you don’t ever get to be mad at anypony ever again when they treat you like one. I let out a defeated sigh. Time to come clean, “but, the thing is, I may have given you some incorrect information,” Arginine said nothing, merely regarding me expectantly as he waited for me to clarify my mistake. Being mature sucked, “so, kissing another pony isn’t how you say ‘thank you’, at least not between ponies who are just friends, or whatever it is you and Ramparts are. Couples might, but that’s because they’re, you know, couples.”

I took a deep breath, “before, when I kissed you, I wasn’t saying ‘thank you’. I mean, I had already actually said it, of course, and I meant it; but the kiss...the kiss was...I don’t know,” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders.

Arginine didn’t say anything for a while, leaving me to hover in front of him looking uncomfortable for what felt like a lot longer than it probably was. Then, finally, he said, “do you want to hear what has both perplexed and aggravated me the most about interacting with the ponies on the surface?” his question seemed to be a rhetorical one, which was actually rather unusual for Arginine, “it is their obfuscation. While I had, at first, believed that it was a trait particular to yourself, I have come to identify it as being endemic among all surface ponies. It would take me a considerable amount of time and effort, I suspect, to determine the origin of such a practice and the purpose behind it; but, in the meantime, it is proving to be a source of great annoyance for me.

“In my stable, ponies speak plainly. There is little point in veiling one’s desires or intentions from others when it is known that you will be working closely with them for a protracted period of time. Only by being upfront and open can a sufficient level of trust be established that allows for an efficiently functioning cooperative endeavor. That does not seem to be the case on the surface. I regard this as a flaw, and a significant one,” his tone became a bit more critical now as he regarded me, “and it is clearly one you possess.

“I have acknowledged, truthfully, that I am not inherently bothered by your flaws. However, I will not abide your embracing of them after you have recognized them as such. I suspect that you are now seeing how such methods of communication are a hindrance?”

I winced, “yeah, I get it. If I can’t say what I mean, I shouldn’t say it at all.”

“It is more than that, Windfall: If I cannot trust you to mean what you say, then I simply cannot trust you. Period.”
Okay, that did hurt. Nor could I really argue that point. I wasn’t sure that I’d even want to. I wanted my friends to trust me. I needed them to, “you’re right. I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

“Why did you kiss me, Windfall?” well, as long as he was going to make it easy for me to make amends, “truthfully.”
A lot of different answers that I could have given wound through my head. Jokes, deflections, outright lies, all competing to be the first thing out of my mouth in order to make this whole thing go away. Through it all, Arginine’s voice range in my ears: ‘truthfully’. That orange mare wasn’t about to let that word go anywhere any time soon. After everything we’d been through together, he’d earned the truth.

He deserved the truth; from me, most especially.

“I like you,” I admitted.

“Do you not like Miss Foxglove, or Miss Homily?”

“They don’t make me feel the way that you do,” the more I spoke, the easier it got to say these things. Like the dam had finally burst and now everything could come tumbling out. Yet, all the while I was speaking, there was that growing concern that, once I’d gotten everything out into the opening, I’d be rebuked. It had happened that way with Jackboot. Hearing something like that again was the last thing that I needed right now. That didn’t stop certain things from needing to be said though, regardless of the potential consequences, “you don’t treat me different because of my age. You believe in what I’m doing, and you’re supporting me, even though it means fighting your own stable. A lot of ponies want me to succeed, sure; but I don’t think most of them genuinely believe I can,” even Hoplite had admitted that she hadn’t thought I could pull off what I’d promised to do. Foxglove wanted me to pass this off to the Republic as quickly as possible, presumably before I found some way to fuck it up beyond the ability of somepony else to fix things.

Homily, after having personally seen what I could do, hadn’t thought that the uniformed pegasus mare going around the Wasteland and helping ponies might have been the same pegasus mare that had helped her; as though the valley was rife with pegasus mares. She hadn’t thought that the young filly she’d met could have been doing all of those impressive things that she broadcasted all the time.

“Nopony has made me feel the way that you do in a long time,” not since Jackboot. I slowly drifted down to the floor, bowing my head, “I like it, and I don’t want it to stop. I get that you don’t feel things the same way that the rest of us do though, and so I’m sorry for kissing you. I shouldn’t have.”

I felt a hoof lift my chin up so that I was looking into Arginine’s eyes. Once we were looking at each other, he took it away, “I appreciate your honesty, Windfall. Thank you,” I resisted the impulse to look away, “now it is my turn,” and here it was, the rebuke that I had been dreading. I’d face it like a mare though. I wasn’t going to look away, no matter how much I wanted to.

“Nothing that I have said or done up to this point has been influenced by any motivation on my part to kindle intimate feelings towards myself from you. As I have previously explained: the impulse to form deep connections with ponies for the purpose of sexual reproduction is not something that I possess. I am physiologically incapable of ‘falling in love’, or even from becoming infatuated with anypony.

“That does not preclude me from recognizing noteworthy accomplishments or acknowledging admirable traits in others. To that extent, I will share with you the admission that, were I capable of feeling emotionally close to anypony, I suspect that you would be at the top of the list of candidates,” my eyes widened, and I felt my cheeks flush. Okay, this hadn’t been the way that I’d anticipated this conversation of going. That being said, I could still hear a ‘but’ coming at the end of this.

“But,” called it, I thought with a defeated mental sigh, “in spite of that, I feel compelled to share with you an advisory that you exercise caution where your own feelings are concerned,” and here it was. Be strong, Windfall. Just like when Jackboot had done it, the world wasn’t going to end. As long as I didn’t run off and do anything stupid with any White Hoof spies, it should even turn out better than the last time too, I thought acidly, “for I understand that an emotionally reciprocal bond is important to most when engaging in a sexual relationship, and I would be incapable of providing such if you insist on continuing to pursue this.”

I blinked.

Wait. What.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hoarsely, “I think I must have stroked out for a second. What did you mean by ‘if I continue to pursue this’? Are you...not turning me away?”

I identified that little twitch of his eyebrow that betrayed Arginine’s frustration with having to repeat himself. Sorry, buddy, but if you were going to keep talking the way that you did, you were going to have to get used to doing that, “I am attempting to temper whatever expectations you may have regarding an intimate relationship. I cannot, and will never, ‘love you’ in any way that you may either be familiar with or anticipate. It is up to you whether or not this caveat is acceptable.”

Another startled blink. He wasn’t turning me away! I’ll admit, it wasn’t exactly the most romantic way I’d ever envisioned a stallion expressing their own feelings for me, but he had explained why that was the case. Of course, he’d also put it on me to decide if that was a trait in a stallion that I was willing to settle for. Though it wasn’t like Jackboot had ever gotten all touchy-feely either, and I’d loved him.

“That’s fine,” I blurted, unable to keep the surprise that I was feeling from coloring my words, “yeah, no, I’m good with that,” I paused for a moment, “so...we’re together now?” was that how this worked?

“That does seem to be the arrangement that we have come to,” Arginine pointed out. He thought for a moment and then shrugged, “in light of the outcome, I suppose that kissing Captain Ramparts was worth it, in hindsight. Though I suspect that he might have a differing view on the matter.”

“Wait,” did he mean that, “you knew that I was lying?!”

There was now a much more visible frown on the gray stallion’s face, “while I may not be an expert on surface pony social interactions, I am indeed perfectly aware that kissing is not an acceptable method of expressing platonic feelings of gratitude between mere associates.

“I was not, ‘born yesterday’, as it were.”

“You...you tricked me!” I jabbed a hoof accusingly at the stallion.

“There was no deception of any consequence,” Arginine insisted, “I merely carried an expressed falsehood that you presented through to a conclusion that I reasoned you would be unappreciative of, for the purposes of prompting a confession of your deception.”

“You wanted me to admit that I’d lied,” I winced, rubbing my head with my hoof. Seriously, we really needed to work on trimming back his vocabulary, “fair enough. I deserved that. I’m not sure if Ramparts did, but…” I shrugged, “he’ll get over it,” I narrowed my eyes at Arginine and pointed my hoof at him again, “you, I’m keeping an eye on.”

“Better an eye than the collar,” the stallion quipped, then added as he stroked his chin with a hoof, “though I suspect that I should have inquired more deeply into whatever possible eccentricities you might have regarding achieving a state of sexual arousal before completely dismissing the involvement of such things,” my jaw went slack and I felt my cheeks starting to burn again, “Miss Homily and I had a rather involved discussion before your arrival.”

My mouth opened and closed several times, wordlessly, before I finally caught sight of the crinkling at the corner of his eye. My embarassment shifted very abruptly to consternation, “oh, I am not sure how much a like ‘joking RG’,” I grumbled, “I thought you only did that when you were feeling tense?”

“I have just entered into my first committed relationship. It can be argued that many would find such an milestone to induce a moderate amount of stress,” the stallion pointed out. I glared at him and he shrugged, “I am perfectly capable of deriving amusement whenever I choose to. Besides, it is clear that while I am not significantly affected by this change in our paradigm, you have been experiencing an elevated level of anxiety related to it.”

That was mostly fair, I admitted with an audible sigh, “I guess. It’s been a really fucked up month for me in general. I’ve been going through a lot. My father died recently, I’ve been struggling with how I feel about killing ponies―even the bad ones―I did some things I wasn’t proud of when I didn’t have my cutie mark. I’m just...tired,” I hung my head and shook it slowly. I needed a break; a real break. Heroes didn’t get to take vacations in the middle of their fights to save the whole world, though, did they?

Again I felt Arginine’s hoof reach beneath my jaw and lift my head back up. I sighed and was about to tell him that I didn’t need another pep talk. I’d been getting those all day from ponies. Yeah, I got it, I’d done a lot of really great things that a lot ponies appreciated. Yay, me! That wasn’t it this time. I was just so damn tired of doing those things. Not that I wanted to stop; the world was still in danger, and I wasn’t just going to give up on everypony, no matter what. That didn’t mean that even a hero like the Wonderbolt didn’t need a little time to collect herself before going back out into the meatgrinder that was the Wasteland.

I was about to say all of that, or something very much like it. However, when I opened my mouth to express those feelings, I discovered that I had an Arginine in my way. Specifically his lips were in the way of my lips. There was only the briefest pauses on my end of things as my brain dealt with the unexpectedness of what was happening. It passed quickly though, and I very eagerly leaned into the embrace.

This marked the first time in my life that somepony had ever kissed me, and I mean really kissed me. This was no little ‘thank you’ peck on the cheek from Homily, or a ‘goodnight sweetie’ from my mother. This was a stallion, kissing me, on the lips, and meaning it. As much as Arginine could mean it, of course. Not that I noticed a difference, since I had no metric to compare it to. Every other time in my life when I’d kissed a stallion, they hadn’t been into it at all.
Arginine felt into it this time though!

I pushed my way deeper and deeper into the embrace. Before I knew it, I was reared up onto my hind quarters, balanced by my spread wings, my hooves finding their way around the gray stallion’s well-muscled neck and shoulders. A need to breathe was what finally drew me to break things off, but only just long enough to refresh myself before I pounced right back onto him. As before, this time the stallion was receptive. It lasted even longer the second time, and when we finally parted, I allowed myself to take several deep breaths, leaning my forehead against his as I did so and relishing the feel of his body against mine. I couldn’t deny a tiny feeling of amusement in the back of my mind as I noted that even when I had fully extended myself vertically as far as I could, Arginine still had to dip his head ever so slightly to accommodate me.

“That was nice,” I said breathlessly.

“I have no informed opinion either way,” I cracked open an eye and peeked at the stallion. He caught my critical look and amended, “I am lacking in sufficient data points to make a worthwhile declaration regarding their quality.”

I spied the eye crinkle and straightened up a little more, “lacking data points, eh? I thought you were some sort of researcher, or whatever. You’re supposed to be all about gathering data. Shame on you,” two could play this joking game!

“You raise a valid criticism,” he nodded solemnly. Then he looked around the hallway, “a controlled environment is also essential for ensuring that only valid data points are collected and to mitigate outliers. We should endeavor to locate a more suitable location for this research.”

“I think I have an idea,” I mused before vaulting over him and alighting onto his back. I lay down along his spine, my forelegs draping over his shoulders and encircling his neck as I buried my face in the scruff of his mane. I canted my head to the side and whispered in his ear, “third door on the right,” the stallion nodded and began walking towards the indicated room. My wings snapped out once more, flinching occasionally in an effort to keep me centered on the larger stallion’s backside.

Once inside, I bucked the door closed behind us and leaped over top of the stallion, floating down to stand on the bed. This time we were able to kiss without looking completely ridiculous. Insofar as nopony would stumble onto us. I was not going to argue that it wasn’t a little silly that I had to be perched atop of furniture in order to not be in some sort of awkward pose to kiss my new coltfriend.

I had a coltfriend! Arginine waited patiently as I burst into a giggling fit in the middle of the embrace at the thought, “sorry,” was all I said in a rush as I leaned back into him.

Kissing was one of those things that I had really only known intellectually before now. I’d kind of been firing from the hip when I’d planted one on Jackboot, and there hadn’t been a lot of feedback there. With Cestus―as little as I liked to think about that night―he’d been the one doing most of the kissing―and...touching. I suppressed a shiver at the memory.

The point was that I hadn’t really known what to expect, or what it would be like. Arginine wasn’t any sort of expert when it came to intimacy―so far as I knew, anyway; so I didn’t know if I was experiencing objectively great kissing. It was the best I’d ever had, and it did genuinely feel good!

Everything about it was wonderful. I never knew that ponies could have a...taste? That was the only way that I could think to describe it. A distant corner of my mind idly wondered if everypony ‘tasted’ the same, or if this was a ‘flavor’ unique to Arginine. In either case, I was finding that I liked that smokey sort of...what was that? Scallions and...radroach? Oh. Nevermind. That was just breakfast. Well, not all of it was breakfast. There was definitely something beyond all of that that I couldn’t quite place as being any sort of actual food.

His scent though, that wasn’t artificial. The memory of it filtered back into my thoughts from that drunken night we’d shared together when the two of us were so sure that we were going to die out there in the middle of the Wasteland from radiation poisoning. There was less sweat and grime this time, but that heavy musk endured, and I took it in with every inhalation of air as we stood there.

Not that I found myself able to stand for very long. Apparently I became a little too relaxed at some point and my hindquarters gave out from under me as I lost my footing on the springing mattress. Arginine managed to compensate and avoid breaking our embrace, and followed me all the way down as I rolled back onto the bed. I squirmed a little as the Gale Force poked uncomfortably into my back between my wing joints, but that annoyed grunt was eclipsed rather abruptly by a gasp that I hadn’t meant to let out as the stallion’s lips moved away from my mouth and found purchase on the side of my neck. To prevent further outbursts, I bit down on my lower lip, and felt my limbs reflexively coiled up around the stallion’s neck and chest.

I couldn’t help it. Something about the mixture of the silky soft texture of his lips, mingled with the occasional brush of hard enamel sent a series of quivers shooting up and down my body that made me feel...I don’t know how I felt; but I didn’t want it to stop. More than that: I wanted more! I wrapped my forelegs around the back of his held and held him to me as he nibbled, shifting from my lower lip to using a pinion to muffle the high pitched little gasps that wouldn’t be contained.

Arginine tried to wander further down to my clavicle, but we found that my reinforced kevlar and ceramic barding made things a little difficult. No longer willing to tolerate the Gale Force poking me, and frustrated at my armor for daring to deny me the opportunity to experience further pleasure, I gently pushed Arginine away and started fighting with the straps holding it in place, “get this off me!” I hissed.

Odd how a lifetime spent donning and doffing barding could suddenly go completely out the window. The entire concept of the ‘buckle’ and how they functioned seemed to leave my brain completely as I fumbled with the straps holding my armor in place like it was the first time that I’d ever beheld them. Fortunately one of us still had some semblance of composure and an amber telekinetic field enveloped the half dozen or so fasteners that kept my barding snuggly affixed to my body. The sturdy kevlar shell that protected my abdomen was freed and peeled away as Arginine deposited it neatly in the corner of the room.

That stallion needed to work on his priorities. Screw neatness! I reached up and took hold of his head, pulling him back down to where he’d left off when he’d encountered my barding. My wing went right back into my mouth as fresh tingles of pleasure washed over me. Every time I was about to adjust to what he was doing, the stallion moved elsewhere and I was again hit with a pulse of renewed pleasure. My clavicle, my chest, my belly―which kind of tickled a little. Then he was at my―woah! Okay. Feeling somepony do that to my teets was...weird. Not ‘bad’ weird, no, but it wasn’t making me feel quite like when he’d been kissing on other parts of me. It was arousing, sure, but also...I didn’t know. It was hard to describe.

I wasn’t going to tell him to stop though!

Then I felt Arginine pull away and look down at me as I lay on the bed, still waiting for some parts of me to stop tingling, “you are finding this sufficiently satisfying?”

“Oh, Celestia, yes…” I purred, wrapping my wings around to my abdomen and brushing the tips of my feathers along the regions that the stallion had been tending to, relishing the fresh trembles they evoked, “I thought you said you’d never been with anypony like this before?”

“I have not,” Arginine once again confirmed with a nod of his head.

“So then how do you know what to do?” A white unicorn mare with an exquisitely styled purple mane was likewise quite eager to learn how an alleged novice seemed to know his way around a mare so well. A cyan pegasus and an orange earth pony were also peeking over her shoulders as she awaited the answer―which those two of course weren’t actually interested in hearing for any particular reason. They were just...curious. For curiosity’s sake.

“The central nervous system contains a number of nerve clusters that lay close to the surface of the epidermis. Properly stimulated, these clusters can produce feelings of intense physical pleasure or euphoria. When a pony is already receptive to entering a state of arousal, those feelings of pleasure further reinforce the level of arousal being experienced and―”

I groaned in annoyance and once more grabbed the stallion and drew him into another kiss that silenced him. When we broke away again, I said, “shut up. Stopped caring. You’re a smart pony; I get it,” another kiss, then, “I don’t suppose you know where any more of those clusters are?”

“The auricular branch of vagus nerve just behind the ear, the accessory nerve clusters along the superior trapezius muscles, the―”

“So what are you waiting for?!”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, “accessing those regions of your body will require the removal of the rest of your barding.”

“Oh, for―!” I once more pushed the stallion away and resumed struggling with the barding that was proving to be uniquely stubborn. Thank Celestia Arginine was here or I’d probably die trapped in the thing at this rate!

The kevlar armor was tugged off my forelimbs before I found myself rolled over onto my belly as the remainder was peeled off. Again the large gray stallion seemed insistent on folding it up with precision and care. All the while I buried my face into the mattress and groaned in frustration.

Then he was standing over me, and I immediately tensed up. Not with fear or concern, but with anticipation. He seemed to know what he was about, but I didn’t know exactly where he was going to strike next until he did and so I―there was a sharp intake of breath as his pursed lips made contact just at the base of my left ear. Reflexively, I found myself craning my head to the side to allow for easier access. Those pleasant little trembled returned, traveling down the length of my body as Arginine demonstrated that, novice though he may be in the affairs of intimacy, he sure seemed to know what made ponies tick!

I kneaded my hooves into the mattress as he moved about from one spot to the next, tacking my tension and anxiety and fatigue as he went. In their place, the stallion left only pleasure, and a the feeling that I was somehow only made of butter, with no stiff or rigid parts at all.

Something was stiff though, and it was poking me around my hips. I turned my head, glancing back with eyes that simply refused to reach a state beyond half-lidded as Arginine nibbled on my rotary cuff. Oh. Right. That.

That part had escaped my mind somehow. It had my full and undivided attention now though. Sweet Celestia! I mean, I’d certainly seen them on stallions before, and I knew what they were used for and the role that they played in things like this. Intellectually, anyway. I’d seen the act of sex a time or two in my life, so I was familiar with the mechanics of it all. There was something a little different about being this close though.

I mean, that thing was supposed to go in me? That thing? In me? I wasn’t any sort of genius when it came to matters of mathematics or physics like Foxglove was, but I couldn’t help but feel like there was some part of this equation that wasn’t balancing out here. Unless somepony showed up here with a measuring tape or a ruler to show me how everything was supposed to line up, I was going to remain dubious.

Arginine must have noticed that I was focused on something else besides what he was doing and followed my gaze, “my apologies,” he said, shifting around so that he was no longer in contact with me, “I did inform you that my physiological responses to arousal were intact. I will be more mindful in the future.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” I said, though I’ll admit that there was a note of doubt in my voice that even I heard plain as day, “I’m…” I took a deep breath, “I think I’m ready. Let’s do it. Let’s do...it,” oh, sure; suddenly I couldn’t say the ‘s’ word anymore. Real mature there, Windfall.

I winced and ground my teeth, “fuck me, RG!”

Okay, yeah, no. That didn’t really make me feel more adult about this. Arginine seemed to be of a like mind, as he was staring at me with what was, for him, a rather dubious expression. I buried my head in the mattress and sighed, “sorry. I’m not going to say it like that again; but I am ready to try it,” I lifted my head and looked back at the stallion, “if you are?”

He glanced down briefly between his legs and then looked back at me with a nod, “I am sufficiently engorged for copulation,” he responded matter-of-factly.

My head was buried back in the mattress again as I groaned, “could you please not talk about it like that?” that buttery feeling was starting to leave me. If we didn’t go about it soon, I was probably going to end up passing on the whole thing, which I kind of felt like would be a waste, given how much the two of us had already done. If I got this out of the way and over with, that would be one less nagging little thing gnawing at me while I was back out there in the Wasteland.
It would also make for a decent card to play against Foxglove the next time she started treating me like a foal.

“How would you prefer that I characterize it?”

“I don’t know,” I growled into the bed sheet I was clutching to my head in a vain effort to bury myself in order to escape from the awkwardness of this conversation, “just make with the you getting inside of me before I lose my nerve, please.”

“Very well.”

Suddenly I was filled with that sense of trepidation again as I became acutely aware of Arginine shifting his body over top of me as he got into position. I lifted my head and took a deep breath to steel myself against whatever was coming, repeatedly convincing myself that this wasn’t any sort of big deal. Thousands of ponies did this all the time, every day, all over the Wasteland. It was perfectly natural. My parents had done this―at least twice, as the existence of me and my brother testified.

…

Okay, thinking about my parents doing this wasn’t a good call after all.

My brain hit a snag and I took in a sharp breath as I felt a hoof gently brush aside my tail. It was only then that I was aware that I was folding my hind legs together as well. Swallowing back my reservations about this whole affair, I let out the breath that I was holding and forced myself to relax my legs, slowly spreading them apart to allow him...access.

I’d never felt so vulnerable and exposed in my whole life. It was a little…scary wasn’t quite the right word, but it was in the ballpark, I suppose. It was exciting too, though.

There was another start as I felt Arginine once more leaning down to nuzzle the side of my head, his lips putting pressure just behind and below my ear. I felt some of that tension ebb away as I sighed, relishing the sensation of that tingling again. Then, much to my embarrassment, I jerked and lurched forward the moment I felt that alien sensation of contact beneath the base of my tail.

I cringed and flipped a wing across my face to hide my expression as I mentally chastised myself. Yes, Windfall, you were going to feel him there, because that’s kind of where you asked him to stick it! Make up your mind and get your act together!

“Sorry,” I murmured, still veiling my head behind the pinions of my wing as I very carefully slid back to where I had been before my attempt to climb down the other side of the bed, “just...slowly, please.”

“Very well,” the stallion said softly into my ear.

This time I moved my tail out of the way on my own, and as a means to thwart any further involuntary betrayals on the part of my subconscious, I locked my knees onto the edge of the mattress so that I couldn’t make another lurch like that again. I even went so far as to stretch out my forelegs and plant them to keep myself rooted to where I was on the bed.

At least this time I didn’t immediately jump when I felt the stallion make contact again. I did have to remind myself to stop tensing up the muscles in my nethers so tightly though. It was a bit of an uphill battle though. Nothing that I’d ever experienced had prepared me for the feeling that was evoked by something slipping into me like that. As requested, Arginine kept the progress slow, reacting to each of my involuntary gasps as my resolve continued to waiver for brief flashes.

Despite my own best efforts and intentions, I was still inching my way along the mattress every time the stallion straddling me tried to go deeper. It was...painful? Not in the same way that a bullet or stab wound was, of course. More akin to stretching out a cramped muscle, I guess. And there were that mixture of pleasure involved as my body began to recognize that this was a thing that was supposed to happen, and that it was something that was also supposed to make me feel good. It was uncomfortable, but in a...good way?

Honestly, I couldn’t be bothered to devote a whole lot of brainpower towards thinking about this objectively. I was too busy being overwhelmed by a lot of sensations and emotions at the moment.

Either because even Arginine had a limit to what he was willing to tolerate where my timidity was concerned, or he recognized how much I was struggling to try and settle into what was happening, the stallion pinned me to the bed by clamping his jaws down over the base of my neck. Not in a way that was meant to cause me pain, my brain’s initial interpretation to the contrary; he was just using my own body as an anchor so that I couldn’t keep shifting away.

To tell the truth, feeling his teeth placing pressure onto those muscles like that kind of helped me get more into this too. It was clearly where another of those nerve clusters were, because I was unable to keep myself from moaning, and my back arched sharply in response. Finally, Arginine was able to penetrate the rest of the way. I hiccuped when I felt him connect with something inside me; and, much to my own dismay, it sounded like a chirp, more than anything else. I covered my mouth with my forelegs and cringed. At least I could count on Arginine being discreet enough never to bring that up in public later…

I inhaled sharply again as I felt something new now. Granted, nearly everything that I was going through was ‘new’, but this was something that was accompanied by pretty much the first time during these escapades that I’d heard Arginine make any sounds as well. The stallion let out a low grumble, the sound reverberating through the flesh of my neck that he still had gripped in his jaws. Hot, damp, breath rolled over my coat as something warm and slick started spreading through my insides. The stallion straddling me let out several long, deep, breaths as that feeling inside grew.

After a few more seconds, Arginine released his hold on me, and I felt myself slump back down to the mattress, waiting for whatever was supposed to come next.

Apparently, what came next was Arginine easing himself out of me and off the bed. I had to admit that the departure was a much smoother procedure than the insertion had been. It probably had something to do with that slime that was coating everything...and kind of seeping out of me a little.

I looked up at the stallion expectantly, “now what?”

Arginine stared at me and quirked his eyebrow ever so slightly, “there is nothing further to do; we have copulated successfully.”

I blinked at the stallion, “...wait...that’s it?” the stallion nodded, “that’s it?!” that was what ponies were so eager to do all the time? That was what stallions had kept propositioning me for all these years? Talk about not living up to the hype!

Once again my head was buried in the crumpled sheets of the bed, this time so that they sufficiently muffled the very loud exasperated scream that I felt compelled to release. There was no reason to clue the entire barracks into my disappointment.

It wasn’t that the whole experience had been a let down. That entire first part with the kissing and nibbling and nipping had felt wonderful! Even when Arginine had been moving inside me had triggered so many pleasant tingles that I’d never imagined feeling.

What was really bothering me was that I had wanted it to last a lot longer than it had! Now I was just feeling more stressed than I had been before. Well, frustrated, really, I guess. It was like there was the itch somewhere in my body that desperately needed to be scratched or I was going to go out of my freaking mind!

I couldn’t believe that ponies went through this all the time. It was amazing that anypony ever had foals at all, if you asked me…

“Oh, fuck me!” this I yelled out at the top of my lungs as I suddenly shot bolt upright in the bed, a cold, sinking, feeling gripping my gut.

“Even I don’t recover that quickly,” the stallion very nearly grumbled, “additional coupling will have to be delayed for another ten minutes or so…”

“No! Horseapples! Foals!” I snapped at the stallion in quick succession, “does this mean I’m going to have foals now? Or in however many months or whatever? Do foals happen every time?”

“Impregnation and gestation are not subjects with which I am well-versed,” the large gray stallion said, shrugging his shoulders, “ponies in my stable are gestated artificially. Fertility rates are not a concern of our engineers at this point.”

I clapped my hooves to my face and stifled a second aggravated outburst. Ramparts, Foxglove, or Starlight would all know the answer to my question; but I was loath to bring it up with any of them, lest it lead to some rather pointed questions about why I wanted to know. Well, maybe I could ask Ramparts and not have him make a big deal about it. Of course, there was no way to be sure that he wouldn’t let it slip to Foxglove.

Not thinking through the possible consequences of my actions like this was definitely on her list of things that ponies who weren’t mature enough to make informed decisions would do; and she would be right.

“I’m an idiot,” I groaned.

“I don’t think it happens every time,” I said, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm myself down, “I think that Ramparts and Yatima were having sex for a long time before she had her foal. So maybe you have to do it so many times in a week or month or something…”

Another, much more subdued groan escaped me as I looked up to the heavens and shook my head, “fighting and babies, Jackboot; I really wish you’d taught me about fighting and babies…” I could ask Lancet when we got back to Seaddle, since we’d be heading there soon anyway. He could given me all the disapproving looks he wanted to so long as he didn’t tell―an implant! He’d mentioned something about an implant the last time I saw him!

I added that to my mental ‘to do’ list.

“So then I take it that you do not want to engage in a repeat performance today?” Arginine asked.

I shook my head, “not until I can make certain it’s not going to lead to me popping out foals at an inconvenient time,” I insisted, “I want foals, yeah, but later. Not now. ‘Now’ involves a lot of fighting and stuff, and I don’t want to be changing diapers while we’re in the middle of a battle.”

“That is hyperbole,” I wasn’t sure if the stallion was asking me a question or merely stating for his own peace of mind that I was not the kind of pony who would actually take the time out of an ongoing fight to the death to deal with some shit-filled cloth.

“It nearly made me hyperventilate is what it did,” I mumbled, cringing as I dabbed a hoof at my nethers, “what is this stuff?”

“Seminal fluid,” Arginine answered simply, “it contains the genetic contribution from the male necessary to cause impregnation of a fertile female.”

“Baby juice. Great,” I lifted the substance to my face and gave it a sniff. Funky-smelling, “I don’t suppose if I just bounce around on this bed for a while I can shake it out of me?”

“I find that to be a highly unlikely outcome.”

“Figures,” I wiped my hoof on the sheets and then bundled up the linen with the notion to at least clear away the excess. I paused, however, “you know what, I think I could really just use a shower,” if nothing else, some nice warm water would really help to relax me. Though perhaps this was the sort of situation that warranted a cold shower to help shock me back into a more level state of mind. I looked over at the stallion, “how about you?”

“I washed shortly after my arrival at the specimen evaluation facility we dismantled,” he replied before glancing briefly down between his legs and wrinkling his nose, “but a ‘touch-up’ would not go amiss.”

“I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine,” I offered as I trotted for the door.

“I am a unicorn. I have no issues washing my backside.”

I rolled my eyes at the stallion, “fine, whatever; then would you mind helping me at least?”

The stallion shrugged and started heading over to join me at the doorway, “it occurs to me that is likely an implied duty expected of ponies who have pair-bonded.”

I flashed a playful frown at the taller stallion as I leaped into the air so that I could look him leveling in the eye with a feigned glare, “are you saying that being with me feel like work?”

Completely unphased by my reaction, Arginine replied in a droll tone, “the sum total of my time spent in your company has required a phenomenal expenditure of effort on my part when compared to what my duties were while working in the research lab. Looking after your wellbeing, Windfall, requires a lot of work.

“Compared to what I’ve already been through since meeting you, ensuring you are in a sufficiently hygienic state is the least trying of the burdens I have been required to bear.”

My eyes had glazed over halfway through all of that, but I was pretty sure I caught the gist of the message, “okay, so I couldn’t keep track of all the insults in there, but I’m going to assume there was was one of them every few seconds or so. Lucky for you, I’m still really tired, so I’m not feeling like coming up with a creative enough punishment right now. Rest assured that retribution is coming though, and that it will be swift and terrifying.”

“I have no doubt. I can barely cope with the fear such a threat evokes.”

I narrowed my eyes even further. As good as I was getting at figuring out Arginine, sarcasm was proving to be the hardest to identify. Most of what he said sounded sarcastic; but that was usually because he was saying something in a way that made it clear how inferior we were to deliberately engineered ponies like himself. Jabbing him in the chest with each word I said, “swift...and...terrifying.

“Now let’s go get cleaned up. We smell like a barroom bathroom!”

In the end, I settled for the warm, relaxing, shower, instead of a cold, invigorating, one. The deciding factor was that I was, in a word: filthy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken the time to give myself a thorough cleaning. My tail, especially, was a matted, tangled, mess that required a lot of very painful brushing to straighten up. My mane was getting a lot longer too, I noticed, once I had it all washed out. I’d need to get it trimmed down back into my preferred buzz cut soon.

Arginine was making himself invaluable once he’d finished giving himself a quick lather and rinse. He’d already rather recently taken the time to get his coat in line, so he was soon helping to rub my own hide down with a pair of magically guided brushes, working the soap in and the grime out. I was basically able to just stand under the shower head and bask in the pleasantly warm water while the stallion did all of the real work.

There was a flutter of excitement within me when those brushes slipped inside my thighs and touched up around my navel, but I quickly fought the reflex to shy away. After all, we were a couple now. Besides, it was pretty clear to me that Arginine wasn’t looking to start anything again. A shame, really. I’d encountered ponies playing around in showers before. They’d looked like they were having fun.

It wasn’t like the two of us had anything important to do today…

I sidled up to the larger gray stallion and started to nuzzle his chest and as much of his neck as I could reach without flying or raising up on my hindquarters. The brushes hesitated and I felt Arginine crane his head down. I tilted my own head, in anticipation of some more kisses or nibbling from my new coltfirend.

“You desire copulation?”

An annoyed snort escaped me as I frowned, “no. Not until we can make sure I don’t get knocked up, at least,” I reminded the stallion, “but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind some more of that ‘nerve stimulation’,” I added, throwing in a slight purr as I started delivering soft kisses of my own along the stallion’s chest.

“I see. I had anticipated that you would only require a limited amount of stimulation to maintain an optimal mental state,” I glanced up, my brow furrowed as I regarded Arginine, noting the distant, calculating, look in his golden eyes, “finding appropriate instances to provide additional stimulation might prove problematic during the course of our typical operations; especially without a definitive means to predict when you will be required to deliver optimal performance.”

“Wait, what? RG, what are you talking about?”

He glanced down at me, “I had hypothesized that only the occasional erotic session would suffice to maintain your level of confidence. While I am not objectively opposed to providing you with more frequent encounters, I am concerned that they might present a distraction if they happen too often. We must ‘keep your eye on the prize’, as it were, and not anticipating our next physically intimate session,” he considered for a moment and then added, “perhaps if you could explain if your current initiation is borne out of a sense of need, or merely a frivolous desire for additional pleasure?”

“I mean, well, of course I don’t need more...intimacy,” I had to admit that the way he kept talking about what we did was already starting to bother me, and this was only the first day. That didn’t seem to bode well, “do you mean you don’t want more? I thought you said you enjoyed doing this stuff too?”

“While it is true that I derive physical pleasure,” he acknowledged, “it isn’t significantly greater than the pleasure I receive from a good meal,” being compared to breakfast wasn’t doing a whole lot of good for my self-esteem, “as for my personal desires: intimacy holds no interest for me.”

That didn’t make sense. If he didn’t care about doing that kind of stuff together, “then why did you kiss me back there? Or do any of that other stuff?”

“Because I judged that it would improve your attitude,” the stallion responded unabashedly.

This left me with my jaw hanging slack as I stared at him, “...what?”

“In the time that I have been in your company, I have noticed that there is a correlation between your mental state and your martial and conversational performance. The better your ‘mood’, the better you perform overall,” he explained, “as we will soon be embarking onto the next leg of our journey, and your mental state was greatly diminished after your encounter with the Steel Rangers, I endeavored to improve it”

I stared up at the stallion, slowly backing away from him, not quite sure if I believed what I was hearing, “you’re saying that you did that stuff to make me feel better about myself?”

“That is correct,” he nodded, “it appeared to be quite effective. You are currently significantly more responsive and optimistic than you were when you first arrived to the cafeteria this morning.”

Those warm feelings that I’d been having just a few minutes ago were cooling quickly. In fact, a lot of me felt like it was growing numb the more I heard, “you thought I was sad, so you...you did all that so I would feel better?

“You...you gave me a pity fuck? A Celestia-damned pity fuck, RG?! Is that really what that was?!”

“Certainly not,” Arginine replied, sounded offended by the notion, “I am incapable of feeling ‘pity’. I merely sought to stimulate endorphin production to interact with your limbic system for the purpose of lifting you out of your depressive state,” he must have seen my eye twitching with the barely contained rage that I was feeling. I was not in the mood for his vocabulary right now, “I intended to use sex to make you feel better,” he amended.

“THAT’S WHAT A ‘PITY FUCK’ IS, RG!”

In spite of my rather obvious rage, Arginine merely looked annoyed. For a moment, I thought that he was about to once more counter that he didn’t actually feel the emotion ponies described as ‘pity’, despite that being so far beside the point that it could even see the point from wherever it was! I was, frankly, beside myself. I couldn’t tell if I was angry, devastated, or humiliated, right now. The first time that I’d ever really been with a pony, a pony that I had thought genuinely cared about me, in his own, weird, Arginine, way, and it turned out that he just done all of that to give me what amounted to a confidence boost because he’d seen me moping around this morning.

The worst part was, that as much as I was pissed at that gray stallion right now, it paled in comparison to how angry I was at myself. Because I hadn’t seen it coming. Worse than that: I’d deliberately ignored the fact that Arginine had all but told me that it was coming. No wonder he was confused that I was mad at him. He’d said right from the beginning that he didn’t care about me like that, that he didn’t love me―that he couldn’t love me. I’d been so preoccupied by the fact that a good looking stallion, who’d been saying nice things about me, had said that he was willing to do with me what stallions did with mares they cared about, that I’d completely blanked on what he was telling me and tricked myself into believed that he did care about me like that.

He’d never been shy about what I was to him though, not since the day we met. I wasn’t his special somepony. I wasn’t his marefriend. I was a hypothesis that he was evaluating. I was the alternative to fixing the Wasteland that might not require wholesale slaughter of the current inhabitants.

I was just a possible answer to a variable in an equation that it was his life’s work to try and solve. Nothing more, and nothing less.

To him, sex was just that: sex. I was the one trying to make it into something more. This was my mistake, and not his.

The next time I spoke, I’d managed to rein in my rage; now that I’d finally identified the deserving target, “sorry,” I sighed, “you tried to tell me what this was from the beginning. I forgot. You didn’t deserve to get yelled at like that.”

“May I assume that agreeing with that assessment will not incur further wrath from you?”

I snorted, “yeah. I’m getting used to discovering how much of an idiot I can be sometimes,” I rolled my eyes after a brief moment’s thought, “most times.

“I just...I really wanted to believe that somepony cared about me.”

“I have observed that Miss Foxglove seems to value your well-being greatly,” Arginine pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s not quite what I meant.”

The stallion nodded. Sensing that our bathing session was largely over, he finally reached out with his magic and shut off the flow of water and put away the brushes and remainder of the soap, “I suspected as much. In that regard, I estimate that you are correct: nopony we know of harbors romantic feelings for you,” I leveled a flat look at him, and he was naturally unphased, “which is not the same as saying that nopony ever could. I submit to you the argument that you have not been devoting any significant effort towards locating a romantic partner. Is that correct?”

“Well, I mean, no,” I admitted, “I’ve kinda been busy with other things,” like saving the world. That left surprisingly little time for dating, it turned out.

“Which makes it ridiculous to bemoan a lack of suitors, when you have been seeking none.”

“I get it, I’m stupid,” I didn’t bother to hide the caustic note in my voice, “can we move on now?”

“You’re intelligence is not being called into question at the moment,” I narrowed my eyes at the stallion. As a pony experienced in deciphering ‘RG-speak’, I didn’t miss the implication of his words that there had been moments when he had called my intelligence into question. I’d have to stay alert for the next time that happened, “but this does highlight the point that I was making earlier: you are prone to bouts of despondency,” I glared at him and provoked a mild sigh, “you frequently become depressed,” okay, that seemed fair.

“I cannot make a clinical diagnosis without performing a battery of tests and evaluations that I do not possess the correct materials to conduct nor, I admit, without considerably more training in the field of psychiatry,” I fought against the glaze starting to form over my eyes, sensing that he was eventually going to get to an important point that I could understand. Smaller words. I swear, with Celestia as my witness, I was going to get this pony to use smaller words if it was the last thing I did, “however, based upon my observations to date and the breadth of knowledge that I do possess where neurochemical production and imbalances are concerned; I am not convinced that the cause of your depression is clinical.”

“So that’s...good?”

He shrugged, “after a fashion. I believe that your depressive states have a much more straightforward source: you are traumatized,” I frowned at him, “insofar as you have been subjected to death, suffering, and grief on a nearly constant basis for what I understand to have been most of your life. Given what I had experienced of the Wasteland in just my short time with you, I consider it a testament to your character that you have endured as long as you have. Most would have turned to substance dependence―alcohol, chems―or perhaps have taken their own life by this point, I would imagine...”

If Arginine couldn’t read minds, he could clearly read faces. What he’d said had caught me so off my guard that my shame must have been pretty obvious. Everypony drank, or otherwise indulged, in the Wasteland. Figuring that out about me wasn’t particularly impressive. However, nopony, and I mean nopony, knew about what I’d been about to do in New Reino before I’d heard Summer Glade’s scream through my window. In hindsight, I now realize that Arginine hadn’t thought that he was talking about me specifically. He’d been describing the characteristics about ponies suffering from a specific condition. I just happened to tick those same boxes.

“I see,” the stallion went on, in a slightly more subdued tone, “so I am correct then?”

“It’s not like I’m the only pony who’s suffered,” I said dismissively. I had no illusions that I was anything special. You couldn’t spit in the Wasteland without hitting a pony who’d lost somepony important to them. The ponies of McMaren had just lost a lot of ponies they cared about yesterday.

“I wasn’t suggesting that you were. I am sure that many of them suffer from depressive states as well,” I actually found it annoying that Arginine didn’t sound patronizing right now. Honestly, he didn’t even sound as condescending as he usually did. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t sound a little condescending; but that was just how he sounded, “however, yours is the one that concerns me.”

“I thought you said that you didn’t care about me?”

The stallion grumbled, finding himself repeating himself again, “will I shed tears of grief should you die? No. Will I empathize with you in times of anguish and sorrow? No. In those respects, I do not ‘care’. However, as I have invested a considerable amount of time into aiding your efforts to create a better Wasteland, inhabited by a better breed of pony, I would be rather aggravated at the wasted effort should you perish by your own hoof before producing qualitative results.”

“You’re using me.”

“As you once used me,” my ears perked up as I heard the closest thing I’d yet seen in Arginine that approached genuine anger, “as you continue to use me. As I imagine you will use me in the future, and you should; only a genuine idiot does not make the best use of the resources available to them in order to achieve their goals.

“Yes, I am using you,” he confirmed, “I am using you to test whether or not the methods employed by my stable are truly the best, as we believe them to be,” he fixed me with a hard glare from his amber eyes, “and I am defying you to prove them wrong.

“And to that end, I have made myself available to you, placing my expertise and my abilities at your disposal; as it is the only way I can conceive of to give you a ‘fair chance’. I fully acknowledge that the scales are still very much tipped against you, as you are confronting the combined efforts of hundreds of ponies who are, quite literally, designed to beat you. It is merely the best that I can do, under the circumstances. You have seen what we are capable of, and what we will accomplish if we are allowed to succeed. You, more than anypony, know what the stakes are.

“Which is all the more reason for you to avail yourself to all of the advantages that I can provide. Whether it is intelligence regarding the locations of our staging areas, our physical and magical capabilities, our likely plans of attack, my own physical and magical prowess to aid you in confrontations, or even physical comforts to mitigate the effects of the stress that you incur during this endeavor.”

Arginine was silent for a while after that, and so was I, as I started processing everything that he’d just told me, “the enemy you face is powerful, Windfall, and they are determined. They will not flinch, they will not hesitate. They fight for the very survival of all of ponykind. To face them, you must be ready. You must be focused. You cannot have given into despair.

“Will you let me help you? Or am I wasting my time?”

It was finally my turn to say something again, to answer Arginine’s question. The problem was that I wasn’t sure I had an answer at the moment, “I...I don’t know,” it sounded about as lame as I felt, and was clearly not what Arginine had been wanting to hear from me.

“Then come find me when you do,” he said as he started for the exit, “but I do not recommend that you delay for long.”

I watched him leave, knowing that he meant what he said: if I didn’t come back with an answer, and if that answer was that I didn’t want him like that, he was going to leave and go back to his stable. If he did that, well...he knew enough about what my plans were to stop them cold. He had no incentive to keep my activities a secret from the rest of his stable; he’d tell them everything.

Either I told him ‘yes’, or I had to put him down.

This wasn’t helping with my stress levels.

I needed some advice. Preferably from a pony who knew a thing or two about making tough calls that could affect the future of a fight. I needed to talk to Ramparts again, and I needed more than a pep talk this time. If nothing else, a second pony to help me take out the powerful gray stallion wouldn’t go amiss. I left the showers, draping a towel over my back and extending my wings to help them air out. The warmth had long since left the water, and it was quite cold now; but I welcomed the chill it had taken on. It mirrored how I was feeling in my gut right about now, with the choice that I was facing.

I peaked into the room where Foxglove and Starlight were sleeping, expecting to see the brown earth pony stallion still sitting with his disassembled weapons. However, he wasn’t there any longer. I frowned, wondering where he might have gone to. One of his rifles still lay in pieces on the floor, so he shouldn’t be gone for long. Perhaps he just ducked out to visit the little colt’s room. In which case he’d be back shortly.

So I slipped inside, intending to wait for his return so that we could have our little chat. It certainly wasn’t one that I was looking forward to. I snorted, muttering under my breath, “I can just hear it now: hey, Ramparts, RG is offering to let me use him for sex to make me happier, otherwise he’s leaving to go back to his stable. Should I let him fuck my brains out, or do I just blow his all over the wall? By the way, I only have a few minutes to decide; no pressure!”

“Do you Wasteland ponies have to make everything about life and death?”

I hit the roof. No, seriously; I leaped into the air so high that I actually dented the plaster in the ceiling with the top of my head. The result was an immediate downward plummet to the floor with a rather uninspiring landing. When I was done groaning and rubbing my head, I peered up at the pink unicorn mare who was leaning over the edge of her bed, looking at me with a concerned expression on her face.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll live. I think,” a headache wasn’t going to help things. Neither was having Starlight overhear my current dilemma, “I thought you were still out,” I gestured at her blackened horn.

The mare snorted, gently rubbing her hoof along the afflicted horn, “not my first burn-out,” she craned her neck to get a look at Foxglove on the other side of the room, “but it might be hers. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that juniper berries don’t exist anymore?” I shook my head. It was more of a guess really, as I’d never heard of them before, “in that case I don’t think I can help her much when she wakes up. Sleep is going to be her best friend for the next day or two,” she winced and rubbed her forehead, “ooh...my grimoires for an aspirin…”

“Would a healing potion help?” I asked, walking over to where hers and Foxglove’s saddlebags were stacked, but the unicorn mare waved me off.

“No magic. It’ll actually aggravate things. It’s fine,” she looked at me a little more sternly now, “but what’s this about sex or death? I’m assuming I misheard something, but I’m terrified that I didn’t. What’s going on?”

I cringed beneath the concern in her voice. It was a familiar type of concern too. I’d heard the same thing from Foxglove when she’d found out that Jackboot wasn’t actually my father, and that he was just some old stallion who kept a young, nubile, pegasus mare with him as a companion. Starlight thought that somepony was hurting me, because I was just a filly, and filly’s needed to be protected. I didn’t want to have this conversation.

Of course, I couldn’t not have it now, could I? The radroach was out of the bag. Now I just had to find some way to phrase things so that she didn’t ask a lot more questions, or read into things more than I wanted her to, while I waited for Ramparts to get back and have the real conversation with him, “it’s nothing important,” that orange mare was giving me all sorts of dirty looks right now. Mature, Windfall; you’re supposed to be mature. I groaned, “except that it is,” Starlight quirked an eyebrow, looking at me expectantly with her deep blue eyes, “RG thinks that I’m not dealing with a lot of things very well,” I said, opting to talk about the root of the issue at hoof, rather than the details of the ultimatum itself. She just needed to know enough to be satisfied, I wasn’t looking for advice from the pony two centuries out of her own time. What could she know about the Wasteland?

“He says that I’m depressed, and that he wants me to get help. If I don’t, he’s going to leave,” I shrugged, grimacing, “the trouble is, if he leaves, he’ll go back to his stable and start helping those ponies again. I can’t let that happen. Hence…”

“...the ‘kill him’ part, I get it now,” she nodded her head, a frown creasing her own features, “is he right? Are you depressed?”

I snorted, “who knows? Maybe. Probably. Who isn’t out here,” I waved my hoof in the air, indicating the Wasteland at large. I took a breath, noting that Starlight was still watching me expectantly, seeming to sense that there was something that I wanted to add. She’d be right, “I mean…” I cast a wary eye in the direction of Foxglove’s bed to make sure she wasn’t conscious to hear this, “I may have tried to kill myself. Once. I didn’t though,” obviously.

I wasn’t sure how I expected Starlight to react. Given her pre-war origins, I guess I sort of thought that she’d be horrified or aghast that somepony would think about doing something like that. What could she know about life in the Wasteland, after all?

I’d have been wrong, though. She was remarkably calm about it. Empathetic even, “I see. I’m glad you didn’t, and not just because I’d still be sealed in that hibernation pod,” neither of us were able to muster much more than token smiles at the attempted levity. Then she hit me with a bit of a bombshell, “how were you going to do it? I used pills.”

My eyes widened in stark surprise as I stared at the unicorn, “...a gun,” I replied, listlessly, still not sure I’d heard her correctly, “are you serious? You tried to kill yourself?” Starlight nodded soberly, “why?” She hadn’t grown up in the Wasteland. She’d lived in a time when the world was whole. What could have been so bad about her life in a world like that that she’d seen suicide as the best alternative?

“A combination of reasons,” she shrugged, “it was shortly after Moonbeam was born. The delivery had been pretty rough, and I was kept in the hospital for a few weeks so they could keep an eye on me. Moonbeam’s condition was pretty serious too, and it was immediately obvious that she wasn’t going to have a normal life―if she had a life at all. It was touch and go in the beginning. I barely saw her between all of the medical procedures they had to keep performing just to keep her alive. That put a pretty big strain on our marriage, which was already pretty shaky, to be honest.

“The war was escalating more and more every year, so the pressure was always on Sunburst to come up with results from his research. I barely saw him much at all; and now I was going through a time when I needed him most. It wasn’t his fault, though. I told him that I was fine so that he wouldn’t be distracted worrying about me. His work was important. The Ministry didn’t want to hear that he was falling behind because of ‘personal matters’. They’d kick him off the project, maybe try and get him replaced at the Academy entirely. That would have devastated him,” her eyes started to glisten with tears of heartache, and I heard a slightly timbre in her voice, “then the postpartum kicked in,” another wan smile and anemic chuckle, “the doctors were so focused on Moonbeam’s problems they weren’t paying very close attention to me.

I felt like I was just a useless distraction between Sunburst’s work and my daughter’s problems,” the unicorn shrugged, “if I was gone, that’d be one less thing for anypony to worry about. So, I started hoarding the medication they were giving me. Once I thought I had enough, I popped them all at once and hoped for the best―or worst, depending on how you look at it.

“Of course, I wasn’t a doctor. I didn’t know what I was taking. I just knew that taking too much of anything like that was a bad idea,” she sighed, “I just ended up with a really bad stomach ache; but it got the attention of the staff there nonetheless. They watched my medication more carefully, and I got a daily visit from a counselor.

“It helped,” she looked down at me, “I know it’s probably not much compared to what you’ve been through, but I felt like my whole world was ending and I didn’t know what to do.”

I was quiet for a while. I could relate to what she’d been through. Sure, I hadn’t thought I was losing a child, but I did seen my mother die in front of me, unable to do anything to stop it. I’d watched the stallion who raised me sacrifice himself to save my life. I’d killed, and seen death on a scale that Starlight couldn’t comprehend. If she hadn’t thought that she could handle what comparatively little that she’d been through, then I suppose it was some minor miracle that I’d only tried to end things the one ineffectual time.

“I’m willing to try and remove your cutie mark again, if you’d like,” Starlight went on, sounding reluctant, “removing it twice like that though...I won’t lie: it’s going to get rougher before it gets better.”

“No,” I shook my head, “I’m not going through that again,” I stated firmly.

“I know it was rough, but if your mark is driving you to suicide―”

“It’s not the mark!” I said, snapping at the mare more tersely than I’d meant to, and wincing as a result, “sorry. It’s just...removing it didn’t help.”

“You need to give the process time,” Starlight insisted, “it can take months, sometimes, to adjust fully to your new life. With proper and continuous supervision and counseling, I believe that you can make a real change―”

“I killed a pony,” I said, startling the unicorn to silence, “even without my cutie mark, I shot a pony dead. In cold blood,” that seemed to shock her even more. The trickle was turning into a flood though, and the rest of the story started flowing, “he tried to burn a mare alive, along with her brother.”

“That doesn’t sound like ‘cold blood’ to me! You saved their lives!”

“I stood there and watched!” I snarled at the mare, heedless now if I woke Foxglove up or not, “I watched them tie that mare up, knowing they were going to murder her just because she said something their leader didn’t like. I watched her brother, their doctor, threaten to die with her if they didn’t let her go. They didn’t care. They were going to murder them both. And I was just going to stand there and let it happen!

“I didn’t care! I didn’t want to help them,” I was trembling now, tear welling up behind my eyes and poking around my lids as I recalled the memory with sickening clarity, “I watched better ponies than me save them, when I knew that I could have without breaking a sweat.

“I hated myself. I hated myself so much more than I hated anypony in that town. They were just morons who didn’t know any better than to do what the pony they trusted to lead them told them to. I knew better though,” I snarled, before growing quiet, “or I thought I did.

“So, the next morning, I shot their leader from three hundred yards away, in the back, when it didn’t even matter, like some sort of assassin. Like a murderer.”

Now I finally looked at Starlight Glimmer again, “I don’t want to become that again. I’m keeping my cutie mark. It’s not making me kill,” I said in a choked tone, “I know now that’s just who I’m am deep down.”

“I’m sorry,” the pink mare said in a hushed tone, “I thought it would help.”

“I know,” I sighed, “everypony’s trying to help.”

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing,” Starlight noted. I responded by snorting and rolling my eyes, “where I come from,” she winced and restated, “when I come from, ponies do that, you know? Help. It’s not because we don’t think somepony couldn’t do it on their own, we just didn’t think they should have to. It was just what ponies did for each other. We didn’t want anything for it. We just wanted to help another pony, because we could.

“But I’m going to guess that the way Arginine is offering to ‘help’ you isn’t something you’re comfortable with?” I squirmed slightly beneath her gaze and offered a silent nod, “have you tried telling him that, and seeing if there’s other things he could do? Like listen to you talk about the stuff you’re telling me?”

“Do you really think that would do me any good?”

Starlight shrugged, “do you feel better now than when you first came in?” I did actually, the bump to my head notwithstanding. I nodded, “I’m sure Arginine can listen just as well as I can. In my experience, that’s all a counselor really is: somepony who listens. Maybe they occasionally offer advice, but mostly it’s about being somepony who’s there to let you know that somepony cares enough to listen to what’s bothering you.”

“What if he’s not willing to believe that’s all I need?”

The pink pony frowned, “if he’s not willing to give sitting there and listening a try, then he’s not much of a friend, and maybe you’d be better off without him around. Not that I’m particularly okay with the whole ‘shooting him in the head’ thing. If he says no, could you come back here so we can hash out a Plan B, please?”

I rolled my eyes as I stood up, “no promises, but I’ll think about it,” Starlight wasn’t thrilled, but she didn’t try to stop me, “thank’s,” I said, heading for the door. I paused just before leaving, turning back to the mare, who was making herself more comfortable on the bed, “and Starlight?”

“Yes?”

“If you want to talk about Moonbeam or something...I’m willing to listen.”

The mare’s features spread out in a wan smile, “thanks, Windfall. That means a lot.”

I nodded and left. While I didn’t know exactly which room Arginine had selected for his personal use, there were only so many blips on my Eyes Forward Sparkle. I managed to pick out where the large stallion was staying very quickly and stood in front of the door. After some debate as to exactly how dramatically I wanted to play this, I sighed and tapped my hoof on the door. A moment later, the door swung open.

Arginine was closing up the last of his saddlebags, apparently having just finished his packing. He peered up, looking in my direction, inclining his head slightly, “you have impeccable timing,” he studied me for another couple of seconds, “should I take the lack of firearms as an indication that you are in fact intending to avail yourself to the physical comforts I am offering?”

I took a deep breath, “I’ve come to a decision, yeah,” I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, “get on the bed.”

The larger stallion arched a brow and stood up from the bags on the floor, climbing into the neater of the two beds in the room. He watched me expectantly as I approached and hopped up into the bed with him. Without a word, I laid down on the mattress, leaning against him and resting my head on his shoulder. My coat and mane were still pretty damp from the shower, but Arginine didn’t given any reaction. That was pretty much how the pony was. He didn’t react. He didn’t judge, not outwardly.

“Shall we begin, then?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded. The stallion started craning his head down to kiss me, but I stopped him with a hoof and gently pushed him away. Confused, Arginine stared at me, a questioning look in his eyes, “no. Not like that.”

I smiled, closed my eyes, and snuggled closer to the stallion’s side before finally saying, “you want to hear the story of how I got my cutie mark?

“It all started when I met this pony named, Jackboot. When he found me, my home had just been destroyed by a group of White Hooves. My parents had told me to hide in a hay bale so I’d be safe…”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 38: I'M BEGINNING TO SEE THE LIGHT

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Ponies called me a hero after what happened, but I left that battle scarred by fear, and have allowed that weakness to govern my actions.

We talked―well, I talked―for what must have been hours. I recounted my experiences with Jackboot, and the upbringing that I had in the Wasteland. I told Arginine about how’d I’d come to admire the older stallion who was raising me, and how that respect had gradually grown into a desire for something more...intimate. I told him about the betrayal that I’d felt when I learned that the pony I’d come to love had been hiding his connection to the group of ponies that I loathed the most in the world; and how we’d reconciled later. How I’d felt when he died.

Then I moved onto my approach to life after Jackboot, and my adoption of the Wonderbolt persona. How I felt the first time I’d shown up to a fight wearing the old blue uniform and saved a mare and her filly from ponies intent on enslaving them, or worse. I talked about how I felt when I killed ponies, and the nightmares that I got where I saw their faces which persistently haunted my nights. I admitted to him my doubts about what I was doing, and how I wasn’t sure whether or not I could continue to be the Wonderbolt at all.

Through it all, Arginine listened patiently, offering little comment at all, save for the occasional request for clarification. He just...listened. Even when I was done telling him everything, he didn’t have much to say; just a single, simple, question:

“Are you giving up?”

“No,” I responded, maybe a little too quickly. I didn’t want the stallion to think that I was turning away from the fight entirely and risk him leaving; because that wasn’t what I was doing, “I couldn’t do that, not when I know ponies are in trouble. I’ll never give up entirely. I just…” I sighed and shrugged, deflating slightly, “I don’t think I can keep doing it as The Wonderbolt, you know? I’m not a hero.

“I’m not a good pony,” Ramparts’ comments earlier still cut me pretty deep. It was hard to deny what he’d said though. I’d killed so many ponies in my life, and every time I pulled that trigger, I could feel deep down what it was doing to me. The numbness that he’d talked about. I remembered when I used to make light little quips whenever I ended a life; like it was supposed to be amusing or something. It sickened me now, looking back on it.

It hadn’t been funny; it had just been cruel. The sort of thing some sadistic raider did when they were trying to draw out the last little bit of torment from their victims. What had it said about me that I was just like them?

“I’m a bad pony who just happens to limit herself to killing other bad ponies. I’m a particularly picky raider; but that still makes me a raider. Raiders aren’t heroes.”

“Why do you need to be a hero?”

I glanced up at the stallion, frowning, “because that’s what you have to be to help ponies,” my tone suggested that the question was a fairly ridiculous one, and I thought that it was. I wanted to help ponies and stop the valley from being wiped out by Arginine’s stable; only a hero could do something like that. Heroes like the Mare-Do-Well, or the Lone Ranger, maybe even the Stable Dweller or the Security Mare. Those were the kinds of ponies who could do something important like that.

Pegasus raider mares weren’t. I’d still try, sure, but I wasn’t going to be the hero the ponies of the valley needed right now. I was just going to be some silly little filly getting in over her head.

“I see,” he didn’t see. That was okay. Arginine may have been a smart pony, but that didn’t mean that he already knew everything. He’d come around to understand what I was talking about though, in time.

My stomach grumbled at this point, drawing the attention of the both of us to the fact that neither of us had eaten since breakfast. In fact, I hadn’t had all that much of that, as it turned out. I hadn’t had much of an appetite at that time, of course. I could do with a bite or two right now, though.

“Lunch?” I inquired of the stallion as I stood up and stretched out my limbs, minding that my wings didn’t inadvertently poke my bedmate in the eye.

Arginine glanced out the window, “dinner, more accurately, I think. But yes, a meal would be appreciated.”

“We’ll swing by and take a peek in on Starlight and Foxglove first, make sure they’re alright.”

I trotted over and opened the door, stepping out into the main corridor of the base’s barracks. From off to my left, I heard a familiar mare’s voice pipe up, “oh, so that’s where you’ve been all day!” I whipped my head around to find Starlight and Ramparts standing just outside the room that I had claimed for myself last night. The pair of ponies shared a brief look with one another before the pink unicorn mare spoke again, glancing between the two of us, “did you two have a nice, um, talk?”

I felt myself blushing brightly beneath my coat as I caught the subtle tone in her voice that suggested she wasn’t completely convinced that was all that the two of us had done throughout the day. Ramparts, for his part, was keeping his expression relatively neutral, but the gaze that he was directing at Arginine was unusually contemplative, as though he were evaluating the larger gray stallion in some respect.

“It was fine,” I replied tersely, “we’re heading out to grab a bite,” I glanced back at Arginine and jerked my head, indicating for him to follow me, which he did.

“Good timing,” Starlight perked up, “that’s why we were looking for you. Homily’s keeping an eye on Foxglove while we get some dinner. Care to join us?”

I couldn’t come up with a plausible enough reason why we couldn’t, so I was forced to agree. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the company of the other two ponies, because I did. However, I was wary of the sort of questions that the two of them might ask, having seen their reactions to finding me coming out of Arginine’s room like this. Not that there wasn’t a completely―and genuinely―innocent explanation. Heck, Starlight was the one who had suggested it in the first place!

In reality, I was probably just letting myself read into things too much. There was still a little bit of lingering shame regarding what I’d allowed myself to do with the larger stallion earlier. It had been stupid, and ill-advised, and very reckless; and if I had the day to do all over again I certainly wouldn’t have done it. The reality was, of course, that I had done it, and I was very keenly aware of that fact. My only saving grace was that, optimistically, nopony besides myself and Arginine actually knew for a fact that we’d had sex. I’d very nearly inadvertently revealed that fact to Starlight, but not quite.

At the moment, it was pretty much just lewd speculation on the part of two ponies who saw me and Arginine coming out of a room where we’d been together for hours on end. They were probably just poking fun, trying for a little levity. That was fine.

“Sure,” I finally answered and the four of us headed out of the barracks on our way to the dining tent.

It wasn’t quite dark yet, the sky was just only starting to dim as night approached. There was more than enough light for me to be able to tell that, while Arginine and I might have done little more than lounge around on his bed for the majority of the day, the ponies of McMaren had not been nearly as idle. They managed to erect sturdier looking stone parapets out of the rubble to serve as interim lookout and defensive towers for their perimeter, which they’d also constricted significantly from the size that it had been. This allowed them to concentrate their reduced numbers more effectively.

The dining area even had stone walls now, though the roof was still canvas and tarps. For now, at any rate. Salvaged steel beams were being collected and stacked nearby in anticipation of building a more lasting covering for their cafeteria. The radio transmitter tower was a looking a little better too. The ponies here had taken a pretty severe beating, but they clearly weren’t about to let that get them down for very long. It was quite inspiring, I suppose.

My celebrity status was still in full effect too, it seemed. That produced some mixed feelings. It was nice to be admired, of course; who didn’t like having a room full of ponies cheer when they walked in? That wasn’t to say that it wasn’t also a little embarrassing. I caught Ramparts looking at me, silently reminding me that I’d earned this praise, regardless of how deserving I might have felt about it. I recalled Homily too, pointing out that this was not the first time that I’d saved the lives of her and her crew.

I might not be a ‘Hero of the Wasteland’, but I was a mare that these ponies personally owed a lot to.

A table was cleared for us, the companions of the Wonderbolt apparently receiving their fair share of my own reflected glory it seemed. None of the ponies here owed much to any of the three with me, of course. Only Foxglove had ever been here before. It was enough, I suppose, that they were with me and presumably helping me out during my travels through the valley. Not that their names were included in any of ‘Miss Neighvada’s’ radio broadcasts.

Idly, I wondered if that was going to change; if maybe Homily would be making announcements about what the ‘Wonderbolt and Her Companions’ were getting up to in the future?

I was suddenly struck by a thought. What of the Mare-Do-Well and the Lone Ranger? Had they, in reality, been the Mares-Do-Well and maybe the Not-So-Lone Ranger? Were the Stable Dweller and the Security Mare traveling with companions of their own?

Or was that the sign of a true hero: not needing a whole entourage of ponies at your side to help you with every little thing? I couldn’t think of a single transmission that I’d ever heard from the distant DJ Pon3 about any other ponies in the company of the current pair of contemporary Wasteland saviors operating out east.

My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of plates of some sort of Cram-loaf and dried apple chips. I guess their larder hadn’t been destroyed by the Steel Rangers during the fighting. The four of us dug in happily. I couldn’t honestly remember the last time I’d bothered to have a full meal, now that I thought about it. Ramparts as well was attacking her dinner with gusto. Arginine was reserved, as he was with everything that he did. Though obviously quite hungry herself, Starlight ate hesitantly.

“Still getting used to the food?” I asked, curiously, as I watched the unicorn mare push around the Cram-loaf. The apple chips she had eaten readily enough. She seemed to be in the midsts of trying to identify what all of the other ingredients of her meal were.

“It’s not daisy sandwiches and hay-fries,” the pink pony murmured.
I didn’t know what a ‘daisy’ was, but I didn’t have to to know what she meant, “I don’t suggest asking a lot of questions,” I offered by way of advice, giving the mare a sly wink, “everything goes down easier if you just think of it as ‘food’, and leave it at that,” even I’d run afoul of a few menus that I found to be of questionable taste―no pun intended. Growing up on a ranch had afforded me access to a rather tame diet, but my travels with Jackboot had soon exposed me to a lot of things I would never have thought of as being edible, let alone tasty, in the wider Wasteland.

“I never thought I’d find myself pining for stale breakfast cereal,” she sighed as she took an adventurous bite. Her expression shifted between various degrees of disgusted and nauseous before finally settling on resigned as she swallowed what she’d been chewing. She stuck out her tongue and cringed at what was still on her plate, “I don’t suppose pepper still exists?” I shrugged, not knowing what that was either. That wasn’t the answer she had been hoping for, it seemed, “I’d sell my horn for my spice rack…”

“Next time we’re near Shady Saddles I’ll take you to my sister’s bar,” Rampart’s offered, “she makes a mean vegetable stew.”

“Now that’s something I’d like to try,” the unicorn said, brightening significantly at the thought, “which brings up the matter of where we’re heading to next, and when?”

All eyes were suddenly on me. Oh, right, I was still the ‘leader’. They were all looking to me to call the shots, as though nopony other than me had yet realized how criminally unqualified I was to continue doing the job. Fortunately, I wouldn’t need to do it for very much longer, as the end of our mission was finally in sight.

“The Republic stole some technology from the Rangers: a computer that uses a foal as its core,” I had been keeping an eye on Ramparts while I’d spoken, wanting to judge his reaction upon hearing what the nation he was loyal to had been accused of. The stallion looked suitably disturbed, but he also didn’t appear to be particularly doubtful either. Given his position in the Republic’s military as a part of Luna’s special scouting groups, I’m sure that he had a good idea of the sorts of missions that were conducted against the Steel Rangers where acquiring material and intelligence were concerned.

It was Starlight’s reaction that caught me by surprise though as the pink mare started to almost immediately cough up the bite of food that she’d been in the middle of swallowing. After a rather concerning fit of choking, her cyan eyes locked onto me, wide and unbelieving. No, they weren’t doubtful. Rather, they seemed terrified. She didn’t want to believe that she’d heard me correctly, even though she was certain that she had, “what did you say? A computer powered by a foal?!”

Before I could utter a confirmation, Starlight had slammed her hooves down on the table and let loose a string of curses that made even Ramparts blush, “that fucking cunt! If she wasn’t already dead I’d rip off her wings and drag her in front of Princess Luna myself on the condition that I got to be the one to personally defenestrate her from the top of Diamond Tower after tying one end of her intestines to the balcony! I’d impale her ass first on a pitchfork and toss her into the fires of Tartarus! I’d get a hydra to grab ahold of each of her legs with its heads and take bets on which one popped off first!

“In that order!”

Every pony in the cafeteria was silent now, and they were all staring at the enraged pink unicorn mare. It took Starlight a good while to realize that she had managed to garner the attention of everypony, at which point she mumbled an apology of sorts and cleared her throat. While the volume of her voice when she next spoke had been significantly reduced, the magnitude of her ire was still readily apparent, “I can’t believe her,” she seethed through clenched teeth, “I watched her―watched―as she looked Princess Luna square in the eyes and ‘Pinkie Promised’―whatever that is―that none of the ponies―the foals―involved her Selene Program would―in any way―be used for the war effort.

“That was the only reason the Ministry of Peace even signed on to the project! That was the only reason―” Starlight’s expression suddenly became ill, and her eyes took on a haunted look as her voice fell to a whisper, “―the only reason I enrolled Moonbeam in it…”

I watched as the mare became progressively more panicked as she spoke, her wild gaze turning to me now, “Moonbeam wasn’t in the bunker with me. The MoA moved her before the bombs fell. What if…” she swallowed hard, finding the next words difficult to speak. It was as though she was worried that the act of saying them aloud would cause them to be retroactively true, “...what if that means that they used her for one of those computers?”

The vision of Trellis, the little green filly condemned to a tiny steel cylindrical prison buried at the bottom of a forgotten facility for two centuries, fully aware of her isolation for all that time, flashed through my head. Could that well have been the fate of Starlight’s own daughter? Seeing how upset the unicorn mare clearly was at the prospect of her foal being utilized for the project at all, I thought it best to perhaps not tell her about what I’d found beneath our hooves at this very moment.

“Then we’ll help her when we find her,” I assured the mare, almost automatically. What a stupid thing to say. ‘Help’ a foal in the same position that Trellis had been in. How exactly was I supposed to even do that? The only ponies who knew anything about what had been done to them―or, more importantly how it had been done―were all two hundred years dead. As skilled as even a doctor like Lancet was, I doubted that he’d be able to undo those kinds of modifications.

That I was little more than lying through my teeth didn’t change the fact that it was still what Starlight wanted to hear. The little orange mare in my head could give me the stink-eye all she wanted. At least the yellow pegasus seemed to understand what I was doing. Meanwhile, the cyan flier was wilting beneath the piercing glare of a pair of white and pink mares, pleading her ignorance.

“We’ll go to Seaddle, confront Ebony Song and make him take us to see Princess Luna. If, like you said, she was against the Ministry of Awesome using foals like that, then she’ll definitely let us help the foal in that computer,” Starlight was growing progressively more calm as I laid out the reassuring plan. Up to this point, I was pretty confident in it. I couldn’t see the ruler of the New Lunar Republic possibly wanting to use something like the computer that Ebony Song had stolen from the Steel Rangers once she learned how it operated. It was the next part that I was a little shaking on the details of, “then we’ll find out where they sent your daughter, and what happened to her. If she’s in one of those things, we’ll find a way to get her out.”

I received a determined nod of agreement from Ramparts. Arginine was slightly more noncommittal with his own assurances. Not that I could blame him. It wasn’t like I really knew how I was going to pull that off in the end. I was just kind of hoping that things would work themselves out in the end.

Much like with Arginine’s stable. I had no idea how the valley was supposed to really beat off the force being arrayed against it. I was just sort of hoping that, with enough ponies and equipment, that victory would just sort of...happen. It wasn’t like I was any sort of grand tactician. That was a matter for better ponies than me. All I was capable of doing was getting everypony’s attention and pointing them at the looming threat on the horizon and hoping for the best.

Yep. Real ‘hero’ material right here…

“Thank you, Windfall,” the pink unicorn said, “that means a lot to me,” she stared down at the rest of her meal still on her plate for several seconds, then she nudged the plate further away and stood up, “I’m not hungry anymore,” she then winced and put a hoof to her head, “ugh...stupid mana burn…”

Ramparts stood up and started ushering the mare towards the exit, “let’s go find you someplace to lie down for a bit,” he suggested, receiving a nod of agreement from Starlight.

As she walked away, she glanced back over her shoulder and offered an apologetic smile to the other diners at large, “sorry about the yelling.”

A few scattered acceptances could be made out, but for the most part the rest of the ponies there simply watched the pair leave in silence. When they were out of earshot, a murmur was taken up by the ponies as they began to discuss what had just transpired amongst themselves. I sighed and started poking at my own meal, my previously ravenous inclinations having been curbed by the conversation. I suppose that it was too much to hope that we could just have a mundane dinner table conversation that didn’t end in something depressing being mentioned.

My ear twitched and I briefly glanced in the direction that Starlight and Ramparts had gone, “...Selene?”

“I beg your pardon?” Arginine prompted.

“...I don’t know. That name just sounded familiar for some reason. It’s probably nothing.

“My life used to be really simple, you know?” I said as I turned back around to resume staring at my food, “I’d wake up, kill some raiders, sell their stuff for booze and ammo, get drunk, go to bed, repeat. I did that for eight years,” I thought for a short moment and then amended, “not the getting drunk part. I’ve only been doing that for about three or so.

“It was a very straightforward life.”

“Objectively, there is nothing that precludes you from pursuing such an existence at this moment,” Arginine pointed out, “you have the option of abandoning your self-imposed mission to combat my stable and resume eliminating undesirable ponies piecemeal.”

“No, I can’t,” I sighed, a sad smile tugging at my cheeks, “I’ve never been able to ignore ponies in trouble. When I see somepony in danger, I don’t even think about it. I act. It’s like...instinctive, or something” I shrugged, “the ponies of the valley are in trouble, and so I have to do something about it.”

“You make it sound as though such a compulsion is a burden.”

I guess I had, hadn’t I? “It’s not that. Not really. I mean, I like it. Seeing that look of relief on a pony’s face when they realize that they’re going to be okay? It’s an amazing feeling. Even though their life is probably going to go right back to sucking tomorrow because, you know, the Wasteland and everything; but for that one brief moment? They aren’t worried about anything at all. It’s this deep sense of relief that just goes right down to their bones.

“It only lasts for as long as it takes them to remember that there’s still plenty of other things in the world for them to worry about, but it’s still something. I don’t know. I guess it’s a pretty silly thing to look forward to.”

Arginine was studying me intently, and I started to grow a little uncomfortable beneath his amber gaze, “what?”
The stallion turned back to his meal and resumed eating, “you derive fulfillment from enriching the lives of others. I do not believe that to be ‘silly’,” now it was my turn to regard the stallion curiously, prompting him to shrug, “my own life has been devoted to ensuring that future genetic strains possess the best possible traits that I can discover for them. In that way, I am hoping to ‘enrich’ their lives―make their existence better. It was a pursuit that I too found fulfilling.”

I frowned slightly, “I get that you’re trying to make me feel better about myself by pointing out that we’re not so different, but I really don’t like being compared to you, RG. You know how I feel about what you did to ponies.”

“In that respect, we are certainly very different,” the stallion nodded in agreement, “you are bothered by the prospect of taking lives, even those of undesirable ponies.

“Meanwhile, I am incapable of feeling empathy for those I kill,” he held up a piece of what was clearly radroach which had been incorporated into the Cram-loaf, “for me, killing a pony bothers me as little as killing an insect,” I felt my frown deepening, not certain where the unicorn stallion was trying to go with this, “I have recently found myself wondering what I would be doing with my life if I was more like you.”

Okay, I hadn’t been expecting that. The stallion continued, “my strain was designed as we were so that we could perform the duties that were viewed as essential for the completion of our directive. However, as I have previously stated, the Omega Strain―the ponies we intend to ultimately inhabit the world―will be capable of great empathy towards all.

“No Omega would ever be able to do what I do. So then, were I an Omega, seeking to make a better world, what would I be doing instead?”

I waited for him to answer the question, but he never did. The stallion simply shrugged and resumed eating, leaving me to wonder if he’d been talking to himself there at the end. Then he spoke again, changing the immediate subject of the conversation, “you insist that you intend to carry on with your quest to fight my stable. Should I presume that you also intend to continue your endeavor to improve ponykind through your own devices?”

“That...I don’t think I’m going to be doing so much anymore,” I admitted, drawing an inquisitive look from Arginine, “at least, not the way that I have been. I’m really tired of killing, RG.”

“Removing ineffective or damage sequences is essential to creating a more robust genetic strain. Can the same not be said of removing violent and disruptive ponies from the surface population? You have previously demonstrated that you are quite capable in that regard.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was very good at killing ponies, and I’d been at it for a long time. That was kind of the point though, wasn’t it? I recalled the epiphany I’d had outside the bunker yesterday, “I’ve been wiping out raiders and slavers for eight years. They’re not exactly any harder to come by today even after I’ve put thousands of them in the ground.

“If I can’t make a dent in this one little valley after a decade, then what hope do I have to fix the Wasteland?”

“Little to none, I suspect,” Arginine confirmed without hesitation, drawing a dower look from myself. He didn’t have to agree with me quite that quickly, “which is about the same chances of success you’d have to beat back the ponies of my stable.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It was my understanding that you were aware of this,” the stallion continued, munching on the last of his dinner, “and it was the reason that you had no intention of fighting my stable,” I frowned at the larger unicorn and was about to open my mouth to correct his rather oddly mistaken memory when he finished his thought, “you were working to array the entire valley against us.”

The words that I’d been about to speak died in my throat as I caught his telling gaze, and the meaning behind what he was saying. I thought for a brief moment on what he’d said. Of course I wasn’t going to fight his stable all on my own. That’d be pointless, and I’d fail in the opening minutes of the first fight. However, an alliance of every capable force that lived in the valley―thousands of ponies―at least had a hope of winning in the end.

In that light, of course I wasn’t going to be able to stop raiding and slaving in the whole valley. I was just a single pony. Even with Jackboot, a pair wasn’t going to have a chance of being much more effective. You’d need to have...dozens? Hundreds? A whole lot of ponies, at any rate, all doing what I’d been in order to make a difference in anything approaching a reasonable amount of time would be needed.

The valley was replete with armies, of course. The Steel Rangers, the Republican Guard, and then you threw in mercenary bands like the Lancers, and you could quickly come up with many thousands of ponies that could be sent out against not just Arginine’s stable, but also rounding up and stomping out bandits and the more murderous gangs. Not that any of those groups had been doing so in the past.

Everypony had their own problems, it seemed. That and it felt like it’d be the next best thing to impossible to get any of them to work together for very long under normal circumstances. The mercenaries would fight as long as enough caps and bits flowed into their hooves; but only New Reino’s casino barons had the sort of wealth essential to fund them long-term like that. The Steel Rangers didn’t concern themselves with policing the areas they roamed. They only wanted to secure advanced technology and lock it away.

The Republican Guard would be the most likely to want to help make the valley a safer place, and at one time they had―nominally. That had been before the war with the Rangers, of course. Though, even before the fighting, back when they’d been the Commonwealth, their forces had really only cared about those lands within their sphere of influence. Anything more than a few miles from their cities, they didn’t care about. If they’d been of a mind, they could have cleaned up the valley decades ago.

In order to make the Neighvada Valley a place that was free of banditry, I’d need to find an army of ponies that were willing to work for next to nothing, and who were willing to wander all over the whole valley, helping everypony in need, no matter what group they were aligned with, if any. Of course, exactly no such group of ponies existed that I knew about.

“You’re right,” I sighed, “I can’t do it myself. I’d need an army.”

Arginine nodded, “a fighting force of significant size would be required, that is correct.”

“So you’re saying it’s hopeless,” I frowned before rolling me eyes at the stallion, “unless, hypothetically, some group of genetically superior ponies came through and put an end to it; I get it.”

“While that would certainly solve the problem, that was not the conclusion I was specifically referring to,” the gray pony corrected patiently, “more accurately, I was simply pointing out that you would require a great number of allies to help you achieve your goal.”

I blinked at the stallion, baffled. Then I snorted, “very funny, RG. You could at least pretend to be helpful right now. Nopony’s going to go along with some filly’s stupid plan to get rid of all the raiders in the valley.”

“Perhaps,” he looked around briefly before excusing himself, “I am going to conduct an experiment; I will return.”

I watched the stallion walk away from the table we were sitting at. He didn’t go very far, as the cafeteria wasn’t very big. He approached a stallion sitting nearby and engaged him in conversation. The larger gray stallion was speaking in low tones, and I couldn’t make out what he was saying. For his own part, the stallion that he was talking to seemed initially surprised that he’d been approached at all. Then I watched as his expression shifted to intrigue, before his eyes darted briefly to me and a smile spread across his face. He reached into his saddlebags and passed something Arginine with a grin and a nod. Arginine moved on to another table.

As I continued to look on, I saw much the same exchange take place over and over again. Arginine would approach a table full of ponies, say something to them, and then they’d all give him something, all the while grinning broadly and glancing in my direction. A few even waved at me! After he’d visited every occupied table in the dining area, the large gray unicorn return, sitting down across from me at our table. He then dumped what amounted to a small mountain of supplies on the table.

Boxes of ammunition of all types, phials of healing potion, cans of food, bottles of water, even some grenades; it was a cache of supplies that could sustain a pony in the Wasteland for a week or more. My eyes boggled at the trove and I was about to ask Arginine where he’d gotten the money to pay for all of that when I realized that I hadn’t seen him pay for a single one of the items. Everypony had just given him all of this stuff!

“What…?” I gestured limply at the supplies piled on the table.

“The results of my experiment,” Arginine said simply, “I approached each table and asked the following question: ‘would you be willing to help the Wonderbolt fight raiders in the valley?’ This was their response,” he pointed at the mound, “though I feel compelled to admit that there were also several additional offers of personal assistance in the form of accompanying you to the den of the raiders.

“It seems that you greatly underestimated the amount of support your notion would receive.”

Everypony here knows that they owe you their lives…

I looked back around the cafeteria and took in the glances being cast in my direction. The pony who was the whole reason that they were even alive today had just asked them for any help they were willing to give. How could they not offer something by way of expressing their thanks? Understanding why they were doing it wasn’t quite the same thing as accepting that they were doing it though.

“RG, give that stuff back,” I hissed at the stallion, pushing the supplies closer to him, “we can’t just take their stuff!”

Arginine simply returned my stern look with his own patient gaze, “we have ‘taken’ nothing. I asked if they were willing to help you. They donated these items.”

“You asked if they were willing to help ‘The Wonderbolt’,” I shot back, “The Wonderbolt’s a hero, and I’m not.”

“The ponies here see no distinction,” he said, “you may try to return these items if you desire, but I suspect they will be unwilling to receive them back. Similarly, they did not appear to desire monetary compensation either.

“I feel compelled to point out that our supplies are genuinely running low. If we intend to return to Seaddle, then we will need food, medicine, and munitions.”

I couldn’t argue that point, unfortunately. Most of what had been recovered from the research base we’d escaped from had been given to the caravan ponies to help keep them safe as they got back to Shady Saddles. I was basically down to fighting with my bare hooves. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask what Ramparts’ situation was where ammunition was concerned, but it couldn’t be great. Grudgingly, I conceded the point and let Arginine pocket the supplies.

“My findings still stand as well: there seems to be little need for you to continue acting alone. Indeed, you appear to have been doing quite well to recruit ponies to fight by your side even in the short time I’ve known you.”

“That’s different,” I mumbled, speaking the words before I’d even taken the time to think about exactly how it was ‘different’.

“Is it? Enlighten me, if you please.”

My mouth opened, but no words came out. What was I going to say to the stallion? Was I supposed to tell him that none of the ponies traveling with me were interested in actually helping me? I knew that was a load of horseapples. Foxglove had flat out told me that was the whole reason that she was sticking by my side. She saw me as a good pony who deserved to be helped, and so she would. There were probably some demons of her own making motivating her to do that, but it didn’t change the result.

Likewise, Arginine had committed himself to helping me however he could. He’d been a little more straightforward in his reasons, at least. I was an experiment that he was conducting, in order to see if the ponies of his stable really were superior to the ponies of the surface. Most ponies might see this as a cause to be suspicious of any help he was giving me, as he was still quite clearly fully committed to the spirit of his stable’s mission. However, undermining me meant undermining the integrity of the experiment he was conducting. For better or worse, he wanted his stable to receive the most robust opposition that was possible. If they could overcome a completely coordinated valley full of ‘invalid’ ponies, then there was little reason to doubt that they could overwhelm the whole Wasteland and prove that they really were ‘better’ ponies.

Sabotaging me, even slightly, meant that his stable would be facing a weakened opponent, and leave the question of how much ‘better’ they truly were more open-ended than the gray stallion would have liked.

Arginine could probably honestly care less who won in the end. Since, in either case, the ‘better’ ponies would be the victors. If that was his stable, then I’m sure he’d be perfectly content. If it was the ponies of the valley, then he’d have shown his stable that they weren’t quite ready yet. They’d retreat, rethink their strategy, probably try to make themselves even smarter and stronger or something. If that turned out to be the case, we’d have to make more preparations to make ourselves ready for their next attempt; assuming that a peace couldn’t be struck somehow.

Arginine was firmly committed to helping me, because of what I was trying to accomplish in bringing the valley together: making us better ponies.

Ramparts wanted to repay me for saving his flank on multiple occasions, and because I was trying to bring an end to the war that he and his fellow soldiers had been fighting for years. He wanted the valley to be a more peaceful place by driving off the Steel Rangers, and he saw helping me as a better way to accomplish that than by following the orders of his immediate superiors; maybe even the Princes herself. That seemed like a pretty high bar to set for a filly, but the brown earth pony was still hanging around, even now.

Of all my companions, Starlight was the only one of whom it could be said wasn’t firmly committed to my cause. That wasn’t a strike against her, of course. She simply had other priorities at the moment, which even I couldn’t fault. I was her best hope for learning what happened to her lost daughter, and so she was going to stick with me until that happened. Afterwards, well, maybe she would stick by me. Who could say?

What was more, I realized, was that none of them was with me in order to help The Wonderbolt. They’d known me long before I’d played at that persona. They were helping Windfall: a little white pegasus filly who was probably biting off a lot more than was healthy for anypony to take on. They were helping me.

Nor were they doing it because they felt sorry for me, or anything like that. I’d met most of them in the course of saving their lives―or, in Arginine’s case, by kicking the flanks of his stable. They knew that I was capable of doing what I’d vowed to, and so they’d thrown their lot in with me. They believed I could do some good.

Who was to say that other ponies wouldn’t join me too if I put the word out there? It’s not like I wasn’t making some pretty staunch allies out in the valley. Homily’s ponies were clearly in my corner, as Arginine had just proved. Summer Glade had demonstrated that I’d made a good friend in her family and the caravan company that they owned. This had all been done in a month.

“Okay,” I finally said with a sigh, “I see what you’re saying. That doesn’t mean that it’s going to be easy though. Building a group like that would take time, equipment, resources―a base of operations,” I pointed out to the stallion, who was inclined to nod in agreement with everything that I was saying, “it could take years to get all of that together.

“Which is assuming we all even manage to survive the fight with your stable.”

“Assume that, yes,” the unicorn agreed. He was silent for several seconds, and then I spied the barest hint of a lip twitch as he ‘smiled’, “is it permissible to interpret that statement as indicating that you are making tentative plans to establish such a group in the future?”

I stared across the table at the stallion as a smirk wormed its way across my face. He was one manipulative bastard when he put his mind to it, I had to give him that, “I’ll add it to my Bucket List.”

We took our time recovering at McMaren. While I wouldn’t come right out and admit it publicly, it was very nice to have a cozy bed to sleep in at night and some hot meals throughout the day. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had what amounted to a real break like this.

That wasn’t to say that we were just lying about all day doing nothing. As much as I’m sure Homily’s ponies wouldn’t have minded putting up with our small band of freeloaders for a while, I felt compelled to make us at least mildly useful during our stay. Ramparts spent his time drilling the McMaren ponies in small unit tactics and conducting reconnaissance patrols to help give the ponies there even further warning about possible threats that were coming their way.

Arginine was using his superior strength and magical abilities to aid in the reconstruction effort. He even pulled brief stints as a physician, despite his repeated insistence that he wasn’t one. Fortunately, nopony seemed to care how he’d come by his remarkably keen knowledge of equine anatomy and physiology. Professional medical training or no, it seemed that having a keen insight into how a body worked made for a very useful knowledge base when it came to fixing it up again.

Foxglove, who had eventually made a full recovery, had awoken to find herself with quite a tidy list of things to fix. Jest about every piece of my gear needed attention, as did Arginine’s energy rifle. The violet unicorn mechanic seemed to actually be pretty grateful to have something to do to help out the group. I hadn’t been there for their fight against the ponies of Arginine’s stable when they’d attacked the caravan that night, by I got the distinct impression that she’d viewed her contribution to the fighting as being rather underwhelming.

It wasn’t just our equipment either. Foxglove had spent nearly the entirety of yesterday sequestered in the base’s radio tower with Homily in an effort to try and improve both the range and the quality of her radio broadcasts. There had also been some talk of trying to find a way to salvage and incorporate some of the tracking systems that I’d come across in the base’s underground facility. Homily was especially interested in having these features at her disposal, relishing the notion of being better able to track and report on trouble spots in the valley so that she could keep ponies away from dangerous areas as they popped up.

“Of course, I can only report what I know about,” the yellow earth pony mare lamented bitterly, “and I lost most of the network that was keeping me up to date when Scratch died,” I remained pointedly silent on that matter. The broadcast personality continued, “I’m reaching out to the caravan companies in the area to try and get them to report anything they see, but…” she shrugged, “by the time they know danger’s around, that usually means they’ve already been attacked. If they’re reporting it, that means they killed the raiders. If the raiders won then, well, it’s not like I’ll get a report then, will I?”

The problem was a serious one, and none of us had any ready answers for her. The best that I could do at the moment was offer to always have either my or Ramparts’ pipbuck radios tuned into the channel that Homily was receiving these alerts on in case we happened to be near where the attack was happening. The valley was a big place, and there wasn’t a very big chance that we’d be close enough to do any good the vast majority of the time, but the yellow mare seemed pretty appreciative of the gesture all the same.

She did ask that I also keep her abreast of any encounters I had with raiders or other violent groups so that she could use them in her news announcements. I was initially quite skeptical, but Homily was rather insistent, “please, Windfall? You can’t know what it means to ponies to hear that there’s somepony out there fighting like that. Celestia knows the Republic isn’t doing as much of it these days,” Ramparts had frowned at that, but hadn’t objected to the observation. If anything, he was all too aware of how much the Guard’s policing efforts had dropped off in the wake of their war with the Rangers. That would hopefully be changing in the near future though.

“Let Miss Neighvada give the valley a little hope?”

In the end, I’d relented, and promised to give her regular updates on my activities. Then I’d thought for a moment and amended, “on one condition: you have to tell ponies that it’s not just me. Make sure to tell them that it’s a group of us. The Wonderbolts, plural,” I emphasized the plural, “or whatever name you think would be better. I’m not doing this alone, after all.”

Homily had agreed, seeming to be intrigued by how best she could put the notion to good use. I was hopeful that if ponies heard that there was a whole team of ponies making the valley safer, they might not feel so daunted by the prospect of trying to help out as well, thinking that it’d have to be an individual effort.

Not everypony was a Stable Dweller or a Security Mare after all. Some of us couldn’t do this on their own. Maybe that made me a lesser ‘hero’, or precluded me from being any sort of hero at all. So what? I wanted to help ponies―I liked helping ponies―and so I was going to, with the help of my friends...

The crack of gunfire and a muffled string of creative curses drew my attention to the present.

...No matter how bad a shot they were, I thought with a heavy mental sigh.

I stared at the mockingly unimpressed targets downrange of Starlight Glimmer which remained defiantly unphased by her continued efforts to shoot them. I briefly entertained the notion of asking Foxglove to widen the choke on her shotgun in an effort to expand the spread of the shot, but that would only further decrease the range at which her weapon would prove lethally effective. The complete lack of any disturbance on the ground around her target suggested that such a modification would be unlikely to help her anyway.

“Aim at the base of the target, Starlight,” I said, not bothering to hide the fact that it sounded like I was repeating the same instruction for the hundredth time; because that was about how many times I had repeated it. It didn’t take a lot of scrutiny to see where the pink unicorn mare’s issues with her marksmareship lay. The barrel of the weapon was wandering all over the place before she depressed the trigger, and her whole head jerked back in an almost exaggerated-looking fashion with every shot.

In response, the mare spat out the shotgun, catching it in her cyan telekinetic field and glared at me as she reached up and started rubbing the back of her neck, “I am aiming at the base!” she insisted before adding, “this thing’s giving me whiplash. Why can’t I hold it with my magic? Or, you know, just use my magic? I can zap those bottles into dust with my eyes closed!”

Indeed she could, and I had seen her do just that in the past. Of course, that kind of flew in the face of the whole reason we were practicing right now, “because a few days ago you could barely hold up a fork with your magic,” I pointed out, “what are you going to do if you get burned out again and we’re attacked? You have to know how to fight under the worst conditions you’ll face; otherwise you’re useless in a fight at all,” I couldn’t wait to see how she was going to react when I told her about the hoof-to-hoof drills I had planned for her once she mastered the ability to at least graze targets with her shotgun.

“What if I don’t want to be useful in a fight?” the unicorn sneered, turning her lip up at me in disgust, “has it occurred to you that I might not have an interest in killing ponies?”

I slowly nodded my head. I could empathize with that. It wasn’t like I enjoyed killing either. Given the life that she’d known before waking up in the Wasteland, where ponies didn’t wander around killing each other all the time, I could easily understand how a pony like her could be repulsed by the notion. However, “unfortunately, there’s a lot of ponies out there who have a keen interest in killing you, just for what’s in your saddlebags. We’re going to come across those ponies sooner or later, whether we like it or not. That’s how the Wasteland works.”

“I don’t suppose that it’s occurred to anypony that that’s not the way it has to work?” Starlight asked sarcastically, “why does everypony just go right to killing anyway? That’s just stupid.”

Despite my best intentions, I was pretty sure that my expression must have appeared rather patronizing as I tried to keep up my best patient smile. The kind of things that the pink unicorn said weren’t borne out of idiocy, I had to remind myself, they were simply the product of a mare two centuries out of date with the world. I couldn’t deny the romantic appeal of an Equestria where ponies talked first, second, and third, and shot never; but that time had long since passed.

“It’s simple,” I eventually replied, offering the unicorn a resigned shrug and a sympathetic smile. Just because it was the truth didn’t mean that I had to like it either, after all, “food, clean water, weapons to defend yourself with, they’re all very scarce out here. Getting your hooves on the things you need to stay alive require you to either risk your life finding them in old ruins infested with dangerous creatures and traps, buy them from other ponies who risked their lives doing that with money earned from working long hours, or, well...you could just shoot them and take their stuff.

“It’s very simple to do the latter, so a lot of ponies take that option,” I said with a resigned sigh, “and the only way to respond, unfortunately, is by doing the same thing: shooting them. Preferably first.

“I know somepony who grew up in a paradise like the world was before the Wasteland and the War couldn’t understand that, but―”

“Ha!” the pink mare cackled, “I’d hardly call Equestria a ‘paradise’,” she retorted mirthlessly. The unicorn looked around her and then added, “well, I suppose it’s one relatively speaking, but trust me: there were plenty of ‘problem ponies’ back then too.

“We didn’t feel the need to kill them though.”

“And in a world where there was enough available food and water to imprison them for long periods of time, I’m sure you didn’t have to,” I said.

Starlight Glimmer shook her head, frowning at me, “prison? How exactly would locking troubled ponies away help things? What’s the matter with you? Haven’t ponies here ever heard of a Reformation Spell?”

“A what?”

“You know, a Reformation Spell?” she went on, as though describing the most common and mundane facet of pony life in the world, “available in the local public library of even the most podunk little hamlet?” I continued to stare at her blankly, “it was the cornerstone of the Equestrian legal system for centuries!” Starlight finally said in exasperation, “how can nopony remember it anymore? Unbelievable…”

The pink mare’s horn started glowing as she extricated one of the tomes that she’s procured from the Old Reino Ministry of Arcane Sciences hub that we’d recent raided. She then flipped through its pages with her telekinesis until she came across the page that she was looking for, at which point she flipped the grimoire around and shoved it in my face. I could only blink aimlessly at the writing contained on the page which surrounded a number of glyphs that looked geometrically impossible as far as I could tell. How could anypony make sense of that stuff?

Starlight withdrew the book a moment later, as though her point had been made, and said, “this was the spell that historians all agree launched the Harmonious Renaissance for Equestria! Ponies suddenly had the ability to, literally, end crime, in the simplest way possible: stopping the criminal from even wanting to be a criminal! With this spell, any stallion or mare who broke serious law could be instantly transformed into a model citizen.”

“So, wait, you’re telling me that this spell can turn bad ponies into good ponies?” I asked, not sure how ready I was to believe such an incredible claim.

“In an instant,” she affirmed resolutely.

“Permanently?”

“Until the day they die,” there wasn’t even the barest hint of doubt in her tone.

Honestly, despite in the pink unicorn’s display of absolute faith in what she was saying, I found myself still feeling doubtful. Mostly because it just all sounded far too good to be true. I’d never known anything in my life to be as cut and dry as, ‘zap the problem; fixed forever!’ Though, I suppose that pretty much summed up the life of a unicorn, didn’t it? This mare was even supposed to have held a position of note within the ancient Equestrian ministry that was dedicated to the pursuit of finding spells that would miraculously solve the nation’s biggest problem―the war with the zebras―in one fell swoop. In that light, was it really so hard to imagine that they already had solutions to some of the more mundane issues of their time, like rapists and murderers?

I guess I just didn’t want to get my hopes up too high. I’d been hurt before when things looked like they were going too well, after all. That was my own problem though, and had nothing to do with Starlight’s revelation. If she really did have a spell that could stop ponies from being raiders and slavers, then why should I shy away from it? It was pretty much a literal answer to my most vocal prayers right now: how to stop bad ponies without having to kill them.

“It’s too much to hope that you can just set that spell off right here and now and have it affect every raider in the world, isn’t it?” Starlight leveled a flat look in my direction that perfectly answered my question, “figured as much.”

“Sorry,” the unicorn explained, closing up the book and putting it away, “a Reformation Megaspell was never put into development. That’s not to say one wasn’t brainstormed early on in the war. After all, that would have been the perfect way to end the war, right? Just zap all of the zebras and make them peaceful.”

“So why wouldn’t that work?”

“Everypony’s different,” Starlight explained patiently, “our pasts, our ambitions, how we react to the world around us―no two ponies are the same. You have to reform ponies on an individual basis, because you have to identify what the problem even is. If you try to ‘fix’ something in a pony that isn’t what was ‘broken’ in the first place, you can just make things worse.”

“You can’t swap out a broken bolt for a .32 auto and replace it with one from a .30-30 Whinnychester,” I said with a nod of understanding.

It was Starlight’s turn to wear a blank stare, “...sure. I’ll assume that’s right,” she cleared her throat and continued, “so, no, even if you gave me the help of a hundred of the most gifted unicorns in the world, and built the most impressive megaspell matrix ever conceived of by ponykind, there’s no way to reform the whole Wasteland at once. It has to be done one pony at a time.”

I sighed in resignation. Of course it was too good to be true. Still, there was a silver lining here: I had a unicorn that could cast the spell with me. Which meant that that next time we came across a raider―and there would be a next time because, you know, Wasteland―an effort could be made to take them alive so that Starlight could zap them into good ponies who’d never become raiders ever again. If nothing else, it was a step in the right direction as far as I concerned.

“Even Old Equestria wasn’t built in a day, right?” I offered up a smile, feeling a little optimistic for the first time in a while.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Starlight Glimmer sighed, eventually managing to muster up a smile of her own in return, “it probably won’t get rebuilt in a day, either,” she added, “but, with the spells I have, I think we can make a real go of it.”

“Really?” my dubiousness was back.

“Of course!” Starlight’s own tone was replete with conviction though, “if I can get ponies to stop acting like complete psychopaths, and instead behaving like real Equestrian ponies, then the Wasteland can absolutely be changed back! I mean, maybe not physically,” she amended, looking around again, “that’s going to take a lot more work, and a whole bunch more spells, but it’s the ponies that really matter!

“Once everypony is acting friendly towards one another, and not killing each other anymore, we can all cooperate and work together to rebuild,” the drive and ambition in Starlight’s voice was...addictive. It was hard not to feel myself getting progressively more excited as she went on describing her plan to rebuild the nation that she’d once known.

It even sounded genuinely promising. Ponies that were once violent and dangerous, becoming friendly, productive, members of society? It was certainly a far more appealing plan for reforming the Wasteland than the, ‘exterminate all the ponies and repopulate with a new race of equines’ plan Arginine’s stable had for the world.

“The next time we come across raiders, reforming them is exactly what we’ll do,” I announced.

Starlight’s eyes brightened, “you mean it?”

“Absolutely,” I said, feeling myself grinning now, “this sounds like the perfect way to fix the Wasteland, and I want to see it in action.

“That being said,” I bent down and picked up her shotgun once more, “when we do eventually encounter raiders again, we’re going to need to at least fight them to a point where they surrender; and if you spend all your magic fighting them, then you might not have enough left over to cast the Reformation Spells, will you?”

The pink mare scowled, but she eventually grunted an acknowledgement to the point that I’d brought up. She was still rather reluctant though, “I don’t see why the rest of you can’t just do that part yourselves. You can’t really believe I’ll make a difference in a fight like that. I saw what you and Arginine did to those other augmented ponies.”

That was a fair point, “do the rest of us need you to help us fight off any raiders we come across?” I asked rhetorically, feigning as though I were actually pondering the question, “probably not. Ramparts and I are long time veterans at this sort of thing, Foxglove’s coming along pretty well, and I’ve recently learned that RG can handle himself too.

“But I’m not actually doing this for our benefit,” I pointedly informed the pink unicorn, much to her apparent surprise, “I’m doing it to help you,” I received a dubious expression from the horned mare.

“The thing is, I can’t promise you that the four of us will always be there for you. Things happen,” my face darkened briefly at the memory of Jackboot vanishing in a green flash. He’d been a pony that I’d taken for granted would always be by my side until, one day, he wasn’t, “and even if everything does work out for all of us, you mentioned early on about wanting to find out what happened to your husband in the Bristol Empire, right?”

“Crystal Empire,” she corrected, to which I waved a dismissive hoof.

“Whatever. My point is, that doesn’t sound like it’s close by?” I looked questioningly at the unicorn, who slowly shook her head in answer, “well, I’m not leaving the valley any time soon, and Ramparts has family here. Have you asked Foxglove and RG if they’re willing to go with you?” I was pretty confident of the answer, and Starlight’s frown served to confirm my suspicions. While there wasn’t necessarily anything tying either of those two to the valley―certainly not after RG’s stable was beaten back―this was still a very familiar place for them. I couldn’t see Foxglove abandoning the place where her old stable was, on the off chance she might be able to go back to her old home. Arginine was harder to read in that respect, but even without sentimental ties to Neighvada, there wasn’t a compelling reason for him to leave it entirely either that I could see.

“How long do you honestly think you’ll last on your own?” I asked the unicorn, “because there’s more out there than just ‘bad ponies’ that you might be able to reform. There are Radscorpions with stingers as big as a grown pony and shells thicker than Steel Ranger power armor. Hell hounds as big as a building that can dice a pony with a single swipe of their claws. Hordes of ghouls that pop up out of the ground without warning and devour you before you realize you’re fucked. Wandering roboponies designed to vaporize anything that moves.

“All those things have been responsible for the deaths of thousands―tens of thousands―of ponies who were, honestly, a lot better prepared to defend themselves than you are. Unicorns who thought they were good with magic. Earth ponies who thought they were tough,” A wry smirk touched my lips as I brought a wingtip over to touch the black patch of leather covering my right eye, “even pegasi who figured they’d be able to fly above it all.

“The Wasteland kills, and it’s been doing it for two hundred years. If you genuinely think you can survive in it on your own after seeing everything that you have in the last month,” I shrugged, “then fine. I’ll stop trying to teach you this stuff. I’ll think you’re wrong, and I’ll think you’ll die before nightfall on your first day out; but if that’s what you genuinely believe by now, then there’s honestly not anything more I can think of to say or do that would convince you otherwise. You won’t be the first idiot to get themselves killed out here; and you won’t be the last.

“In the end, you have to be the one to choose: do you want my help, or do you believe you know better than me about what’s out there, and what it can do to you if you let yourself―even for a moment―believe you’re tougher than the Wasteland,” I said, raising a hoof to gesture to my chest, with its numerous scars collected over a lifetime of shrapnel wounds and gunshots. My whole body was a veritable testament to how savage and brutal a life in the Wasteland could be to a pony who tried to make their living out here.

Starlight stared at me for a long while in silence as she digested my words. Her cyan eyes studied me intently, and it looked like she was even doing so for the first time as she took in the scope of the wounds that I’d received. Part of me wished that I could have dug out a photo of myself from a year ago, or even a couple of months ago, to show her what even that short amount of time could do to a pony. Whether it was my speech that had done it, or the pedigree of my wounds, the unicorn quietly retrieves the shotgun from my grasp with the mouth grip and turned her attention back to the range. She set her stance, lined up the weapon, and fired.

An hour later I was walking towards the base’s radio tower. Ramparts was showing Starlight how to properly clean and maintain her shotgun after we’d finished up at the range―she was hitting her targets nearly a quarter of the time by the end!―and I had nothing else pressing to do with the rest of my day, so I figured that now as as good a time as ever to sit down with the violet unicorn and see if we could go over the information that had been pulled from both the MAS hub in Old Reino, Wind Ryder’s, and the McMaren underground Ministry of Awesome facility. Even though I was confident that we weren’t going to need that weapon’s cache after all in order to convince Princess Luna to give up what the Republic had stolen from the Steel Rangers, given what we’d learned about it; having whatever was in there at hoof when we confronted Arginine’s stable struck me as a good idea.

It also looked like the MoA tracking station had been collecting all sorts of data long after the balefire bombs fell too. I wasn’t positive what useful information could be gleaned from two centuries of stuff like that, but Foxglove might have an idea or two about how we could make use of it if anypony could.

Hopefully I’d be able to pry her away from Homily long enough to get some worthwhile input. The two of them had become nearly inseparable while they’d been working.

“Hey, Foxy, do you have a...minute…”

Okay, when I’d remarked that I’d have to pry the two of them apart, I hadn’t thought that the task would need to be quite as literal as it looked like it was going to be. The violet unicorn’s head shot up from behind a control board, her emerald eyes wide and her expression mortified, “Windy?! I thought we locked the door…”

Homily’s head popped up a moment later, her hoof brushing away her disheveled mane from in front of her eyes as she peered sheepishly in my direction, “right…” she cleared her throat and tapped her hooves together apologetically as she looked back at the violet mare, “by the way, the lock’s been kind of broken for a while now. Can you take a look at it before you go?”

I merely blinked, shifting my gaze between the two mares as certain other details started to register. There was the odor of course, which could, upon first impressions, be mistaken for that of simply a stuffy little room in the Wasteland. Buried beneath that musty air was the scent of sweat and the distinct hint of an aroma that could be best described as ‘feminine’ in nature. Then I noticed that Foxglove’s saddlebags and her heavily pocketed harness with all of its tools had been tossed rather nonchalantly into a far corner of the broadcast center. It would be rather difficult to make any meaningful repairs to the transmission hardware without those readily at hoof.

Foxglove glared briefly at the yellow earth pony mare and then returned her apologetic eyes to me, “I’m sorry, I can explain―”

“I’m going to give you two a minute,” I said as I backed out the door and closed it. Once outside I let out a sigh and leaned back against the wall of the broadcast building.

It’s not like I was upset at Foxglove or anything like that. She was a grown mare who had found another grown mare that was interested in sharing a little ‘alone time’ doing grown mare things with one another. It hardly mattered to me who she hooked up with! Honestly, compared to the last time that I’d walked in on her having sex with somepony, this was a marked improvement as far as I was concerned. At least this time she wasn’t screwing somepony that she knew I was secretly pining for.

There was the sound of somepony fumbling on the other side of the door just before it opened and a violet face popped out, looking around frantically until the pair of jade eyes fell on me, at which point Foxglove finished extracting herself from the building and closed the door behind her. She looked down at her hooves, “you’re not mad, are you?”

I was mad that she asked that question, “of course not!” Foxglove recoiled slightly from the tone I’d used that, admittedly, had been a little harsher than I’d meant it to sound. I took a moment to sooth my own apparently frayed emotions and started again, “Foxy, it’s none of my business who you hook up with. Unless it’s with stallions you know I’m in love with,” I added in a bitter growl.

That made Foxglove wince. Perhaps it had been a little mean and uncalled for, but I didn’t particularly care on that point. I was still quite sore about it, despite Jackboot being long dead and the issue of ever settling down with him laid to rest along with him. It wasn’t something I was necessarily going to hold over the unicorn’s head forever, but I wasn’t going to let her forget that she’d hurt me by acting before thinking.

Not that any of this was why I’d come down here in the first place, “look, I didn’t come down here to talk about that,” I said, holding up my pipbuck, “when it’s a good time, I’d really like to go over all the stuff we pulled out of the MAS hub. I also grabbed a lot of stuff from the underground facility here. I’m hoping that some of it’ll be useful,” while I had yet to put all of the pieces together, I was confident that the Ministry of Awesome had been up to its withers in something big; and I got the impression that they didn’t even want either the Princess or the other ministries to know about it for some reason.

Foxglove brightened somewhat at the prospect, adding, “oh! That reminds me: I managed to salvage some more information from the computers at Wind Ryder’s while we were there waiting for you…” her face fell once more as the unicorn became distraught.

“I’m sorry we didn’t wait longer,” she said, barely meeting my gaze, “I wanted to, but when we couldn’t reach you with the radio...and Ramparts lost your pipbuck tag…” she swallowed, her eyes glistening, “we thought you’d died, Windy.”

I took a breath and nodded, recalling my own feelings of despair at the time, when I was so certain that radiation poisoning was going to claim my life, “I very nearly did; a few times. I don’t hate you guys for not waiting,” I assured her, “I wouldn’t have waited either.”

“We probably should have,” the violet mare continued, sounding bitter now, “maybe then we would have met up with you and not been captured by those stable ponies,” she grumbled, rubbing idly at her side. When she caught me watching the action with a curious eye, she stopped herself and looked away, “I wasn’t much help, it turns out.”

“They’re good fighters,” I said, trying to assuage any guilt that she might be feeling over her failure to protect the caravan they’d been with, “they’ve had a lot of experience ambushing ponies. At night, coming out of nowhere, when they all had pipbucks with SATS and you didn’t? That wasn’t a fight you were going to win.”

“It wasn’t even a fight I was a part of,” she said in a near whisper.

“What do you mean?” she’d clearly been there when it happened, as she’d been captured along with everypony else, right?

“I slept through it. I’d gotten drunk and passed out,” Foxglove admitted ruefully, “I didn’t even know we’d been attacked until I woke up in a cage.”

Oh. Well, that certainly explained why she’d been quiet about the attack until now, “I didn’t have you pegged for a big drinker,” I tried my hoof at a little light humor, not wanting to find myself in the position of consoling anypony who was hating themselves as much as I was. I could barely deal with my own shit, let alone somepony else’s.

“I’m not,” the mare nearly spat, “but you’d just ‘died’, and I knew you’d done it still hating me for what I did to you with Jackboot. I knew you still thought of me as a useless stable pony who couldn’t understand you,” she finally turned to face me again, and I could now see that her cheeks were wet with tears, her emerald eyes brimming with pain that she couldn’t keep back any longer, “I don’t want you to hate me, Windfall. I’m so sorry for what I did, and I don’t have an excuse. I wasn’t thinking, and it was stupid, and I can’t even think of a reason why I did it in the first place, which I know doesn’t make sense and isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s the truth!

“I respect you so much more than that, I swear,” the unicorn continued, wiping her nose with the back of her fetlock, “I’d never do anything to hurt you. You’ve done so much for me―I owe you my life! All I want is to help you. I already screwed over a pony I really cared about once before because I was thinking about myself, and it cost me everything I ever had. Now I have a whole new life and a second chance, and I feel like I fucked it all up again. And the worst part is that I didn’t even want what screwed it up this time.

“I hated Jackboot,” she said through gritted teeth, “I hated what he was, and what he was doing to you,” I had to give it to Foxglove; it must have taken a lot of courage for her to continue speaking to me like she was, knowing exactly how furious my expression must have been by this point. I bit my tongue though. This time. I was content to let her speak her piece in its entirety before lashing her verbally. Not that I found it an easy thing to do, and the ground certainly suffered where my hoof was gouging a rather deep furrow into it.

“You didn’t see the stallion I did. The conniving, manipulative, rapist. I know you don’t want to hear it, Windfall, but he attacked me! He threatened you too. He threatened to abuse you unless I...did things to him―with him. He was as bad as Tommyknocker―worse, in some ways.”
It was really hard not to say anything. If it wasn’t for a little yellow pegasus who had essentially wrapped herself around my mouth in an effort to keep it shut, I would have said quite a lot, and none of it ‘pleasant’.
She closed her eyes and wrapped her hooves around herself tight, as though trying to comfort herself, “but as much as I hated him, I hated myself more for not being strong enough to say ‘no’. I should have dared him to try it so that I could show you what kind of pony he really was…

“Then…” she swallowed, took a deep breath, and seemed to deflate, “then he...changed. He stopped coercing me. He left you alone, even when you went to him all on your own. It was like he was a different pony somehow. I can’t explain it.”

“Is that when you fucked him of your own free will?” I snapped my mouth shut, not having intended to speak that thought out loud.

Foxglove winced beneath the remark and slumped against the broadcast building, “I never thought of him like that, not even then. I just...I can’t explain it. I’ve been on my cycle before and found myself thinking about just about any stallion that crossed my path. That’s nothing new, and it wasn’t anywhere near my time of the year. I don’t know if it was the stress, or what. I just...needed a stallion, right then and there,” she buried her head in her hooves in shame, “I couldn’t even control myself, it was ridiculous! It was like I was some drunk, hormonal, teen riding Dash for the first time!

“I know hearing me say that it didn’t mean anything and that I didn’t even like Jackboot isn’t what you want to hear, and that it doesn’t forgive what I did―Celestia knows I’ll never forgive myself―but I need you to know it wasn’t malicious. I didn’t want to hurt you. I made a mistake, and I fucked up, and you’ll never know how sorry I am about it.

“I fucked up a lot, and I know that. I just...I don’t want you to hate me for it, Windfall. Please don’t hate me for it.”

A long, deafening, silence hung between the two of us as I carefully considered how I was going to respond. It took the concerted efforts of most of the little ponies in my head to keep me from simply lash her verbally and tear the unicorn down into little pieces. I had to temper that guttural inclination with the knowledge that, though hurtful, nothing she had said had been intended as malicious. Foxglove had been informing me simply of how Jackboot had been perceived by her, and I had to be mindful of perceptions.

I was also forced to admit that, in the grand scheme of things, I’d only known Jackboot for a brief period of his life. Certainly, I’d known him far longer than Foxglove had, but I couldn’t, in good conscience, claim that I truly knew who Jackboot was as a pony. My rosy recollections of him were very biased, based on what he’d done for me growing up. I’d known very little about him, it turned out, back then. There was doubtlessly a great deal I didn’t know about him even now, and would never know.

I didn’t want to believe that Jackboot would ever think of taking advantage of a young mare, and use her like a sex object. That wasn’t the kind of pony I saw him as. However, I was forced to remind myself that, long before he’d taken me into his care, he’d been a White Hoof; and that sort of sickening scenario sounded exactly like the kind of thing that I’d expect to hear said about them. As did Foxglove’s allegations about coercing her into servicing him. That too was what a White Hoof would do. If anything, they’d be a lot less subtle about it.

Did I want to think that what Foxglove was saying about the stallion I cared so deeply about was true? Of course not. However, I also couldn’t dismiss that niggling little kernel of doubt that had been sewed in my head. Maybe that was why I really hated Foxglove right now. It wasn’t because I truly believed she was making all of this up in an effort to maliciously sabotage my memories of Jackboot.

It was because I knew it was probably all true.

A part of me started wishing that she really had just been trying to steal Jackboot away from me. That pain had hurt far less than the twisting dagger in my heart that was carving up all of my fond memories of the older earth pony stallion.
Not that wanting something to be true had ever changed facts.

“I don’t hate you, Foxglove,” I finally heard myself say. The words sounded detached and hollow, even to my own ears. It was probably due to the shock that I was still experiencing as I digested what she’d told me, “I know you care. I guess I just hate that the world was actually shittier than I thought it was. The Wasteland gives you so few good moments that, when you think you find one, you just grab for it and hold on for all your worth, because you don’t know when the next one will come; if it ever does.

“Jackboot showed up at the darkest moment of my entire life. He offered me hope when I had none. I never wanted to think of him as anything less than a good pony―a hero; because that would mean losing that good moment,” I sighed, “it would mean that...I loved a monster; and what kind of pony would love a monster, who wasn’t also one?

“Even now, hearing everything you said he did...there’s that tiny little voice that can’t help but wonder if the two of us couldn’t have had a life together someday? That part that remembers the times we laughed together, as few and far between as they were,” Jackboot wasn’t prone to that sort of thing even on a good day.

“How am I supposed to feel about having fond memories of a rapist?” I cast a glance in Foxglove’s direction, but the unicorn had no answers for me. Neither did I, “it’s easier for me to think of him as a good pony who just wasn’t as good as he could have been than it is for me to believe he was just pretending that whole time.

“I’m sorry for what he did to you. I’m sorry you felt like you had to go through that to keep me safe. I appreciate that you thought you were helping me, and I don’t want you to feel like you went through it for nothing.

“You’ve done a lot for me, Foxglove. I’m not just talking about the gear and stuff either. You helped get me away from the White Hooves. You’ve tried to keep me level headed and stuck by me, even when I tried to push you away. You’re probably the most loyal pony I’ve ever known,” I took a deep breath, “and I’ve treated you like shit for very childish reasons.

“I’m sorry about that too.”

The violet unicorn mare stared at me for a long moment, sniffling and wiping at her nose and eyes, “wow. Where did all of that come from?”

A snort and a mirthful chuckle escaped my lips, “I’ve been spending my nights talking with a very smart pony,” that first day had not been my only session with Arginine. I’d made such conversations a regular part of my evenings, sequestered in his room for a few hours, usually until one of both of us simply fell asleep―typically myself. There may or may not have also been a bit of cuddling as well. No sex, certainly not until I’d found a way to take foals out of the equation; but Arginine wasn’t shy about demonstrating how much he knew about pony anatomy. Certainly not as shy as I was about making our ‘relationship’ public quite yet.

“It shows,” Foxglove nodded her approval, almost completely recovered by now, “and, thank you. It means a lot to me to hear you say all of that. I don’t think I’d ever quite thought about it that way,” the unicorn took a moment to compose herself further before taking a deep breath, “but we were here to talk about the information on your pipbuck,” she said, bringing our conversation back around full circle, “I’m actually working on putting something together that will help us sort out all of the data we’ve collected and compile it into something that makes sense.”

I flashed the mare a dubious look, prompting her to make a minor addendum, “er...I intend to work on something, I mean,” she blushed slightly, clearing her throat, “It’ll be done by morning.”

Her tone at the end had sounded like she was indeed rather committed to that timetable, and I didn’t have any reason to doubt her on that, “alright. I’ll bring Ramparts by in the morning and we’ll see what we can learn.”

“Sounds good,” Foxglove agreed. She then went quiet for a few seconds before hesitantly adding, “I should get back in there,” she said, nodding towards the door, “lot’s of work to do,” she earned another look from me, which she avoided as she slipped back inside and closed the door behind her.

Even if I’d felt compelled to rail on about her distracting herself with personal relationships while there was important work to do, I wasn’t inclined to make myself that much of a hypocrite. She had said that she’d be ready by tomorrow morning, and I trusted her word on that. Besides, I wasn’t feeling quite as mentally leveled as I’d have liked after that little discussion regarding Jackboot. I was going to need a little personal time with somepony too right now.

I made my way to what passed for an infirmary on the base. It was a rather recent addition, put together in the wake of the attack as a central location for those who were still recovering from their wounds to receive treatment. Homily’s crew hadn’t really had anypony who could reasonably be called a ‘doctor’, not really. I wasn’t sure if it was something that it somehow hadn’t occurred for them to bring, or if whoever they had tapped for the position had been killed when their group was first captured on their way here. Recent events had finally spurred Homily to correct the oversight, and she’d sent out a call for additional ponies to help bolster McMaren’s defenses, and to be sure that a medical professional was among them.

She didn’t have the benefit of a firm benefactor back in New Reino anymore who was ready to invest a great deal of caps in the enterprise, but I guess she’d garnered at least a few favors that she was capable of calling in with the caravans that she’d warned over the months. The unearthed facility that had been hidden beneath the base also provided the ponies here with an unexpected source of wealth that could be traded for what they were no longer being funded to simply buy outright.

Homily was being a little bit coy about announcing their newfound wealth, of course. The last thing that she wanted to do was invite raiders and the like; but she was confident that she could make accommodating enough arrangements with the major caravan owners. I even asked her to pass along my own personal recommendation to Summer Glade and her husband that they start doing business with the ponies here.

However, those reinforcements and skilled professionals would not be arriving for quite some time, and the ponies here needed care now. In that interim period, Arginine was serving as the medic overseeing their ongoing care. While not a medical professional―a fact he extolled at reminding everypony whenever they called him ‘Doc’―he possessed the indisputably greatest knowledge of how healthy ponies were supposed to function of anypony.

As I brushed aside the canvas flap that was currently serving as the infirmary’s door, I found that Arginine was in the midst of treating one of his regular patients: a stallion whose hind leg had been mangled by a Steel Ranger missile which had detonated too close to him. Compared to the pair of ponies who’d lost their lives in the same explosion, it could be said that he’d gotten off extremely light, all things considered. While his life had certainly been saved by the timely administration of a healing potion or two, there hadn’t been a lot of time in the midst of the fighting to do a ‘proper’ job of treating him, and so the healing provided by the magical elixir hadn’t been as definitive as it could have been.

Currently, the maimed stallion in question was lying on his side on top of the clinic’s singular treatment bed. His head was canted awkwardly as his enthralled gaze remained fixed on what the genetically tailored pony was doing to his leg. As I got closer, I could see that there was actually some minor surgery going on. A small pile of Med-X syringes in a garbage bin suggested how the pony being operated on could appear to be perfectly content with what was happening to his leg right now.

For my own part, I was caught between my own overriding intrigue as it very narrowly managed to win out over those reflexive feelings of revulsion brought on by the sight of seeing so much exposed pony flesh. My long history of exposure to vivisected corpses―some of my own making―in combination with how eerily ‘clean’ the visible musculature looked was enough to suppress whatever desire I might have to look away as I approached. Arginine glanced briefly away from what he was doing at the sound of my hoofsteps, just long enough to acknowledge my arrival, before returning his full attention to what he was doing.

I assumed an unobtrusive perch off to the side that still provided me with a clear line of sight and waited patiently. As I looked on, Arginine finished making what were apparently the final cuts meant to separate the ligaments affixing his patient’s calf muscle to his knee joint. He then very carefully guided those detached sinews to a new part of the underlying bone that was only a few fractions of an inch away from where they’d just been attached. The fine metal tools clutched in his telekinetic field somehow managed to be both gentle in how they handled the vulnerable flesh they gripped, and aggressive as they fought the tense muscles that resisted being stretched out as Arginine was trying to. The gray unicorn won out in the end, gingerly applying those ligaments to their new home. Once satisfied with their placement, he lifted a syringe filled with purple fluid that look remarkably similar to what healing potions contained and started applying the fluid with, well, surgical precision, I guess.

The selectively secreted fluid did as it was designed and melded the flesh to the bone as though it had always been there. Arginine continued injecting the healing draught droplet by droplet as he meticulously rearranged the flesh and sinew of the stallion’s exposed leg. His amber eyes scrutinized and evaluated the progress with the same intent gaze that I’d seen on Foxglove’s face while she was working on the Gale Force. He wasn’t fixing a hobbled pony’s mangled leg. He was restoring a broken piece of equipment to the way that it should be in order to function properly. That leg was all just squishy machinery to him.

Eventually, he was finally satisfied with his work and set about closing up the incisions that he’d made with a combination of suturing and more healing potions. Once the flesh was sealed up completely, the gray stallion retrieved a knee brace made of leather and steel and strapped it to his patient’s leg, “you should have full range of motion once it is done healing. Leave the brace in place for a week, no less,” came the brusk stallion’s instructions as he started cleaning up his equipment, “there will be stiffness and weakness for a time, but little pain if any.”

The other stallion looked between his braced knee and the larger pony who’d been working on him as he very carefully slipped off the table, mindful of the lingering numbness that still remained as he heavily favored the afflicted leg, “thanks a lot, Doc! You’re a miracle worker,” he reached out a hoof to Arginine in gratitude, but the stallion merely regarded him with his stoic golden eyes. Hesitantly, the smaller pony withdrew the hoof and laughed sheepishly, “right. They warned me you weren’t a ‘touching’ kind of pony. Sorry.”

“You are under no obligation to apologize for the actions you take out of habit as a result of a lifetime of indoctrinated social customs,” I found myself hiding a grin as I saw the other stallion’s eyes start to glaze over as he processed what Arginine was saying to him, “I accept your gratitude in the spirit in which it was offered, as I have been informed it is only polite to do so. I require nothing else from you. You may take your leave so that I can sterilize my equipment,” he glanced briefly in my direction, “and it seems that my colleague has need of my attention as well.”

The other pony blinked, “right...” he shook himself and smiled at me now, waving his hoof, “Wonderbolt!”

I waved my own hoof in polite reply and nodded, “we’re here to help,” I said as he turned and very awkwardly limped out of the clinic. I turned my gaze from the canvas flap and watched as Arginine did just as he had said he would and began to tidy up. For a couple minutes, I didn’t say anything at all, I simply sat there and watched him work. Part of it was because what I’d come here to say was kind of important, and I didn’t want Arginine to feel distracted, and I knew that the stallion didn’t do ‘small talk’. It would annoy him if I just started talking at him for the sake of making noise so that nopony felt awkward.

Arginine didn’t feel ‘awkward’ around ponies when nopony was saying anything. It was probably how he’d just as soon have every interaction with another surface pony go. For my own part, I was content enough to just sit and watch him work. It was...cathartic, in its own way. Everything the stallion did was approached with such seriousness that it kind of fascinated me. I only took a few things as serious as Arginine seemed to take everything. Part of that was his expression, I was sure. He had such an intense look about him whenever he was doing something, like he was constantly evaluating everything to make sure it was being done in the most efficient and effective way possible.

He was his stable in pony form: on a perpetual quest for perfection in everything, even a task as mundane as washing a scalpel.

Finally, the larger gray unicorn reached a point in his routine where he felt he could divide his focus, “you are not injured,” it was an observation, not a question, “so you are here for matters unrelated to medical treatment,” his peered over his shoulder at me, his amber eyes studying me for a short time before looking away again, “you are agitated. Are you seeking counsel, or sensual stimulation?”

I felt my lip quirk in a smile. Right to the point. That was my RG, “I was talking with Foxglove. Things got heated,” even though he didn’t look at me, I could see one of his ears swiveled in my direction. He was listening to what I had to say, and not just to be polite. Arginine didn’t do things just to be polite, after all. I continued, “Jackboot came up. She said some things about him that I didn’t like hearing.”

“You have previously mentioned Miss Foxglove’s animosity towards your former mentor,” he noted, “so this is not what has agitated you,” I picked up the slight inflection in his tone that suggested there was a small questioning element to that last statement. Only somepony who knew Arginine like I did would have picked up on it. He might be a completely rational pony, but he had come to understand that the same thing couldn’t be said for the average Wasteland resident. So while he knew that he wouldn’t have been agitated by something like that, he wasn’t as convinced that I wasn’t. Hence the veiled request for confirmation.

“I know she didn’t like him,” I admitted, “but this time she said some...things about him―things she claims he specifically did to her,” I felt myself tensing all over again as I recalled her comments, “bad things. Very bad things.”

“Are you upset that Jackboot harmed Miss Foxglove?”

“Of course,” I balked, a little hurt at the suggestion that I wouldn’t feel bad about something bad happening to Foxglove, “I mean, if it was true.”

“You doubt her integrity,” the stallion said before he paused, turned his head once more and narrowed his eyes at me, “no…if you believed Miss Foxglove was lying to you, you would have confronted her, not come to discuss the matter with me,” I found that I couldn’t help but look away from him as he drew his conclusion, “you doubt your own integrity.”

I winced, “I don’t know if what she’s saying is true,” I affirmed, “maybe it is. Maybe she was misreading things. I don’t know.”

“You do,” Arginine countered in his typically stern tone, prompting another small wince from myself. His perceptiveness was sometimes quite frustrating. Though, I suppose it was made him so good at helping me with this stuff. I couldn’t lie to this pony, even by accident.

“I mean, I know that he was a White Hoof. He admitted that he did a lot of really bad stuff back then. I wanted to believe that he’d changed, but…” I shrugged, “what if he didn’t? What if he was never the pony I thought he was, and it was all just an act?”

“In such a case, it would be reasonable to expect you to have been easily deceived,” Arginine replied simply, earning a frown from myself, after which he amended, “you indicated that you were very young when you began traveling with him; naive,” I didn’t particularly care for that specific word, but I supposed that it was technically accurate enough, so I nodded, if reluctantly, “it is quite easily to manipulate ponies in such a state. You cannot be faulted for being the victim of his deceptions under those circumstances.”

I really didn’t like thinking about Jackboot like this. It hurt. A lot. Mostly because, “what does it say about me then? Everything I am, I am because of Jackboot. If it was all just a lie―an act―then what am I?”

“Your question is based upon the predication that you were and are possessed of no inherent personality traits; and that only Jackboot contributed to your morality.”

“He raised me,” I pointed out.

“Which I will concede likely gave him a great amount of influence over the end result,” he nodded, “but every outcome, no matter the external influences, is possessed of an intrinsic maximum deviation from its source material,” he then gestured at himself, “even my stable’s own efforts are so constrained. There are only four nitrogenous bases that can be used to arrange DNA chains. Only so many of those arrangements produce viable results, and they are required to be in very specific locations within the genome to have any effect.

“These restrictions existed before we began making our alterations, and we are bound to work within those restrictions,” he then gestured at me, “you were possessed of a personality, morality, and personal values before you encountered Jackboot. Any malicious, or even benevolent, influence he might have attempted to exert over you would have been required to incorporate itself into your existing psyche.”

I thought about what the stallion was saying, mulling it over in my head as I tried very hard to compare the pony I was now, to the little filly who’d grown up on that ranch. I hadn’t thought much about that little farmer pegasus over the years. It hadn’t seemed like anything that she’d ever done or been through had really mattered much in the wider Wasteland. I didn’t need to know how to milk brahmin out here. Sewing had been useful on occasion. I wish I’d paid more attention to Ma when she’d cooked. Most of what I did these days had been taught to me by Jackboot.

Then I remembered a conversation that I’d had with the older earth pony stallion. We’d struck a deal, he and I. He hadn’t particularly cared for that deal, and he had pushed back on a few occasions over the years. I had wanted to hunt down White Hooves and other ‘bad ponies’. Jackboot had preferred that I not, but had eventually caved in and agreed to teach me everything that I’d need to know how to do in order to accomplish that task.

So maybe I had had a hoof in the way I’d turned out after all—unless Jackboot was a lot more clever than even I was prepared to accept that he was. Not that that particular thought did a whole lot to fill me with relief. As much as I might have been loath to cast blame on Jackboot for just about anything, a small, treacherous, portion of my brain had started to toy with the notion that I might now have a valid excuse for those murderous inclinations of mine. I’d asked Jackboot to teach me how to kill, and he had, and now I did. It was slightly more palatable than the notion that it was all the result of something buried deep down in the core of who I was.

“So you’re saying that Jackboot couldn’t have made me a killer?” I said in a defeated tone as I slumped against the larger stallion’s backside.

“I am saying that it is highly unlikely that he could have influenced you to do anything fundamentally against your nature,” he said by way of a correction, adding after a moment, “may we discuss a topic of my choosing?”

“Shoot,” I was quite curious to know what Arginine wanted to talk about for a change, given how little he tended to volunteer any information at all.

“You constantly lament the taking of pony lives, and I have directly observed the effect it has on your temperament. I would like to offer this observation: I am doubtful that you are inclined towards equicide.”

I frowned over my shoulder at the stallion, “what are you talking about? Of course I’m good at killing ponies. I’ve been doing it for years. You’ve seen me in action, you know what I’m capable of.”

“Indeed, you possess remarkable martial prowess,” he admitted with a slight nod, “but your proficiency in combat was not what I was referring to. I was remarking on your psychological inclination,” he canted his head and looked at me out of the corner of his eye, “you don’t like killing, and you have avoided doing so whenever you make a determination that there are other viable options.

“Those are not the actions of a pony who experiences compulsions to kill.”

“What about that pony outside of Notel?” I pointed out, “I blew his brains out from a few hundred yards away long after he stopped being a threat. I couldn’t stop myself from doing it.”

“That is true. However, I am concerned about counting that as a valid data point, given the circumstances,” I quirked an eyebrow, and he elaborated, “you were, at that time, still suffering the effects of having had your cutie mark excised. Miss Starlight Glimmer might be able to provide greater insight into the likely side effects of such a procedure, but I imagine they include emotional instability.”

“I didn’t feel much like myself,” I admitted in a soft tone as my thoughts flashed back to how I’d felt during those weeks. There had been that unmistakable...emptiness. I didn’t want to go through it again.

“I observed many serious deviations from your baseline behavior,” Arginine confirmed, “and an immediate improvement in nearly all areas upon being rejoined with your cutie mark. You have recently informed me that this has also included another instance wherein you refrained from taking the life of another, even when presented with both the opportunity, and a generally accepted premise for doing so.”

“I let the Ranger live, yeah. Hoplite didn’t even try to stop me. That mare deserved to die for what she did, killing another pony when he was defenseless like that. I’d already stopped him from being a threat to them. There wasn’t any reason for her to do that, other than being an asshole Steel Ranger.

“I just…”I let out a tired sigh, “I really didn’t want to kill anypony when it wasn’t going to change anything. She wasn’t a threat to anypony anymore either. Killing her would have just been...vindictive, or whatever.”

“Would the taking of her life not have been a just punishment for her crime against the ponies of McMaren?” Arginine offered. Not that he particularly cared for what passed for the Wasteland judicial system. His stable was out to wipe us all out. What did they care if we killed a few more of ourselves off for them?

“Maybe,” I answered with a shrug. Homily hadn’t said much about how she felt about what I’d done, if she did even have any strong feelings. I figured that she just wasn’t in the habit of ridiculing the filly who’d saved her life a few times, “but who would it have helped? The stallion was already dead, so he couldn’t have cared less. Another dead Ranger wasn’t going to do Hoplite any favors either. All it would have been was one more dead pony. The Wasteland has enough of those.”

“I submit to you that a pony whose destiny was to take lives would not be possessed of such an outlook.”
“Then how do you explain me having a sword for a cutie mark?” I retorted, “or getting it immediately after I killed somepony?”

“If you are looking for insight into specific cutie mark symbology, then I would once again suggest that you have a conversation with an expert on such things, like Miss Starlight Glimmer,” the large gray stallion suggested, “as to the circumstances surrounding its appearance: when you told me the story, your goal was to save your mentor, and your intent had been to intimidate the farmer pony assaulting him.

“I find it unlikely that one’s talent would be an action they performed only by accident.”

I didn’t have anything to say in response immediately as I mulled over what Arginine had said to me. It was a pleasant thought, to be sure, that my destiny wasn’t to kill. Not that I was about to take the stallion at his word. Like he’d said: he wasn’t an expert on this sort of thing. Neither was I, so who were either of us to say how and why somepony got their cutie mark? Given her field of professed expertise, I did think that Starlight Glimmer would be a good ear to sound these worries of mine off of.

“Does this put your most recent concerns to rest?”

“It helps,” I finally said, offering a wan smile. I wasn’t sure if there was anything that could completely dispel those dark thoughts that kept tugging at the far reaches of my mind. There was darkness in me, of that nopony could deny; and I had leashed that darkness upon ponies more than once in my life. In all likelihood, I would do so again, as well. The hope that it was a side of me that I could combat, and maybe even restrain, was a pleasant one.

From anypony else, I would have just accepted it as a pleasant little white lie meant to make me feel better; but, from Arginine…

I rolled off of the stallion’s backside and craned my head up, meeting his lips with mine for a brief embrace, “thank you,” I turned and headed for the canvas flap that covered the doorway, pausing just before I let it fall behind me, “oh, and there’s going to be a meeting in the morning. Foxglove thinks she’s found a way to put all of the information that we’ve gathered together and make some sense out of it.”

“I will be in attendance,” the gray unicorn assured me as he put away the last of his recently sterilized equipment.

“You’ll also be in my room tonight, right?” I asked, flashing the stallion a sly wink.

“As you wish.”

Foot Note: Level Up!
Perk Added: Ferocious Loyalty -- When you're low on health, your companions become tougher to take down.

CHAPTER 39: SING, SING, SING!

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This next piece reminds me of something my husband said: Friendship is like a violin. Even if the music stops, you'll still have the strings

“...one final connection and...there!”

The violet mare hopped back from her creation with an eager expression on her face, her left hoof outstretched in triumph as she presented her latest creation to the select group of ponies present in McMaren’s broadcasting building. Her audience all locked their gaze on the product of her labors, which resembled a rather badly mangled computer terminal, and waited expectantly.

Nothing happened.

Foxglove held her victory pose for almost ten whole seconds, her grin becoming more and more strained as the seconds dragged on, until finally she scoured at the device, “―the hay?” she lashed out with her hoof and delivered a sharp kick to the monitor, “come on you glorified scrap pile―!”

Whether genuinely brought to life by the mare’s percussive maintenance, or the object’s little joke had finished running its course, the machine finally came to life, lighting up with an extensive array of lights of all sizes and colors as the crystalline circuitry powered on. The terminal’s enlarged monitor, which was actually four of them of varying sizes arranged in a rough rectangle, flashed green and then black before filling briefly with lines of scrolling text. After a few seconds, all that remained was a steadily blinking cursor that appeared after the words:

>> AWAITING INPUT

“That’s more like it,” the emerald-eyed mare grumbled as she cast one final pointed glare at the stubborn machine.

“So...what exactly is this thing going to do?” Ramparts asked.

“Hopefully,” I felt myself smirk slightly at the emphasis that the mechanically-minded mare placed upon the qualifier, “this will let us make sense of all the data that we’ve been gathering on those pipbucks of yours,” she pointed a hoof at me and Ramparts, “the stuff we gathered from that bunker where we found Starlight, Wind Ryder’s, the MAS hub in Old Reino, and even what Windfall pulled from that MoA facility beneath us; there’s a lot of stuff to go through and make sense of. If we tried to do it ourselves, it could take months, or even years. Maybe longer if we get distracted by things that we mistake for important that are meaningless.

“What this is designed to do,” she patted the terminal cautiously, as though concerned she might bump it back into silence if it were to be manipulated too roughly, “is seek out linked data points and collate them into something sensical. Hopefully,” there was that word again. This time it wasn’t quite so amusing though, “it’ll have something to do with that weapons cache the Republic is after.”

I noticed Starlight Glimmer grimace out of the corner of my eye, “I suppose it’s too much to hope that your plan is to just destroy them?”

All eyes in the room turned to the pink unicorn mare, but it was Ramparts that actually said something, “of course we’re not going to destroy them. We’re turning them over the the Republic so that they can use them to repel the Steel Ranger threat and begin securing the valley,” the earth pony stallion turned towards me, “right?”

That...had indeed been the plan. I suppose that there wasn’t a reason that it couldn’t still be the plan, even if some aspects of it had changed, “the Rangers have agreed to withdraw from Neighvada as long as we get the MoA computer from the Republic. Hoplite assures me that the Rangers don’t want it back, because of what’s inside of it,” Starlight gave a firm nod of agreement with her own hardened features, “but they don’t want the Republic to have something like that either.

“But we’ll need those weapons to fight off RG’s stable anyway, and I trust the NLR with them more than one of the local mercenary groups.”

“Hmm,” it was obvious that the purple-maned unicorn wasn’t thrilled with my answer, but she at least seemed to accept it. I couldn’t imagine what she had against the Republic, given her very short tenure in the Wasteland, but I made a note to talk to her about it at a later date.

In the meantime, we had more immediate concerns, “so how do we get our answers?”

Foxglove motioned for me and the earth pony stallion to approach, “I just need to plug your pipbucks into the ports here,” her horn began to glow, holding up a pair of cables which ended in adapters designed to interface with pipbucks.

The pair of us held out our left forelegs and allowed out fetlock-mounted devices to be hooked up the the machine. Each time a cable was attached, the computer emitted a pleasant tone and a line of text flashed across the monitor announcing that a properly calibrated interface had been established. Once both pipbucks were connected, Foxglove tapped out a series of short commands and executed the program that she’d written for the occasion. Both the array of four mismatched screens mounted onto the computer, and my own field of vision, filled with line after line of scrolling numbers and text as Foxglove’s creation sifted through the massive quantities of collected data. All the while, the violet unicorn monitored the terminal’s progress.

“Wow,” she said in a breathless voice, “there’s a lot more data here than I expected,” she jabbed at the keyboard and isolated one of the screens for her own use while the other three continued to display more streams of incoming data, “Windfall, what have you been up to? There’s...wow.”

“Jackboot and I got around,” I said with a shrug.

“I’ll say,” the mare continued to direct her creation, and singled out another of the monitors―the largest one―as a location to display what I took to be the machine’s output. There wasn’t all that much printed out on it just yet, but the list was growing, “these are what the computer has identified as relevant data points,” she informed us, studying the text.

Then the mare frowned, “or...it was supposed to be,” she murmured before turning her attention back to the console she was working, “maybe I accidentally called up the junk file…”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“Well, it’s just,” the unicorn sighed as she gestured at the display, “look at what it’s calling up: whistles, holographic costumes, recreational flight assistance modules. These aren’t components for weapons. They’re...theme park attractions, or something.”

“Horseapples,” I trotted over and peered over the unicorn’s shoulder at the monitor, “we pulled all of this data from encrypted government computers, some of which were inside secret facilities that the general public weren’t even supposed to know were there. There’s no way in Celestia’s blighted Wasteland that they were shipping toys around the valley in secret like that!”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you,” Foxglove said in a defeated tone as she sat back from the console, “but that’s the stuff that the computer is saying is the connected data from your pipbucks: the MoA was dealing in recreational commodities.”

“I don’t buy it,” I insisted, “it’s a cover. It has to be; and why not? The Ministry of Awesome has been hiding everything up to this point.

“Where was it all going?”

“Well, that much I can tell you,” Foxglove went back to the keyboard and turned one of the monitors into a map that looked a lot like what my pipbuck would show, “the Wind Ryder flight hours for all of these deliveries converges right here,” she tapped at an amber box on the map, “and the tracking data from the bunker under us confirms that there was a lot of traffic going to and from this location, though none of it came directly from Old Reino.”

“We already knew they took roundabout routes to hide their tracks,” I pointed out, adding, “and there’s no reason to do that with ‘toys’. Unless Rainbow Dash was running some sort of underground charity for foals,” I had intended for that last bit to be humorous. My joke fell flat with at least one of my companions though.

“Before or after she stuffed them into computers?” Starlight very nearly growled.

The rest of us were silent for a few uncomfortable seconds until Ramparts finally reached out a consoling hoof to the unicorn mare, leaning over to mumble something into her ear that seemed to sooth her. For the moment, at least. I was honestly debating what to do with the pink unicorn when we went to our audience with Princess Luna. While there would certainly be advantages to having a pony present whom the princess would recognize as a way to legitimize our petition for her to relinquish the stolen computer, the last thing we needed was an irate unicorn there spouting a lot of vitriol―if justified―epithets while we tried to negotiate with the Republic’s ruler.

I could empathize with how emotionally taxing this all was for Starlight, I really could. I knew exactly what it was like to know that members of your family were suffering while you felt powerless to do anything about it. It wasn’t a position I’d want anypony to find themselves in. That didn’t mean that it was going to help our efforts for Starlight to keep those emotions simmering at the surface like this.

“We have the coordinates,” I went on in an effort to get us back on track. We had a mission to complete, after all, “and they’ll be our next stop after Seaddle.”

Foxglove reached over and disconnected our pipbucks from the computer that she’d built, “I’ll keep this running through the data a bit longer to see if it can find any other connections,” she paused and raised a hoof, “which reminds me, actually: I made an interesting discovery with Homily while we under her console…”

I looked at the unicorn with wide, unbelieving eyes, “―are you―? Foxglove, do we really need to hear about how your bang session went?”

Well that certainly got everypony’s attention! Even Arginine, of all ponies, was gaping at the violet unicorn mare―I mean, it was an Arginine ‘gape’, but still. The violet mare sputtered and spurted as she stumbled over her own surprise in an attempt to respond before finally finding her voice again.

You wouldn’t think a purple pony could blush, but you’d be wrong, “I―we―! That’s not―! Working! We were working under her console! Sweet Celestia, Windfall!”

“Not when I found her she wasn’t,” I murmured as an aside to Arginine. The stallion quirked a brow in my direction but otherwise kept my confidence as the other members of our group recomposed themselves.

“As I was saying,” Foxglove said, clearing her throat as she continued from where I had interrupted her, “I noticed while I was working,” her gaze lingered on me for a second as she stressed the word. I said nothing, “that the cabling leading to the transmitter tower was a lot thicker than it probably needs to be.”

“What’s significant about that?” Ramparts pressed the violet unicorn.

“For the most part, the range that a radio tower has is determined by two things: it’s height, and the wattage being pumped into it. This base’s tower is pretty tall―which is why Homily wanted to use it in the first place―which is what lets it reach most of the valley.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming,” I noted, and received a nod from Foxglove.

“But, I’m getting the impression that it could potentially reach a lot farther if it had more generators powering it,” she shared a knowing look with me, “and there were quite a few dead generators with the one that I got working the first time we were here.”

“What kind of range are we talking about here?” Starlight piped up.

Foxglove shrugged, “if the mountains surrounding the valley weren’t in the way, maybe all the way to Manehattan.”

“Why?” Ramparts asked, “I mean, if the mountains were going to stop the signal anyway, why go through the trouble of setting them up with all that power?”

“Honestly, there’s ways around that,” the mechanically inclined unicorn explained, “the right kind of relay towers could actually feed off the raw power of the transmission and use it to retransmit the signal over the mountains. Honestly, that’s not the best way to do it. Relay towers work a lot better if they have their own dedicated power sources; but it’s possible.”

“If it’s such an inefficient way to do it, then why bother?” Ramparts asked, “it sounds like it’s actually a lot of extra trouble.”

A thought occurred to me, and I ventured an answer just as Foxglove began to shake her head in ignorance of a plausible answer, “because I bet a power generator requires a lot more resources. You have to order them, set them up, maintain them,” I glanced at Foxglove, “these things that use the power of the transmission they’re relying; I’m guessing they don’t need a lot of care? They sound like they’re pretty much just metal towers.”

“There’s some circuitry,” she corrected, “capacitors mostly. But, you’re right, it’s stuff that can last a long time without anypony looking in on it.”

“Something that would be easy to keep off the record and hide way off the beaten path,” I received a nod from the violet mare, “like most everything else the Ministry of Awesome has in this valley.”

“But why?” Foxglove asked, “what would the MoA want with a radio tower that can reach across all of Equestria? Especially when the MASEB already exists? Heck, the MASEB towers were already an MoA project!” she pressed further, referring to the massive monolithic towers that dotted the distance mountain ranges ringing the Neighvada Valley, and were the source of DJ Pon3’s own broadcasts.

She had a point. It was rather odd that the Rainbow Dash would direct her ministry to set up two completely independent means by which to broadcast across Old Equestria. There was the sound of a throat clearing from Starlight Glimmer as the pink unicorn mare raised a hoof.

“Actually, while the towers themselves were built by the MoA, the Emergency Broadcast System was a Ministry of Arcane Science endeavor. We routinely let other organizations use the system to send message traffic though.”

It was starting to make a little more sense now, “as secretive as the MoA was being here, I doubt they’d want to use another ministry’s equipment to send their messages,” I received a nod of agreement from the purple-mane mare.

“They could have set this stuff up in the sky though, right?” Ramparts asked, point up with one of his hooves, “that’d be a super easy way to keep this all a secret, right?”

“Perhaps,” Foxglove agreed, looking pensive, “I couldn’t get a really good look at that pegasus terminal down below―being made of clouds and all. I know what kind of materials it would take to make the kind of relay they’d need. Maybe they just can’t replicate them with their ‘cloud tech’ or whatever.”

“In any case,” I said, “I don’t think how they built this little network of there’s is nearly as important as why. I don’t suppose that anypony has any ideas?”

“Sending message traffic without the other ministries knowing it,” Starlight supplied almost immediately.

“Wouldn’t it just be one-way traffic though?” I pointed out before looking at Foxglove, “or would this relay network work just as well receiving messages?”

The violet unicorn shook her head, “not unless whoever was answering was also generating a lot of power through their own broadcaster.”

“If you’re going to have a net of super radio towers all over the place, that’s not much of a ‘secret’ broadcasting network,” Ramparts shrugged, “at that point, they might as well use the MASEB towers.”

“What good is purely one-way traffic though?”

Nopony had an answer for that one right away. I was starting to really sympathize with Starlight’s frustration where the Ministry of Awesome was concerned. The number of questions that we were compiling where their pre-Wasteland activities were concerned was becoming quite daunting, honestly.

“We’re not going to come up with all of the answers to a two century old secret in one morning,” I sighed, rubbing my temples with my hooves, “what’s important right now is that we have what we need: we know where the MoA was most likely keeping that weapons cache. When we get to Seaddle, we’ll give the coordinates to Ebony Song in exchange for the computer they took from the Rangers.

“It’s early enough that we can start out today if everypony’s ready,” I looked around the room, meeting the gaze of each of my friends in order to gauge their readiness.

“We’ve wasted enough time here already,” Starlight said in a sour tone, “I say we leave now.”

I managed to suppress my frown. I reminded myself that the pink unicorn was quite eager to track down her missing foal. It wasn’t like I’d never let desires like that drive me to try and rush into things. In a way, she did have a point though: we had spent more than enough time in McMaren recovering. We were all fed, rested, and resupplied as much as we could ever reasonably expect to be. At this point, spending another night here would essentially just be wasting time.

“Alright,” I nodded, “everypony get packed up. We’ll meet at the front gate in an hour. I’ll go and let Homily know we’re leaving.”

“I’ll come with you,” Foxglove offered. With only the most mild of eye rolls, I agreed and the pair of us left to seek out the yellow mare while the rest of our party saw to gathering our equipment.

“Want to say goodbye to your marefriend?” I said, casting a sly glance at the violet unicorn as we heading for the base’s broadcasting station.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” was her terse reply, “it could be weeks, maybe even months, before we see each other again.”

I arched a brow at the mare, “you make it sound like this is serious. Are you two going to be, like, a for real item?”

“I hope so,” Foxglove said, sounding a little sheepish this time, “the last time I was here, things were pretty crazy, but we got to talking while I was helping her fix up the radio tower. She knows her way around a multimeter. It’s been a long time since I could ‘talk shop’ with somepony,” she shrugged, “it was nice,” she smiled now, “and so’s she.

“She’s kind of like you, in a way,” the mare added, grinning at me, “she’s doing what she thinks will help fix the Wasteland. I think you two should spend more time together, honestly. You might be good for each other.”

I shook my head, “I wouldn’t want to impose. I’m happy for you two, I guess.”

“You guess?”

I frowned slightly, fumbling for the right words. Where was Arginine when you needed him? “I mean, I am happy you found somepony you care about. I just feel bad that you two are going to be spending a lot of time apart,” I thought for a moment before venturing, “though, I guess there isn’t any huge reason you couldn’t stay if you really wanted to.”

The violet mare didn’t respond immediately. When she finally did speak, it was in a slightly wistful tone, “Homily said much the same thing, actually. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it, if only briefly. It was pretty tempting: being offered a place to settle down and make a real life for myself.

“Eventually I’ll do just that,” she amended firmly, “but for right now, I think I can do a lot more to help by sticking with you,” she said, smiling down at me, “at least until we stop Arginine’s stable.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know. It’s okay if you want to stay,” getting the chance to build a life with somepony you cared about wasn’t something everypony got in the Wasteland. I actually felt a little guilty knowing that I was the reason that Foxglove was passing up such an opportunity.

“I want to help,” she insisted, “you and Homily are both doing important work, sure; but she’ll get along without me for a while,” the unicorn mare shifted and nudged my shoulder with hers, “but you can’t seem to make it a full day without breaking half your equipment. If I stayed behind, you’d only make it half way to Seaddle before you were out of working weapons or serviceable barding,” her grin was the most smug and self-satisfied expression that I’d ever seen the unicorn mechanic wearing.

I opened up my mouth to retort, but thought better of it as my brain flashed a series of images from the last few weeks that served only to prove Foxglove’s point, “fair enough,” then I thought for a moment and added, “have you thought about, maybe, building stuff that doesn’t keep breaking all the time…?”

The smack upside my head that comment earned me had been well worth it.

“Santa Mara is just visible on the horizon,” I announced as I fluttered back down into the midsts of my companions, “we should be there by late afternoon, at the latest.”

“Sounds good,” Ramparts nodded from his position at the front of the column of grounded ponies. I noted the odd tone that had colored his words and briefly considered commenting on it. A look from Foxglove and a slight shake of her head dissuaded me.

She leaned in close and murmured in a low voice, “he’s nervous about meeting his foal.”

Ah, that was right, Ramparts had yet to see Yatima or his son since she’d given birth. Indeed, he’d only learned that he was a father because I’d been the one to deliver the news. I recalled also the discussion that the pair of us had had regarding the part that the brown earth pony might play in their lives going forward. Or rather, what part he might not play. I had yet to learn if he’d made a clear decision on that point.

He hadn’t voiced any objection when I’d made the announcement that we’d be detouring through Santa Mara on our way to Seaddle at least. I suppose that didn’t mean that he was necessarily looking forward to the meeting with his newly acquired family though. Not that allowing him the opportunity to meet them had played a significant role in my decision to make the detour. The fact of the matter was that I wanted to get my hooves on some of the latest news from the Republic. I’d been out of the loop for the better part of a month, and Homily’s own sources were limited for the time being.

Tentative plans were being made by the ponies of McMaren to try and get the tracking systems that lay beneath their hooves operational again, but considering how much of their operation had seemed to be dependent upon the foal-powered-computer core at the facility’s heart, there wasn’t a great deal of optimism floating around that notion. Even if they did manage to get the hardware powered up, Foxglove was positive that using standard computer terminals to process the collected data would severely limit the equipment’s capabilities when compared to what they had been during the war. It was hard to say if that would make the effort to restore them worthwhile or not, but expectations had been thoroughly tempered by that assessment nonetheless.

So, in the meantime, we would need to rely on word of mouth from the locals to know what was going on. The broadcasts that we’d started picking up once again from Princess Luna’s daily addresses weren’t proving to be particularly informative. It was amazing exactly how little could be said over the course of a thirty minute news update about the State of the Republic.

Things certainly seemed to be heating up out east though, according to DJ Pon3. Something about the Enclave stirring up trouble in Manehattan, and a rather devastating explosion in Hoofington. Combining those updates with what I knew about Arginine’s stable, and it all felt a little surreal at times. It was like the whole Wasteland was priming itself for a whole new apocalypse or something.

Like the world ending once already hadn’t been quite enough for the powers that be…

I glanced back over my shoulder at the other two members of our party. Arginine was taking up the rear guard position, touting his refurbished and re-tuned magical energy rifle. Foxglove had spent a little bit of time gushing over the alterations that he had made, and even offered a few suggestions of her own. The result was a weapon that appeared to have very little in common with what had been popped off the assembly line once upon a time. The barrel had been elongated for increased range, a secondary focusing chamber designed to make it more energy efficient had somehow been wedged in front of the stock, and the rifle now possessed cooling pipes running along the weapon’s receiver to keep it from melting after just a half dozen quick shots...again.

Unfortunately, Foxglove had been unable to further upgrade my own arsenal as well. In fact, I’d managed to do such a number on my submachine guns that she’d sadly had to scrap one of them in order to restore the other to working condition. So as not to leave me with only the single barrel, she had balanced out my battle saddle with the carbine that I’d acquired in Old Reino.

Neither weapon was voice activated any longer, unfortunately. However, I was still spared the requirement of a trigger bit. What Foxglove had been able to do was wire the weapons into the gesture controls for the Gale Force and add a few additional motions to the base program governing it. I now found myself able to fire the weapons with a mere wave of my hooves. She’d also managed to retain my variety of ammunition choices as well, though with some caveats. Because of the servos she’d had to cannibalize to get me two weapons, I was now limited to only certain types of ammunition for each weapon.

Each of them would fire regular rounds in typical fashion, but my 10mm submachine gun only had the addition of hollow-point and explosive rounds―both in limited quantities. The carbine had armor piercing and spark rounds―also in short supply.

I was going to forever mourn the loss of my other submachine gun. It had been at my side―quite literally―for many years. But the carbine promised increased firepower, and even slightly better precision at range. Though, given how I tended to fight, I wasn’t sure how much that was going to play a factor in future conflicts.

Nothing much had changed for the other three members of our group. Despite a considerable amount of urging from Foxglove, Ramparts hadn’t let her touch his own firearms. They were typical Republic military fair, but the stallion seemed to find their performance quite adequate, and had grown very comfortable with the way that they worked. Similarly, Starlight was only just starting to get the hang of her simple shotgun, and we were all loath to disturb that progress by complicating the operation of the weapon.

Even the violet mare’s own selection of weapons saw little change. Other than replacing the tip of her lance with an aperture that allowed for a wider variation in the focusing size of cutter, she hadn’t changed all that much about it. Her rifle was also simplistic enough that there wasn’t much that she could rightfully change about it. Nor did she seem inclined to. Like Starlight, she didn’t see herself as a ‘fighter’ either, and seemed to consider augmenting her own weapons to be a waste of time and resources.

“It’s like gilding a pipbuck,” she’d explained, “I mean, you could, I guess; and it’d look really shiny. But it doesn’t make the pipbuck any better.”

I actually thought a custom-finished pipbuck would be pretty awesome, but I’d gotten the idea. It wasn’t like she was somepony I tended to lean on in a fight anyway. I had Ramparts and Arginine for that if the need arose. Hopefully it wouldn’t, and our trip had certainly been quiet enough over the past couple of days that I was starting to find myself thinking that it very well wouldn’t be something we’d need to concern ourselves with for a while yet.

That thought proved itself to be a very dangerous one to have as we got nearer to the town.

Santa Mara wasn’t a large settlement. Indeed, it was a little smaller than Shady Saddles, and served mostly as a waystation for southbound caravans that didn’t mind taking the longer, easterly, route to New Reino in order to lessen their chances of running afoul of the White Hooves that were more active in the western areas of the valley. Time was money to merchants though, and so the vast majority were willing to risk the chance of an attack in exchange for the much quicker turn-around that going via Shady Saddles afforded. There was at least enough of the small-time, more timid, caravaners who didn’t mind the delay to keep a community like Santa Mara afloat though.

So while it wasn’t any sort of bustling center of commerce and industry, it was still a thriving community of ponies that, nominally, enjoyed the protection of the New Lunar Republic. Arrivals could be expected to see a few Republic soldiers standing around the perimeter, making their presence known and offering some assurances of security to the locals as they went about their daily business. The town’s ‘market’, while only a few small stalls built out of train cars, was always replete with a respectable selection of goods of value to both a passing caravan and the local residents alike. There was even a couple of bars that offered rooms to travelers.

It was a pleasant little speck of life in an otherwise bleak Wasteland.

Usually.

Today was a different story.

I didn’t even put my hoof on what was off at first. It was probably because I was so used to seeing deserted ruins and empty Wasteland that I didn’t even notice the quiet of the place. My ear was twitching, but it took me a long while to realize what was setting it off. Then Ramparts brought that first clue to my attention.

“Where are the sentries?” the brown earth pony stallion wondered aloud as we reached the edge of the perimeter wall. Though, ‘wall’ was perhaps a bit of an exaggeration. Santa Mara itself was built upon the bones of an old train yard where cars and engines were once serviced. Several of those engines and cars had been present when the yard was abandoned in the final hours of the Great War, and had been repurposed by the ponies who later made this their home.

A collection of flatbed freight cars had been turned upon their sides, their sturdy bulk forming a defensive bulwark around the heart of the settlement. Firing platforms and lookout towers had later been built upon the foundation that those initial cars provided, and were usually occupied by lookouts.

That did not seem to be the case today, however.

We should have been stopped long before now by at least one Republic soldier asking what business a group of heavily armed ponies who were carrying no obvious cargo had in a place like Santa Mara. I mean, as much as the notion might irk me a little, we did look quite a lot like a motley band of raiders wandering around in the Wasteland looking for trouble. Hopefully my signature bright blue barding and Ramparts genuine Republican Guard barding would have been more than sufficient to stop us from being molested too heavily by concerned Republic patrols, but we still should have been at least approached by them at some point before getting anywhere near this close to the settlement itself.

The lookout towers and fortified walls were also quite devoid of ponies.

“Where are the town ponies?” was Foxglove’s follow-up question.

That was a good point as well. Santa Mara wasn’t anywhere close to being as crowded as Seaddle or New Reino, of course, so none of us were expecting to see throngs of equines milling about in the streets. At the moment though, there was nopony about. Not a single soul could be seen even beyond the perimeter wall of freight cars.

All five of us exchanged looks. This was...bad. Santa Mara was a small place, but even so, it would have taken more than your typical Wasteland gang of bandits or slavers to have wiped out everypony. The White Hooves could certainly have mustered up a raiding party of sufficient size and power to have overrun the place. It would have been the biggest settlement that they’d hit in over a decade, to be sure, but it was hypothetically possible.

That didn’t make it probable though. Not a peep had been heard out of those painted ponies since Jackboot had taken down their leader. Presumably they were still trying to sort out who would be in charge. If they had settled who was running the show now though, it would make sense that their new chief would want to demonstrate their power by hitting a big target and taking a lot of plunder and slaves as a way of further justifying their claim to leadership. Santa Mara was small enough, and distant enough from serious Republic support, to make an ambitious raid like that feasible, despite being so far away from the White Hoof’s usual stomping grounds.

Of course, there was the little fact that, had this truly been a White Hoof raid, there should have been a vast number of obvious signs of that. Their targets were left covered in blood, bodies, and most especially: paintings of white pony skulls on just about every available surface. I saw none of that here. While they might be under new leadership, I seriously doubted that those tribal warriors would have completely changed up their whole way of doing things in just a couple of months.

No, this wasn’t the work of the White Hooves.

I could think of one other group that was known for nabbing ponies and not leaving behind much to go on though. My gaze wandered back to Arginine. The large gray stallion caught me looking at him as I asked the silent question. I could see that his mind was currently working along the same line of thought, but he eventually issued a curt shake of his head. He didn’t think that his stable had been responsible for whatever had happened here.

Somehow, that disturbed me even more. A third group operating in the Neighvada Valley that could wipe out a settlement? As if there wasn’t enough on our plates to deal with as it was…

Then I spotted it: a blip. I felt my lip pull back in a sneer when I noticed the crimson hash mark on my pipbuck. Ramparts had picked up on it too and we nodded to one another. Hit them hard, hit them fast, take them by surprise, and get some answers. On the earth pony stallion’s signal, I shot up into the air, vaulting high over perimeter wall, as the Republican guard pony sprinted through the open gate and rounded the corner of a boxcar that had been converted to serve as a barracks of sorts for the Republic soldiers usually present.

Both of us drew up short in surprise when we caught sight of the source of the blip. Ramparts was surprised because, of all of the possible adversaries that he could have envisioned, and what they’d be doing in the middle of the town at this moment, he clearly hadn’t anticipated seeing a silver unicorn mare lounging leisurely in a deck chair in between two sets of torn up railway tracks, calmly sipping a Sparkle Cola RAD. She glanced in his direction and reached a hoof to her face, tipping up the sunglasses that she was wearing.

“Mmmm...” her lips spread in a hungry smile as her eyes traced over the earth pony, “well aren’t you a tall drink of stallion? The two of us are going to have to have a talk later, over some drinks...and then under the sheets,” she purred as she took another sip from her bottle, “but I’m sorry to say that I’m waiting on somepony else at the moment,” she turned her head upwards and waved.

“You know, for a pegasus, you don’t make very good time getting places.”

My mouth was hanging slightly agape. I actually recognized this mare. I’d seen her once before, after all. It felt like years had passed since that night. She certainly wasn’t a mare that I had genuinely expected to run into again.

“You’re a bounty hunter,” I said before I could stop myself, and then promptly snapped my mouth shut.

The mare arched an eyebrow and inclined her head, “indeed! My reputation precedes me, I suppose…”

I’d forgotten that she couldn’t have recognized me from our first meeting, since I’d been heavily disguised at the time as Princess Luna, courtesy of the holographic projection device that Jackboot and I had recovered from a secret Ministry of Wartime Technology installation. It had not been a long encounter, to be sure, as the device didn’t possess a lot in terms of endurance.

I recalled too that she hadn’t been working alone. A small zebra stallion had been present, and the two of them had seemed to be operating as a team. He currently wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and my pipbuck insisted that nopony else was around. It was possible that he had died since then, or simply left her company. I wasn’t going to operate on that assumption though. This whole setup just screamed, ‘TRAP!’, and we’d almost certainly already walked ourselves right into it. Now was the time to be ready to get out the moment it was sprung…

“Yours certainly does,” the mare continued as she stretched herself out on the chair, “Miss Wonderbolt. Yours is a name that’s on the lips of many a pony in this valley,” her otherwise pleasant gaze sharpened, taking on a predatory glint, “and not all of them speak it with reverence. You’ve made enemies, little filly. Powerful enemies.”

“What did you do with the ponies of Santa Mara?” I asked tersely. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other three members of our group making their way into the center of town now as well, curious about what Ramparts and I were up to. Foxglove instantly looked just as surprised as I was to see the familiar mare. The bounty hunter spared her little more than a cursory glance as she took note of the new arrivals. The violet unicorn had likewise been disguised when they’d met.

Her eyes lingered quite a bit longer on Arginine, widening noticeably, “woah…” she sat up a little straighter, an impressed whistle escaping her lips. The mare glanced at Ramparts again, “sorry handsome, but you just got bumped to the back of the line,” she folded her hooves under her chin and grinned in the direction of the larger gray unicorn, “two horns, huh? You got two of anything else…?” she leaned her head to the side, her gaze drifting down the unicorn stallion’s legs.

I cleared my throat rather noisily, glaring at the bounty hunter, “what. Happened. To the townsponies?” My words came out in the next best thing to a snarl as my fetlocks flexed against the bracers linked to the operation of the weapons at my side.

She waved a dismissive hoof in my direction, still staring at Arginine as she bit her lower lip, “they’re fine. Don’t worry your feathered little flank over them. You’re the one in trouble, after all,” she ran her tongue over her lips as she directed her next words at the tall gray stallion, “do you have a name, or should I just call you, ‘lover’?”

“Alright, let’s just stay focused!”

“Curse it, Pritchel, stay focused!”

I was struck by surprise at the unanticipated echo that my rebuke acquired, from a source that wasn’t actually all that far away from where I was hovering. My head immediately whipped in the direction of the errant sound, only to find myself looking at nothing at all, save for a vacant rooftop. There was the briefest moment where I entertained the notion that, somehow, the words had been a figment of my imagination.

Then―It Was Under ‘E’!―I spied the scuff marks.

Most ponies never stopped to ponder how dusty the roofs of buildings got in the desert climate of the Neighvada Valley. Spending most of your life drifting above everypony’s heads gives you a rather unique perspective of the world―literally; and I had become quite used to seeing the thin film of dirt and grime that time and the climate had rather uniformly draped over the top of every Wasteland structure.

So imagine my surprise when I saw the hoofprints, and the accompanying smudge of cleared away dust that suggested somepony had dragged themselves across part of the top of a train car. The air seemed to shimmer, briefly, not unlike when looking at something down a road that was baking in the desert heat. Another sound that might have been somepony swearing under their breath could be heard, and then I watched, stunned, as more hoofprints suddenly appeared on the roof, accompanied by the resounding clangs of hooves on the metal surface that suggested somepony was sprinting across the roof even now.

Yet I could see nothing at all.

Then the sound ended as the prints met with the edge of the car.
Somepony had been there, and they were invisible. Nor did their presence seem to register with my pipbuck. My ears began to swivel around as I contemplated the implications of this new information. I’d already been pretty convinced that there was a trap here waiting to be sprung. Now I had a clue as to the nature of it. How many more undetectable ponies were watching us at this very moment?

Enough that this large silver unicorn mare felt comfortable enough with the situation to be waiting for us lounging on a chair in the middle of the tracks, that much was obvious. She was certainly an imposingly large example of ponykind, no question there; but surely even she didn’t think that she was a match for a whole squad of armed ponies with no barding or weapons on her own.

However, if there were a few dozen invisible guns trained on our heads at this very moment, that certainly tipped the odds somewhat in the mare’s favor, didn’t it?

I had to work hard to fight my old habits and not launch myself at this mare. That was traditionally how I dealt with threats, after all: take them out as quickly as possible. In those instances, I’d at least had something approaching a vague notion of what those threats actually were. There were far too many unknowns right now, and mine wasn’t the only life on the line. My gaze drifted briefly to my friends before scanning the surrounding rooftops, taking in how many ponies could be taking aim at them right now.

Thoughtless action wasn’t called for right now. Maybe it would come to that but, at least for the moment, this mare seemed interested in talking. Talking was good. Talking meant that nopony was killing anypony. I could appreciate that.

“Pritchel, is it?” I inquired, taking pains to keep my tone calm and level. The annoyed glared she was giving the direction that the last of the noise had come from made it pretty clear that she didn’t much appreciate having the secret of her hidden assets let out of the bag this early into our interaction, “if you know me, then you should also know that the ponies I’ve made enemies of,” and I could think of a few groups right off the top of my head, to be fair, “aren’t very good ponies.

“You strike me as an honorable mare,” Be Pleasant! “And I want to believe that we can work something out without anypony getting hurt,” I slowly started to descend to the ground so that I could look at the mare at eye-level. As tall as she was, this meant that I still had to stay a foot or so off the ground.

The silver unicorn gave a frustrated grunt and climbed off of her seat. I found myself having to ascend slightly once she’d stood up. If I didn’t know any better, I might have sworn that she was a pony from Arginine’s stable with how massive of a mare she was. Her horn began to glow, and a large sledgehammer drifted out from under her lounger, floating over to rest across her shoulders. Apparently she hadn’t been as ‘unarmed’ as I’d initially suspected.

She stared down at me, frowning, as she seemed to consider what I’d said. Then she snorted, “it’s your friends that concern me,” she just about snarled, “s’all over the radios. The Wonderbolt is all buddy-buddy with the Rangers.”

“We are not―”

“Apparently,” she pushed through my objection with a growl, “she can even just trot up and talk them out of attacking settlements. That’s what Miss Neighvada’s been saying anyway. The Wonderbolt just showed up, gave the Rangers a hoof, and they left.”

“I stopped the attack,” I said evenly, doing my best not to look visibly intimidated by the larger mare. It wasn’t very easy, let me tell you; and I’d faced down hell hounds! “In my book, doing it without leaving a body count is a plus.”

“Well, in my book, passing up a damn good excuse to rip apart Rangers like that, and then helping them, makes you just another Steel Slut!” she just about spat. I wasn’t able to keep myself from flinching away from the sheer vitriol wrath in her words. The silver mare straightened up, sneering down at me, “so anypony offering caps for your head is aces, s’far as I’m concerned.”

How had this somehow gotten to be so personal with a mare I’d only met the one other time, and hadn’t even introduced myself to back then?! I was certainly grasping that she had a chip on her shoulder―in addition to the hammer that was as big as my head―where the Steel Rangers were concerned, but I felt it was really unfair for her to characterize my relationship with them the way that she was. I’d hardly call Hoplite and I ‘friends’ of any sort, and it wasn’t like I’d never killed any Steel Rangers. Even if I did regret doing it the one time that I had…

“I’m trying to end a war,” I seethed through gritted teeth, finding it growing progressively more difficult to contain my annoyance in the face of somepony who just seemed dead set on making themselves my enemy. This was supposed to just be a simple little layover in a quiet town in the middle of nowhere on our way to Seaddle. None of us had expected it to turn into a whole ‘thing’.

We still had yet to find out who was behind this whole ordeal, for Celestia’s sake! “Look, somepony’s paying you, right? Let me talk to them; work something out.”

The mare snorted again, saying nothing. Her violet eyes looked to her right, and I found myself following their gaze. I felt my throat tighten as I caught sight of an older earth pony stallion stepping out from behind one of the boxcars. In the back of my mind, I noted that he was only just now registering as a blip on my pipbuck. Though it served to reinforce my paranoia regarding exactly how many ponies could have us surrounded by now without either Ramparts of I knowing, I fought to keep myself from looking around in panic. Besides, I was a little more concerned with who we were up against than how many of them there were, because I’d just received my answer as to whether or not talking was going to be an option.

“We could work out your surrender,” a gravely voice suggested.

The stallion was older, about Jackboot’s age, maybe a little more. His coat was pale blue and his mane was in the middle of transitioning from golden to ivory. A light machinegun hung on his right side, being fed by a belt of ammunition tucked onto his left. What caught my eye most of all though was his barding. It was a very distinct style, that I was quite familiar with, and the sight of it filled me with a sense of resignation. This was going to turn into a fight, and a lot of ponies were going to die, and there wasn’t going to be anything that I’d be able to do about it.

This was personal.

The Lancers had come to call.

Still, though there was little hope of resolving this without spilling a lot of blood, I had to at least make a token effort. I knew it wasn’t going to work, but if I didn’t at least try, I’d feel a lot worse about how this was going to go down, “you guys tried this once before,” I pointed out to the older stallion, “it didn’t go well then. I can promise you it won’t end any better this time.

“Unless you walk away right now.”

A rasping chuckle from deep within his throat greeted my warning, “if we were anywhere else, and if you were anypony else, I wouldn’t doubt that, little filly,” the earth pony mused, his words sounding like he was speaking through a mouth made of sandpaper, “I underestimated you before,” he nodded, his eyes wandering over me in an appraising fashion, “I suspect most ponies do. This time, though…”

He raised a hoof a waved it behind him. A second later another pair of ponies appeared, a unicorn stallion dressed in the barding of a Lancer mercenary...and a zebra mare.

“Yatima!” Ramparts’ single word betrayed his simultaneous concern for the mother of his colt, and the raw, unbridled, hatred that he was feeling towards her captors. There was a moment where I was certain that it was going to be the brown stallion who’d be the one to fire the first shots. His eyes certainly flashed with nothing short of a desire to unleash bloody vengeance on the two mercenary stallions. Fortunately for all of us, his military discipline kept him rooted at my side and his mouth off of his trigger bit.

“Ramps―!” the mare’s own outburst was cut short by her unicorn handler, who wrenched her roughly back with his magic, a revolver pressed ominously to her temple. She bit her lip and kept herself quiet, though her pleading eyes continued to drift between Ramparts and I.

“...I’ve made certain that we came prepared to take you in without a fight,” the stallion said, his lips spreading into a hungry grin.

I glared at him, seething inwardly. Yatima wasn’t the only pony in Santa Mara, of course. I had little doubt in my mind that the Lancers had the rest of the town’s inhabitants under their guns too. How they were masking themselves from my pipbuck was still a mystery, but it hardly mattered. The question had just become one of how many innocent lives I was willing to jeopardize by resisting.

That answer was an obvious and resounding, ‘zero’ of course. Not that I felt particularly compelled to just give myself over to these mercenaries, “I’m guessing that the deal is that you’ll let everypony go if I just surrender?” I heard the sharp intake of breath behind me from Foxglove. My wing briefly flipped out and signaled for her to remain calm.

The stallion shrugged, “not the most original plan, I’ll admit, but effective.”

“And what assurances could you possibly give that you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?”

He started laughing, “kid, this town is Republic property. Sooner or later the NLR’s going to run my crew out of here whether we like it or not. Trust me, I’d just as soon be long gone when the Guard shows up to find out why they’re not getting their daily reports from the garrison here.”

I glanced back at Ramparts, and I caught the nod from the earth pony. With the current ceasefire in effect, it might even be easier for the Republic to send a respectable force to investigate Santa Mara. They weren’t likely to show up in the next few minutes, obviously. Honestly, it could be days. Even trying to delay be a few hours on the off chance that response force was just beyond the horizon probably wasn’t going to go over well with the Lancers here.

“The Republic’s going to remember this,” Ramparts growled.

“Look at me trembling with fear,” the stallion drolled, “oh, no, wait; that’s just my arthritis acting up,” he chuckled mirthlessly, “the NLR doesn’t venture to where we operate, pal. How pissed off they’ll be doesn’t concern me,” he returned his attention to me once more, “so, what’ll it be? Are you going to drop your weapons, or am I going to have to drop your striped friend?”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. For the briefest of moments, I contemplated accepting his offer. Give myself up into their custody and suffer what would undoubtedly turn out to be a rather lengthy string of indignities before they felt they’d finally exacted enough of their revenge and decided to end my left in some sufficiently gruesome fashion. In the grand scheme of things, that was actually a rather low price to pay for the lives of several dozen ponies whose only crime seemed to be their proximity to a mare that I’d known for a brief period of time.

It wasn’t that I thought my life was worth more than anypony else’s, and I certainly didn’t think that it was worth more than a whole town full of ponies. Honestly, I think I’d be perfectly content to die if it meant saving the lives of others, no matter how grim that death might be. None of that was why I was going to refuse his offer.

What I couldn’t tolerate was the notion that a group of ponies like this would get exactly what they wanted, and suffer no repercussions for it. That stallion was right, after all: the Republic wasn’t going to be able to punish them for what they were doing here. They were going to escape down south, or out east, or wherever, and nothing was going to be done about it. In the meantime, they’d have the mare they were blaming for their woes in their clutches, and doing to me whatever they wanted.

They’d win, while the only losers would be me, my friends, and whoever in Santa Mara had been hurt when they’d taken over like this and set up their trap. At some point in the future, these mercenaries might even try all of this again in an effort to hurt somepony else.

Surrendering wasn’t going to make the Wasteland a better place. Talking might have, but these ponies didn’t want to hear it. That left just the one option: fighting. Though there was still a little question of exactly who I needed to worry about more: the Lancers, or the brick house of a mare in front of me.

I felt the corner of my mouth quirk up in the barest ghost of a wan smile and I glanced over at the silver bounty hunter and said in a low tone, “if I told you that I’d be willing to give myself up if you went over there and bashed that zebra’s head in, would you do it?”

The unicorn blinked in surprise, a look that was mirrored by Ramparts. Fortunately, the stallion was too stunned to voice his own objections. The mare recovered and glared at me, “I ain’t a murderer, you stupid bitch.”

“Ah, I see; you just work with them. My mistake,” before she could say anything more, I asked, “do you even know why the Lancers are after me?” I doubted very much that she’d asked or cared, given how inclined she seemed to be towards hating me, so I made the question rhetorical, “I stopped a few of their goons from raping a mare and selling her and her filly into slavery.

“They want me dead for that,” I shrugged, “because that’s how the Wasteland works,” my smile grew a little more, though it remained sad, “and here you are helping them. I like to give ponies a chance when I can, so I’m going to give one to you.

“I’m going to stop every Lancer here,” once again the large silver unicorn seemed taken aback by my flat admission, “that’ll probably mean killing a few of them. I’m going to try to leave some of them alive this time, but it’s hard to promise that sort of thing,” I looked the mare in the eyes, imparting to her the importance of my next words, “please don’t try to stop me. I want to believe that you’re not like them. I want to not have to kill you. You seemed like a decent sort the last time we met.

“Not a lot of decent ponies in the Wasteland these days.”

I looked away from the agape unicorn, who was still processing what the little filly had just said to her and glared at the older stallion, “you want me? Fine. I’m coming over.”

The stallion sneered in satisfaction, “good choice. Now, just drop your weapons and―”

My wing flipped a switch on my back. Anypony might have been forgiven for thinking that I was disconnecting my battle saddle and preparing to shuck it off. Anypony who didn’t know about the Gale Force rig that Foxglove had integrated into my reinforced Wonderbolt barding, that is. All it took after that was a flick of my forelegs.

A unicorn would have been jealous of my ability to do the next best thing to teleporting across this town. The older Lancer leader didn’t even seem to realize that things had gone off script until it was too late. The unicorn holding Yatima certainly figured out that something had gone awry about the time he caught a face full of hooves as I delivered a double-buck right into the base of his horn at the maximum available acceleration that the flight assistance rig would offer. My wings flared out at the moment of the impact, and the magical levitation talismans built into the metal ‘feathers’ of the rig brought me to a sudden stop, hanging in the air.

Momentum did the rest as the unicorn stallion was sent sailing backwards from the force of the blow. His body went tumbling along the ground until it finally slammed into a rusted out train car. He was an earth pony by that point though, the jagged remains of his freshly severed horn bouncing aimlessly off the wall of the nearby boxcar. One visible threat down.

The older stallion was only just starting to realize that something had gone wrong as I wrenched a tiny little orb off of one of the little external retainers of my barding and dropped it to the ground. I then wrapped my hooves around the startled zebra mare and flexed my forelimb once again just as the earth pony was bringing his machine gun to bare. In another blink of an eye, I was right back where I’d started at by Ramparts’ side, gently easing my trembling passenger to the ground. Once more the stallion had to wheel around in order to reacquire me in his sights.

I turned to look at him, acting as though I’d expended hardly any effort at all to do what I’d just done, staring at the stallion with a bored expression, “you don’t want to be standing there,” I warned.

The pale blue earth pony blinked and looked down. It was only then that he noticed that little metal apple that was lying at his hooves. His eyes went wide with terror and he scrambled to escape the blast. He was only partially successful. While he did manage to survive the blast, it wasn’t without taking some pretty significant injuries in the process. He’d probably make a full recovery in time though.

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I flipped myself backwards in midair, ducking just beneath the swing of the large hammer being wielded by the bounty hunting unicorn. With a frown, I spun to the side and struck her across the face with a kick from my hind leg. It wasn’t enough to do a whole lot of harm, but it certainly seemed to get the mare’s attention. It also provided me with the leverage that I needed to flit out of her immediate reach.

“I don’t want to fight you!” I yelled at the mare.

“Not everypony gets what they want,” she shot back just before charging at me.

She drew up short as a blinding streak of crackling sapphire energy arced across her path. Both of us spared a quick glance at the source of the errant bolt, and spied the large gray genetically augmented stallion with his beam rifle hovering at his side, wrapped in a golden telekinetic aura. The bounty hunter snarled, taking a tentative step back.

A high-pitched whistle sounded from the roof of one of the buildings. I knew in an instant that it wasn’t a good sound for me or my friends. It seemed that the Lancers were about to come at us with the full force of the trap that they’d set. I spun around in the air, panning my gaze over every rooftop and open doorway that I could, feeling my frustration only growing as I continued to spot not a single threat with my Eyes Forward Sparkle.

That state of affairs didn’t last for long though, and soon there were blips aplenty visible at the bottom of my vision as Lancer mercenaries poured out of the train cars in which the residents of Santa Mara dwelled. Even knowing that it was coming didn’t seem to be enough to truly prepare me for the feeling of dread that gripped me deep down as I saw dozens of armed ponies materialize out of hiding around us, their weapons trained and ready to fire. I wanted to scream and cry foul of whatever tactic they’d used to cheat my pipbuck’s Eyes Forward Sparkle, but that seemed like a moot point at the moment.

We were surrounded, outnumbered, and outgunned. For all practical purposes, the Lancers had us dead to rights. No, that wasn’t quite right. They had me dead to rights. My friends weren’t the focus of this whole ambush, I was. At least, I hoped that was how this was supposed to play out.

“Fall back!” I ordered my companions, even as I used the Gale Force to rocket ahead.

I didn’t have a fully formed plan just quite yet, only the barest hint of a framework: keep the Lancers shooting at me while my friends got to cover, regrouped, and came up with a much better course of action than the phenomenally stupid thing I was doing! Of course, with so many guns present on the other side of this fight, my best option was to get up close and personal to force them to risk shooting one another if they wanted to use all of that firepower.

The first Lancer that I connected with was an earth pony mare who was clearly quite upset that I wasn’t playing my part in what was supposed to be something akin to shooting bloatsprites in a barrel. In such a scenario, the bloatsprites weren’t supposed to fly out of the barrel and pummel you with their bare hooves, after all. However, I wasn’t a bloatsprite, and so I saw nothing at all wrong with accosting the mare with a series of rapid jabs to her head and jaw.

Firmly stunned by my opening volley, I slipped one foreleg down beneath her armpit, while using my other as leverage around her neck. A Gale Force assisted flick of my wings spun me around and allowed me to hurl the dazed earth pony at another nearby Lancer while I rocketed in the other direction to engage a pair of unicorns brandishing machetes and pistols.

There was something cathartic about hoof-to-hoof combat. It kindled those distant memories of my early life with Jackboot as he taught me the finer points of the down and dirty brawling that he’d learned growing up. I would find out much later in life that those had been the rough and tumble techniques developed over decades of slaughter by the White Hooves. However, by that time, I had long since evolved what I’d been taught into something new and personal. My wings afforded me a third dimension of operation that no earth pony or unicorn could properly fathom, and it had only seemed natural to apply what I was learning in the way of fighting to how I was learning to move as well.

It almost wasn’t fair, honestly. These mercenaries knew a thing or two about fighting, obviously. Their whole livelihood was based on it, and while I wouldn’t consider the vast majority of them to be any sort of masters of up close combat, most of them certainly knew enough to be able to best just about any random raider they were likely to come to blows with. I was in a league far above their usual opponents though. Even if I’d been grounded, I could have taken any one of them in an up close fight, maybe even two of them early on, before fatigue set in. As it was, these mercenaries weren’t just facing off against a mare who was better at hoof-to-hoof combat, they were fighting somepony who could move like nothing that they’d ever encountered before.

I didn’t have to have my hooves on the ground. Nor did I need to restrict myself to merely trying to move around them to the left or the right. I could tumble over them as high up as I wished to go. I could instantaneously shift my direction of travel in any direction at the drop of a hat with nothing but a flick of my wings. It was like they were all trying to fight a gust of wind, only this gust of wind packed a vicious double-buck that left one pony after the other crumpled on the ground, groaning in agony.

In the early minutes of the fight, I didn’t even take a single hit, my pipbuck’s Sparkle Assisted Targeting System permitting me to slow down time and anticipate their moves even as they were making them and respond appropriately. While there was the rare occasion in which I needed to discharge a round or two from the weapons mounted at my sides in order to keep the more adventurous lancers from getting too bold, most of my fighting was restricted to punches, kicks, and throws, as I flowed from one mercenary to the next.

Constant movement was crucial, as lingering for more than a second meant inviting a Lancer to start taking shots at me. This, unfortunately meant that I was rarely able to spare the time necessary to ensure that each of my targets was put down for the duration of the fight, and I found that more than a few of the ponies that I’d beaten on were getting back up to their hooves and looking to make a better go of round two now that they had an idea of what they were up against.

At the onset, I’d known that this wasn’t a sustainable solution. Their numbers were many, and I was just one filly. Things were honestly made all the worse by the fact that I couldn’t focus on one target long enough to be certain they didn’t get back up, because that meant having to fight them all over again later. I might have been good―I may even Be Awesome!―but I couldn’t Be Enduring forever. Fatigue started to catch up with me in the worst way as I felt my hits begin to soften, and my agility taper off.

It was no surprise when one of the ponies I was fighting managed to shrug off my attack and even catch me with a kick of his own that sent me reeling. The blow itself was a little thing, and barely hurt at all through my barding. It was enough though. Enough to knock me away from a fellow mercenary, and finally make me a viable target for every Lancer who’d been pining for a clear shot at me.

The WHIP-CRACK of a rifle shot rang out. In that same instant, I felt the sensation of somepony flicking me in the leg a fraction of a second before the whole limb exploded into nothing but pain and agony for me. I cried out before I could help myself and recoiled even further away from the pony that I’d just been fighting. It was the exact wrong move to make. Even more removed from their fellows, I became the target of nearly every armed Lancer with a firearm as they all opened up on me.

Reflexively, I dropped to the ground and flipped up my wings to cover my body. The alloyed shell of the Gale Force range in perpetuity as hundreds of rounds struck is sturdy surface and deflected off. I was not completely spared the wrath of the Lancer’s fire, of course. The force of those impacts was left unbuffered, and slowly began to force me back, staggering on my wounded leg. Not every round was intercepted by the alloyed wings that I was cowering behind either, and I reeled as several errant bullets punched into my reinforced Wonderbolt barding.

When I felt that I could, I raised a wing just enough to uncover a barrel of one of my weapons and snapped off a burst or two. These were largely blind efforts, and proved quite ineffectual. I was pinned down with no hope of escape. The moment I moved my wings out to fly away, I’d be riddled. Staying put wasn’t an option either. I could feel the wing coverings of the Gale Force buckling in several areas as they were ravaged by the Lancers’ onslaught.

I was entertaining the notion of making another charge at the nearest mercenary, even knowing that I was feeling tired and hurt enough that it wasn’t going to be a very fruitful second wind even if I could muster one. Anything was better than just sitting here being pounded with gunfire waiting to die though. Hopefully my friends had managed to get away safely…

There was a bright blue flash that very nearly blinded me and I became suddenly aware of the fact that I wasn’t alone. Stunned to the point that I completely forgot about the horde of Lancers surrounding me, I gaped in awe at the pink unicorn mare who was suddenly standing beside me, glaring daggers at the mercenaries.

“You’re an idiot,” Starlight Glimmer snarled at me through tightly gritted teeth as she maintained her focus on what I very quickly identified as some sort of magical energy barrier that was surrounding us, deflecting away the incoming fire from the Lancers. Not that they seemed to be particularly deterred by the sudden appearance of the unicorn mare or her defensive barrier.

It did seem, however, that my intention of attracting the attention of every Lancer in the town had achieved resounding success. Indeed, there did not seem to have been a single eye spared for the rest of my companions after the mercenaries realized that the one little pegasus filly that they were here for had seemed intent on delivering herself right into their clutches, one beating at a time.

This meant that none of them were facing those friends of mine, who were now finished organizing themselves within the makeshift bunker that they’d fashioned out of discarded rails and thick wooden ties. A bunker from which they had nearly perfect lines of fire on the Lancers.

Shimmering bolts of deadly indigo energy and golden tracers split the distance in a volume that was truly impressive, considering that all of it was coming from just a couple of ponies. Stallions and mares screamed one after the other as they were cut down from behind. The surprise was short lived, as the mercenaries not caught in the opening carnage of those first few seconds were very abruptly made aware of their fatal error in judgement. Their attention lifted from me and Starlight as they sought cover from Arginine’s and Ramparts lethal suppressive vollies.

It was the moment that the pink unicorn had been waiting for, it turned out, as she dropped the barrier that she’d summoned and instantly enveloped my world in cyan light. The next thing I knew, I was sitting slumped on the ground on the other side of the bunker that I’d seen. Yatima was nearby, huddled up against her beau and keeping herself as low to the ground as possible. Foxglove was upon me almost immediately, shoving a healing potion into my mouth and a fresh set of spark-packs into the Gale Force.

“What were you thinking?!”

Honestly, I wasn’t completely sure who was reprimanding me, because it had sounded like every one of them had yelled some version of it at me simultaneously. I scowled at all of them, “I was ‘thinking’ you guys would run further than ten fucking feet!”

We really weren’t all that far from where we’d stopped upon seeing the silver unicorn mare. Admittedly, I suppose that I hadn’t been as clear as I could have been in my desire for all of my friends to put as much distance between themselves and Santa mara as possible. I certainly hadn’t thought that they’d go the next best thing to nowhere at all!

“We weren’t just going to leave you behind,” Foxglove insisted pointedly even as she fished out a couple of tools and started to fix a few of the more important components of my gear that had been damaged in the fighting.

“Well, that’s just great,” I muttered, peering up at the pair of stallions who were still firing on the Lancers, though much more conservatively now that we were all clearly receiving fire as well, “now we can all die together!” It wasn’t going to take the mercenaries long to surround and overwhelm us like this. There was a lot of them still left standing, and as good as some of us were at fighting, the odds were frankly hopeless.

“I don’t suppose you can just teleport us all out of here?” I asked, glancing at Starlight.

The pink unicorn frowned and shook her head, even as she was pulling out one of her grimoires and flipping through the pages, “not any distance that would help,” she found the page that she was looking for and scanned over its contents. She closed her eyes in concentration for a brief moment before shooting a beam off with her horn, striking both Arginine and Ramparts. Before I could ask what she was doing, I felt my jaw grow slack as both stallions seemed to blur before my eyes.

It wasn’t that my sight was failing. The pair of ponies were simply now moving so quickly that my eyes couldn’t fully track their movements. Their speed was such that they might as well have each been three or four ponies providing suppressive fire. I peeked over the top of the bunker and watched as the Lancers experienced a moment of panic brought about by the unexpected uptake in outpouring fire and withdrew a considerable distance in order to seek out better cover.

That burst of energy was rather short lived, it seemed, and it was only a matter of seconds before both ponies were once again solid forms. They were also visibly exhausted as the stallions slumped down to the ground, panting. Arginine was so tired that his face looked like it was displaying actual emotions!

Though it was Ramparts who glared at Starlight, “thanks, but maybe ask before doing something like that next time?”

“I would also appreciate the opportunity to give consent before being enchanted,” Arginine grumbled before swapping out the spark pack in his rifle for a fresh one.

“So what’s the plan?” Foxglove asked as she finished making the last of her hasty repairs on my equipment.

“Well, it was for all of you to get clear of the kill zone that the Lancers had set up before they slaughtered us to a mare,” I responded sardonically, unabashed by the glare I received from the violet mare, “but now I guess we’re just going to have to settle for killing as many of them as we can and hope they fuck off before they overwhelm us,” which was an outcome that I was frankly dubious about. This was a disciplined group of professional mercenaries. They weren’t going to do anything stupidly reckless that would give us the kind of opening that we’d need, “unless anypony has any better options?”

“We could try Singing.”

I rolled my eyes and glared at Starlight. Alright, so I hardly had a wing to flap on when it came to reprimanding anypony for giving a sarcastic response, but I still wasn’t particularly amused by the pink unicorn’s poor attempt at humor. I looked to the others, “anypony have any actual better options?”

“I’m being serious,” Starlight Glimmer insisted, frowning at me, “we should try Singing,” it wasn’t just me who gave her dubious looks this time. Everypony was now staring at the mare as though she’d grown a second head. Upon seeing our reactions, Starlight let out a thoroughly exasperated sigh, “reformation spells and Singing? So you’re telling me that ponykind forgot basically everything from before the war?”

“Starlight, you can’t seriously expect singing a few silly songs to do anything to help our situation?”
Foxglove at least made an attempt to be supportive towards the other unicorn mare, “I mean, I guess a little singing might boost our spirits while we fight?”

“Not singing,” Starlight groaned, “Singing! Capital ‘S’, Singing!” somehow, she still seemed surprised by the collection of blank looks that she received. She unleashed a final frustrated scream and put away her spell tome, marching towards the lip of the bunker that they’d thrown up, much to the dismay of the rest of us, “just follow my lead! You’ve got to―”

And then, Starlight started...singing…

Sing, Sing, Sing, Sing!

Everypony, start to Sing!

Reach down, deep inside,

Feel it move you and let it ring!

“Hey! Wait! What are you―?!” the rest of my objections were interrupted by a silver blur in the corner of vision, and a crimson-hued alert from my helmet’s proximity warning system. My wing went up just in the nick of time to stop the attack from driving through to my head, but the blow from the massive sledgehammer was still powerful and unexpected enough to send me tumbling flank over fetlock to the far end of the bunker.

Oh, right, the bounty hunter. I’d very nearly forgotten about her in all of the excitement. How kind of her it was to remind me of how rude I was being by ignoring her…

Foxglove made a noble attempt at avenging me, but the mechanic mare wasn’t nearly as skilled in close quarters combat as her silver opponent. She managed to achieve a few brief moments of surprise with her eldritch lance that allowed her to gain an impressive amount of ground initially. Her advantage was short-lived once the larger mare recognized the weapon for what it was and comprehended the nature of the threat it presented. It cost her a few new nicks on her sledge, but she soon had Foxglove in retreat as the smaller unicorn mare scrambled away to keep herself from being smashed into purple paste.

As much as Ramparts and Arginine might have wanted to do something to help, their attention was preempted by the need to provide Starlight Glimmer with covering fire as she continued to inexplicably stride towards the mercenaries that had us surrounded. This left it my responsibility to deal with Pritchel and her imposing bulk.

My lips pulled back in a defiant snarl as I launched myself at the other mare, adding in an assisting burst of acceleration from my freshly recharged Gale Force rig. She tried to bat me out of the air with a swing of her hammer as I neared, but a well-timed roll deflected most of the force of the hit and allowed me to follow through with a buck aimed at the mare’s head. Much to my chagrin, she caught my leg with her forelimb and stopped my strike cold. The worst part was that she hadn’t even looked like it’d taken her all that much effort to do so.

Unicorns weren’t supposed to be so physically tough. They were supposed to rely on their magic to carry them through life and neglect becoming super strong. This mare was cheating!

When the world’s turned bleak and brown,

And everything is looking down…

Pritchel and I found ourselves both looking in the direction of the pink unicorn mare who was inexplicably gripped in the throes of a song. The larger silver unicorn cocked an eyebrow at the sight, “tell she’s not―”

You can’t let yourself keep feeling blue,

‘Cause there’s something you can do:

“―she is,” I responded in resignation. Then that brief moment of solidarity built upon mutual bewilderment passed and the two of us recalled that we were, in fact, currently embroiled in a fight to the death and resumed glaring at one another. I flipped away just as her hammer arced through where I’d just been and immediately strafed to the side in an effort to get around and strike at her flanks where she would, hopefully, be less able to effectively defend herself.

You’ve got to Sing, Sing, Sing, Sing!

Everypony start to Sing!

You can overcome most anything,

All you have to do is Sing!

It turned out that this bounty hunter hadn’t just been working on building up muscle mass, she was also remarkably agile. I was pretty sure that she was using some sort of spell to artificially improve her reflexes, because it didn’t seem to matter how quickly I tried to fly around her, she was able to respond just as quickly and intercept my blows. She wasn’t just fighting defensively either. For every hit that I tried to land on the mare, I was forced to evade one in kind.

I shot up into the air after my fourth failed attempt to successful hit my opponent in order to put a little space between us and give myself some time to think. However, my attention was immediately pulled away from my fight with Pritchel to the patently unexpected sight of Starlight―of all ponies―working her way through the Lancer mercenaries one by one. The culmination of all of our conversations and training sessions had not left me with anything approaching a flattering appraisal of the pink unicorn mare’s combat capabilities. Frankly, I felt that Foxglove was a phenomenally better fighter than Starlight had any hope of ever being.

So, imagine my slack-jawed shock as I watched the pink unicorn veritably prance her way from one mercenary to the next.

Sing, Sing, Sing, Sing!

Feel the magic the music brings!

Granted, she didn’t seem to be “fighting” them in any way that I was familiar with. Her shotgun still tucked away snugly in its scabbard at her side, the mare was instead electing to zap each mercenary in turn with magical cyan blasts from her horn. She wasn’t doing so with any particularly lethal incantations either, so far as I could see.

Honestly, it looked to me like she was toying with the mercenaries, more than anything. One mare toppled over in the wake of the flash of magic that enveloped her, a tangled knot of decorative ribbon woven through her legs. Her next victim, who had been about to open fire on her with a pistol that was clutched in his mouth was surprised to find himself covered in golden goo as he bit down on what had, only a moment ago, been a trigger, and was now a banana. The fruit-covered face of the stunned stallion was a mask of unbridled shock, right up until the moment it dissolved into a pile of sparkling blue dust, courtesy of a energy bolt from Arginine’s rifle.

Starlight had moved on by that point though, her horn aglow as she transmuted the ammunition of the next mercenary in her path into kernels of corn. Those kernels promptly began to pop in rapid succession, terrifying the Lancer into a scrambling mess who couldn’t seem to get her battle saddle off fast enough in order to escape whatever was happening to her.

It was ridiculous, I thought as I darted back down to once more engage the muscled mare before she decided to make a move on any of the others. Starlight seemed to have things well in hoof―for now―with Ramparts and Arginine providing overwatch with their precision fire to keep the Lancers not being actively confronted by the pink unicorn from getting too brave. I could have wished that she wasn’t being quite so reckless as she was going about it, but I couldn’t really complain about the results. Not that it made me feel any better about what she was doing.

I trusted the pair of stallions with us to keep her alive long enough for me to thump her flank once this was all over. Honestly, who in their right mind could possibly have thought that singing was a viable combat strategy?! Ponies from the Old World were certifiable if this was how they’d dealt with their problems.

No wonder the world had ended…

Pritchel was kind enough to drag my thoughts back to our bout as she once more lashed out with her hammer. This time I ducked beneath her swing, intending to try and get under her and hope that this vector of attack provided me with more success than my previous efforts. It was actually rather aggravating to find myself fighting somepony who wasn’t content to let me beat their flank into submission in a matter of seconds. I didn’t usually have to work this hard to beat a single pony.

I don’t know why I thought that this attempt would have produced different results than any of my other recent failures. Just like the last several times, the silver unicorn was able to dance away from my attack and offer a dangerous repost with her hammer. I wasn’t going to make it quite so easy this time though, and changed things up by actually letting the bounty hunter land a glancing blow on my alloyed wing covers. I grunted with the pain of the impact, but capitalized on the fact that taking the hit had permitted me to keep in close to the mare. My hope was that the fact that I didn’t need as much build up to my next attack would mean that she was less able to parry it.

My plan mostly worked. I didn’t get the sort of fight-ending hit that I might have hoped for, but Pritchel had indeed found herself unable to completely avoid my attack this time. My hind legs lashed out viciously at her front left knee as I kicked away from her sledge’s follow-up swing. I heard her snarl at the strike, but it didn’t look like it had done much more than irritate her. Still, a hit was a hit, and I wasn’t about to let go of even this meager advantage quite yet.

I dove back at the mare. The resounding clangs of metal striking metal filled the air, threatening to drown out the sound of even the nearby gunfire, as my wings met the mare’s hammer blows. Even though I did my best to keep the hits as oblique as possible, I started to feel a kinship with Sapi’s anvils as I continued to get pounded on for every strike that I managed to land.

Yet, inexplicably, over the din of gunfire and pounding metal, Starlight’s incessant singing managed to penetrate into my ears.

Go, go, go, go!

Move your body to the flow!

I grit my teeth and whirled as tightly as I could. This time, the silver unicorn’s swing...missed. Her violet eyes widened as she realized that she had managed to somehow miss the target that was very nearly right on top of her. Honestly, I was a little surprised myself, given the beating that I’d been taking up until now. There was zero hesitation as I jabbed and kicked at the mare’s joints and soft tissue. My body weaved in and around the bounty hunter, managing to slip just around the head of her massive metal sledge. I couldn’t really explain it. There was just….something, that was helping me to time and avoid her attacks. It was like everything was happening according to a specific…

...Rhythym…

Through it all, was Starlight’s enthusiastic singing:

When the threats loom all around,

And you feel a need to frown;

The world has got you feeling low,

There’s one thing you’ve got to know:

Celestia help me, but despite my every cogent thought to the contrary, I wasn’t able to keep myself from joining in with that crazy pink pony on the next chorus. A pair of nearby baritones suggested that Arginine and Ramparts had fallen prey to the tune’s pervasive nature as well, and all of us joined Starlight’s next refrain:

Sing, Sing, Sing, Sing!

Everypony, start to Sing!

Reach down, deep inside,

Feel it move you and let it ring!

All five of us must have looked and sounded utterly ridiculous, singing the way we were while in the grips of this fight for our very survival. It was the most ludicrous time that any one of us could have picked to start chanting some ancient-sounding ragtime ditty, but Celestia damn us if it wasn’t helping somehow!

Starlight Glimmer was continuing to lead us in reciting the lyrics to the song that, to my conscious knowledge, none of us had ever heard before but somehow still knew the words to, even as she cast a multitude of cantrips and minor evocations that either disabled her opponents outright or rendered them combat ineffective for long enough to be easily dealt with by the stallions watching over her. Yatima was even murmuring the words to the song and had apparently worked up enough courage of her own to help Ramparts by reloading his rifles for him as their magazines ran dry.

Foxglove had regrouped as well, and was currently doing her best to help me deal with the silver bounty hunter in our midsts. While not a pony that I would have considered to be capable of effectively contributing to a fight with a mare like Pritchel, it seemed that the violet mechanic wasn’t having as difficult of a time fighting the larger mare as she should have. Both her lance and her rifle flew about her, gripped by her magic, as she wielded both as though they were spears. Pritchel was finally forced to give up ground as she found herself unable to contend with both myself and the unicorn mare slicing at her with the magically burning cutting tool that was inflicting more and more gouges on her own weapon.

Once more I received a warning from my helmet’s display, this time from behind. I spun in the air, curling my wings around me, and felt something light and metallic strike their alloyed shell. My eyes caught only the barest flicker of a crimson blip on my EFS, and shimmering striped limbs, before any sign of what had attacked me was gone completely from sight. I recognized immediately what it must have been, of course. The invisible individual that had been perched on top of that train car earlier was back. Only now I was pretty sure that it was, in fact, that zebra stallion that I’d seen with the bounty hunter when Foxglove and I had been negotiating for Jackboot’s release.

In a token effort of retaliation, I flicked my right forelimb and sent a short burst of rifle rounds arcing through the air where I’d seen the shimmer. He was certainly long gone from that spot by now of course, and I knew that. Still, I felt inclined to demonstrate to him why it would be unwise for him to get particularly adventurous where I was concerned. I didn’t have to know exactly where he was when I had the option of simply filling a general area with bullets and letting the laws of probability do the heavy lifting where hitting a target was concerned.

Pritchel took exception to my attack on her zebra compatriot and I was very promptly engaged with the bounty hunter once more.

Sing, Sing, Sing, Sing!

Everypony, start to Sing!

Raise your voice up to the sky,

You can do it, if you try!

Oh oh oh oh ohhh!

Almost on reflex, all four of us―and Yatima, as well―echoed Starlight’s melodic vocables. I felt a resurgence of energy as I flung myself back at the unicorn bounty hunter. Foxglove, too, wore an expression on her face that suggested she had caught her own second wind for this fight. Pritchel, on the other hoof, was letting her fatigue finally show. Her magenta eyes glared at the two of us as she continued to strike with her hammer, but found herself unable to land a solid blow with the weapon.

Her zebra companion continued to make a nuisance of himself as he darted around the periphery of the fight, peppering not just myself, but my companions with darts. I darted through the air in an effort to intercept them, dividing my attention between the bounty hunter and her striped partner. Under normal circumstances, doing so would almost certainly have meant losing this fight. However, with Foxglove managing to conduct herself surprisingly well under the circumstances, the two of us were able to maintain the upper hoof and keep pushing the silver unicorn back.

Woah-oh!

Pritchel staggered back in the face of a combined strike from both myself and my violet companion. She distanced herself from the pair of us and brought her hammer in front of her, defensively. The defiant glint in her eyes melted away a second later. I soon realized why when I noticed that Starlight Glimmer was no longer out and about skirmishing with the mercenaries. She had returned, standing triumphantly atop the mound of rails and ties that comprised the defensive position my companions had erected. Flanking her on either side were Ramparts and Arginine, each with their weapons trained squarely upon the large silver mare. Even Yatima was standing boldly, with a stern glare directed at the bounty hunter.

“And now you see what Singing brings…” the pink unicorn mare behind me sang, letting the last note linger into silence through her broad, satisfied, grin. She slowly stepped down the inner edge of the bunker and glanced in my direction, “told you.”

“Yeah, no, we’re still going to talk about this whole thing later,” I said in a slightly sour tone to the rather smug looking mare before returning my attention to bounty hunter once more, “it’s over, Pritchel. Surrender.”

The larger silver mare stood before us, wordless, as she continued to breathe heavily. Her coat glistened with sweat, and I caught sight of the slight tremor in her limbs as her muscles threatened to give out right then and there. Whether she was ready to admit it or not, she was out of this fight. I was just hoping that she was a big enough mare to admit it―no pun intended.

For several long seconds, I was genuinely afraid that she wasn’t going to give in. I really didn’t want to have to kill her. While I knew that it would more than likely have actually been either Ramparts or Arginine that delivered the lethal shot that ended her life, I’d know that I’d still feel just as responsible as if it had been my hoof on the trigger.

Finally, with an drawn out sigh, the mare released her telekinetic hold on her massive sledge and let the heavy metal hammer drop to the ground with a resounding CLUNK! She sat back on her haunches and held up her forelegs in a token gesture of surrender, “this is fucking bullshit,” she grumbled, favoring Starlight with a glare, “the fuck kind of spell was that, anyway?”

It was the pink mare’s turn to look defeated now, “nopony remembers Singing, really? It’s official: the future totally sucks.”

The comment drew a raised eyebrow from Pritchel, but I headed off any comment she might have made with a pointed question of my own. However, it wasn’t directed at the bounty hunter, “are you going to give yourself up too, or are you going to make tracking your invisible flank down into a whole...thing?” I really didn’t want to have to play Bronco Polo with that zebra to keep him from getting up to any mischief.

The silver unicorn mare cracked a smile and rolled her eyes, saying loudly to her surroundings, “the fun’s over, Medica; time to play nice with the Steel Slut!”

I narrowed my eyes at the mare, and was about to retort when I caught sight of a shimmering shape appearing startlingly close to where I was standing. Foxglove gasped and very nearly fell over herself trying to back away from the slightly built zebra stallion that was now right in front of her. Arginine’s energy rifle shifted instantly to the zebra, while Ramparts kept his own rifled trained squarely on the bounty hunter mare. Starlight didn’t look to have been particularly amused by the demonstration of the zebra’s stealth abilities either.

However, it was Yatima’s reaction that surprised everypony.

“Medica? You?!”

The striped stallion smirked at the other zebra, “greetings, Dearest. I trust that you missed me terribly?”

“Don’t you ‘dearest’ me, you―!” the mare sputtered, tripping over her words in her growing ire as she advanced on the stallion, who was wisely stepping backwards so as not to allow the obviously irate mare within strangling range, “does this mean―?! The whole time those brutes had me, you were―! The whole time―THE WHOLE TIME―the whole time?” in the span of two seconds near the end, the young mare’s tone had managed to transition from surprised, to wrathful, and then circle all the way back around to numbly curious. It was actually rather impressive.

“I was there the whole time,” the spry stallion admitted, “and I would have let no harm come to you. You know this.”

“I know you’re a sniveling little worm of a stallion who I should never have entertained the notion of marrying!” Yatima snapped, “where is my son!”

At this, the striped stallion’s lip curled into a barely suppressed sneer, “your little half-breed cur is safe,” he responded cooly, “everypony is safe,” now he glanced in my direction, “harming the residents of this town was never the intent,” he wiped his nose and sniffed.

As much as whatever drama these two zebras had going on was interesting, and I was definitely going to get some of the details on it later, there were bigger issues that needing addressing first; the welfare―and location―of Santa Mara’s population chief among them. I looked back at Pritchel, “where are the residents, and what did you and the Lancers do to them?”

“They’re fine,” the silver unicorn assured me, “they’re tied up in their homes,” she glanced over the lip of our defensive position at the dead and indisposed mercenaries, “and no longer under guard, it looks like.”

Although I knew what the result would be, I chanced another look around the town, my attention focused squarely on where blips should have been showing up on my EFS. While I could now she several indicators marking the locations of ponies, they corresponded only to the locations of the Lancers that I could see. There was no sign of anypony in the surrounding boxcars.

Anticipating my next comment, the bounty hunter added, “Medica did some zebra voodoo that hides things from pipbucks,” she shrugged, “couldn’t have you seeing all those Lancers, after all.”

“Foxglove, Arginine, check the town,” I said. Both ponies nodded and cantered off towards the nearest car. I looked back at the bounty hunter, “those mercs looked pretty serious about shooting Yatima earlier,” I pointed out, “I find it hard to believe neither of you ‘intended’ for anypony to get hurt.”

“They wouldn’t have, if you’d just given yourself up like you were supposed to,” the unicorn shot back, “you’re the one responsible for all of this,” she added, nodding at the bodies strewn about the town.

“You don’t get to put this on me!” I snarled at the silver mare, “I didn’t take a whole town full of innocent ponies hostage! I didn’t put a gun to a mare’s head! I didn’t decide to put my lot in with a group of ponies who are just a bunch of slavers pretending to be ‘respectable’ mercenaries!

“This was all on them,” I very nearly spat in the bounty hunter’s face, then growled, “and it’s on you for helping them.”

Pritchel sneered down at me defiantly, “so now what? Are you going to execute us yourself, or give us over to the Republic to do it?”

I found myself glancing reflexively back at Ramparts. He wasn’t a very happy stallion, that much was obvious. It was hard to blame him. He’d been more personally involved with this confrontation than even I had, given that his family had been placed under threat in all of this. Add to that his professional outrage at having a settlement under the protection of the New Lunar Republic placed under threat, and you had the makings for a pony who probably wouldn’t mind tying the noose that would be used to hang these ponies himself. She was right, of course, the Republic would certainly kill all of these ponies for what they’d done when they got their hooves on them.

How did I feel about that? I’d given Pritchel and her zebra companion the option to surrender in lieu of killing them. Had I really done that just to hoof them over for execution? That wasn’t effectively all that different than just putting a bullet in their heads myself, and I didn’t want to do that.

Could I really let them go, though?
Pritchel wasn’t much of a concern, herself. She was a bounty hunter, and not a particularly bad pony. She had a personal grudge against me that I didn’t quite get, but I knew enough to know that she had a few details wrong. I was confident that some talking would iron things out between us.

The Lancers were another matter. They’d only gotten more bold since the last time they’d tried to exact their vengeance on me. I shuddered to think of what they might try next time in the face of their failure here. It was probably too much to hope that this was over, after all. Killing them hadn’t worked last time either, of course. There was no way I’d be able to talk them down…

It seemed that things weren’t quite over between me and the Lancers though.

The older cyan stallion from before was back on his hooves. I spied him standing back up beyond Pritchel. He was glaring daggers at me as he reached a hoof beneath his barding and withdrew a small metallic device with a pulsing red light.

“You fucked up now, bitch!” he yelled at me, drawing the attention of all of us. Holding the device aloft in his hoof, his lip curled back in a sadistic grin, “now, everypony dies!” he lowered the object, raised his other hoof, and brought them together to depress the pulsing dot of light.

It was a detonator. I didn’t know to what, precisely, but it didn’t really matter, did it? The stallion hadn’t exactly been keen on idle threats up to this point, so if he thought that whatever he was about to do would kill ‘everypony’, I was inclined to believe him. Not that there was much I could do to stop him from all the way over here. The Gale Force was fast, but even it wouldn’t get me there in time to snatch the detonator from his hooves.

I could escape. Save myself. Honestly, it was either that or staying put and dying with the rest of the town.

My heart froze as I saw our demise impending.

There was a flash of cyan light. The stallion’s hooves clamped together. A blaring, warbling, wheeze of noise echoed across the railway tracks that ran through the middle of the town. Everypony, most especially the Lancer stallion, looked down at his hooves.

He was holding a deflated rubber chicken.

A second, larger, flash of light eclipsed him, and suddenly Starlight Glimmer was standing in front of him, scowling at the older stallion. A book was floating at her side, the pages it was turned to glowing with ethereal light, “I am so sick of dealing with assholes in this future,” she said in a low, grumbling, tone. A moment later, before the mercenary could react, the aura surrounding the pages of the floating grimoire leapt first to her horn, and then beamed directly into the cyan earth pony’s brow. He gasped and his body went rigid, his mouth agape in a wordless scream.

“Starlight!” I yelled out, jetting over to the pair, yet not sure what I would do when I got there. I certainly wasn’t about to try and forcibly disrupt the spell, for fear of being caught in its effects.

Just as I arrived, whatever spell that the pink unicorn was casting came to an end, and the cyan earth pony collapsed limply to the ground. At first, I was convinced that he’d been killed outright. I gaped at Starlight in surprise. Not that she’d killed a pony who had, just moments ago, apparently tried to blow up what I presumed to be the whole town; but rather that she―after all her lamenting otherwise―might have killed somepony outright. In fact, I couldn’t think of a moment where she’d killed anypony or anything since we’d revived her. She certainly was shy about her views on violence being anathema to her entire world-view.

Sure I found the concept of her level of desired pacifism laughable. I mean, I hated killing as much as the next mare, but I understood that sometimes it was necessary under the right circumstances. I’d just recently started re-evaluating what those circumstances were. However, I did still feel a lingering admiration that the pink mare had those kinds of principals. If I was seeing the death of those ideals right this moment, well, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret that traveling with us may have effectively corrupted Starlight like that.

Before I could say anything, there was a gasp from the stallion that drew my attention. It seemed that the Lancer hadn’t been killed after all. I wheeled around and took up a defensive stance, ready for the older earth pony to try and make some other sort of threatening move. While it should have been quite obvious that trying anything further was a useless effort, I recognized that this was a stallion who had just demonstrated that he was desperate enough to slaughter an undetermined number of bystanders just to spite me.

Ponies with that level of personal grudges didn’t let anything go just because the odds were stacked against them. I was going to be ready for anything.

The stallion blinked up at me and Starlight and then looked around at the state of the town. His features fell as he slowly raised himself up into a sitting position, one hoof idly rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, “looks like I made an awful mess of things. I’m really sorry about that,” he directed his gaze to me now, his expression the perfect embodiment of regret and contrition, “I shouldn’t have blamed you for the mistakes of my ponies. I knew what they were doing, and that it was wrong. I should have tried to stop it. This was all my fault, and I’m very sorry about that.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he continued, apparently completely oblivious to my own look of stupefied incomprehension, “but I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to make up for my mistakes, and those of my Lancers,” he extended his hoof, “my name’s, Lucerne. It’s nice to meet you, Wonderbolt,” another sheepish half-smile, “I just wish the circumstances had been better.”

My gaze darted between his outstretched hoof and his apologetic features. It was uncanny. Either this pony was the most gifted confidence stallion to have ever existed in all of pony history, or he felt genuine regret for what he’d done. It was patently unbelievable.

“Starlight,” I said out of the corner of my mouth, not taking my eyes off of the Lancer, “can I have a word with you please?” keeping my gaze locked on the stallion, I gloated backwards, away from him, as the pink unicorn and I retreated to a distance that would allow us to exchange a hushed conversation in private.

“Could you please tell me what the fuck is going on?! Why is he like this now? What did you do to him?”

The unicorn mare rolled her eyes, “I reformed him, obviously.”

“‘Reformed’, nothing; he’s a completely different pony!”

“He is exactly the same as he was,” Starlight insisted, “only now, instead of wanting to be selfish and violent, he wants to be helpful and friendly,” she frowned at me, “I don’t understand what your problem is. He’s a model citizen now and will never be a problem for anypony as long as he lives. Isn’t this a good thing?”

“I…” what was I supposed to tell her; ‘change him back’? I certainly didn’t want that. She was right: this is just about exactly how I would have wanted a pony to react to being summarily defeated. He was cooperative, showing feelings of contrition, and actively offering to make amends for his wrongdoing. I literally could not have asked for more out of the stallion. Like Starlight said: he was the postercolt for how ponies should behave towards one another.

All it had taken was a zap to the brainpan.

“I’m going to leave you two to talk things out,” the pink unicorn mare said as she turned away and began trotting towards the nearest incapacitated Lancer mercenary, “I have a long day ahead of me,” she said with a resigned sigh, rubbing her horn and adding, “it’s going to mean another rough morning too, I can tell…”

I felt a half-hearted protest die on my lips as Starlight headed off. I wasn’t completely convinced that I felt ‘good’ about how she was dealing with the Lancers, but what kind of alternatives was I being presented with here? I glanced back at the cyan stallion, who was still looking at me was a tentatively hopeful expression as he gave me a friendly little wave. It sent an uncomfortable shiver down my spine.

“I’ll...get back to you,” I finally said before jabbing a wing in the direction of Ramparts and his...marefriend? It looked like the Republican officer was making half-hearted attempts to keep his striped companion from getting into a physical confrontation with Medica, “right now I’ve got to deal with a...thing. Over there. Yeah,” violence-inducing drama was something I could much more readily understand than...whatever it was Lucern was showing me right now.

What did that say about me? That was an existential question for contemplation much later down the line. Right now? Domestic drama!

Even Pritchel looked to have settled into watching the show unfold before her, righting her recliner and making herself comfortable upon it as the two zebras continued to bicker. She noted my approach, and I saw her expression sour somewhat. Ah, right, the whole ‘Steel Slut’ thing. Perhaps I could nip that in the flank before partaking in the entertainment. Ramparts seemed to have things in hoof for the moment. Or, at least, wasn’t feeling like letting things get outright violent any time soon. He certainly wasn’t making an effort to intervene.

“S’up, Steel Sl―” the bounty hunter began. However, I was having none of it anymore.

“Alright!” I snarled at the mare, glaring balefully at her, “I get it: you don’t like the Steel Rangers. Frankly, I can think of a dozen reasons right off the top of my head why you and anypony else in the valley could possibly hate them. All our bits on the table? I don’t particularly care for them either! As far as I’m concerned, the valley would be a much better place without them.

“Here’s a news flash: I’m trying to get rid of them!” Pritchel recoiled in surprise at my outburst, which gave me no small amount of satisfaction, “and I’m this close to doing it,” I said, bringing my wings about in front of me and moving them to bring the two foremost pinions on either appendage to very nearly touch, “if that means giving them a helping hoof once or twice in order to get them to stop slaughtering innocent ponies and usher them on their way? So be it.

“You’ve got beef with the Rangers. Who doesn’t? If you’ve got such a problem with them, then tell me: what are you doing to get them out of the valley?” not that I was going to give her a chance to provide an actual answer, even if I thought she had one, “oh, nothing? Nothing at all? But I’m the ‘Steel Slut’ for being the only mare in this whole damned valley who is trying to get them out of our manes so we can go back to dealing with our own shit.

“Yeah. That seems reasonable,” I flicked a wing dismissively in her direction, “especially coming for a mare who get’s off helping slavers. Do me a favor and don’t open your mouth until you’ve decided to stop sucking Lancer cock and come up with something constructive to say.”

That...was actually quite satisfying. Feeling a little better for having vented, it was now time for me to partake in the little lover’s spat unfolding before me.

“So, tell me, Dearest,” Medica was saying, with a smug expression that simply begged to be beaten off of his muzzle, “how have your parents reacted to your decision to debase yourself with a pony, of all things?” he cast a sly leer at Ramparts, “fitting, I suppose, that he should be brown…”

“How have your parents reacted to learning that their ‘prodigy’ of a son is a conniving incubus?!” Yatima spat bat with a startling level of vitriol for a mare that I’d only know to be timid and demure. Even her beau looked surprised. There was the barest hint of a smile on his face as well.

The striped stallion rolled his eyes, “there is nothing nefarious about flattery, Dearest; and it is no fault of mine if it requires mere compliments to lift your tail,” he once more smirked at Ramparts, “I’m sure you can attest to how quick she is to present herself in the face of a passing kind word, no?”

“Why you―!” Yatima very nearly threw herself bodily at the slightly built zebra. This time, however, Ramparts was not inclined to even make a token effort to restrain her. Indeed, he looked to be about half-tempted to join the assault himself.

He hadn’t seemed to note Medica’s stance though. I recognized it as a variation of one of the styles that Jackboot had taught me as a filly. What that suggested about the history of how the White Hooves had developed their hoof-to-hoof techniques was a question to be answered by scholars who actually cared about those sorts of things. All that mattered to me was that the bounty hunter was a lot more prepared for a fight than I thought either of the other two equines realized. Medica didn’t have to hurt the mare. He was poised perfectly to deflect her aside harmlessly. Yatima would be largely unhurt by the effort, but I suspected that Ramparts would be rather incensed to see her tossed about so casually.
If the slightly-built zebra thought that he was a match in a fight for a stallion nearly twice his weight class, I knew that this was a fight that I didn’t want to see start. Medica had thus far proven far too sly and sneaky to make a blunder like intentionally goading himself into a fight he thought he couldn’t win in moments.

I zipped in between the trio, wings splayed out between the spatting former lovers―or so I assumed from the context of their taunts. Yatima and Ramparts found themselves thwarted by a wall of alloyed metal thoroughly dented and scoured by battles, while Medica was on the receiving end of the glare that I was leveling at him. The stallion’s smirk melted away into a disappointed scowl. It was only now that I could see that one of his hooves, which had previously been hidden from my view by his body, had been subtly snaking its way to one of the pouches on the odd harness that he was wearing.

His hoof slowly rose up to his nose, which he wiped as he sniffled, his own glare growing slightly more intense as it darted briefly to my pipbuck, “Wonderbolt,” he acknowledged, his tone taking on a slightly more nasally timbre.

“Where is Yatima’s foal?” I asked in an even tone.

The striped stallion grumbled, sniffed, and then finally pointed to one of the train cars nearby, “the cur is within,” then he shifted his glare to the mare behind me, “safe.”

“Ramparts, isn’t it about time you met your son?” I said without taking my eyes off of the zebra in front of me, “today has kind of sucked so far. Let’s make it a little better by adding in a happy family reunion.”

I could feel Yatima behind me, battling with herself between her desire to verify the safety of her child, and her hatred for this other zebra. There were a few mumbled words from the earth pony beside her, and finally the pair cantered off towards the indicated car. In a few seconds, it was just me and the bounty hunters.

A fact that both Pritchel and her partner seemed to note as well. No concerted effort had been made to disarm either bounty hunter, and neither of them was particularly seriously injured. With all of my companions otherwise occupied, it wouldn’t be much of a risk for them to capitalize on their advantage and try to take me on right here and now.
However, they were just bounty hunters, “this had to have been one of the easier jobs you’ve had,” I began, folding my wings back in snugly at my sides, “just sit and wait for me to show up, say a few words, and let the Lancers do all the work. What’s your rate for something like that?”

The silver unicorn mare snorted, taking out her own half-finished Sparkle-Cola RAD from earlier before drawing out a second and tossing it my way. She took a long sip of the drink while her partner backed away and started rubbing his eyes, “that’s certainly how things were supposed to go,” she admitted with a wry smirk in my direction, “leave it to a Steel...the Wonderbolt,” she amended upon noting my scowl, “to make things interesting for her enemies.

“Honestly, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be that easy; but the Lancers were calling the shots. All we were paid to do was track you down.”

“About that,” I said, popping off the cap from my drink and pocketing it before taking a small sip. It’s been months since I’d had one of these, They were certainly a step better than the standard Sparkle Cola, even with that odd little aftertaste that I was pretty sure wasn’t really ‘radishes’. I’d have to remember to ask Starlight about that. If anypony knew what a for-real radish had tasted like, it’d be her, right? “How did you know we’d be by here?” it wasn’t like I’d been broadcasting my plans for the whole Wasteland to hear.

“It wasn’t exactly hard to figure out,” Pritchel chuckled, “the whole valley knew you were McMaren, what with Miss Neighvada giving your dock the verbal licking of a lifetime for the last three days,” I grimaced. It hadn’t been that bad, “seriously, are you fucking that mare, or what?”

“I’m not,” I grunted, then realized what I’d said and scowled at the bounty hunter again.

“Ooh,” the unicorn cooed as she stroked her chin and cast her gaze about in the direction that my other companions had wandered off in, “don’t tell me: I want to figure this one out for myself,” she glanced at her zebra companion, “any wagers?”

“Anyway,” I said, clearing my throat and trying to push the conversation in a direction that I preferred, “knowing where we were isn’t the same as knowing where we were going. How’d you guess Santa Mara?”

“That was a bit of an educated guess, I’ll admit,” the larger mare acknowledged, sipping her drink, “fifty-fifty shot as to whether you’d go north or south, of course. However, I knew you had a thing for the Rangers,” she pointedly ignored my glare this time, “and I knew you were traveling with a Republic mook. So, north seemed like a the better guess.

“Additionally, I knew that said-mook had a loin-biscuit here. A pony as oh-so-noble as The Wonderbolt wouldn’t be the sort to not stop in and let her companions see their family, I figured. Thus…” she shrugged and finished off her radish-infused soft drink. The zebra sneezed and backed away further.

I frowned at the unicorn, “how could you possibly know that Yatima and her son were here, or that they were connected to Ramparts?”

“Oh, Sandy and I go way back,” the mare smiled, waving her hoof dismissively, “that mare has to be, like, the proudest aunt in the whole Wasteland. Seriously, she’ll tell everypony who’ll listen―and even anypony who won’t―all about how the Wonderbolt personally saved her friend and newborn foal, who―as fate would have it―is also her nephew. And you can best believe that she’s been bragging about how her big brother has been the Wonderbolt’s ‘right hoof stallion’ ever since Miss Neighvada broke that news.

“Honestly, it was pretty obvious that all we had to do was stick close to that zebra mare and you’d show up eventually. Then, boom; trap: sprung.”

It was at this precise moment that I first decided that it was perhaps plausible―even probable, in fact―that there was a reason that heroes hid behind monikers like, ‘The Security Mare’, or ‘The Stable Dweller’, or even ‘The Wonderbolt’, and that maybe―just maybe―they didn’t like the names of the ponies close to them getting out to the public, on the off chance that any enemies that the hero was making might decide that using the friends and families of their companions was a good way of coercing or ensnaring said hero in a dastardly trap―much like this one. Perhaps hogging all of that credit for themselves alone was a means of further protecting the ponies closest to them. Honestly, at the moment, it felt like a very reasonable course of action that anypony with more than two functional brain cells worth rubbing together would have thought of almost immediately.

They probably heard my epic facehoof all the way over in Manehattan.
Windfall. You. Idiot, “I’m a dumbass…”

Pritchel, in what had to be her first demonstration of restraint, managed not to grin merrily at my callosal fuck-up. She simply shrugged and smiled, offering a non-committal, “eh…you’re young. Young ponies make mistakes all the time.”
In my own defense―which felt very flimsy at the moment―the concept of hiding the identities of my closest companions to help safeguard the safety of their loved-ones hadn’t really been much of a concern, like...ever. Everypony I had ever loved or cared about was dead, so it hardly mattered to me if my greatest adversaries knew who I was. The same thing went for Starlight Glimmer, whose every mere acquaintance was the better part of two centuries long gone.

Even Foxglove didn’t know the exact location of her own underground stable, and she hadn’t been very concerned with forming any meaningful bonds since before meeting Jackboot and I. There wasn’t anypony that could really be used to get at me through her. Arginine fell into this category as well, though for slightly different reasons. Assuming that the stallion was even capable of feeling emotionally close to anypony―and he repeatedly insisted that he wasn’t―I’d sooner help anypony who tracked down his stable and threatened to wipe them out; so everypony knowing who he was didn’t present a problem either.

However, I had forgotten that this wasn’t the case with Ramparts. He wasn’t like the rest of us: ponies forever removed from our homes and families in one way or another. He was the closest thing to a normal pony that existed in our group: he had a home, a family, a full time job―which I supposed he was on extended leave from, or something? He was probably in for a good scolding when he eventually got back―he was a stallion who actually had things to lose if the right ponies found out who he was and took exception to his choice of traveling companions.

I didn’t even know the full extent to which that was the case. I’d only very recently learned that he had a sister, after all. I had never thought to ask about his parents, or any other siblings he might have. Aunts and Uncles. Grandparents. Cousins. Foalhood friends that he was extremely close with, maybe? The point was that there was likely a highly lengthy list of ponies that could be in danger right now, and I didn’t have the slightest clue how long it was. Even if I did though, the answer was already an obvious: ‘too many’. The three names on that list that I did know about was too many, as far as I was concerned.

I was going to have to have a long talk with Ramparts once things settled down.

The approach of Lucerne served as an unwelcome reminder that there was another of my companions that I was going to need to have a long talk with about a rather important topic. However, it looked like I was at least going to be initially spared having to interact with the unsettling stallion, as he was instead intent upon talking with Pritchel. For her part, the larger unicorn mare didn’t initially look like she was looking forward to this conversation. Given that her employer was about to talk with her after what was undeniably a disaster of a job, I could well imagine expecting some unpleasantness.

Of course, the bounty hunter had yet to experience Reformed Lucerne, like I had. She was about to though, “Miss Pritchel, I would like to offer you my sincerest apologies for what happened today,” it was...interesting, seeing this from the outside; watching the unbridled confusion as the silver unicorn lost all control of her features in the face of words that nopony could have ever possibly predicted coming out of anypony’s mouth. Seriously, nopony talked like this, or genuinely felt this way. It was...ethereal, or something.

What was more, he just kept right on talking, as though Pritchel didn’t look like her brain had locked up completely; with every additional sentence only serving to compound her state of stupefaction, “I shouldn’t have let you place yourself in danger like that for something that was my own personal problem. That was wrong of me. I also shouldn’t have mined the town with bombs without telling you―or at all, really,” he added with an apologetic look my way, “you could have been seriously hurt, and I sincerely regret that. I know this won’t make up for all the wrongs I’ve done you, but I hope you’ll see it as a token of an honest effort on my part to do better in the future,” the cyan earth pony reached into his saddlebags and took out several sacs of caps, passing them over to Pritchel, who was too stunned by the events unfolding to properly use even her telekinesis, and had to resort to accepting the boon with her bare hooves.

The weight of the bags of money seemed to be enough to rouse the mare from her stupor, and she whipped her head down at the payment, gawking, “this is, like...eight thousand caps!” she stared wide-eyed at the older earth pony, “the agreement was for half this, and we failed!” she flailed a hoof in my direction, as though the cyan earth pony had somehow yet to realize that the target of his efforts was still alive and free, “have you lost your mind?!”

The stallion smiled and shook his head, “you tried your best, and that’s all that matters,” he insisted, “and the rest is to let you know that I hope there won’t be any bad feelings between us in the future for putting you in a position where you could have gotten seriously hurt.

“Please let me know if there’s anything else I could possibly do to make up for my poor conduct today.”

Pritchel was silent for a moment, then she looked over at me, “what. The. Actual. Fuck.

“What did your friend do to him?” she thought for a brief moment, “and does she take requests? I know a few casino bosses in New Reino who I’d like to see get a dose of whatever she gave this guy.”

“Yeah, no,” I shook my head and frowned, “I’m going to talk to her about whatever...this is,” I said, gesturing to the stallion. Then I did a double-take when I noticed that the unicorn mare had regained a very specific glint in her eye that she’d had earlier when we first arrived.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should get to apologising to the rest of the town,” he flashed the pair of us another sheepish smile, “and I doubt that’s going to be a pleasant experience. Still, it has to be done, so…” he shrugged and started to trot off towards the nearest boxcar, only to have his departure immediately arrested by a purple aura wrapping itself around his tail and rooting him in place.

“Not so fast, Pops,” Pritchel very nearly purred at the stallion, “I believe we were discussing ‘making up’?” she stood up and started to slowly circle the earth pony, eyeing him hungrily. If she were a manticore, I’d have been certain that she genuinely intended to eat him. As it was, I was starting to feel more than a little uncomfortable about the intensity of the attention that she was paying to him, “no better way to do that than by making out, in my experience.”

She turned and headed off for a boxcar which had a glowing neon sign hanging above it marking it as being the ‘Sleeper Cars’, which I knew to be the local inn of sorts for ponies passing through, “let’s go put your ‘lance’ to work ‘earning my forgiveness’!” the stallion let out a startled yelp as he was bodily dragged behind the mare, his face a mask of confusion. It quickly shifted to embarrassment as her telekinetic aura migrated further beneath the tail it held.

Medica took an interest now, attempting to voice protests of his own between mucus saturated sniffles and sneezes as they passed by him, “Pritchel, no―I…stars...” he ended with a defeated sigh as the pair vanished from sight into the collection of train cars that had been welded together in order to form the inn.

I looked between the zebra stallion and the inn, “should we...do something about that?” I asked, gesturing with my bottle of RAD.

“It would not be wise to deny her when she is in this state,” the stallion muttered bitterly just before another sneeze wracked his body. He noted the bottle clutched in my wing and his lips creased in a frown. His mouth opened for a brief moment, as though about to say something, then he changed his mind and instead offered, “sleep well,” he cast one final glare in my direction―focused specifically on my pipbuck―and trotted off.

Odd how ominous he’d made those last two words sound.

For a few seconds, as I polished off the cola, I idly wondered if I should have let the two bounty hunters who helped to set up this trap go that easily. I mean, it wasn’t like they seemed very intent on doing anything further to me or my friends at the moment, and I guess they’d been paid already, so they had no professional reason to want to do anything further. Pritchel did seem like the type to hold a grudge, but nothing in the last few minutes had suggested she wanted to hurt me any time soon over what had happened here, specifically.

Honestly, I had other concerns to occupy my thoughts. Like finding out how much progress Arginine and Foxglove had made in freeing the locals.

The answer turned out to be: a fair bit. When it came to freeing the townsponies and disarming the bombs that the Lancers had placed, the two were proving to be a dynamite team―...I swear I’m not trying to pun like this on purpose! The residents of Santa Mara were appropriately grateful for the rescue, certainly, and quite impressed―for the most part―that our tiny little group had been able to take on the vastly superior numbers that the Lancers had arrayed against us.

It felt really good to be helping ponies like this again. I mean, I know that I’d gone through nearly this exact same thing just a week ago with the ponies of McMaren, but it still felt really great. It wasn’t even the accolades and praise that were being heaped on me. Just seeing the indescribable relief on everypony’s faces…

“Um...Windfall?”

I blinked and looked up at the large gray unicorn stallion. It was then that I realized that I’d been rubbing up against Arginine’s side. I offered up a coy little smile and shrugged. Hey, it wasn’t my fault that he felt so good to rub up against! If he didn’t want me being this close to him, then he should find a way to stop smelling so good and looking so enticing. I mean, look at him...standing there...like a stallion...and I mean, a stallion stallion!

...My stallion. My stallion who used his super-knowledge of pony body stuff to know exactly where to put those stallion lips of his...

I was rubbing up against him again; which I once more contend was not something I could be held liable for doing. If stallions were going to look, feel, and smell, this good, then I couldn’t be responsible for my actions! I mean, I bet he even tasted good...confirmed: the lick test returned conclusive results that RG does, in fact, taste exquisite…

But, ever the thorough mare that I was, I couldn’t very well leave this unverified without extensive investigation...somewhere else...away from other mares...like that purple one that was giving me a concerned look with those emerald eyes of hers. If she thought that she was getting My Stallion, she had another thing coming!

“RG, I need you to help me with something,” I said, not taking my eyes off of the other mare as I pressed the larger unicorn stallion towards the exit, “you can manage things here on your own right...um, you?”

“Windy, are you feeling alright?” the interloper asked, acting all innocent. I knew better though. He’s mine, you hussy!

“We’re just fine,” I said firmly, leaving no possible doubt to the veracity of my statement, “you just keep doing...whatever it is you’re doing here.”

Her emerald eyes darted briefly to the equally confused looking residents, “you mean freeing these ponies?” I saw the jealous glint in the eyes of the other mares though, and while the stallions looked tasty enough, I’d already picked mine out of the herd. I might come back for one of the others later once I was done with this one.

“Yeah, that,” I flip a wing lazily in their direction and more urgently guided My Stallion out the door, “see you later...you!”

Once outside, and away from those other stallion-poaching-mares, I flitted up into the air and alit upon My Stallion’s back, spreading myself over his sinewy flesh and burying my face into his scruff, inhaling his scent as deeply as I could. My whole body shuddered and I locked my wings around his sides as tightly as I could, “Mmmmm…” I stand corrected. Fuck relieved looking expressions on pony’s faces. This was the most amazing feeling in the world!

“Are we not being discrete anymore?” My Stallion asked, glancing back over his shoulder at me as best he could.

“Stop talking,” I sighed before using a hoof to turn his head around, pointing at the inn, “go that way. Quickly.”

Oh, wow…! It was hard to put into words what it felt like having My Stallion’s body undulating beneath me as he galloped across the center of town. I found myself wishing that the town had been a lot larger, and even momentarily debated instructing him to just run around in circles for a bit so that I could keep feeling those muscles rubbing up against my loins. Sweet Celestia!

Of course, doing that would delay the main event, wouldn’t it?

“Is there some trouble in this place?”

“Stop talking,” I repeated to My Stallion, filling my lungs with his scent once again, “inside.”

Obediently, My Stallion pushed the door open and entered the inn. I finally perked my head up and looked around. Finally, my gaze fell upon an open door leading to one of the guest rooms. I reached out and nudged his head in that direction, “in there.”

My Stallion hesitated and pointed with a hoof, “are we not concerned about them?” he asked, indicating a trio of bound ponies in the middle of the lobby, “or perhaps that?” he shifted his hood slightly so that it was pointed at the bomb lying on the floor right next to the two jealous mares and the Not-My-Stallion.

I let out a frustrated moan. My Stallion wasn’t going to be able to focus with a distraction like that, was he? Frankly, neither would I, knowing that those two mares would be right outside, thinking about poaching My Stallion from me, those whores!

“Fine!” I said in a long, exasperated sigh. I flipped off of My Stallion’s back and landed between the bound ponies and the bomb. A deft double-buck sent the explosive device out the door, and earned a trio of high-pitched muffled squeals from the ponies, “relax,” I snapped irritably, “C-4’s inert, and the detonator is a chicken,” the ponies retained their terrified expressions, but now possessed an added element of confusion. Next out were my wings, and the razor blades that lined their leading edges. A few carefully executed strokes relieved the ponies of their bonds.

I reached into my saddlebags, threw a hundred caps or so at the presumed owners of this inn, and jabbed a hoof at the door, “now get out! And hang a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, or a bridle, or something on the door!” I darted back into the air and snaked a hoof into the collar of My Stallion’s jumpsuit, “happy now? Let’s go!”

Still wearing a confused look on his face, My Stallion obediently trotted into the room that I’d selected, at which point I bucked the door shut and―finally―reveled in having My Stallion all to myself, away from the prying eyes of those jealous mares.

“Windfall, are y―!”

I wrapped myself around My Stallion’s neck and silenced whatever meaningless prattle he was about to spew with a firm kiss. He seemed a little surprised at first, but he was hardly in any sort of position to distance himself from me like this. I pulled myself against him as tightly as I could, nuzzling him enthusiastically. The feeling of him up against me was...enthralling! In fact, the only downside was all of this stupid barding that was in the way…

“Get this shit off me,” I hissed, fumbling to undo the straps and clasps that retained my armor in place. There was just so much of it. Why had I allowed myself to wear all of this? It wasn’t conducive to being with my Stallion at all. Neither was his own jumpsuit, “get that shit off you,” I tried, rather unsuccessfully to divide my efforts between disrobing both myself and my Stallion, with limited success.

Eventually I managed to disentangle enough of my gear that most of it fell to the ground with a loud thunk. I’d apparently missed some of the straps that I was supposed to get, and undid a few that I should have left alone. The kevlar pieces over my chest and withers had remained stubbornly in place while the rest of my equipment fell away. I momentarily struggled further with it before giving up. I had the important bits off, and that was all that mattered.

I immediately turned my focus to My Stallion, and getting rid of his own clothing. It was hard to focus with his scent filling my nostrils with every breath. My cheek was essentially glued to his neck as I found myself unable to keep from rubbing up against him, which prevented me from seeing exactly what my hooves were doing as I tried to peel back his jumpsuit.

“Windfall―”

The moment his lips were open, I was pressing my own up against them, reveling in the taste of him. The softness of his flesh against mine. It was intoxicating. I needed this―needed him―like I’d never realized.

My ear perked as I heard a mare’s muffled moans and screams coming from nearby. These were soon accompanied by the sounds of furniture thumping against the thin metal walls of the train cars that the rooms had been fashioned out of. Visions of Foxglove and Jackboot floated into my head, brought on by how similar the sounds were to one another.

Any other time, those memories might have stirred within me feelings of jealousy and rage. This time, though, I felt...warmth, and an immutable desire to recreate those memories, right here and now, with My Stallion. I needed to have happen to me what was happening to that mare in the other room. I needed to feel what she was feeling.

I broke our embrace, “fuck me, RG,” I demanded, breathlessly, just before burying my face near his ear, “make me scream like that!” I needed that sensation more desperately than I could ever remember.

“Windfall, I don’t think I can―”

“I can fix that!” I slipped around the stallion in an instant, “I’ve heard that mares sometimes do this thing with their mouths, and I’ve never done it before, but I figure it can’t be that hard to figure out―”

“Windfall!”

My body went rigid, my vision clouding with a golden haze as My Stallion seized me with his telekinesis. For the briefest moments, a similar foggy sensation that I was only just now aware of that was present in my head cleared enough for me to register his tone: he was angry. My Stallion―no...Arginine, didn’t get ‘angry’; certainly not with me. I soon found myself floating in front of the large gray stallion, who was indeed glaring at me with a critical gaze.

I was helpless before him. Exposed. He could do whatever he wanted to me right now. The mental haze returned and my head piled up with a hundred different things that I wanted―needed―him to do to me right now. I bit my lip as those fantasies manifested in my head and brought back those warm, stirring, feelings within me.

“You are not acting rationally,” the stallion said, having regained his regularly level tone, “I am concerned about this behavior. It is atypical.”

“We’ve done it before,” I pointed out, squirming in frustration against his hold on me as it was preventing me from getting nearer to him. I needed to be touched by him―by somepony! I needed him near me. Over me. In me. Now! “I want to do it again! You said you would!” I felt my frustration starting to boil over into anger as My Stallion continued to refuse to cooperate in the face of my indomitable logical argument.

“I have indeed attended to your amorous desires, in an effort to mitigate your stress levels.”

“So what’s wrong this time?! Mitigate me, already!” I was snarling at him now as these desires within me continued to grow, spurred on further by the sounds of gratification that were continuing to spill in through the walls. It wasn’t fair that she had a willing stallion…

“Your actions are clearly aberrant,” My Stallion insisted, “I am concerned that intimacy might exacerbate the situation.”

“I’ll exacerbate you if you don’t start fucking me right now!” I screamed, “if you won’t do it, I’ll find a stallion who will, you bastard! Let me go!” I writhed and struggled within the golden field that still held me, feeling my limbs starting to pull free little by little.

The unicorn stallion’s horn flared brighter and I felt my limbs freeze in place once more, drawing out another outraged roar that was probably supposed to have words in it somewhere; I forget. Didn’t he understand how much I needed his help right now? These feelings and desires were just so...powerful. They weren’t even pleasant anymore. They’d stopped being pleasant a while ago, and had crossed into the realm of agonizing.

Through it all, I knew how to make them stop. I knew that they’d go away if My Stallion would just help. Me. Why wouldn’t he do it? Stallions were supposed to like doing this sort of thing! Stallions have been making passes at me for years in an effort to let them do this with me. Well, here I am! So why won’t you do it, you fuck?!

I struggled, and I snarled, and I roared. I’m positive that there were insults and death threats in there somewhere. I couldn’t tell you what they were specifically, and I wasn’t positive that they had all been intelligibly articulated through all of my screaming; but I was confident that he’d at least gotten the idea through all of it. Yet, none of that had moved him in the slightest. He’d stood there, impassive, holding me aloft with his magic, until the worst of my tantrum subsided.

For it did subside. My rage spent itself after several minutes as the physical pain began to overwhelm me now. It hurt so much, and I couldn’t stop it. Arginine could, but...he wouldn’t. No matter how much I threatened or begged him, he wouldn’t do what I wanted him to. Tears started streaming down my face as the agony mounted, and threatened to surpass what I thought I could bare.

“Please…” I begged, trembling in his telekinesis as my body became saturated by the pain, “help me…”

“I shall,” the gray unicorn nodded. I gasped with relief through a sob the wracked my body at the prospect of being freed from this torment, “but not in that way,” my face fell as confusion overwhelmed my features. Then I saw the Med-X needles that he’d extracted from his saddlebags.

“This should suffice until I have discovered the nature of your affliction,” I didn’t even feel the pricks of the needles as they pierced my flesh.

I’d had Med-X before, of course, many times. I knew what to expect as the drug worked on my body to dull the pain. That wasn’t the case this time. What would have made me completely forget about bullet holes and shrapnel wounds under any other circumstance did nothing to soothe the agony I felt now. Tears resumed streaming down my face as I began to despair. If even drugs couldn’t satisfy, then what hope was there?

My thoughts became foggier...more difficult to focus on. The pain remained in all of it torment, but I could feel myself slipping from consciousness as the Med-X proceeded to enact the secondary effects that it carried with it in larger doses like the one that Arginine had just given me. I was losing consciousness. I could only hope that when the world finally vanished from my clouding vision, that it took this pain with it…

I was vaguely aware of moving through the air, and something soft being pressed up against me wings. A few moments of very focused examination of my surroundings informed me that I’d been placed on the room’s bed. My legs started jerking briefly as the remainder of my barding was finally removed. I tried to move, but my body felt heavy and numb, even if the discomfort I was experiencing had abated at all. Would it last forever?
It certainly felt like it would.

“Don’t leave…” I pleaded as the last vestiges of awareness started to ebb away. I hurt, and I was afraid that I wouldn’t stop. I was scared.

My words sounded soft and distant to my own ears. For a moment, I wasn’t even sure I’d managed to say them loud enough to be heard. Then there was a deep, reverberating sound, “I shall not.”

Then the world went dark.

Foot Note:...

CHAPTER 40: A FOOL GROWS WISE

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There are some back home who ask me, "But who are we protecting? What is Neighvada to us?"

“What did you do to her?!”

“I didn’t do shit!”

My eyes fluttered open as the sounds of the mares yelling outside finally managed to penetrate the drug-induced stupor that RG had inflicted on me. There were only a few passing moments of confusion as my brain shook off the last vestiges of sleep, after which I was able to start processing everything that had happened.

“Bullshit! Windfall wasn’t herself, and the last ones to be near her were you and your zebra friend. You did something!”
The first thing that I was aware of feeling was the complete lack of pain and discomfort that I’d been suffering from earlier. It was quite the welcome relief. I still didn’t have much in the way of ideas when it came to the cause of my earlier torment, but I was very glad to find that it had passed.

“I gave her a soda and left, that was it!”

Next up was a residual nagling frustration that I felt towards RG. I just couldn’t understand that stallion. He’d seemed perfectly fine with the idea of mounting me that first time. It didn’t make much sense to me that he’d suddenly start having second thoughts like that. I mean, yeah, in hindsight I guess it was pretty silly of me to kind of forget the whole, ‘don’t want to risk getting a foal in me yet’ reason for putting the brakes on being together like that again, and suddenly insist that we do it, but…

“Oh, really? And what exactly was in that ‘soda’, huh? Admit it: you planned on drugging her and abducting her!”

...actually, that was a good question: why had I chosen to ignore the risk of getting pregnant like that? We were just a few more days from Seaddle and Doctor Lancet. I could get an implant from him and remove the risk entirely and then RG and I could rut around all we wanted. Well, I suppose all that I wanted; he didn’t really seem to care either way. Not that I was really all that hot and bothered to go through that lackluster experience again. Seriously: why were ponies so keen on sex when it was over that quick? All that playing around leading up to it was way more fun!

“Wow. You caught me. You figured out my master plan to drug the pegasus...and then leave her alone to go get my brains fucked out. How ever did you discover my nefarious plot?”

Alright, so I did kind of have to admit that I might not have been thinking clearly at the time. I had just been through a pretty tough fight, not that I haven’t been through those before. However, there was that whole ‘singing’ thing. That had been new. Maybe I’d still been under some sort of lingering magical effect from Starlight’s song that had left me not thinking clearly? I suppose that it was possible.

“Just because I don’t know all the details doesn’t mean I’m not right!”
I turned my head and frowned in the direction of the door. I suppose that at the very least I should get out there and diffuse that before it escalated. One big fight a day was what I felt to be a reasonable limit. No reason to let Foxglove get hot and bothered enough to start another one with Pritchel.

I slipped out of the bed. My barding and battle saddle were still in pieces from my earlier reckless efforts to get them off, and I didn’t feel like it was quite worth the time and effort to get them on just this moment. My compact semi and its underwing holster should be more than sufficient for just flitting around Santa Mara at the moment.

“I know Windfall, and she’d never behave that way around a stallion; especially Arginine! You did something to her!”

Oh, boy. This was going to be an...uncomfortable conversation…

Well, I guess it wasn’t like I was going to be able to keep things a secret from my friends forever.

I trotted over to the door and pulled it open. The lobby of The Sleeper Cars looked rather crowded at the moment. Pritchel and Lucerne were squaring off against Foxglove and Ramparts. Though, in both instances, the stallions looked to mostly be there as backup in case things got out of hoof. Well, Ramparts looked like he was ready to be backup. The older Lancer stallion seemed like he’d really like for everypony to stop arguing, and was periodically trying to calm the large silver unicorn down. She just wasn’t having it.

The other bounty hunter, Medica, was skulking in a far corner of the lobby, acting like he wasn’t hearing the argument taking place just a few feet away from him. Meanwhile, the other zebra, Yatima, was paying very close attention to what was being said from her position next to Ramparts. Swaddled beneath her in a simple cloth wrap was the tiny brown striped form of her and the Republic soldier’s foal, squirming fitfully in the face of the nearby verbal banter being exchanged.

Beside me was Arginine, who looked down upon noticing that the door had opened. He raised his eyebrow slightly by way of silently asking me if I was feeling alright and I nodded. Satisfied, he returned his own attention to the pair of arguing mares who had yet to notice me. Starlight was the only pony not accounted for.

“Are you seriously blaming me for your teenage friend getting all flirty with that tall drink of equine over there?” Pritchel scoffed, jabbing her hoof in RG’s direction, “can you blame her? I mean, if I was going to drug and foalnap anypony in your group, it’d’ve been him!”

A lot of eyes turned in our direction at this point, and the conversation paused as everypony noticed the new arrival to their ‘discussion’. The collection of so many ponies all staring at me so suddenly, combined with the current topic of conversation, evoked a slight blush from myself. It intensified somewhat as I noticed that while most of the gathered ponies wore expressions ranging from concern to surprise, the large bounty hunter mare was grinning broadly.

“Well, speak of the siren...gotta admit, I’m a little surprised you can walk straight after a go with somepony like him,” she jerked her head in Arginine’s direction before turning her full attention to the larger gray pony, “you must be a pretty gentle lover,” her smile turned seductive, “though if you ever feel like getting rough with somepony, I promise I can take it…”

“Okay,” I snapped, flipping a wing up in between the amorous bounty hunter and the nonplused engineered stallion, flashing Pritchel a sharp glare. The silver unicorn chuckled to herself and took a step back in concession. I tucked my wing back into my side and took a calming breath to help settle my heckles, which I was annoyed to find had stiffened rather significantly. Then I turned to regard the still rather concerned looking Foxglove.

“Sorry about before, Foxy,” I began, still not really looking forward to all of this. It needed to be done though, “you’re right, I wasn’t myself,” I saw the violet mechanic fixing to glare smugly at the bounty hunter and cut her off, “but it didn’t have anything to do with Pritchel,” another glare from me curbed the raspberry that the larger unicorn mare was blowing at my friend, “the truth is…”

I took another breath as a little orange earth pony urged me to continue, “...that RG and I are kind of...a ‘thing’.”

While Foxglove looked predictably shocked by the revelation, I noticed that Ramparts was doing a poor job of acting surprised. Nopony else in the room really had much in the way of an opinion, though I suppose that somepony could have described Pritchel as looking a little envious.

“When did this start?” the violet unicorn mare asked, looking between me and Arginine.

“I mean, I guess it became ‘official’ in McMaren,” I admitted, “but that’s not important.”

“But―”

“Look, Foxy, if you want to, we can talk about this later. Privately,” I nodded my head in the direction of the bounty hunters, who I felt didn’t need to be privy to every facet of my love-life. Honestly, I wasn’t sure that my friends needed to be either, but it was either satisfy Foxglove’s curiosity or listen to her pester me about it for Celestia knew how long. Right now though, I had other concerns, “can we just focus on helping the ponies of Santa Mara for now?

“Where’s Starlight?”

This earned me an uncomfortable cough from Ramparts, who supplied the answer to my question, “she’s with the Lancers, directing them to fix up the town.”

My eyes widened in genuine surprise, “really? I wouldn’t think they’d be that helpful.”

“Yeah, you uh...better just go look for yourself,” it wasn’t lost on me that both Yatima and Foxglove were mirroring the earth pony stallion’s look of discomfort. Curious, I started heading for the door. Arginine fell into step at my flank, like I was his superior officer. Whether it was because he was just as curious as I was, or because he was feeling uncharacteristically protective of me, I wasn’t sure yet. I might know how to read the stallion better than most ponies, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself an expert.

It wasn’t hard to miss what the Republican soldier must have been talking about. Three dozen ponies dressed in Lancer barding were clearly visible just outside the town’s inn, engaged it what appeared to be a rather ambitious effort to reinforce and enlarge the town’s perimeter wall of train cars and rails. Directing their efforts was a familiar pink unicorn mare who looked remarkably comfortable as she barked out orders and managed construction teams.

I also noticed a few of the local townsponies gathering to watch the efforts, their expressions drifting between uncertainty and concern. I suppose that was understandable. These were the ponies that had held their entire town hostage just this morning. They probably didn’t know what to make of Starlight’s newfound dominion over them. To be perfectly honest, neither did I.

None of the Lancers appeared to be wearing a slave collar of any sort, and their pink unicorn overseer still had her shotgun neatly tucked away in its sheath at her side. I couldn’t find any sign that somepony was coercing them with any sort of threat of force. What was more: they were even smiling! In fact, I was positive that I heard a few of them humming pleasant little tunes to themselves...which bore an uncanny similarity with the song that Starlight had been singing during the fight.

The pink mare glanced over her shoulder at my approach, her satisfied smile broadening slightly as she noticed the two of us. Her eyes took on a mischievous glint as she greeted us, “done celebrating, are we?”

I responded only with a grunt and a deep flushing of my cheeks. Considering that the two of us hadn’t actually even done anything, I didn’t feel that it was particularly fair that I was getting teased like this. Not that I was about to admit that the truth was that Arginine had knocked me out with a double-dose of Med-X because my libido had been too out of control for me to deal with. Somehow, I felt like that would only lead to further uncomfortable questions from my friends. Better to let them think the two of us gotten in a good rutting instead.

“They seem...cooperative,” I said with a flick of my wing towards the busy Lancer mercenaries.

Starlight seemed perfectly willing to accede to my change of topic and returned her own attention to the band of working ponies, beaming with pride, “they’re productive little ponies, alright!”

“So you reformed them, just like Lucerne?”

“Yep! These ponies no longer have a single disagreeable bone in their bodies. They’re model citizens. Isn’t that right, everypony?” she raised her tone, addressing all of the Lancers.

The mercenaries all paused whatever activity they were engaged in and turned to smile and wave at the three of us, “yes, Starlight Glimmer!” they then all simultaneously resumed their tasks in perfect synchronicity.

A shiver ran through my spine. There was something...off about the way that they’d all said that. It was like they were saying the words for the first time, and they didn’t quite understand what any of them meant. They were reciting them from rote, because that was the answer that they were supposed to give to the question that they’d been asked; but they truly understood neither. They’d sounded...hollow.

It was one of the most unsettling things that I’d ever heard in my life. Considering I’d heard the hungry howls of a few hundred ghouls out to devour my entrails echoing through a dead stable, that said quite a lot, I thought.
Still, I had to admit that it was refreshing to see ponies like these Lancers actually helping, “how long will they be like this?” if there was some sort of expiration date on whatever enchantment Starlight had used, it’s be nice to know when this act of theirs would drop.

“The rest of their lives,” the unicorn answered simply, still smiling with satisfaction, “these ponies will never again raise a hoof in anger, harm another pony, or even tell a lie. They’re just pleasant, honest, and helpful, little ponies,” her features finally faltered ever so slightly as a sadness crept onto her face, “...just like everypony used to be.”

I felt that shiver again, “so...they’ll be like this forever?” Starlight nodded. I was still understandably dubious, “but what if somepony lies to them, or tries to hurt them, or something? I mean, they could ‘relapse’ or something, right?”

“Nope,” the mare said, shaking her head, “they literally don’t know how to be violent anymore. The concept of harming another pony has been completely removed from their minds.

“I can understand your concern,” she continued, pausing to whistle to one of the nearer Lancer mercenaries, an earth pony mare, and calling her over to us, “so I’ll explain a little bit about what a Reform Spell really is.”

The earth pony smiled at both of us in what could have been described as ‘warm’ by anypony who wasn’t close enough to see the dullness of her eyes. It was like she was hollow inside, “hello! Is there something that I can do for you ponies?”

“Yes, please,” Starlight said, “I’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Certainly! What would you like to know?” listening to her ‘enthusiasm’ sounded like listening to an actor giving a reluctant stage performance. I found myself growing steadily more uncomfortable around the mare. She was just...wrong.

“Would you ever hurt anypony?” Starlight asked.

The mare looked positively stricken by the question, almost horrified, “goodness! Of course not!”

“What if they hurt you first?”

“An ‘eye for an eye’ doesn’t make things right,” the earth pony insisted resolutely.

“What would you do then, if somepony hurt you?”

“Why, I’d try to find out the reason for it and see if we could reach an understanding.”

“What if they didn’t want to reach an understanding?”

“Everypony wants to reach an understanding,” the mare replied resolutely, “it’s just a matter of being patient enough with them.”

Starlight looked at me and gestured to the other mare, “is there anything you want to ask her?”

I frowned as I looked between the two of them, then addressed the Lancer, “what if I asked you to help me fight somepony; would you hurt them then?”

“Fighting is never the answer,” she said, flashing me a reproachful look, “I would help you work out your differences, but not through violence.”

My frown deepened slightly, but I wasn’t quite satisfied yet, “what about to save a friend or a member of your family. Would you hurt somepony then?”

“I’d talk to them. Like I said, anypony can be reasoned with.”

I snorted and looked at Starlight, “this is ridiculous! She’s obviously lying! There’s no way that she actually believes that raiders and slavers can be ‘reasoned’ with,” I waved an irritated hoof at the earth pony, “for fuck’s sake, I’ve been trying to ‘reason’ with them for months!”

Unperturbed, Starlight looked at the Lancer, “what would you do to save a friend from somepony who was threatening them?”

“I’d give them whatever they wanted,” the mercenary mare answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“What if they wanted everything you had?”

She shrugged, “possessions can be replaced. There’s nothing I have that’s worth somepony’s life or suffering.

“What if the wanted you?” I interjected.

“Then I’d surrender myself.”

I balked at the speed with which the response had been given, shocked, “you would?”

“Absolutely!”

“Why?”

“What good does it do to hurt anypony else, if all I have to do to prevent it is give myself up. My hurting another pony doesn’t make the world a better place. It just hurts another pony.”

I was about to snap off a retort, but Starlight cut in, “thank you for your time. You can go back to work.”

“Yes, Starlight Glimmer,” she nodded to the both of us, her pallid smile lingering on me, “it was nice to meet you!” she then trotted off happily.

The pink mare sighed with satisfaction and said, “reform spells were developed many centuries ago, in the wake of the Nightmare War, in the hope of preventing another one like it. At first it was used to quell the last of the traitors who had taken up arms against Princess Celestia during Nightmare Moon’s rebellion; turning them back into loyal citizens in lieu of banishment. It was seen as a mercy.

“In the centuries following the Nightmare War, reform spells began to see more widespread use in Equestria’s prison system to help with the more extreme cases. Why lock violent ponies away when they could be turned back into productive members of society with a little zap to the head? For that matter, why lock up anypony at all? There was simply no reason to tolerate anypony who would be a disruption to Equestria’s harmony.

“Before the Great War, crimes more serious than petty theft or fraud simply did not exist,” the pink mare continued, proudly lauding the accomplishments of her ancient home, “potential problem cases were identified early and addressed. Anypony who did commit a serious crime was reformed on the spot. The spell was in such common usage, that every small town had several copies of it in their local public library.

“It was a Golden Age of harmony.”

Her expression soured now, “we didn’t go around fighting and killing each other all the time,” she snorted as she seemed to gesture to the entirety of the Wasteland from where she stood. She looked to me, “and I can bring back that Golden Age,” one of her spell books was hovering at her side, “one violent pony at a time. With enough time and resources, I could probably even create a Reform Megaspell and bring instantaneous harmony to everypony in the Wasteland!”

I hadn’t even been aware that I’d taken a step back from the mare until she took a moment to recompose herself. Her intensity had been...unexpected. The pink unicorn straightened herself up and cleared her throat, smiling down at me, “just something to keep in mind; if you’re really serious about ‘fixing’ the world. If you’ll excuse me, I should really get back to work,” and with that the unicorn walked away to manage her recently acquired workforce.

As Starlight left, I found myself feeling rather uncomfortable about the thoughts that she’d left me with. Not that I could really put a hoof on the source of my trepidation. The unicorn had just offered me the perfect answer to the question of how I could fix the Wasteland, hadn’t she? Every single bandit, raider, slaver, murderer, and rapist in the world could be gotten rid of. The best part? Nopony had to die for it to happen.

It was the perfect counter-proposal to the plan being pursued by Arginine’s stable of simply killing everypony in an effort to hit some sort of ‘reset’ button. All we had to do was magically zap the world into a paradise.

I was probably feeling uncomfortable because I wasn’t used to thinking of things as being this easy. Here I was with all of these doubts swirling in my head, and I even had several dozen ponies in front of me that irrefutably proved that what Starlight Glimmer had been saying was true. The Lancers were actively helping to fix up the very town that they’d been terrorizing only a few hours ago, and I couldn’t spot any indication whatsoever that they were being actively coerced into doing it.

They weren’t prisoners or slaves, or anything else like that. Maybe they weren’t exactly themselves anymore, but that was kind of the point, wasn’t it? They’d been been this group of violent and vindictive ponies who had been perfectly willing to abuse their power over other ponies and take advantage of them, or worse. Now, thanks to Starlight’s spell, they were, objectively, ‘good’ ponies.

In some ways, they were probably now even the best examples of ‘good ponies’ in the whole Wasteland.

Even if the way they talked made me feel this sense of lingering discomfort all the way down to my very soul. What alternatives were there, though? Letting them go would just let them get up to more mischief somewhere else. Locking them up somewhere for the rest of their lives didn’t do anypony any good, assuming that it was even possible to find a town willing to waste those kinds of resources on a few dozen mouths that would need feeding for decades to come. I certainly didn’t want to just kill them out of hoof.

Starlight’s plan, as uncomfortable as it made me feel, was a perfect solution.

...so then why didn’t I like it?

I needed a second opinion from a pony I trusted more than myself, “so? What do you think?”

Arginine didn’t respond immediately, his golden eyes studying the mercenary ponies. After several long seconds of silence, he finally offered his own opinion, “Miss Glimmer’s reasoning and methods appear to be sound and effective. The proof is evident. The Lancer mercenaries do not appear to pose a threat any longer.”

“So you think it’s a good idea?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about hearing Arginine side with the pink unicorn’s plan while I was still feeling conflicted. Mostly I was concerned what it implied about me that I didn’t agree with what two ponies who were admittedly much smarter than I was thought was a good idea.

If, like Ramparts had suggested, I wasn’t a good pony, did that mean that I’d eventually find myself on the receiving end of one of Starlight’s reformation blasts? Was that why it made me uncomfortable?

“The short-term effectiveness is irrefutable.”

My ears perked up and I glanced at the slate gray unicorn stallion, “but…?”

“Miss Glimmer insisted that these methods of ensuring congenial behavior among ponies were in full enforcement prior to the Great War.”

“Yeah. So?”

Arginine looked down and met my gaze, “then it is clear that those protocols were insufficient to prevent the Great War.”

He was right. If, like Starlight Glimmer said, that spell was how ponies back then had routinely dealt with troublemakers and maintained a happy and healthy society, then it obviously hadn’t been enough to stop something like the Wasteland from happening anyway. Somehow, that revelation didn’t make me feel any better. If having the ability to, quite literally, zap ponies into being kind and friendly all the time wasn’t enough to keep the world from being turned into a hellscape, then what possible hope was there?

“I kind of wish I could have seen how ponykind went from being like that,” I waved a wing at the industrious humming Lancers rebuilding the town, “to creating the Wasteland,” Starlight had been there, so it was possible that I could have plied her for just that information, but I got the feeling that it was a sore subject for her. Understandable, certainly, and I didn’t want to press her in the matter any more than I liked being pressed on Jackboot’s...let’s say, ‘less than noble’ activities.

“It would indeed be a progression worth studying,” Arginine agreed, earning a smile from myself, “as it could perhaps suggest which neurotransmitter production might have needed more stimulation to genetically mirror the effects of the spell, and render it redundant in a population.”

My smile soured slightly as I rolled my eyes and sighed. I leaned against the stallion, the contact reminding me that there were other matters that the two of us had to talk about, “thanks for earlier. With the whole...sex...thing. I’m sorry for how I was acting.”

“Your behavior was quite aberrant,” the stallion noted, “I had no means by which to gauge the effects that sexual stimulation would have had on your condition. Attempting to address a radically different condition with the same course of treatment would have been reckless.”

I was frowning now, “that’s the least romantic way of saying, ‘I don’t just want you for your body’ that I’ve ever heard.”

“My interest in your body is of a purely academic nature, I assure you.”

That was my RG all right. A real sweet-talker, that one. Of course, he’d never been shy about making it crystal clear that what was going on between us wasn’t much more than stress relief for my benefit. I wasn’t knocking that, not completely. It had become pretty clear to me in the last few weeks that this was something that I needed: somepony to confide in who was willing to make me feel good, both emotionally and physically.

It wasn’t love, and never would be. But it was at least genuine, and that was nice. I’d discovered that a story-book kind of love, like my parents had had, seemed to be a lot less common in the world that I’d thought as a young filly, “did I ever tell you how my parents met?” I asked the stallion.

“The subject of your ancestry has never been brought up in conversation, no.”

“Let’s walk and talk,” I nodded to the stallion, lifting up into a low hover and drifting through the town, casting the occasional glance at the progress being made to get life in Santa Mara back to normal. The larger gray unicorn stallion followed in my wake.

“It was my ma’s ranch really. She’d been the only foal my grandparents had had. I was told that it was because my grandma had died young. My pa was the colt of some caravan ponies who stopped by to trade with them every week or so as part of their regular route.

“He saw how my ma and grandpa would struggle sometimes to get all the work done that they needed to, and so he offered to help out. At first, he did it for pay, staying every other week between his parent’s caravan visits. Then, he said that he didn’t need the money, as long as he was given meals and a place to sleep―which he already was, of course.

“My ma says this was about the time she realized what was going on.

“After about five months of helping out like this, he was getting packed up to go home with his family, and my ma stopped by his room. She thanked him for everything that he’d been doing for them that whole time. She admitted that they wouldn’t have been able to keep the place up without his help.

“She asked him if he’d ever thought about having a ranch of his own. My pa said, ‘I’d never want to have my own ranch. I’d want one that I could share with somepony; but only if that somepony was you.’

“They got married a couple months later,” I said, a wan smile touching my lips as I thought about my parents, “that story stuck with me. A pony who was being helpful and everypony got to live happily because of it. It’s how I felt the world should always have been.”

“From what I have observed of the surface, your upbringing was atypical.”

I snorted, “says the stallion who was genetically engineered in an ancient underground bunker.”

“A valid point,” he acknowledged, “though my own still stands: being raised in such surroundings during your emotionally formative years has given you an aberrant outlook on life. Insofar as it is not a generally practiced view by other surface ponies.”

“It could be though,” I said, looking at the nearest group of Lancers working on the town’s perimeter wall, “zapping everypony might not be the answer, but if we really could get as many of the bad ponies in the world acting like this…”

“It is an initiative worth considering,” Arginine admitted, “while the eventual result may have been the Wasteland we experience today, there had existed a period of centuries of peace before the Great War. Perhaps Miss Glimmer’s plan merely requires minor alterations to maintain a perpetually sustainable model.”

I experienced an inward cringe at the thought of conducting experiments in mind manipulation, even on violent bandits and slavers. There was something that was just...disquieting about the notion, “maybe until we can figure out a way to live without needing something like that…”

“Mister Arginine?”

The two of us stopped and looked around. We quickly spied the young zebra mare and her swaddled foal, standing behind us. She was looking up at the larger stallion, “Ramps...er, Ramparts was wondering if you could help out the town’s doctor? A lot of ponies were hurt when the Lancers attacked.”

The gray stallion’s lips twitched into a near grimace of annoyance at once more being asked to assume the role of a medical provider. He seemed to be about to refuse when I reached out and brushed him with a wing, “go and help. Make the Wasteland a better place; even just a little,” he sighed and nodded, trotting off towards the middle of town.

Yatima remained, thanking me for helping to talk him into it. She didn’t leave though, instead remaining. For a few moments, there was just awkward silence as she seemed to search for the right words that she wanted to start with. Eventually she simply chuckled and shook her head, “you once again saved mine and the life of my child,” she smiled, glancing down at her now slumbering colt, “and you brought my beloved back to me. Such acts, I don’t know that I could ever hope to repay.”

I felt my cheeks growing warm again, reaching up and rubbing the back of my head as I looked away in embarrassment, “I’m not doing this for thanks or payment or anything. It’s just...the right thing to do, you know?”

“Just the same,” the striped mare’s expression grew darker, “there are questions that I would ask you. They will sound personal, and I will understand if you want to keep your silence. I apologize ahead of time if this is the case, but I would ask all the same.”

“Um...okay?”

“Your friend, the purple unicorn, Foxglove. She was very insistent that you are not usually so...forward, with stallions. Is that true?”

She wasn’t kidding about these questions being personal, was she? Indeed, I almost didn’t answer. I thought Yatima was a nice mare, sure, but we weren’t close in any real sense. The two of us were barely acquaintances, really. Still...there was something about the way she was asking these questions. She wasn’t trying to pry for her own sake. There was...concern there. She was worried about something, and that got my attention.

Which wasn’t to say I still didn’t squirm a little as I provided my answer, “I mean, I’ve teased stallions before and stuff, but it was always just that: teasing. I’ve never genuinely flirted with a stallion before like that, no,” in hindsight, even I had to admit that the way I’d been acting with Arginine had been very unusual for me. Even the way that I’d been thinking about him…

“I see,” she was quiet for a moment. Then she asked a question that really caught me off guard, “did you hurt?”

My gaze was cemented on the zebra now, “excuse me?”

“Your body. Did your body hurt with longing for him?”

“...how did you know?” was that actually something that was normal? Was that how this mare had known what I was going through?

Yatima’s features hardened briefly, softening as she regarded me once more. There was a sadness in her gaze now; a pity, “that big mare mentioned giving you a drink before this all happened?” I nodded, “did it taste…” she hesitated as she dug around for the right descriptors, “of dryness? Perhaps of must and age?”

“I mean, it was two hundred year old soda,” I remarked with a shrug, “so it kind of was old. It was a Sparkle Cola RAD, so it didn’t taste like the regular stuff anyway. It tasted like the other RAD I’d had before, so, it was normal as far as I could…” then I recalled that I’d only ever tasted a Sparkle Cola RAD one other time: just after Foxglove and I had rescued Jackboot from that same pair of bounty hunters. I looked at Yatima, “why are you asking me this?”

“Many years ago, when I still lived in the Zebra Lands, I was ‘involved’ with Medica,” the name came out with no small amount of vitriol, “I believe myself to be in love with him. This was because whenever we were together, I found myself filling full of desire for him. Not at first, but after a few minutes of conversation I wouldn’t be able to think straight, and my body would ache to have him inside me,” as she spoke, I could see her body start to shake, and heard her words quiver. It was a mixture of rage and shame that looked to be consuming her.

The powerful emotions were soon picked up by the foal nestled against her and the infant colt began to fus. She sat on her haunches and gently brushed a hoof against her swaddle to calm him once again.

Almost instinctively, I slipped next to the mare and draped my wing over her shoulders in comfort. Yatima at least seemed receptive to the gesture and smiled sadly at me, “I apologise. I did not think it was I who would be unsettled by this conversation,” she tried to laugh at the irony, but she couldn’t quite manage it. She wiped her eyes and continued instead.

“One morning I woke from his bed and went to relieve myself,” the mare continued, “I happened to notice a door ajar that he had insisted was to a closet. It was in fact a small laboratory of sorts. I took a look inside out of curiosity, and discovered that he was an aspiring alchemist. He had notes left out on his table,” again she trembled with anger, “they were instructions on how to create a potion that would influence a pony’s sexual desire―greatly influence it.

“It was only then that I realized he’d always brought with him a beverage to offer me when we met. I had thought it was his way of being kind in his courtship of me,” her features hardened, “he was drugging me; making me feel false desires for him.

“I had very nearly wed that stallion, thinking that I loved him.”

There wasn’t much that I could think of to say to her other than, “I’m sorry,” she at least seemed to be grateful for the sympathy. This hadn’t been a conversation that she’d thought to have for her own benefit though, was it?

“You think that’s what happened to me? That I got hold of one of Medica’s drugged drinks and that was why I was acting so...horny?”

She nodded, “if it is true that you’ve never felt such strong physical desires, and the longer they went unfulfilled the more you ached...that was how things were for me.”

Now I was confused. I remembered Medica being there when I’d had the drink earlier that day. If this had all been part of some plan of his to get me to sleep with him...then why leave? It sounded like all he’d have had to do was just wait around for a few more minutes and I’d have been throwing myself at him without a second thought. Though, I remembered now that he hadn’t been the one to offer me the drink. In fact, he’d almost looked annoyed that I’d gotten one. Almost as annoyed as he’d been when his partner had gone off with Lucerne...

Then it occurred to me, “Pritchel,” I wasn’t the pony that he’d been hoping to get.

“The large mare, you mean?” I saw Yatima’s brow furrow and a grimace crease her lips, “I do not like her, but if she is being taken advantage of like that…”

I recalled how she’d literally dragged the reformed leader of the Lancer mercenaries away to the inn, “I’m not sure that anypony’s capable of taking advantage of her,” I stated dryly. All the same though, “I’ll let her know the next time I see her though.”

“I suppose that is the right thing to do,” the zebra mare sighed. She took a breath and brightened her expression, “I am glad I could repay to you at least some fraction of the debt I owe by informing you of this. If you will excuse me, Wonderbolt.”

“Windfall, please,” I urged.

The striped pony nodded and trotted off, leaving me alone with my thoughts, which were still on Medica and his tainted drinks. If what I’d just been told was true, that certainly explained how I’d let myself go so far with Cestus. It was probably a miracle that nothing more serious had happened, honestly.

It turned out that Arginine was, in fact, not the first pony I’d have to thank for rendering unconscious before things got intimate...

I hadn’t been the only pony to drink one of those RADs though, I recalled. Foxglove had drunk one of them as well.

Right before I’d found her with Jackboot.

She’d pleaded her ignorance of what could have compelled her to do that with him. I’d never really believed her, of course. After all, what kind of pony had no concept of what they were doing in a pony like that when their faculties weren’t impaired by alcohol or drugs? It turned out that the violet unicorn had been under the influence though. She just hadn’t known about it.

I owed somepony an apology, as well as an obligation to inform them that something they were kicking themselves over doing hadn’t been their fault after all. Not that I knew where to find Foxglove at the moment. Though, I knew where she’d eventually have to return to at some point.

Homily’s hospitality had been nice and all, but I was forced to concede that Santa Mara cooking was far superior. I was going to go ahead and chalk that up to the smaller town’s easier access to the the fresh produce that the Republic’s farms turned out. Usually, high end food made with those sorts of ingredients were on the pricier side of what I was willing to spend, lest it cut into my drinking and ammunition budget. However, I was doing a lot less drinking these days, and the owners of the Sleeper Cars seemed willing to give me and my companions a free meal or two in gratitude for saving their town from the Lancers.

So it was that I came to be enjoying the freshest and tastiest vegetable stew that I’d ever had in my whole life! It was amazing…

Amazing enough that I was kind of surprised to find the place was as sparsely occupied as it was. I didn’t know what the ponies of Santa Mara got up to on any particular day, to be fair, but I felt like a place serving food this good would be a bit more popular in the evening. I supposed, though, that any dip in attendance could be attributed to the local ponies still trying to recover from everything that they’d gone through recently.

My friends were certainly pretty busy. Arginine was still out helping the town’s doctor deal with injured ponies. Starlight was supervising her entourage of ‘reformed’ mercenaries, Ramparts was off reorganizing what passed for a militia in the face of losing their Republic defenders. Foxglove was looking at what she could do to set up automated defenses to help―or she was done with that...

I looked over as the purple unicorn slumped into the seat next to me and placed a haggard order with the barpony for a Sparkle Cola and some stew of her own. Her mane was mussed with grease and grime, but her expression, while showing her fatigue, was addly pleased. She noted my attention and her thin little smile broadened.

“Between McMaren and here, I really need to think about charging for my services: I’d make a killing,” she tugged a rag out of her barding and wiped her face. The effectiveness of the already quite thoroughly soiled rag was debatable.

I returned the mare’s smile, “something to think about when we’re done with all of this?”

“I guess,” she shrugged. Then, “is that really where we’re at now? Thinking about our ‘happily ever after’s?”

“It feels like it,” I nodded, “once we get to Seaddle and tell Princess Luna everything...that should be about it, I think. The fighting between the Republic and the Rangers will be over, and everypony can turn their attention to Arginine’s stable. I mean, I guess we could all still help with that, but I’m not sure what the five of us could add to a whole army.

“If you wanted to just walk away right then and go back to McMaren and Homily, make a life for yourselves; nopony would hold it against you,” I finished, leaning into the violet unicorn to give her a playful nudge.

The mechanic smiled warmly as she entertained the prospect. Her expression faded somewhat when she looked back at me, “...is that what you and Arginine are going to do? Make a life for yourselves?”

Ah. I could see where this was going now. I had sort of promised her an explanation. I took a deep breath, “what the two of us have...I don’t think it’s anything like that. It’s...convenient. I’m a little young to be shopping around for the love of my life anyway.”

“I see,” Foxglove said, pausing for a long while as she contemplated her next words, “so the two of you just...what? Bang it out every night?”

“We’ve only had sex the one time,” I returned, squirming uncomfortably in my seat beneath the subject of our conversation. I was suddenly glad for the near-empty nature of the inn’s little bar, “we just sort of fool around mostly. He makes me feel good.”

“I’m not going to pretend I’m happy to hear about this,” she said with a sigh, “but I know that I’m the last pony you want to hear from about picking your partners more carefully. I guess I just want to know if you think there’s any sort of future there for the two of you.”

That much I guess I hadn’t thought about. At least, not as far as Arginine and I were concerned. Perhaps that was telling, in its own little way. I certainly had my plans for the future where love and a family were concerned―broadly speaking, of course. There wasn’t any specific face that I’d assigned to the hypothetical future Mr. Windfall in my musings.
Nor had I placed any real expiration date on whatever it was that I was sharing with Arginine. I suppose that I just kind of figured that he’d wander off somewhere once we defeated his stable. At which point, the two of us would stop being any sort of item, official or otherwise. It wasn’t that I wanted him to go; I just couldn’t think of any specific reason that he’d have to stay.

“Neither of us is thinking about anything like that,” I told the other mare, shaking my head, “this is just about relieving stress.”

“Oh,” she was quiet again. Her order arrived and she simply sat and stared at it for a long while, “so this is something that you suggested…?”

My initial reaction was to be annoyed about Foxglove’s hangup on who I was intimate with and why. She could think whatever she wanted to about how old I was; the truth was that I’d seen and done more in my years than she or many other ponies had. I was a grown mare, whatever my years might actually suggest.

That was my first thought. Then I remembered where the purple unicorn mare was coming at this from with regards to her own history: she’d been older than me when she’d been taken advantage of and coerced into sex just to keep herself alive. She’d been used, abused, and―in the end―sold off like cattle to cover a gambling debt. That had been her chief objection to Jackboot after all: how much he reminded her of the sorts of ponies that had enslaved her. Who could possibly blame her for being wary about the possibility of seeing that happen to somepony else?

“Do you really think that RG, of all ponies, is pressuring me into sex?” I flashed the mare a dubious smirk, accentuating the absurdity of the notion. Foxglove managed a relieved little snort and finally shook her head, taking a her first bite of her meal. I too turned to resume eating my own stew, “besides, it’s way overrated anyway. I mean, come on, all that fuss over ten seconds of ‘meh’?”

I abruptly turned when I heard the mare beside me start to choke on her food. Fortunately, the unicorn managed to recover rather quickly after a few coughs. Upon seeing my concerned expression, she offered a sheepish smile and massaged her throat, “wrong pipe. Sorry,” she turned back and resumed eating, “ten seconds, huh? That sounds about right.”

The perplexing note of her barely suppressed amusement held my attention for a few seconds longer, “uh huh…” with a frown, I went back to my own bowl.

A moment later, “although...while we’re on the subject…”

“Yes?” the other mare prompted, a faint note of concern in her voice.

“I learned something today. Do you remember the first time we met those bounty hunters? When they had Jackboot and we were pretending to be Princess Luna and a Republican Guard pony?” the mechanic nodded, her expression quizzical, “and you remember how we took a couple bottles of Sparkle Cola RAD when we left?” another, slower nod, “I learned today that they may have been tainted with something.”

“What?”

“Yatima said that Medica, the zebra bounty hunter, was known to drug drinks that he gave to mares. It was a drug that would make them, like, too horny to control themselves, or something like that,” Foxglove was giving me a dubious look now, and I sighed, “before you went and...did that stuff with Jackboot, do you remember feeling uncomfortable? Like, a little bit of pain or something?” I started to revisit my own thoughts and the sensations that I’d been feeling earlier that day, which didn’t make this conversation any less awkward, “maybe you started thinking of Jackboot as being, well, yours? A stallion that you...needed?”

Foxglove had grown quiet, though I could see her eye widening in recognition. I wasn’t all that far off the mark. She slowly looked away and hunched further over her meal, idly rubbing herself with her fetlocks like a variation of a hug, “...I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to do it. It just...hurt so much…

“I thought, maybe if I didn’t look, and got it over with quick…”

I extended a wing and draped it over the mare. She jerked slightly at the first contact, but then relaxed again, “it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry I reacted how I did before.”

The violet mare let out a shaky little laugh, “I never thought I’d be relieved to hear that I wasn’t actually attracted to a stallion I’d slept with, but here we are,” she closed her eyes and a wry smile finally stretched across her face, “I’m just glad I didn’t betray your trust like that. Not really.”

“You’re a good friend, Foxy,” I said, leaning up against the mare and hugging her to me with my wing, “I’m not sure I’ve ever thanked you for sticking by me like you do. Thank you.”

She leaned her head over mine and smiled more broadly, “don’t mention it,” and with that, we resumed our meal, exchanging the occasional bit of banter.

A minute later, my attention was drawn back towards the doorway as an exhausted looking Starlight dragged herself across the inn’s interior to join us at the bar. Without even needing to say a word, a duplicate of Foxglove’s order was soon deposited in front of her. I indicated my thanks to the barpony on her behalf. I could really get used to this kind of gratitude from ponies.

“Rough day?” the violet mechanic next to her asked.

“I haven’t suffered this many mana migraines since I created the Staff of Sameness…”

“The what?” I asked.

“Nevermind,” the pink mare sighed, finally looking up and flaring her horn to life in an effort to pick up her Sparkle Cola. The bottle quivered briefly before there was an audible ‘pop’ and ‘hiss’ and the cyan aura blinked out of existence. Starlight flinched, rubbed her horn, and then let out a second, much more aggrieved, sigh before picking the bottle up with her hoof and staring at it for a while before turning to address the barpony, “I don’t suppose you could Kerry this up for me?”

Everypony in the room looked at the mare quizzically. She glance about, noting the confused expressions of her peers and rolled her eyes, “alcohol. I want alcohol, please,” the barpony smiled and quickly produced an open bottle of Wild Pegasus, sliding it over to the pink unicorn mare. Starlight shot a disappointed look at the proffered drink and once more looked back to the Santa mara resident tending the establishment, “I don’t suppose you have anything else back there?” they shook their head, prompting a grimace from the unicorn as she looked in our direction.

“I see this stuff everywhere. Please tell me that Wild Pegasus isn’t the only alcohol that survived the apocalypse?”
I shrugged, “I mean, you can find other stuff like Jennessy or Crystal Heart from time to time, but Wild Pegasus is definitely the most common. Why?”

“Ugh,” Starlight groaned, sinking in her seat, “why did this have to be what survived? Couldn’t have been Johnnie Trotter, or Bit-In-Horse, even some Royal Crown…”

“Should you really even be drinking anyway if you’ve got mana burn?” Foxglove asked tentatively.

“Hangovers and mana burn don’t stack,” the other mare quipped before finally giving in and tipping the half full bottle back into her mouth. She swallowed down the stiff drink and coughed a couple of times before taking a deep breath, “might even take the edge off,” she wheezed. Another grimace as she regarded the bottle clutched in her hoof, “oi...I’d give Celestia’s princedom for some Trotter…but I guess the good stuff was the first to go, and now all that’s left is this swill.”
Foxglove and I exchanged looks. I mean, it wasn’t like I really enjoyed the taste of the stuff either, but I didn’t drink Wild Pegasus because I craved something sweet and delicious. I did it to numb myself. Much like Starlight was doing right now. In that context, what did how it reacted with your tongue matter?

Not that it was unusual for the pink unicorn mare to find pretty much anything to complain about where the current state of the world was concerned, and how it differed from the one that she had effectively left behind. Not that I was about to chastise anypony for bemoaning the ‘way things used to be’ in the face of how often I’d thought back on ‘the good old days’ when Jackboot had been alive. Between the two of us, I idly wondered if it was possible for anypony to move on and accept that, sometimes, things went to shit, and you just had to move on from there.

Of course, now that Starlight was here and otherwise unoccupied, this might be a good chance for me to address a matter that had been bothering me for most of the day, “so, Starlight...about this morning…”

“Hmm?” the pink unicorn prompted through a mouthful of her meal.

“The singing and all that…” I tried to come up with the best way to phrase my most pertinent questions. However, never one to have been the master of eloquent speech, I ended up just asking, “...how?”

Starlight Glimmer swallowed her morsel and smiled at me with amusement before noting the equally inquisitive look on Foxglove’s face, “now you,” she began, nodding at me, “I get that you grew up without ever going to a real school or anything, so I’m honestly surprised you know as much as you do,” while I ponedered whether that was intended to actually be a compliment or not, she turned her head towards the other unicorn mare, “but you were in one of those stables that they kept talking about on the radio all the time in those ads; ‘A Brighter Future; Underground!’, and all that. I assume they had a school in that place?”

“They did,” Foxglove acknowledged in a guarded tone, ready to instinctively leap to the defense of her old home’s honor if Starlight made any comment she thought was unduly critical.

“And they never covered Singing? Not even once?” the purple mare slowly shook her head, “amazing,” she sounded less ‘amazed’, and more ‘resigned’ to me, “I guess Stable-Tec figured they could cut some costs by not hiring an abundance of consultants from the Ministry of Image.

“Oh well, I guess that means that you two get to have the first lesson in Pony Magick―with a ‘K’―in nearly two centuries,” she took a second pull from the bottle of whiskey and adjusted herself in her seat to better address us. The two of us reciprocated. I certainly found myself genuinely intrigued by the prospect of an in-depth explanation of what happened to me. Perhaps I’d since learned that it hadn’t been responsible for my flinging myself at Arginine like I had, but there was no mistaking that it had had an effect on me during the battle with the Lancers.

“So, I at least assume that you two both know how all ponies are magical in some way, not just unicorns?” her attention was directed much more keenly at myself than the purple mechanic. Much to even my own chagrin, I met her gaze with a blank one as I tried to process what she could possibly be talking about. Of course I didn’t have magic. I was a pegasus. I didn’t have a horn.

Starlight was visibly frustrated by my lackluster response, “oh, boy…” she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “well, then that’s where we’ll start: all ponies, even pegasi and earth ponies, possess inate magic of their own, different from―but quite unlike―the magic wielded by unicorns.”

My face wrinkled up in disbelief, “I have never used magic in my life,” I insisted.

“You use magic literally every time you fly,” the pink mare deadpanned before jabbing a hoof at my wings, “your wings are way to small and flap way too slow to possibly get you off the ground like a bird’s do. For you to fly without any magical assistance whatsoever, you’d need wings that stretched all the way to that door,” she stated, spreading her hooves as wide as they’d go while nodding in the direction of the inn’s entrance across the room, “which you obviously don’t. Then there’s the hovering, the wall-walking, the cloud manipulation―suffice it to say: yes; you use magic.

“That’s just the way it is, whether you’re conscious of it or not,” the unicorn said firmly, “and that’s all that needs to be said on that matter. It’s only tangentially related to Singing anyway.

“So,” the pink mare redirected the conversation back onto the original topic, “it’s obviously not just ponies that are magical then, isn’t it? Griffons can do nearly everything that pegasi can do. Zebras have some weird connection to the land that goes beyond even what earth ponies can do. Dragons eat rocks and breath freakin’ fire.

“You’d be hard pressed to find a race in this world that isn’t magical in some way, even if it’s only very passive magic that let’s them live longer or simply not get sick as often.”

“Okay,” Foxglove conceded, “but what’s that got to do with anything?”

“I’m getting there,” Starlight continued, tersely, “the reason why nearly everything is magical in some way is because the world is magical. Like, the planet itself. It’s teeming with magical energy. You just need to look at how gems are so receptive to spells to see proof of that.

“Now, while it’s true that every race’s magic is different in its manifestation―telekinesis, flight, fire-breathing, whatever―it all shares a common root origin, since everything on Equus was born of Equus. Theoretically, if somepony were to tap into a way to affect that primordial aether from which all magic originated, then it would be possible to manipulate, and even draw upon, the magic of many different ponies―and even other races―to cast a ‘spell’ of sorts. Though, obviously not a true unicorn spell.”

Foxglove began to nod along with the other unicorn, “that makes sense, sure. But how does singing figure into this?”

“Because it draws upon the single unifying trait of the planet’s magic: Harmony,” Starlight smiled in satisfaction as she waited for us to be fully enraptured by the profound revelation that she had bestowed upon us. Judging by how her features began to slowly fall, it was clear that our reaction was...underwhelming, “what?”

Foxglove and I exchanged a brief look before turning back to the pink mare, “Harmony?” the mechanic said in a droll tone, “really?”

Starlight jerked with the rebuke, “what do you mean, ‘really’? Yes, ‘really’!” she groaned in frustration, “okay, yes, I’m oversimplifying things a bit, but considering that neither of you even knew that pegasi used magic to fly, I figured that delving into the finer points of ley line frequencies, aether field harmonics, and mana attenuation might have gone over your heads, no offense…”

Considering that I knew the technical definition of only a few of those words, and absolutely nothing of what it meant when those words were combined like that, I was perfectly willing to concede the point. Honestly, I was still processing the ‘flying using magic’ revelation that had been dropped on me a couple minutes ago. I certainly moved my wings to fly, and the faster I moved them, the faster I flew; but I wasn’t about to simply dismiss what Starlight Glimmer was saying either. It wasn’t like it really changed things for me. However the mechanics of it worked in the end: I was a flying pony. Full Stop.

The pink unicorn mare continued on, “Singing, and projecting a bit of your own magic into the world around you, while keeping your mind intently focused on your desires, is a way that creatures―not just ponies―can project their will into the world by drawing directly upon Equus’ magick―again, with a ‘K’―itself. It’s honestly the most powerful incantation that can be invoked known to ponykind.”

“If it’s so powerful, then how did Equestria mange to lose the war?” I asked.

The other mare adopted a sneer, though it wasn’t directed at me. Again she found herself feeling antagonistic towards her former contemporary comrades from the past, “because war is the antithesis of harmony. As such, trying to use Singing to win a war can’t possibly work,” she shook her head in resignation, “sure, it can help soldiers win battle son a small scale, in the moment; but that’s because the thoughts of those soldiers at the time aren’t necessarily focused on killing and destroying. They want to survive―to live through the battle. Life and harmony go hoof-in-hoof, so Singing works then.

“But trying to use magic―any kind of magic―to destroy your enemies, and think that everything will work out alright? Twilight was an idiot. Most of the rest of her ministry were even dumber than that.

“Magic doesn’t win wars. It can’t.”

“How so?”

Starlight Glimmer snorted softly, “because for somepony to ‘win’ a war, then that means that there has to be a ‘loser’ too, doesn’t it? That’s not Harmony. So when you try to use energies borne of Harmony to do that, the magic gets corrupted. It goes wrong. It turns to Chaos,” she closed her eyes and shook her head, “nopony wanted to hear that though. Not back then. That’s just ‘defeatist’ talk. It was tantamount to treason in some cases,” another dismissive snort.

“I did what I could to mitigate the damage. I came up with my own little plan involving the Crystal Heart. It was the purest magic I’d ever come across, made up entirely of the love and hope of an entire nation of ponies. If anything was capable to saving Equestria from itself, it would have been the Heart.”

“Obviously things didn’t work out,” Foxglove noted.

“The research took longer than I thought it would. It was a relic that had been lost for a thousand years. I was effectively working from scratch, trying to reinvent a whole new school of magic that had been forgotten by the world. Something that was way beyond cutie marks,” she sighed, a faint smile finally touching her lips again, “got sidetracked too. A family,” the smile disappeared, “...a foal. The war had been essentially stagnant for years, neither side gaining any real ground. I let myself think I had plenty of time to come up with a solution…

“...and then the war ended,” she shrugged, glancing at the pair of us, “oops.”

“We all make mistakes.”

All eyes turned to see Yatima and Ramparts stepping up to the bar now. In a dramatic change of pace, it was the brown earth pony stallion who was carrying their child, the striped brown form straddling his withers. I smiled as I noticed the ginger step of the Republican Guard pony, who was glancing over his shoulder with noted frequency, as though he felt compelled to continually ensure that the precious cargo he was transporting was still in place where he’d left it.

The zebra mare gently nuzzled the father of her child before looking back at us and continuing, “and we are, all of us, prone to taking for granted the time we have to accomplish what we desire in life.”

I vividly recalled when I naively thought that Jackboot and I would simply wander the Neighvada valley forever. One way or another, that life was inevitably going to come to an end, of course. I’d simply never really put a lot of thought into what would come ‘after’. It had been a date that was years, maybe even decades, in the future.

And now it was months in the past. Similarly, it was looking more and more like our current pressing affair was nearing an end as well. Yet, I’d still drawn up very little in the way of a concrete plan for what I’d do with myself in the coming weeks. I mean, I suppose that I could go back to hunting raiders and such…

...but would I be doing that on my own? I couldn’t, in good conscience, ask Foxglove to come with me and deprive her of a happy life in McMaren with Homily. Ramparts would certainly have to go back to serving the Republic. Starlight might hang around, maybe? I vaguely recalled her having said something about finding out what happened to her husband once she’d located her daughter, so probably not.

Could I convince RG to stay with me? If not, would I really go it alone?

“Giving that whole ‘fatherhood’ thing a try there, Ramparts?” Foxglove teased as she got up from her seat and walked over to gush over the little colt.

The stallion shifted uneasily, looking towards the striped mare, “I’ve managed to convince Yatima that it would be safer if she moved to Seaddle with me. I can’t have family with me in the barracks, so we’d need to find a place of our own…”

“I’ve got a place you can have,” I said almost without thinking. The couple looked at me in surprise, “it’s not much, but it’s paid for through the next six months,” one of the first things that Jackboot had done with one of our bigger paydays was sign an extended lease with the pony that owned our apartment. With the traveling that we did, we couldn’t always be sure we’d be in town when the rent was due, so he’d made sure that it wasn’t something we’d have to worry about all the time. Our landlord hadn’t resisted at all. If anything, he was positively tickled by the prospect of having tenants that paid their rent in advance. It seemed a novel concept to him.

The pair exchanged glances before looking back at me, “you’re sure?” Ramparts’ asked.

“I’m not going to need it. I don’t see myself hanging around Seaddle much after this” I assured him, “I’ve sort of needed an excuse to fix up my family’s old ranch anyway,” not that I intended to start up a career raising brahmin any time soon. Putting my old house back together would at least keep me out of trouble though.

I very quickly found myself wrapped up in a hug from the striped mare, “yours is a kindness I will spend many years repaying,” she said in my ear as she clutched me tight. Beyond, I could see Ramparts smiling as he added, “I’ll be sure to drop by and give you a hoof with that. I did sort of get a lot of it blown up, as I recall…”

“The Steel Rangers helped,” I reminded him, “but, thanks. I appreciate it.”

Foxglove looked up from where she was now sat back on her haunches, snuggling little Baraka, “I guess that’s one ‘happily ever after’ nailed down, at least,” she smiled at me. Her comment earned a puzzled look from Ramparts, but she was already rubbing noses with the giggling colt again and oblivious to her surroundings.

Even more vegetable stew was produced for the pair. Ramparts took his seat at the bar, but Yatima opted to curl up in one of the dining booths so that young Baraka could suckle while she ate. Foxglove feigned a remorseful expression as she gave up the foal so that he could have his own dinner, but was easily soothed by promises of more opportunities to play with the little pony at a later date.

This was nice, I thought to myself, as I looked around the room that was slowly filling with my friends, who were all starting to chat with one another as they shared a warm meal and refreshing beverages. It was certainly one of the more laid back evenings I could recall having, even when compared to McMaren. Maybe it was because I hadn’t had to watch anypony get brutally murdered right in front of me, or be party to ending the life of a young tormented foal.

My budding smile broadened even further as I saw Arginine step through the door as well, looking around with what was, for him, a mildly curious expression, “I presume that I was the last to be informed?”

I quickly fluttered over and gently nuzzled the stallion, a move which he politely reciprocated. Since everypony knew we were ‘together’ now, it wasn’t like we had to keep things secret any longer. Then I finally processed what he’d said, “informed?” I asked with a quirked brow, “somepony told you to come here?”

“Indeed,” the large gray unicorn stallion nodded, “a pony stopped by the town’s clinic and informed me that a meal had been prepared for us as an expression of thanks for our deeds earlier today. Is that not why you are here?”

“Me? No. I was just hungry,” I looked around at the others, “isn’t that why you guys are here too?”

Foxglove was the first to respond, “I mean, well, I was hungry, but I didn’t come by until somepony let me know they’d whipped something up for us.”

“Somepony said they’d supervise the Lancers for the last little bit of the wall if I wanted to grab a bite,” Starlight chimed in.

“We wrapped up the last of the marksmareship training and somepony came by and suggested I get Yatima and bring her here for dinner,” Ramparts added.

I blinked. That seemed...convenient. Perhaps a little too convenient, though maybe I was just being paranoid, “what did this pony look like?”

“Green mare.”

“Earth pony mare.”

“Green earth pony.”

I recoiled slightly from the simultaneous onslaught of the description of the individual in question. My eyes panned around the room, “so, a green earth pony mare came and got all of you?” they nodded. My hackles started to rise up as I felt myself growing inexplicably concerned. Anypony who hadn’t led a life like mine would probably have thought that I was allowing myself to be more worried than I should have over what was surely a harmless coincidence. The thing was, was that I didn’t like that it had been a single pony who had come and gotten all of us―and just us―to come down here for dinner.

In McMaren, everypony had celebrated the day’s victory. It had been a bit of a public spectacle, honestly, where all of the inhabitants could go and be jubilant for a few hours. Surely the ponies of this town would want to share a singular celebration just like that. Why would you want to sequester the ponies who’d saved your lives away, out of sight, like this?

The door opened and my eyes were drawn to yet one more figure who was stepping inside. Instinctively, I arched my wing, exposing the holstered pistol that it normally concealed. I don’t know why I thought that I’d need it in this instance. It was just that the last few revelations had put me on edge. Seeing who it was that had stepped through didn’t help to put me at ease either.

We all turned to see an older earth pony mare, most of her seafoam green coat hidden beneath a faded gray sportcoat. Her amber eyes scanned the room, seeming to take a quick headcount of the ponies present, “good, you’re all here.”

I kept my wing cocked slightly as I stepped away from Arginine and squared off with the new arrival. Behind me, I could feel my friends shifting around as well. The atmosphere in the room had very quickly shifted from calm and relaxed to a tension so thick that Foxglove would have needed her eldritch lance to cut through it, “and you are…?”

The older mare cracked a wan smile, nodding her head, “I apologize for not making introductions sooner. I was...incapacitated during the Lancer’s initial attack. By the time I was well enough to move around again, I was informed that you yourself were ‘indisposed’,” I cringed slightly at the reminder, but the mare continued without pause, “after that, I found I had a lot to catch up on.

“My name is Quorum; I’m the mayor of Santa Mara. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wonderbolt,” she extended her hoof to me, “and I am genuinely sorry it has taken me so long to do so.”

Tentatively, I took the offered hoof, and permitted myself to relax. A little. Something about this whole meeting was still feeling a little off, but I couldn’t pin down any details quite yet. In the back of my mind, a little pink earth pony was eyeing the mayor critically as she donned a plaid deerstalker cap and popped a wooden pipe into her mouth...which proceeded to blow bubbles, for some unfathomable reason.

...My imagination was doing very strange things lately.

“It’s Windfall, by the way,” I said and the other mare nodded, “and I’m glad we could help. Honestly, I feel like I’m the one who owes you an apology,” I added, a little sheepishly, “since the Lancers were only doing this to get to me. I kind of exposed some shady crap they were pulling in New Reino, and they’ve had it out for me ever since.”

“That business with the wife and daughter of the pony that owns that big caravan company out of Seaddle,” Quorum nodded, “I’d heard about that. Well, trust me, there are no ponies harboring ill feelings towards you here,” she assured me.

“Good,” I still had yet to pull my wing fully back up against my side, keeping my eyes focused on the town’s mayor, “because, quite frankly, I’m kind of curious why you wanted to get us all here. In one place...” I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that the barpony was slipping out through the kitchen door, leaving the six of us alone with the mayor, “...alone.”

It was at this moment that my companions fully grasped what had been bothering me up until this moment. They all stood up and started to spread themselves throughout the room, save for Yatima, who was shifting around to shield her young foal from whatever danger might arise in the near future.

My pipbuck informed me that, in addition to the town’s mayor, there were two other local ponies outside the inn. However, I could also see that all three of their blips were still showing up as a brilliant and steady amber glow. They weren’t harboring any hostile intentions towards us. At least, not yet. I knew full well that could change in an instant though. Not that knowing any of this helped to explain why any of this was happening.

“What’s going on?”

Quorum smiled and nodded, “you’re a keen one, clearly,” I immediately slid my legs out in a defensive stance, ready to launch into action. In response, the green mare took a step back and raised her forelegs into the air in surrender, “please, Wonderbolt, we mean you no harm!” she certainly sounded sincere enough, but I was still waiting for her explanation.

“This town has been paying a lot of attention to your exploits of late. The whole Valley has, honestly,” Quorum said, still holding her pose, “we respect you, and what you’re doing.”

“But?” I very nearly growled at the mare, earning a wince from her.

“But...we were worried that you might try to stop us from doing what was necessary,” she sighed, “we didn’t want to try and fight you, of course; that’s only ever gone poorly for anypony who’s ever tried!” the green earth pony adopted an apologetic smile, “so we thought we’d just try to keep you occupied with some food and drink until it was all over with.

“So, please,” she gestured towards the bar, “finish your dinner. Everything is already underway and they’ll be done in minutes. Just...stay here a while longer and let us do what we must. Please.”

Underway? Done in minutes? My mind raced to fill the gaps in her cryptic statements. I was very nearly positive that these ponies didn’t want us dead, but that wasn’t quite the same as not wanting to harm us. Even so, the alternatives didn’t strike me as any more likely. Surely they weren’t going to try and pass us off to slavers or something like that. Were they?

On a hunch, I glanced over my shoulder, peering through the still open door that led to the room I’d slept in that day. None of us had been here for hours. Anypony could have snuck in there and taken my gear if the goal had been to get us as disarmed as we could be. Most of us still had at least one weapon of some sort at hoof, so we weren’t helpless. Besides, I could still clearly see all of my gear on the floor where I’d thrown it earlier. They weren’t trying to do anything to us.

So then what could they possibly be doing, and to whom, when all of us were right here? Unless she’d meant...

It Was Under ‘E’!

“...the Lancers,” I whispered under my breath, glancing back at Starlight Glimmer, and then to the others. Everypony who might possibly have objected to the ponies of this town doing anything to the ponies that the pink mare had Reformed was right here in this room. My horrified gaze locked back onto the mayor. I felt my throat go dry, “where are they?”

At that precise moment there was a rattling of gunfire, faint and muffled through the steel walls of the train cars that the inn was built out of. Everypony except for the mayor whipped their head in the direction of the sound. The green earth pony bowed her head and said in a soft voice, “a shallow grave just outside town, it would seem.

“Please, you must under―” the rest of her sentence was interrupted by a startled yelp as she was rather unceremoniously brushed aside from what must have looked for all intents and purposes to be a white and teal gust of wind.

It had been instinct, and an ultimately useless one at that. I couldn’t outrun a bullet, even as quick as I was. I certainly wasn’t going to outpace any shots that had already long since found their marks. All that I accomplished was to arrive just in time to see a few of the townsponies that were gathered outside of Santa Mara approach the sight of their latest deed and begin to straighten out the few Lancers that hadn’t been gracious enough to collapse perfectly within the trench that had been dug for them. Others were fetching shovels and making their way towards the massive mound of dirt on the far side. Scoops of the dry, parched, earth were scattered upon the fresh corpses.

I could only hover and watch, my expression numb as I observed the bodies of the Lancers piled in the mass grave. Memories of my recent interaction with one of them, and seeing how contently they’d obeyed Starlight’s every order as they built up the town’s defenses, played through my head. Their demure manner. Their smiling, yet vacant, faces. Their compliance.

They’d probably walked themselves right up to the lip of that casm and waited to be shot without a single shred of protest. All in the interest of not wanting to cause their murderers any undue difficulty. My stomach twisted itself into a knot at the thought of what had happened here. I was about to be sick.

“―et the fuck away from me, assholes!”

My head whipped around to see a large silver unicorn mare slinging a massive hammer around in the air around her, keeping a group of armed townsponies at a safe distance. At her back was the slight frame of her zebra companion, holding a glass bottle in his hoof that was filled with a sickly yellow liquid. He seemed to be debating on which or the aggressors to lob the concoction at first.

“No,” I heard myself whisper just before I pivoted my body in the air and shot towards the ground. A much louder and more pronounced, “Noooooo!” rebuked everypony down below, Santa Maran and bounty hunter alike, drawing their gaze to the little ivory pegasus mare diving at them. I inverted and brought my hind legs up to connect with one armed pony, knocking them nearly ten yards across the ground, before bouncing to another and putting my forehoof across their jaw.

The townsponies immediately drew away now, giving a wide berth to the little pony who was widely reported to have decimated a whole squad of Steel Rangers on her own. That was obviously an exaggeration on Miss Neighvada’s part of the reality, but what was a little artistic license where boosting the Valley’s morale was concerned? It was certainly doing me a favor right this moment, as none of those ponies wanted to become my third victim.

“Nopony else dies today!” I screamed at the top of my lungs through ragged breaths. It was a good thing that they didn’t appear eager to fight. It was getting kind of difficult to see everypony clearly through the tears that were welling up in my eyes. Too many competing and conflicting emotions were battling inside me right now. It was hard to focus. I was fighting back too many impulses to count. A little yellow pegasus was beside herself with grief even as she tried to remind me to be merciful in what looked like even a half-hearted attempt even to herself. Even Kindness, it seemed, could reach its limits...

‘Mercy’ was a very difficult concept for me to rationalize right now though. Not in the face of what I’d just seen happen. I’d allowed Starlight to grant mercy to those mercenaries, in lieu of simply killing them all like I might have had to otherwise. It now seemed to have been a wasted effort. Later I might find myself wondering if it would have simply been kinder to slay them while they had still be themselves, and not those hollow shells that looked like ponies.

“Nopony else dies,” I seethed again, through teeth that were clenched so tightly together I was convinced that they’d shatter completely if I applied even another ounce of pressure, “nopony else,” I repeated, like a mantra. I had to. I had to keep saying it, both aloud and in my head. Because, if I let that thought lapse, for even a moment, a lot of ponies were going to die today.

A whole town full.

I clamped my wings down to my side now. I didn’t trust myself with access to a weapon. It would have made it simpler to consider the possibility of killing everypony. This was a town of murderers. All of them. They’d all conspired to murder those Lancers behind my back. They were bad ponies, each and every one of them.

I killed bad ponies. It was what I did.

“Get out of here,” I hated myself for the quaiver in my voice as I spoke. My limbs were trembling as I fought every urge I had in order to not lash out. I turned to Pritchel and Medica, “leave,” I repeated to the pair of stunned looking ponies, who stared at me in shock. A second’s pause, then, “RUN!”

That was the first time I’d seen the larger mare regard me with anything approaching genuine fear.
She ran though. Her and her zebra companion both. Telling her what that conniving little striped stallion was up to with those bottles of RAD was going to have to wait, it seemed. Letting them get to safety took precedent right now.

A twitch of movement caught my eye as I saw one of the townsponies raise up a rifle in their telekinetic field to gun down the fleeing bounty hunters. With a twitch of my wings, I was upon them.

The blow I landed snapped her horn off at the base. The scream she let out was bone chilling. It at least garnered the full attention of every other pony present, and kept them from trying their own luck at getting a shot off, “nopony. Else. Dies,” I repeated, each and every syllable dripping with my barely contained desire to break that very vow.

“Nopony else dies…” I repeated more softly, even as I ignored the tears streaming down my cheeks.

What was I supposed to do now? They’d all simply slaughtered those ponies. They were murderers. The Wonderbolt put down murderers. It’s why they’d gotten me out of sight with all my friends, because they knew that I’d try and stop them from doing this. They’d hoped to get it all done and over with before I found out, and trust that I wouldn’t do anything in retaliation afterwards.

After all, the Wonderbolt didn’t just erase whole towns, did she? She’d fight to stop somepony from getting killed, but once they were already dead and nopony else was in danger; what then? I’d spared that Steel Ranger in McMaren for doing something very similar to this. Doubtlessly, Homily had used that incident in one of her broadcasts to demonstrate my compassion, and idealize some sort of merciful benevolence that I possessed which set me apart from the ‘common’ pony. To demonstrate that I wasn’t, in fact, just a particularly picky raider. I was a ‘hero’, and ‘heroes’ only killed when it was necessary.

Would I become a villain if I ended this town right now?

They’d heard about how I reacted in McMaren, and now they were taking advantage of the precedent that I’d set there. They were abusing my ideals for their own purposes.

So that they could get away with putting dozens of harmless ponies into a hole.

Was I going to allow that to happen? Could I really stand idly by and let ponies get away with murder on this scale, and claim that I was simply upholding some inane ideal of ‘mercy’ in the pursuit of not causing more ponies to suffer? These ponies were going to get away with killing those Lancers in cold blood if I did nothing. Even if I told the authorities in Seaddle, why would they do anything? The Lancers had attacked Santa Mara. They’d been raiders.

Killing raiders was what good ponies did.

It was what I did...

“...nopony...else...dies…”

The words rang hollow this time, and I knew that it was all a lie. In a scant few moments, everypony was going to die. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

So I left.

I flitted up into the fading evening light and headed back to the Sleeper Cars. The two ponies that my pipbuck had shown as being outside were nowhere to be seen, and neither was Quorum. I suppose that there’d been no reason for them to stick around once I’d left. The deed was done, and I’d been unable to stop it. Mission accomplished. My companions were still there though. It seemed that I wasn’t the only one who was taking recent events badly. Starlight Glimmer looked to be in quite the state too.

It made sense. She had Reformed them; turned them back into happy and helpful members of society. In response, they’d been summarily executed by the residents of the very town that they’d been helping to restore. Hardly a fitting recompense, was it?

“Why?” I heard her saying as I trotted by on my way to my room and my gear, “why’d they have to do that? They were good ponies now!”

There are no ‘good’ ponies, Jackboot’s words echoed around in my head, mocking me, as I started donning equipment. I left my weapons unloaded. I didn’t trust myself with rounds quite yet. It could end up being some time before I did. Certainly not while Santa Mara was still within sight.

“Windfall,” I heard Arginine say from the doorway, “are our suspicions true? Have the Lancer mercenaries been euthanized?”

“Murdered, you mean?” I spat at the larger pony while fumbling with a rebellious strap, “yeah,” I swallowed back a lump of bile in my throat as I once more saw the image of the bullet-riddled bodies in my head. Something more to haunt my dreams. Perfect, “they’re dead. All of them.

“They’re dead, and I’m leaving. I’m leaving before everypony else in this town dies too.”

An amber glow enveloped the buckle that was thwarting me as the stallion’s magic finished securing my barding for me, “very well. I shall pass word to the others to prepare to depart as well.”

My hoof slammed into the wall, sending a resounding clap of thunder through the inn. I bowed my head and pounded the wall again and again and again. We were leaving. A whole town full of ponies who were willing to just straight up slaughter dozens of helpless victims; and we were just going to leave. The Wonderbolt was a hero. She was supposed to serve out justice and stuff. She was supposed to fight the bad ponies! Now she was just going to leave a whole town full of them and just fly along on her way without doing anything about it.

“It’s not right,” I snarled through clenched teeth. Arginine paused in the doorway and simply stared at me. I looked to the stallion, seeking some of that monotone wisdom that he always seemed to have handy in situations like this, “what am I supposed to do? What would a good pony do?

“These ponies did a bad thing; they have to be punished, right? That’s how you make the Wasteland a better place: you punish ponies for doing bad things so that ponies stop doing bad things anymore. That’s what justice is!

“Right?”

The larger stallion was quiet for a moment, then, “if ponies are only behaving themselves to avoid punishment, then it is doubtful that they can be considered truly ‘good’. Nor can they be relied upon to continue acting in that way when they perceive that they will not be punished for any transgression that they may commit.”

I looked back towards the wall, “so you’re saying they did this because they knew I wouldn’t do anything about it?”

“If they genuinely believed there would be severe repercussions, I suspect they would have been less likely to take such actions, yes. Of course, given that you were not intending to remain here forever, and that the town felt understandable animosity towards the Lancer mercenaries, this could have been seen as an inevitable outcome.”

“They were Reformed though,” I insisted, “they were good ponies now…”

“Yet they had not been prior to today. Indeed, they had engaged in many heinous activities previously, to include plotting your own murder,” Arginine pointed out, “there is likely a litany of crimes of which you are even ignorant of which they have collectively engaged in.

“Yet, you and Miss Glimmer gave them what, effectively, were commuted sentences, to live happy and productive lives.
“I suspect that the ponies which they harmed did not consider such acts to be ‘Justice’ either.”

“Killing them wouldn’t have fixed any of the wrongs that they did,” I insisted, glaring at the stallion, “at least, this way, they had a chance to try and fix some of the damage! At least they were trying to make the Wasteland better now!”

“I am not criticizing your choices,” Arginine said calmly, “merely offering what I anticipate could have been the perspective of the ponies living here. Indeed, I have no objections at all to creating a subservient variant of ponies designed to fulfill a specific task in order to aid in restoring the Wasteland,” his lip twitched ever so slightly in his own style of amusement, “though I may be biased in that regard.”

That last bit caught me off guard. Then I looked away once more. I hadn’t seen it that way, but Arginine was right. What Starlight had done wasn’t all that different from what Arginine’s stable had done: he had been modified, even on a mental level, to be able to perform the tasks that he was being ordered to do, as part of a grander design to restore the Wasteland. Starlight’s Reform spell did exactly the same thing, didn’t it?

A cold shiver ran through my spine as I realized how close I had come to letting Starlight Glimmer talk me into helping her to turn every raiders and ganger into some sort of subservient class of pony that functioned as little more than slaves themselves. Seeing how completely docile they were now, and what it was possible to do to them without resistance...there was no way that they wouldn’t be abused.

...Much the way that I’d learned the Republic abused their own form of ‘slaves’, which they politely referred to as ‘indentured servants’. Like the way that Golden Vision had been abused, all those years ago.

Not that simply killing the Lancers or letting them go would have sat much better with me either.

“This whole thing a lot easier when I was half-drunk all the time,” I sighed, slumping down to my hanches, “see a bad pony: kill them. Rinse and repeat.

“Trying to actually fix things, for real, is really, really, hard…”

Arginine shrugged, “it is entirely possible that the Wasteland can’t be fixed,” my, wasn’t that a cheery thought? “At the very least, I suspect that believing that two centuries of strife can be undone in a few months is...overly optimistic.”

“If you think it’s such a lost cause, then why are you bothering to help me at all?”

“I did not say it was a ‘lost cause’,” the stallion countered, “but I predict it will take a great deal more time than you are anticipating. Perhaps the rest of your life. Maybe even beyond.”

My shoulders slumped and I found myself staring at the floor. Years, even decades, spent going through all of this crap? These last couple of months had brought me right to this point where I felt like breaking and just giving up entirely. How was I ever going to be able to endure a whole lifetime of this? I felt my head shaking, “I can’t do it,” I closed my eyes and felt the tears starting to flow once more, “I’m not strong enough.”

There was silence in the room now. This, I knew, would be the point where Arginine recognized his mistake and finally gave up on me. He’d then either leave to go find his stable again or, more likely, kill me and take me to them as an offer of contrition for having betrayed them before. I wasn’t even sure I’d stop him if he tried. After all, what was even the point? The world was a shithole, and couldn’t be fixed, not my way. Maybe Arginine’s stable had the right idea, and all of us did need to be wiped out to make room for ponies that wouldn’t fuck everything up like we had…

I flinched as I felt something large and warm press up against my side. I couldn’t help myself, I leaned into him. It was stupid and juvenile, and I didn’t care. It felt good to have him next to me.

“On your own, you will not succeed,” Arginine said in a gentle tone, “nor should you try. Even my own stable could never hope to fashion a pony so perfect that they could conquer all challenges without aid. To that end,” he continued, “you are not alone. You never have been. Allow us to help you.”

“How?” I breathed, resting my head against his shoulder, “what could any of you do about what just happened here?”

“Perhaps nothing,” the stallion admitted with a slight shrug, which did little to make me feel any better, “but you will not know until you talk with them, will you?”

No, I suppose I wouldn’t, and it was silly to think that I would be the only one of my friends who was taking this hard. Starlight would certainly be feeling pretty rough, given that she’d been responsible for putting the Lancers in such a vulnerable state and then leaving them alone. It hadn’t been her fault, per say, but she’d still created the circumstances. That probably wasn’t sitting very well with her. The pink unicorn might benefit from a talk like the one that Arginine was having with me, now that I thought about it.

“You’re right,” I nodded before leaning up and pecking the stallion on the lips, “go and pack, I’m going to go talk with Starlight and the others,” Arginine nodded and headed for the door. I followed in his wake.

Outside, Foxglove was still comforting the pink unicorn mare. She looked about as hollow as I felt. Upon seeing me dressed in my barding and gear, Ramparts took the hint and went to go and collect his own equipment as well. I stepped over to the pair of unicorns and sat down, fixing Starlight with a sympathetic expression.

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Why did they do it?” the mare asked in a ragged tone as she sniffed and wiped her nose, “they were harmless!”

I shrugged, shaking my head, “the ponies here were...angry. They’d been hurt. In the Wasteland, when you get hurt, you hurt somepony back. It’s...how things are.

“I’m not saying it’s right, and I’m not saying I agree,” Celestia help me, but I was trying my hardest to stop being that way myself, “I’m just saying that’s what happened.”

“What are we going to do about it?” she asked, looking at me with her hard, piercing, blue eyes.

There it was. That need for vengeance, and the desire to see ponies hurt, who had just hurt you. I couldn’t help but stare at this mare, this product of a bygone age from long before a place like the Wasteland could even be fathomed by ponykind. It was now that I realized something that I suspect Arginine and the ponies in his stable had known for a long time: Ponies weren’t the way that they are now because of the Wasteland. The Wasteland was the way that it was now because of ponies.

Had it been anypony else―myself, Ramparts, even Foxglove―who’d expressed such an immediate desire for revenge, I would have believed that they were that way because, well, that was the sort of pony that life in the Wasteland created. We were all merely a product of our environments, weren’t we? That’s how I’d assumed the world worked for so long, anyway.

Starlight wasn’t a product of the Wasteland though. She’d been here for a matter of months. Surely that wasn’t nearly long enough for her to have been so thoroughly corrupted by its influences to bring her down to the level of every other pony who’d spent their whole lives here, was it? No. This wasn’t the Wasteland talking. It was just a pony. This was our natural state. If it wasn’t, then I guess that there wouldn’t have been a need for things like Reformation spells in the first place, would there?

No wonder it was so hard to fix the Wasteland, I found myself thinking as a wan smile touched my lips. The Wasteland wasn’t actually the problem, it turned out. It was just the symptom. What really needed to be fixed, were ponies.

Where did you even begin to do something like that though?

That was a question best left to be answered by much smarter ponies than me. I wasn’t in the business of fixing all of ponykind. I just wanted the Wasteland to be a slightly more tolerable place. Of course, as just a single mare, I could only do so much in that regard. Really, all I could do was what I hoped was right, and try to set an example for others to see. Maybe others would follow my lead. Maybe they wouldn’t.

“Nothing,” I said, finally, drawing a startled look from the pink unicorn. A look that very quickly shifted into disgust, “I’m not going to do anything about it. I’m going to go to Seaddle, and speak with Princess Luna about the war with the Steel Rangers.”

“That’s it?” Starlight growled, “all of those ponies are dead, and you’re just going to let them get away with it?! I thought you were supposed to be some kind of hero or something!”

“There isn’t anything I can do to change what happened,” I replied carefully, doing what I could to repress those same desires to avenge the dead that Starlight was feeling. It really was our natural state, wasn’t it? My sad little smile grew slightly wider as I thought back on those Reformed Lancers, “anything I could do would just add to the suffering of the world. How does that help anypony?”

Starlight blinked, taken aback by my response, which so very closely mimicked that of the very mercenaries whose personalities that she had white-washed. The sort of response that was supposed to be that of an ideal Equestrian pony. I wasn’t doing it to be cruel, or because I wanted to throw her own views back in her face. After all, I’d had very similar notions in the past before I’d seen her spell in action.

Maybe I was being too naive. Maybe I was even wrong to think that. I was just a silly little filly, after all. Still, if several centuries of reprisal hadn’t done anything to help the world become a better place, then it was at least worth trying out something new, wasn’t it? If it didn’t change anything, then what did it matter? But, if there was even the chance that it could make even a small difference, then why not give it a shot?

“The ponies of this town aren’t interested in going out of their way to hurt others,” I went on, “they were acting out of fear and anger. I know what that’s like,” I bowed my head, recalling exactly how close I’d come to lashing out at the locals. Recalling some of the lives that I’d taken in the past that were hardest to justify. Like a sleazy mayor whose brains I’d splattered on the asphalt because of things that I’d heard of him doing from somepony else. Not exactly irrefutable proof of his committing a crime worthy of death. But I’d pulled that trigger anyway. I’d perpetuated the Way of the Wasteland, “I won’t punish them for being scared.”

I could tell that Starlight still wanted to argue with me about what should be done to the ponies of Santa Mara, but this was about as far into the debate as I felt like going right now. I still wanted to leave as soon as possible. The mood in the town was tense, and so was I. My conversation with Arginine had helped, but it hadn’t fixed things completely. Every time I thought about that mass grave, I could feel that impulse in my gut to do something to make those responsible pay. It was a toxic feeling, but it was also so seductive.

Lash out. Remove the bad ponies in this town from the world. Hurt those who had hurt the helpless.
That was the kind of pony that I’d been for so long…

While doing all of that would certainly help to quash the grief I was feeling right now, I also knew that it would only lead to further anguish later on.In the past, I’d combated that was drink, and more killing. It’d left me so hollow for so long. A void that I’d sought to fill with even more raider bodies. An insatiable void, it had turned out. I didn’t want to become that again. I wanted to be better than that. Which meant that I had to feel things, even when they weren’t pleasant.

I had to know when enough was enough, and be strong enough to accept it.

“We’re leaving soon,” I finally said, “meet me outside of town in half an hour,” I turned and headed for the door leading out into town.

“Where are you going?” Foxglove asked, sounding concerned.

“I’m going to talk with Quorum,” it was hard to miss the frightened expression on the purple mare’s face. I tried my best to muster a reassuring smile, “don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” I thought for a moment, and then added, “and so will she.”

I stepped outside and looked around. The town seemed quite deserted all of a sudden, not unlike when we’d first arrived. The locals weren’t being held hostage in their homes any longer, of course. They were just weathering the storm that they were afraid might yet come, despite their best hopes. I idly wondered how sure they’d been that I wouldn’t punish them for what they’d done. Not so sure, apparently, that they thought it unnecessary to move in secret, and keep themselves out of my sight in the immediate aftermath.

I’m sure the reports of what I did to the militia ponies who been accosting Pritchel and Medica hadn’t assuaged their concerns any.

Perhaps I might even find myself confronting armed ponies in my attempt to speak with Quorum one last time. I flexed the alloyed covers that shielded my wings to ensure they were firmly secured if I should have need of them. I studied the pock marks and scoring that tarnished the once brilliant metal. Some patches yet retained their mirrored finish though, and I caught my reflection for a brief moment.

There was much that I had in common with the battered Gale Force rig.

My hoof had touched my eyepatch before I’d known that I was even reaching for it. Tendrils of burn scarring spiderwebbed out from beneath the simple leather covering, a mishmash of pink and brown flesh where my coat would no longer grow. Gnarls of dingy ivory fur dotted my face where it grew around old shrapnel wounds.

I was long overdue for a mane trim too, it would appear. French Tips would have a lot to say regarding how much I’d let myself get out of sorts.

The toll exacted by the Wasteland. One of many it levied upon those who frequented its expanse. It was a compelling mirror of what had been inflicted upon my spirit, though. Scarred, haggard, and burned away in places. I could remember the filly that I’d once been, ignorant and naive, as she flitted through the air, dealing out death with twin streams of 10mm rounds to any pony she took a disliking to. Then she’d ply herself with bottles of whiskey until she could sleep soundly enough to make it through the night.

There are no ‘good’ ponies…

Perhaps, but, “maybe that’s not the right way to think about it,” I whispered aloud as I tucked my wings back to my sides and resumed walking, “maybe it’s not about ‘good’ ponies verses ‘bad’ ponies. Maybe it’s about helping others verses just helping ourselves.

“I don’t care what happens to me anymore. I got my raw deal, and I know I’m taking the shortcut to an early grave. I can accept that. I just want everypony else to have it better than I did,” maybe I didn’t know how that was supposed to be accomplished, but one pony couldn’t have all the answers, could they? All I knew was that nopony was going to ‘have it better’ if they were all dead. So, all I needed to worry about right now was stopping Arginine’s stable.

After that, I could let ponies with more brains and experience than a pubescent pegasus filly tackle the broader problems of ‘fixing’ things…

It wasn’t long before I located the mayor’s office for the town. As expected, there was a guard standing outside the door. The earth pony stallion stiffened upon catching sight of me, and I saw him ever so slightly edge his mouth towards the trigger bit connected to the carbine strapped at his side. I came to a stop at what I appraised was a suitably safe distance away and flicked up my wings, “I’m just here to talk,” I hadn’t afixed my more potent weapons before coming here. My only armament was my compact pistol, which the guard might not even be able to see from where he was, and certainly nopony would notice as long as my wings stayed at my side.

The stallion didn’t take his eyes off me as his hind leg kicked out at the door behind him several times. I heard the sound of a metal latch unbolting just before it cracked open. There was a brief exchange that I couldn’t hear, and then the door closed again. I stood waiting patiently for another half a minute. Then the door opened again, and I recognized Quorum’s green form stepping out of the building. A unicorn mare dressed in the town’s militia barding flanked her, a semi-automatic shotgun floating at the ready.

A smile that was equal parts sad and amused tugged at my lip as I contemplated the notion that such a display of force had been deemed necessary for somepony coming out to speak with a little teenaged filly. Was I fifteen or sixteen by now? I was pretty sure I wasn’t seventeen yet…

Quorum approached to within about ten yards before stopping, “is there something I can do for you, Wonderbolt?”

Her tone suggested that she was expecting me to make demands. Indeed, she might even have been of a notion that I wanted to arrest her and bring her to Seaddle for what she’d done tonight. If that was the case, than she was very much aware of my age, and had made some understandable assumptions about my presumed youthful naivety. Not to say that I wasn’t naive in some―or even many―areas.

The nature of Wasteland justice wasn’t one of them though. I wasn’t here to ‘take her in’. This was about me trying to do what I could to make the Wasteland a better place.

By defying its nature, and encouraging others to do the same, “did they protest?”

The mayor and her guard exchanged a brief look, confused, “pardon?”

“The Lancers,” I said, working hard to keep my tone even as the mere mention of their group evoked a resurgence of nightmarish images, “did they protest when you lined them up to be shot? Did they argue? Fight back?” the silence that greeted me confirmed what I had suspected. I sighed and bowed my head, trying to hide the fresh tears welling up behind my eye, “that’s not even the first time I’ve seen something like that, you know,” now I saw the rows of placid faces that had been laid outside their stable with dispassionate order.

“That’s what the Wasteland is, when you get right down to it. Most ponies think is the barren valleys and roaming monsters and deadly robots. But it’s not. The Wasteland―the real Wasteland―is right outside this town, covered up in that ditch: it's how easily we can bring ourselves to shoot ponies in the back who aren’t even trying to stop us from doing it.

“Because we’re scared. Because we were hurt. Because we’re angry, and we need some way to show it.”

I raised my head back up and looked to the mayor, then towards her guardian, “the Wasteland is bringing an armed guard to talk with a filly you’ve heard only goes after bandits and raiders,” the green earth pony now shifted uncomfortably, “is that how you see yourself now; as the kind of pony the Wonderbolt would hurt?

“Is that who you wanted to become?”

Quorum swallowed, but still said nothing. I did notice that the unicorn behind her had looked away though, and lowered the weapon floating beside her. It wasn’t much. Maybe it wouldn’t even matter in the future, “if you really did find it so easy to slaughter helpless ponies like that, maybe it won’t be long before you do become that kind of pony. Don’t let me find out that’s become the case.

"Goodbye, Quorum. If we're all very lucky, we'll never see each other again."

I turned around and started walking away.

“Wonderbolt!” I paused and looked back over my shoulder towards the mayor, “for what it’s worth: I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

That sad smile was back on my face again, “the Wasteland is believing that it did have to be this way.”

I flipped out my wings and took to the sky, heading out of town to meet my friends. As I did so, I reached to my fetlock and keyed up the frequency that Homily had given me, “hey, Homily, you there? I’ve got an update for you…”

Foot Note: Level Up!
Perk Added: Speaker: When you talk, ponies listen. Increased chance of persuading others.
Speech Skill at 50

CHAPTER 41: IT'S ONLY A PAPER MOON

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I don't trust a mare that doesn't have something strange going on about her, 'cause that means she's hiding it from you.

“Back in Seaddle, again,” I sighed as our group passed through the town’s front entrance, “I don’t know about anypony else, but I think we could stand to linger here for about a week,” sure, the valley was in peril, and there was still a good bit to get done before any of us could truly rest, but it wasn’t like everything was going to come crashing down around our ears any time soon. Besides, recent events in Santa Mara had left me more mentally exhausted than I could remember being in months.

I needed a vacation.

“I’m not going to argue,” Foxglove said as she idly stretched out her tired leg muscles.

“I didn’t even know a pony could get bunions on their hooves, but here we are,” Starlight Glimmer added, stepping rather gingerly.

Yatima mumbled something from where she was splayed across Arginine’s back, but I hadn’t quite been able to make it out. Ramparts chuckled at whatever it was and craned his head up to nuzzle the mare, eliciting a faint smile. Then he nuzzled the colt snoozing on his own back, “Let’s get you mares to the apartment,” the stallion sighed, cringing slightly, “then I’ll need to report back to my commander and see how much trouble I’m in.”

This prompted a concerned look from Foxglove and myself, “do you want me to come with you?” I offered. It was at least possible that a good word put in on his behalf from The Wonderbolt might help avoid any serious reprimands he might be in for.

He shook his head, “nah, I’ll be okay. Besides, I’ve got a lot of intel that I can given them about Old Reino and that Steel Ranger attack on McMaren,” then he frowned slightly and rubbed the back of his head, “though...this might be ‘goodbye’. I’m not seeing any way I’ll be given leave to travel with you any more. I mean, I’ll ask, but I’m an officer in Her Majesty’s Guard, and a Courser besides; I have obligations, you know?”

I nodded, “no worries, Ramparts, we understand,” I walked up to the stallion and extended my hoof, “it was great having you along. You have my pipbuck tag. If you’re ever in a bind, don’t hesitate to call in a little air support, eh?”

The brown earth pony bumped my offered hoof with his own and rolled his eyes, “no offense, but it won’t do my career any favors if I have to keep getting bailed out by a little filly. If it happens a third time, command might wonder why they don’t just go and give you command of my squad…”

I grinned at the stallion and watched him pass off his young son to Foxglove, who was all too happy to carry the little burden the rest of the way to the apartment. The others said their own goodbyes and we allowed the stallion to depart. It was hard to see him go like that. Though I hadn’t set out with any intention to collect the menagerie of ponies that were traveling with me, it had felt nice to have so many others around me. Still, I had quite a few more companions yet at my side, so I doubted that I was going to be feeling lonely any time soon.

Of course, standing inside the now very cramped feeling apartment served to remind me that there were advantages to having a much smaller entourage. This place had been cozy when it had been just me and Jackboot. Five full grown ponies and a young colt made the little one-room domicile nearly claustrophobic! Fortunately, there wasn’t a need for us all to remain in there for very long. Yatima would stay of course, resting with her child. After all, the place was basically hers as far as I was concerned. I’d tracked down our landlord and informed him of the change in residency. Not that he cared all that much who was using the room as long as the caps came in on time.

To that end, I’d contributed enough to extend Yatima’s lease out to a full year before she needed to worry about things. It was amazing how much spending capital I had on me now that I’d given up drinking…

Arginine was elected to stay with the zebra mare while the rest of us went out. None of us needed him for anything at the moment, and we all felt better not leaving Yatima and her foal alone in a city she was unfamiliar with. Foxglove headed off for the market to pawn off our loot and buy what tools and parts she’d need to conduct long overdo servicing on our equipment.

That left Starlight and I to make our report to Prime Minister Ebony Song. He probably wasn’t going to be super thrilled that we hadn’t actually come back with the weapons that he’d sent us to find, but I figured that providing the Republic with their coordinates should be the next best thing. I had Starlight with me in case it took extra persuasion to get him to part with the computer that they’d stolen from the Steel Rangers. After all, the pink unicorn mare had actually met Princess Luna in a bygone era; who better to be able to bargain with the NLR’s ruler?

“An old opera house, eh?” Starlight remarked as we approached the Republic’s principle government building, and the official residence of Princess Luna, “why didn’t they try and use the city’s old capitol building?”
I nodded, “from what I understand, it doesn’t exist anymore. It got burned to the ground during some war between whatever groups existed before there was even a Commonwealth.”

“So the world already just blew up because of a war, and ponies still didn’t see any reason to not fight anymore?” The pink mare sighed, dejected, “maybe we are hopeless.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, “but I’m hoping we’re all just slow learners, like me,” I offered the older mare a reassuring smile, but it achieved very limited results. She still wasn’t handling seeing all of this devastation well. For me, this was how the world had always looked. Starlight kept seeing a mockery of the golden age of prosperity that ponykind had once known.
Sort of like I’d felt when I went back to my family’s destroyed ranch. A place so full of warm feelings and happy memories, transformed into a burnt and blood-soaked abattoir of death. Just multiplied about a million times for her, I supposed, “we’re rebuilding though,” I pointed out, gesturing to the bustling city around us, however tattered it might look, “some day the Wasteland might look like the world you remember.”

“Maybe,” Starlight uttered in a tone that brimmed with doubt.

“Come on,” I urged, nudging the pink unicorn, “let’s go rescue a foal. Today’s a good day to make the Wasteland a slightly less shitty place for somepony,” that at least seemed to cheer her up. Marginally. So I added, “who knows, maybe we’ll get pointed in the direction of your daughter!”

Starlight winced and looked away.

Okay, bad call, Windfall. I cringed and thought up a way to salvage the misstep, but was headed off by the other mare speaking again, “I know you mean well. Thank you. I’d just...it really hurts to think about it, okay?”

I nodded and firmly buttoned up my lips, lest I accidently say something else to put the mood off further.

We approached the guards standing watch at the front door, and I found myself wondering if I maybe should have brought Ramparts along to expedite this. We weren’t here during the normally scheduled petitioning hours, so there was the possibility that we might be turned away without even being let inside. I was hoping that I could at least get them to pass word to Ebony Song that I was back. He’d want to see me, certainly.

“This place isn’t open to the public right now, citizen,” the first guard, an older unicorn mare said in an iron tone, “come back in the morning.”

I opened my mouth to make my case, but found myself cut off by the younger earth pony stallion at her side, “sarge, that’s the Wonderbolt!” he said in equal parts awe and surprise. I felt myself shifting to stand a little taller, a smile tugging at my lips. I suppose there was something to wearing a flashy costume after all! I could see why the Wonderbolts of old must have done it.

The uniformed mare did not seem to be nearly as impressed by me as her cohort was though, and merely snorted, “and? We’re still not open to the public. The last I checked, the Wonderbolt is a member of the ‘public’.”

A frown replaced my grin, but it didn’t seem like all was lost quite yet as the other guard spoke up, “didn’t the captain say we’re supposed to contact the Prime Minister if she arrives?”

The unicorn glared at the younger pony, “so then contact him!” the stallion cowered briefly before cantering through the door, leaving Starlight and I alone with the gruff unicorn mare, who resumed glaring at us.
I cleared my throat and glanced around idly, “we’ll just...wait here.”

“You do that.”

Starlight and I waited in uncomfortable silence for what felt like a much longer period of time that it had probably been until the stallion returned, “I’m to escort the two of you to the Prime Minister’s residence right away,” he managed to get out between pants, “he’s eager to see you, Wonderbolt.”

The pink unicorn mare and I exchanged glances and she looked to the opera house while I spoke to the guards again, “I was really hoping to see both Ebony Song and Princess Luna,” I began, “is there any way he can meet us here?”

His face blanked for a moment as he fumbled to craft a reply, “well, I, um…” It was his superior who delivered the answer though, and rather gruffly, at that, “Her Royal Highness has retired for the day,” she insisted in what was very nearly a growl, flashing a brief glare at her subordinate before looking back at us, “the private here will take you to see the Prime Minister. He will pass on any concerns that are worth taking up the Princess’ valuable time.

“End of discussion,” she added with a curled lip as she spied Starlight about to form a complaint of her own.

I frowned, but didn’t see much of a point in arguing, “fine,” I motioned to the stallion with my wing, “let’s get going then,” I could also see the protest perched upon Starlight’s lips. I could even sympathize. She was so close, after all, to seeing the first familiar face―indeed, the last one left to her―since awakening in the Wasteland, “he’ll get us an audience when he hears what we have to say,” I added loud enough to be heard by all; to both reassure Starlight and as a way to shoot a barb at the obstinate guardsmare. It earned me a final parting glare, which I took as a small victory.

“Sorry about the sergeant back there,” our escort offered once we’d left earshot. He, at least, seemed to be a much more approachable sort, “a lot of the ponies who show up to get some time with the Princess can be pretty pushy. So, naturally, you have to be ready to push back. Hard.”

Starlight perked up, looking at our escort, “wait, you mean that Luna actually does see ponies?”

The guard furrowed his brow, “of course she does. She holds Court five days a week, for nearly half the day. Hundreds of ponies bring her their problems every week,” he narrowed his eyes slightly at the mare, “are you new to Seaddle or something?”

A sharp laugh escaped from my mouth, “ha! More like ‘old’ to Seaddle!” I enjoyed a hearty chuckle, only later noticing the unamused glare from Starlight, and the confusion from the guard, “sorry,” I smiled sheepishly, “that was funnier in my head.”

“Right…”

“Suffice to say,” the pink unicorn said, looking back to the guard, “I’m not familiar with the area. It’s...been a while.”

“Ah! Well, I guess you do look kind of old,” I noticed the mare narrow her cyan eyes crticially at the stallion, but he’d turned away by then and didn’t notice, “so you might have left before she returned…” he thought for a moment, “not quite twenty years ago, but close. It’s a good time to come back though!” he added, grinning at her briefly, “she’s making great strides to rebuild the valley and restore Equestria!”

“You don’t say,” Starlight said as she regarded the dilapidated buildings around her.

“Mmh-hmm! Once we finally kick those fucking tin mules out of Neighvada, the world will be fixed in no time.”

Anypony who’d spent more than a week around Seaddle, listening to the Princess’ daily broadcasts would have recognized that rhetoric. It was the theme of nearly all of her speeches: beat back the Steel Rangers, and the restoration of Equestria would follow soon after. Once upon a time, I’d been about as much of a believer in that narrative as this guard was now. However, Jackboot had been ever the cynic, and a bit of that had rubbed off on me. I couldn’t exactly put a hoof on anything concrete, but something about those grand promises rang hollow with me these days.

Of course I was still hoping in the back of my mind that I was wrong, and that Princess Luna would be able to deliver on a restored Equestria. I just...well, I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high. The Wasteland had a tendency to shit all over anypony who got optimistic about the future.

Indeed, Starlight was looking even more skeptical than I was right now. Curious, I let us drop back a little further behind the stallion escorting us and leaned in close to the mare, “something wrong?”

The mare frowned, “I don’t know. I did know Princess Luna though. At least, I knew the way she ruled when Princess Celestia stepped down.

“She never held Court like her sister did, not that I ever heard about anyway. If you weren’t a Ministry Mare or a part of her little circle of advisors, nopony got time with her. I didn’t even get time with her, and I was just a couple steps from being a Ministry Mare myself!”

“Well, I mean, she doesn’t have any ministries anymore,” I pointed out, “so maybe she changed the way she does things.”

“Maybe,” it was clear that the unicorn wasn’t convinced though, “I’m kind of surprised she didn’t make some more ministries…”

Funnily enough, Starlight seemed to actually be put at ease when we arrived at the Prime Minister’s private estate. It probably helped her to think of Ebony Song as a surrogate Ministry Mare...er, stallion. Something about her demeanor certainly shifted the moment we were ushered into the stallion’s study.

The pony that we had been brought to see was currently lounging on a sofa that looked to be in surprisingly good condition, given its age. A glass of wine was hovering beside him, which he set down once he caught sight of us, “ah, Miss Windfall, or do you prefer to be called ‘The Wonderbolt’, as that...delightful mare on the radio dubs you?” his smile seemed a bit strained now. Probably because a lot of ponies were tuning in to listen to Homily when he’d rather they keep giving the broadcasts of Princess Luna their undivided attention, “you have good news, I presume?”

I felt my gaze narrow slightly. How had he managed to make my pseudonym sound like he was mocking me? Whatever, “I’ve got the coordinates for the cache you’re looking for,” I confirmed, earning a very satisfied smile from the stallion, “I’ve even managed to reach an agreement with the Steel Rangers: they’ll withdraw from the valley,” this, Ebony Song had clearly not expected to hear. I took some small measure of satisfaction in seeing the look of genuine surprise rob the arrogant stallion of his composure, if only briefly. My own smile grew a bit more as I delivered what I knew would really catch him off guard, “all they want in return is for you to give up the computer you stole from them.”

However, it wasn’t surprise that crossed the Prime Minister’s face for that brief fraction of a second before he composed himself. It had been fear. There had been an instant of terror on the stallion’s face, which he quickly hid behind a snarl, “absolutely not!” he spat, glaring at me, “that equipment is vital to the security of Her Majesty’s Republic!”

“It’s a computer with a foal inside of it!” It was Starlight who had spoken up now, matching Ebony Song’s reproachful stare with her own piercing blue eyes, “does Princess Luna even know what it is you’ve got? Because if it’s the Luna that I know, she’d never stand for it! She loved foals; she treasured them like every colt and filly of the princedom was her own! She’d never condone those computers, ever!”

That surprise was back again as Ebony Song seemed to finally take notice of the mare that I’d brought with me. I suppose there was no reason for him to have really given Starlight a second look before. I was the one in flashy blue barding with metal wing covers. Standing next to me, the pink unicorn mare looked rather plain and uninteresting.

The Prime Minister noticed her now though, and he once again composed himself as he addressed her, “and who are you, that presumes to know Her Royal Majesty so well, exactly?”

“My name is Starlight Glimmer, and I used to work for the Ministry of Arcane Science, under Ministry Mare Twilight Sparkle,” that was the first time I’d ever heard her use the long dead ministry mare’s name without half gagging while she said it, “and I assure you I know quite a bit about Princess Luna from before the war.”

There was that fear again. Brief, but evident. This time though, the Prime Minister didn’t seem to manage a complete recovery of his demeanor like he had before. Indeed, he was looking rather pale for a pony that had a complexion as dark as his, “I see,” he said, swallowing back a lump in his throat, “that’s a rather...fantastic tale, I hope you realize. You’ll pardon my skepticism.”

“Let me speak with Princess Luna and I’ll prove who I am. Then I’ll tell her all about what you took from the Rangers and she’ll make you give it up herself, I guarantee it.”

“Her Majesty’s time is valuable,” Ebony Song began, “I will, of course, see where you can be worked into a meeting, but it could be quite some time. In the meantime, I’d like the coordinates for that cache, if you don’t mind.”

“Meeting with the Princess first,” I growled at the stallion, “then you get your weapons. This will end the war, and without anypony else having to die, Republican or Ranger. How is that not worth giving up one computer?”

The Prime Minister’s expression was become more flustered as he looked between the two of us, “as I said: it is vital to the Republic. It cannot be given up! Now, give me the coordinates. The Steel Rangers are still abiding by that little ‘truce’ you arranged,” why did he not sound very thankful for that? “Which means they can be taken by surprise and beaten swiftly; but only with those weapons.

“The same weapons that you require the Republic to use against that stable who have been raiding merchant caravans, I’ll remind you. You are putting innocent pony’s lives at risk by refusing to do your duty as a Republic citizen!”

“If this is all so important and ‘time sensitive’, then why do we have to wait for a meeting with Princess Luna?” Starlight demanded, “are you telling me she’s too busy for a five minute talk about national security?”

“She―I―that’s―Give me the coordinates, now!” the Prime Minister finally snapped. Behind me, I could hear booted hooves clattering along the floors outside as ponies came to investigate the reason for the shouting, “or you will be held for treason!”

“Treason?” both Starlight and I balked in unison.

“How the fuck are we committing treason?” I demanded.

“You conspired with the enemy without Her Highness’ permission, in an effort to deprive Her Republic of valuable military hardware, for one thing,” the dark stallion retorted acidly, “and that’s on top of your current failure to hand over the weapons Princess Luna needs to win the war! You will surrender them this instant!”

“The fuck I will!” I snarled at the unicorn. My attention was diverted just then as the doors behind Starlight and I burst open, allowing four Republic Guardponies to spill into the room.

“They are traitors to the Republic!” Ebony Song screamed before anypony else could say a word, “seize them!”

Oh, horseapples.

“Seize this!” Starlight spat a second before the room was bathed in cyan brilliance. When the glare cleared and I could see once again, I discovered that the two of us were now standing in the small apartment where we’d left Yatima, little Baraka, and Arginine. Of which the two adult ponies were gaping at us in surprise while the little foal snoozed.

I blinked away the last of my disorientation, thankful to the pink mare that she had bypassed the two of us needing to fight our way out of there. I had little doubt that we could have, but I didn’t want to turn Seaddle into a war zone anytime soon. Or, really, ever.

“Did...did we really just become enemies of the state?” I asked, still a little in shock by how quickly that had all managed to go downhill. What was going on with the Prime Minister that he didn’t want us to speak with Princess Luna? Dozens of ponies saw her every day!

“It certainly looks that way,” Starlight said under her breath, “I really don’t like that stallion.”

“So,” Arginine piped up, looking between the two of us, “I take it your meeting with the Princess was a rousing success then?”

Both of us turned our heads in unison to glower at the larger unicorn stallion. He was unphased by our wordless opinion of the quality of his ill-timed humor, “we didn’t even make it that far,” I grunted as I started packing my saddlebags, “and now it looks like we might have to leave.”

“Leave? What’s going on?” Yatima asked in a tone that was more than a little concerned.

I glanced at the striped mare and her young colt. The trip from Santa Mara to Seaddle had been rough enough for them. Travel like that wasn’t something that should be subjected to a new mother and her infant child. Would it be safe to leave her here though? The Lancers had used her to get to me, after all. I doubted very much right now that Ebony Song wouldn’t stoop to those same depths of depravity.

Though, I realized, I did have allies here too. Ponies who owed me favors, and who I knew weren’t complete scumbags, “it’s looking like most of us are going to have to leave, yeah,” I looked back at Arginine, “do you remember how to get to the Galician’s house?” he nodded, “take Yatima there. Tell Summer Glade and Endo that the Wonderbolt is calling in a favor: I want them to get her, and her foal, to New Reino,” again I thought, racking my brain for additional names that I knew I could count on.

I looked at Yatima, “when you get to New Reino, go to the Flash in the Pan Casino. Find the manager there, her name is Double Pitch. I have an account with the casino that should have some money in it. It’s not a whole lot, but I’ll send you more when I can. Tell her you’re making a withdrawal against my account, and give her the pass-phrase: ‘home on the range’. I’ll write it down for you,” I turned to do just that, and saw that Starlight had already scribbled out my list of instructions with the names and places underlined, passing it to the zebra mare. She had just finished slinging her colt on her back, and took the instructions in her uncertain hooves. I stepped up and cupped my wings around the mare, “you’ll be fine. I promise, and I’m sorry for doing this to you,” I pulled back slightly, “I’ll let Ramparts know where he can find you.”

My gaze went to Arginine, who had set about packing the striped mare’s bags and now had them draped across his own back, “get her there safe, then make your way out of the city. Meet on the south side of the Ruins.”

“You are leaving as well?”

There was almost the next best thing to concern in the stallion’s voice, prompting a smile from myself, “we’re going to find Foxglove first...” I glanced back at the pink unicorn, who nodded in confirmation of the plan, “...and then we’re going to arrange our own audience with Princess Luna,” I received another nod from Starlight, as well as a wry smile. My gaze returned to Arginine, “who knows, maybe we can fix this whole mess before it gets out of hoof,” I thought for a moment and rolled my eyes, “further out of hoof, anyway.”

“Very well. Miss Yatima?” the two equines, who made quite the odd pairing, slipped out of the apartment and into the fading twilight as night approached.

I opened my mouth to suggest to Starlight where we should start looking for our other unicorn companion, but found myself interrupted by a burst from my pipbuck, “Windfall, are you there?” Ramparts’ voice crackled through the speaker, “I just heard a guard-wide broadcast that said there was a bolo out on The Wonderbolt for ‘Crimes Against the State’. You’ve been here an hour! What did you do?!”

I didn’t manage to suppress the amused snort that the stallion’s equal parts impressed and exasperated tone elicited. Admittedly, even I was pretty amazed that I’d somehow found a way to flip my standing with the Republic from ‘celebrated hero’ to ‘public enemy number one’ in the course of a two minute talk with one pony. I only hoped that an equally brief conversation with Luna was all it would take to undo the damage…

“We had a talk with the Prime Minister,” I replied into my pipbuck, “we told him the Rangers wanted their computer back. He didn’t like that. He demanded the coordinates for the cache, and we told him ‘not without the computer’. Then he called us ‘traitors’ and sicked the guards on us.

“So how’s your day going?”

“Oh, you know, just mourning the fiery end of my otherwise illustrious career. Thanks for that, by the way,” the stallion grumbled, “Where’s Yatima?”

“Yatima’s safe, and she’s going to stay that way,” I assured him, “and why would your career be affected by me being a criminal?”

“It’s not like I made it a secret to my commander who I was going to be traveling with. And Miss Neighvada’s been telling half the valley about the Republic soldier traveling with The Wonderbolt,” he pointed out. Oh. Right. I really shouldn’t have messed around with that ‘taking sole credit’ stuff, “nopony’s officially looking for me yet to ask me about you, but it’s only a matter of time before Prime Minister Ebony Song finds out who your friends are and comes after me.

“What’s your plan for dealing with this?”

“We’re going to speak directly with the Princess,” I informed him, “we’ll explain things to her, and get everything worked out,” a thought occurred to me, “in fact, it might help to have you with us. You’re part of her elite forces or something, right? You’d be able to throw a little of your weight around and get past the palace guards,” and I would take no small amount of pleasure in seeing that gruff unicorn mare taken down a peg by a superior officer.

“Well, I guess I may as well abuse my rank a little while I still have it,” the stallion muttered with a resigned sigh, “this better work out. I don’t want to be standing around in the middle of the most heavily protected building in the heart of the Republic if we still need to run when this goes south.”

You and me both, I thought acidly. I was good, but I didn’t for a moment think I was ‘fight off an immortal alicorn goddess’ good, “Relax, worse cast scenario, Starlight blips us right out of there. Right?” I asked, grinning at the pink mare, who frowned and grunted, idly rubbing her horn.

“Don’t expect to get far,” she warned in a stern tone, “I’ve burned out twice in as many weeks. I’m going to do genuine harm to my horn if I keep pushing myself like this…”

“Like I said: worst case scenario,” I pointed out, “I mean, you’re sure that Princess Luna will see reason, right?”

The mare gave a curt nod, “she cares very deeply about foals; she always has. That should be all that matters when we tell her how those computers work.”

“Good,” I turned back to my pipbuck, “we’re going to collect Foxglove. Meet us in front of the palace.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” there was a brief burst of static as the stallion ended his transmission.

“I don’t suppose you’ve thought about how you’re going to be able to make it through the city,” Starlight asked, gesturing at my quite recognizable barding, “if word’s already spread through the guard, how long will it be before the general public finds out you’re a wanted mare?”

I frowned and looked down at myself. She had a point. Even if I didn’t think that the whole city would forget all of Homily’s broadcasts and turn on me in an instant, all it would really take is for a few ‘loyal citizens of Her Majesty’s Republic’ to report me to the guard. The simplest answer was to shuck my signature colors and just go out there as Windfall. Ponies didn’t know the Wonderbolt was just some pegasus filly―save for a chosen few, at least.

The downside there was that it meant that if something did go wrong and I was discovered, I’d be without my armor, my weapons, or the Gale Force. That was a heck of a handicap to place on myself, given the circumstances.

Then a thought occurred to me and and started rummaging through my saddlebags. I found what I was looking for and pulled out the prototype holographic projection device. If I remembered correctly, Foxglove had once told me how she used the device to get Jackboot out of Republic custody by disguising herself as a guard to gain access. I could so no reason why that same strategy couldn’t work for me too. Though, I suspected that just trying to pass the lot of us off as a group of NLR soldiers wouldn’t work. Fellow soldiers or not, they probably wouldn’t just let us in to see Princess Luna without a really good reason, or at the very least authorization from somepony important.

Like, say, the Prime Minister...

“Hey, Starlight, you’re good with magic, right?”

The pink unicorn mare glanced over at me, “I haven’t come across a spell yet that I couldn’t cast. Why?”

“How about illusions? Could you create an illusion of Ebony Song?”

Starlight Glimmer rolled her eyes, which was immediately followed by a cyan glow illuminating her horn. An instant later, a third occupant appeared in the small apartment, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the dark unicorn stallion. My lips spread into a smile as the plan began to come together in my head.

“This isn’t going to work,” I heard Foxglove’s voice say, coming from the direction of a set of black lips that belonged to a stallion.

“It’ll be fine,” I assured her in a low whisper as we approached the opera house, “just let Ramparts do all the talking while you just stand there and look really annoyed.”

“I am really annoyed,” the mare/stallion growled, glaring briefly at me, “seriously, how exactly did you manage to get branded a traitor to the Republic in less than an hour?”

“Ha! That’s what I said,” Ramparts chuckled sardonically from up ahead.

“Not helping,” I growled at the earth pony, “and it wasn’t my fault; I already told you that.”

“Uh huh. Right,” Foxglove/Ebony Song replied, not bothering to hide her doubt as to the veracity of my claim. Fine, whatever. I didn’t need her believe me, I just needed her to keep quiet while wearing the holographic harness. I had been a little concerned with how reliable its projection would be, considering that Foxglove had been forced to make do with taking and uploading photos of Starlight’s projected illusion in lieu of the real thing. However, it seemed to be creating a convincing enough disguise.

It was good enough that it allowed me to walk in public without being charged down by any of the other Republic guards around the city. The Wonderbolt might now be a wanted mare, but seeing her in the custody of both the Prime Minister and a couple of uniformed military personnel suggested to everypony that the matter had been taken care of. The best part was that nopony felt compelled to call up to the real Ebony Song and tell him that I’d been ‘captured’, since ‘he’ was standing right next to me!

“Alright, everpony quiet,” Ramparts warned. We all buttoned our lips and adopted suitably bland expressions as the guards at the front entrance to Princess Luna’s palace took note of us. In the dim light that was provided by a few scattered floodlight which served to illuminate the guard post, I could see the expressions of the guards shift quickly from bored curiosity to genuine surprise.

“Prime Minister!” the gruff unicorn mare from earlier exclaimed, straightening up reflexively. Then she caught sight of me, and I saw her features noticeably hardened, but she said nothing. Instead, she kept her attention on the pony who helped their alicorn monarch to run her government, “our apologies, sir, but nopony called ahead to let us know you were coming.”

She seemed a little surprised to see that it was not Ebony Song, but the officer leading the band, who replied, “that’s because this is a meeting that never happened,” the brown earth pony stallion very nearly growled at the unicorn mare, “no calls, no records. Is that understood, sergeant?”

“I―” the mare began, glancing between the lieutenant and the Prime Minister, who issued a solemn looking nod of confirmation. The guard swallowed and nodded her own understanding, “yes, sir. Understood, sir,” she took a step back and snapped a salute at the group, a movement that was mirrored by the other guard sharing the post with her.

Ramparts stepped forwards and held the door open for the rest of us, and we passed through in silence. Only when the door was closed and we were well inside of the opera house’s lobby did I allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief. The plan had worked. We were inside the palace. Now all that was left to do was confront Princess Luna and get Starlight to convince her to give up the computer that had been stolen from the Steel Rangers. Starlight was certain that would be no trouble at all for her to do, so I wasn’t feeling particularly worried about it either. Right now, we just needed to concentrate on tracking down where the princess was.

“I don’t suppose you know where the princess’ personal quarters are?” I asked out resident guardspony. To which he frowned and shook his head. I sighed and took the lead of the group, “well, there’s only so many rooms in this place. We’ll start with the throne room,” if nothing else, once we got close enough I’d be able to pick up a blip on my pipbuck that would help to guide us.

The four of us entered the throne room and began to slowly advance towards the far end, where the large throne of state, and the smaller chair reserved for the Prime Minister were located. The large, cavernous, room which had once been the main performance hall of the building was bathed in darkness. The only sources of light were the lamps on Ramparts’ and my pipbucks, and the glows of Starlight’s and Foxglove’s horns. The competing rays of illumination splashed the walls with dancing shadows that made it hard to track what was movement and what was just a trick of the light. As a result, I found my gaze rooted firmly to my Eyes Forward Sparkle.

“Whoa, contact!” I said, freezing in my tracks as I spied the blip. Everypony around me came to a halt as well and looked at me, save for Ramparts, who was similarly staring off into the distance with unfocused eyes at something that only he could see. As quickly as it appeared, the blip quivered, darted off to the side in the blink of an eye, and then vanished from view.

The crimson blip.

I swallowed and started to very carefully scan the room, turning my head from side to side. Ramparts was doing the same, “I don’t suppose that there’s some sort of palace security system you forgot to mention?” I asked the stallion in a hushed whisper.

“I’m not part of the palace detail,” he replied in a tone that betrayed his own tense demeanor at being faced with an unknown threat, “there could be a hundred hidden turrets lining the walls for all I know!”

“That level of security would require a lot more power than I saw running into the building,” Foxglove remarked in a deceptively conversational tone that quivered ever so slightly, “and I’m not hearing any generators running that would make up for the power deficit.”

“I’m pretty sure we’d have been gunned down by now anyway, if that was the case,” I pointed out.

“Great,” Starlight grumbled, “so we’re probably going to die, we just don’t know how yet…”

“There!” Ramparts exclaimed, jabbing a hoof into the darkness. I whipped around as well and, sure enough, spotted the crimson hashmark. I flexed my wings and tensed up my hooves in preparation to take to the air the moment we were attacked, but I was keenly aware of the disadvantage that I was at. Our light sources didn’t quite make it all the way to the far wall, so I couldn’t quite make out anything to actually engage.

Just as before, the blip darted off to the side and was gone, “it’s behind us,” I hissed, spinning around and catching the blip once more.

“It couldn’t have gotten past us,” Ramparts growled past the trigger bit in his mouth. Then a thought occurred to him and her crouched down on his haunches, raising the barrels of his rifles at a steep angle, “it’s above us!”

All our eyes immediately went up to the ceiling. I felt myself cringing as I contemplated how, while engaging an invisible opponent was undesirable enough, having to fight a flying enemy that I couldn’t see would be downright unsavory! Besides, flight was supposed to be my thing. The things that I fought weren’t allowed to fly too!

“BWAA HA HA HA HAAA!”

The deep, gleeful, cackling of a mare seemed to come from everywhere all at once, echoing throughout the spacious throne room. I felt it resonate down in my very bones with its volume, and all concerns that it might be heard by the guards outside were lost as the blip vanished once more, spurring us to scan our surroundings for the spectral source of the laughter.

“Well….that was a might unsettling,” Ramparts swallowed.

Understatement of the year, right there, I thought even as I fought down my own trepidation and forced myself to confront our antagonizer. Whoever she was, they weren’t staying in place for very long anymore, continuously darting from one location to another, and if there was a pattern to their movements, I hadn’t picked up on it yet. Eventually, I gave up, exasperated and just yelled out. I didn’t need to see this mystery mare to talk to her.

“I’m The Wonderbolt, and I demand an audience with Princess Luna!” I called out to the blip.

The was no immediate response, as the blip continued to flash across my vision intermittently. The the reverberating echo that drilled right into your eardrums returned, “YOU HAVE INVADED THE REALM OF THE RIGHTFUL RULER OF EQUESTRIA!”

Okay, so maybe ‘demand’ have been a poor choice of words on my part, I thought with a wince. Diplomacy had not been high on Jackboot’s list of educational topics, “alright, my bad,” I said in a slightly less aggressive tone. In fairness, I had come into another pony’s house uninvited. Perhaps deference was indeed in order, “I...humbly request an audience with Her, um, Majesty, to discuss an important matter, uh, concerning the Steel Rangers?”

“Then an audience you shall have,” all of our eyes riveted in the direction of the vacant thrones. Only, the largest among them was not vacant any longer. Seated upon it was a pony whose size put Pritchel, Arginine, and Star Paladin Hoplite all to shame. The slender onyx figure, so dark in color that it seemed to actually absorb light, was easily taller than three typical ponies stacked upon one another. Her brilliant baby blue eyes glowed around slitted pupils which glared, unblinking, down at at us. Flowing down around her, billowing in a breeze that seemed to exist only for it, was a mane of deep blue, speckled with pinpricks of white light. Silver armor, polished to a mirror finish, adorned her figure, adding to her regal splendor, despite its apparent simplicity, “what do you seek from Your Princess?

“Speak,” the Princess who ruled over the New Lunar Republic commanded, “and pray that you make this worth Our attention,” the last was said in a tone that, in no small way, made clear that she was not interested in wasting her moments on frivolous matters.

I found that my throat had gone suddenly very dry. Here was the pony that I had specifically come here to speak with, and I couldn’t even find my voice. Admittedly, I now found that I hadn’t really prepared myself for this confrontation. Nothing about what I had seen in the posters hung around the city, or heard on the daily broadcasts, had left within me the sense of...foreboding that seeing Princess Luna in real life filled me with. My mind raced back over the scattered descriptions that I’d picked up from ponies who’d had an audience with her, and I still couldn’t conjure up an image of this mare with them in mind.

Movement beside me caught my attention briefly, and I noticed that Ramparts had bent his foreleg to the princess in supplication. His face had paled noticeably, and the concern was evident. This was his monarch, the pony whom he had served for all of his adult life, and now he was facing the prospect that he might have pissed her off. How could he not be worried, and more than a little apologetic?

Foxglove wasn’t quite all the way to bowing yet, but even through her projected disguise I could sense her fear. She was as aware of the stories of the princess’ defeat of the White Hooves as I was, and similarly knew that the alicorn was immortal. How could anypony hope to fight a force like that if things went sideways? Besides, Foxglove was kind of in the middle of pretending to be the princess’ premier advisor. She probably wasn’t going to appreciate that very much.

Honestly, it was Starlight’s expression that surprised me the most. She was a mare who had seen Princess Luna more than any of us had, and had claimed to even be familiar with the alicorn goddess’ personality. If that was the case, then why did she look so puzzled right now? She should have been the most composed of all of us!

This was not good…

“Well?” Princess Luna asked, her low, rumbling, words rolling over the throne room and sending a tingling sensation right up through the bones in my legs, “I said: speak!”

I swallowed back the lump of fear in my throat. It looked like none of the others were in any state to address the alicorn, and this had all been my idea, so…

“Princess, Your Majesty-Highness...ness,” the jet mare narrowed her pupils even further at me, “I’m here representing, well, um...me. And also the Steel Rangers, kind of,” I should have written down some talking points or something, “you see, some ponies in your Republic took something from them, and they want it back, and that’s why there’s a war…” I winced. Of course Princess Luna knew why her Republic was at war with the Rangers, you dummy! “Anyway,” I quickly added, beneath a glower that was growing more intense, “what you might not be aware of, is that the computer that was taken from them is powered by a foal,” I studied the princess’ features very carefully now. Starlight had been emphatic that Luna detested harm being brought to young ponies, which meant I should start seeing a more positive reaction from here on out.

“I recently found out that the Rangers didn’t know about that,” I said, feeling myself growing a little more confident now, having not been struck dead by a bolt from the alicorn quite yet, “and I have assurances from one of their Star Paladins that they don’t want the computer back anymore. But they also don’t want the Republic to have it either,” now for the hard part, “so I’m asking you to give up the computer, Your Highness. If you do that, the Rangers will leave, and the war will be over, and maybe we can even still help the filly or colt inside of it,” I quickly whisked away the memories of what had ended up happening the last time I’d tried to help without fully knowing what I was doing.

Princess Luna regarded me in silence for a long while, and I felt myself begin to grow nervous again. I’d expected her to be surprised and revolted at the revelation that the computer her Republic possessed had a young pony at its heart. From everything that Starlight had informed us, that should have been the princess’ reaction. That hadn’t been the case.

There’s been the faintest hint of surprise at the news, yes, but it seemed more like Luna had been surprised that I knew about it, than something that she, herself, had been unaware of. I was getting a sickening feeling that Starlight Glimmer might have been off in her appraisal of the situation after all. If that was the case, then we were all in a lot of trouble…

The darkness around us was lifted suddenly as every light in the ceiling burst suddenly to life, blinding me temporarily.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” my hackles shot straight up into the air as I and everypony else, save for Starlight, whirled around. The pink unicorn kept her gaze riveted upon Princess Luna instead of the group of new arrivals that had just stepped into the room. At the head of which was Prime Minister Ebony Song.

“Oh, horseapples,” I groaned, blinking away the last of the disorientation brought on by the unexpected illumination. It looked like the jig was up. Flanked to either side of the dark unicorn stallion were a quartet of armed guardsponies who looked just as unhappy to see us as as the Prime Minister himself was. I immediately began to edge closer to Starlight, as did Ramparts and Foxglove. We’d be needing a timely teleport any moment now, followed by beating a hasty retreat out of the city.

I could only have wished that the pink unicorn mare who represented our best chance at an expeditious escape was paying any amount of attention to our predicament. However, she seemed quite insistent on ignoring the reinforcements that had arrived and focusing on Princess Luna, who was still simply sitting in silence, staring at us.

Ebony Song seemed to notice this as well, and chuckled, “don’t look to ‘Her Highness’ for aide, you’ll find she’s of little help once her script has reached its end.”

“Script?” I asked, blankly, glancing briefly back at the seated monarch before returning my attention to the armed ponies once more, “what are you talking about?”

Ebony Song’s smile broadened and he looked past us at the princess, “oh, Your Highness? An audience, if you please?”

“Then an audience you shall have,” Princess Luna replied in a similar fashion to how she had spoken to us. No...not similar. Identical, down to the inflection of the individual words, to how she had spoken to us, “what do you seek from Your Princess? Speak, and pray that you make this worth Our attention.”

I looked between the princess on her throne and the Prime Minister standing with his armed escort, “I...don’t understand…” only I was starting to.

So was Foxglove, “the computer…”

“...is Princess Luna,” Ebony Song nodded as he completed the revelation that my disguised companion was just having. The stallion regarded his doppleganger with amusement, “my, I am a smart pony, aren’t I? No matter who I actually am…” taking the hint, and seeing no reason to try and maintain the charade any longer, Foxglove terminated her holographic projection and revealed her identity. Ebony Song chuckled again, “imagine my surprise when my staff was contacted to inquire why no warning of my visit to to the palace had been given? Very clever,” he reached out his hoof, “I think our technicians should like to take a closer look at this technology, now that we have a disposable example of it. I suspect our spies could make great use of it.”

Surrounded, outgunned, and our best means of escape was still seemingly unaware of the array of guns being trained on us. I was forced to nod to Foxglove as she glanced at me to confirm that we were, indeed, going to give up the projector. It had proven a flop in the long run anyway.

“There isn’t a Princess Luna, is there?” I asked in a hushed tone, looking back up at the Prime Minister.

“As best I know, the real Princess Luna and her sister Celestia are together in the heavens looking down on this world,” Ebony Song shrugged, “and have no plans to return in our lifetimes. But the ruse was a convenient means of retaining power when my last elected term neared its end. Chancellors come and go, but regally appointed heads of state…” he permitted himself a mirthful laugh, “those last a lifetime!”

“You set all of this up so you could stay in power?” I asked, curling my lip up in a sneer at the Prime Minister, “this whole war with the Rangers? All those ponies who died, fighting a war you caused, just so you could get a title?”

“Ha!” Ebony Song scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hoof, “you’re young and naive. Too young to remember the infighting in the old Senate. The political stagnation. The ‘quid pro quo’ politicking that lined the pockets of the ruling class―and there was a ‘ruling class’, little filly―while the common pony suffered beneath them.

“You don’t remember that Seaddle used to be the premier trade hub for slaves in the days of the Old Commonwealth, do you? Of course not,” he snorted, “or the craft guilds who forbade anypony from opening a business without paying an exorbitant fee to the guild leaders? Leaders who also happened to be constantly elected to the Senate?

“I didn’t do this for a title,” Ebony Song sneered, “I did this to fix a rotten abomination of a country! I brought freedom to ponies! Prosperity! The New Lunar Republic is a beacon in this blighted Wasteland! The spiritual heir to all that Old Equestria once was, and it’s all thanks to me!”

For a brief moment, I did waiver. I looked around me to Ramparts and Foxglove, seeking confirmation of what the Prime minister had just said. Of course, neither of them would have known much better than I did, would they? Foxglove had been living in a stable when all of this was happening, and Ramparts would have been a teenager, at the oldest. For all any of us knew, Ebony Song was telling the complete and honest truth.

Not that I was willing to believe that everything a pony who deceived a whole country like he was doing said was the truth. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d created anything approaching a ‘perfect’ society, and I knew enough to dispute that, “no slavery, huh? And all of those ‘indentured servants’ working in the homes of wealthy ponies, I suppose they’re never exploited? Those young ‘maids’ aren’t abused by their masters?” venom coated my words as I recalled what had happened to Golden Vision, so long ago.

“And you still haven’t told me how life is so much better when ponies are dying every day in this war you started. How it’s a good thing that White Hooves are roaming the Republic, butchering farmers and traders from one side to the other, without a single Republic guardspony in sight! Whole caravans are vanishing in the night, but you’re not doing anything about it because you’re too busy playing second fiddle to a robot that’s powered by a foal!” I screamed, jabbing a hoof in the direction of the still motionless Princess Luna.

Ebony Song snorted dismissively, “you’re overreacting. Those foals are little more than biological hardware. There’s nothing there to save or help.”

“You’re wrong,” I snapped at the stallion, “I know for a fact that they’re still aware inside there. I’ve seen it!”
For the briefest of moments, there was a spark of worry behind the stallion’s eyes. Worry that I might have been right. It had vanished an instant later though, replaced by a cold self-assuredness borne from decades of stroking his own ego vicariously through the adoration that the robot he controlled received from the Republic. If the citizens of the Republic adored Princess Luna, and he was the one controlling her, then it meant that it was really him whom they adored. A pony so loved by a whole nation could do no wrong, now could they?

“Very well then,” Ebony Song sneered, his lips curling up in a cruel smile, “by all means, convince the foal inside to spare your lives,” he locked his eyes on Princess Luna, “Your Highness? Kill the intruders.”

Our collective attentions immediately whipped back around to the imposing black alicorn seated on her throne. The menacing blue eyes flashed crimson and her lips pulled back, revealing a toothy grin full of sharp fangs. Then she rose up on her haunches and flared her massive wings, bellowing out across the room, “OUR NAME IS NIGHTMARE MOON, PRINCESS OF THE ETERNAL NIGHT! LOOK UPON YOUR DOOM, PUNY MORTALS, AND DESPAIR!”

“Horseapples!” I inhaled a moment before flexing my forelegs and vaulting into the air just as a black shape darted through where I had just been. Ramparts and Foxglove were likewise scrambling to escape. Starlight had remained exactly where she was, only moving her head to track the quickly moving alicorn. I groaned internally, willing the pink unicorn to get out of whatever daze she was in and get with the program. This wasn’t a fight that I wanted to spend distracted by having to constantly save her life.

If there was a bright side, it was that Ebony Song and the four guards that he’d brought with him did indeed seem perfectly content to simply stand on the sidelines and watch the fight unfold. The Prime Minister seemed to be completely confident in Princess Luna’s ability to dispatch us all on her own. Given her lauded performance against a host of White Hooves, that was probably an accurate assessment.

I saw Ramparts take the trigger bit in his mouth and bring his rifles to bare...but then he hesitated. I could see the conflict in his eyes. This was his princess, the ruler of his Republic. The revelations of the last few minutes were working overtime to compete with decades of belief and conditioning, and it wasn’t an internal battle that was going to resolve itself easily. It certainly didn’t help that Princess Luna looked nothing like any robot that I’d ever seen!

Foxglove didn’t have those same reservations as the earth pony lieutenant, but neither did she possess his same level of martial acumen. Her rifle was out and firing, but most of her shots went wide as she tried to track the soaring alicorn. Those few that managed to connect with their target whistled harmlessly away with a metallic ping; probably as a result of an impact with her polished armored barding.

Princess Luna’s glowing eyes locked their focus on the violet mechanic, and I saw a pinprick of light form at the peak of her long jet horn. I felt my heart catch in my throat and sprang into action.

“No!” I screamed, darting at the alicorn in an attempt to strike her head with my hoof and divert the magical beam that was being charged. At the last moment, and without even seeming to glance in my direction, Luna juked out of the path of my attack. I sailed harmlessly on past her, flailing wildly in an effort to redirect my course for a second attempt. It was too little too late. A crimson ray of death streaked along the ground towards the stunned unicorn.

Ramparts might not have been shooting, but at least he hadn’t been completely paralyzed either. His brown form tackled Foxglove out of the path of Luna’s attack at the last moment, sending both of them tumbling across the floor, landing a few feet from the smoldering charred line left by the magical assault.

“Luna!” I cried out to the alicorn―or what I now knew to be at least an extension of the computer being powered by a foal, not unlike the roboponies in the Ministry of Awesome bunker beneath McMaren, “er―whoever you are in there! Stop! We want to help you! Please!”

Whether I was getting through to the little pony inside the computer was a matter of some debate, but I certainly got the alicorn’s attention. Her glowing eyes diverted from Ramparts and Foxglove, locking onto me instead. I cringed and looped away as another crimson lance pierced through the air where I’d just been. It tracked me for several seconds before cutting off again, leaving winding curves of destruction along the ceiling and walls. Fortunately, I managed to keep from getting myself singed, but only just.

The onyx flyer pulled her lips back in a sneer and opened her mouth. I was expecting another shouted taunt at those ear-splitting volumes of hers. It turned out that I was close to correct.

It was hard to describe the sensation really. It was like I was hit everywhere at once by an invisible force. Foxglove would explain to me later that it had been a concentrated pressure wave of air, and not any sort of spell. Luna had turned her booming voice up to eleven and slammed me with a shout so powerful that the noise itself had become a wall of force. The result was that it stunned me, disrupted the air currents enough to send me tumbling to the ground, and pretty much ruptured my eardrums completely. I would pass the rest of this fight in silence.

Somehow I managed to keep enough of my wits about me to flare my wings and engage the Gale Force’s hover talismans before I hit the floor. However, I was still recovering from the blast to my senses. It would still be several more seconds before I was even cognizant of the fact that I’d lost my hearing. My first indication that I was even in trouble again was catching a pink shape out of the corner of my eye as Starlight interposed herself, defiantly, between me and Luna.

Her helmet was off for some reason, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was yelling something up at the alicorn bearing down on us, but I couldn’t make it out, of course. More movement from across the room revealed that my other two companions were back on their hooves too, and once more bringing their weapons to bear on our attacker. Yet, even as he turned to face the alicorn assaulting us, it was clear that Ramparts was still very much on the fence about all of this. Could ha bring himself to actually shoot Princess Luna?

Would it even matter, against an immortal goddess?

A crimson ray of energy raked across the shimmering magical barrier of energy that Starlight had summoned to protect the two of us. I saw her wince as her horn flared briefly and then went dim, the shield spell dissipating almost immediately. It seemed that her horn still wasn’t fully recovered from having been pushed to its limits in the past couple weeks. She tried to muster up another spell to defend us, but couldn’t manifest it quite soon enough.

Princess Luna rocketed towards us. Silently, I saw the pink unicorn swept aside as the much larger alicorn collided with her. While I heard nothing, I did still feel the convulsions of the building through the floor as the pair slammed against the far wall. Foxglove’s mouth was moving as she screamed something, floating her rifle up and firing. A flick of the princess’ wing sent a powerful gust of wind back at the violet mechanic, pitching her off her hooves. Ramparts, still yet unable to bring himself to fire, rushed to her aid once more.

My head was still swimming, and my hearing had yet to return, but I knew I had to do something or Starlight was a goner. I struggled to my hooves, silently cursing my unsteady steps. It was hard to get my balance. Flying wasn’t an option in this state; I’d just end up careening right into the ground. Clumsily, I clambered to my hooves and charged the alicorn. Not that I had any clear notion of what I’d do to stop her when I got there. How did you stop a goddess?

I screamed what I hoped was at least a half coherent rendition of Luna’s name. It was hard to tell what I was yelling, or how loud I was yelling it. Not that either the alicorn or the pink unicorn she had pinned against the wall were paying me any attention anyway. Starlight was saying something too. It was impressive that she was even still conscious after taking a hit like that. I supposed that she was tougher than she looked.

Despite all of my focused efforts, I didn’t actually manage to make it all the way to them without stumbling and losing my balance. It was just too hard to keep everything level. Like a newborn, I tripped over my own hooves and clattered to the floor. Desperately, I pawed at the ground, trying to get back up, even knowing that there was simply no way that I’d get there quickly enough to stop Princess Luna was cutting Starlight in half with another blast from her horn.

Except...maybe I would; because Princess Luna wasn’t moving anymore. She was holding completely still, her piercing blue eyes locked onto the face of the pink unicorn mare. I paused as well, panting heavily there on the floor as I beheld the soundless sight of Luna and Starlight looking at one another. Had...had the alicorn recognized one of her former subjects after all?

I’d have paid good bits to know exactly what Starlight had said to Luna to finally trigger that recognition. Because, right before my disbelieving eyes, I saw the alicorn begin to slowly pull back from her target, allowing the unicorn to slump painfully to the ground. Luna’s horn remained inert. For the moment, anyway. I looked around me, remembering that the alicorn wasn’t the only threat present. However, it seemed that Ebony Song and his guards were just as taken aback by what was going on as I was, and they at least had the benefit of hearing what was going on.

Somepony was tapping at my shoulder. I just about leaped right out of my barding, whirling around to find that Foxglove was at my side, floating out a healing potion and pointing at her ear. I took off my helmet and reached up to touch the side of my head, noting the thin smear of blood that was on my hoof when I examined it. I took the offered healing potion and drank it down. A second later, I winced as the first sounds I heard again were the snapping and popping of my eardrums knitting themselves back together again. My, what an unpleasant experience…

“...Mommy?”

Nopony was moving anymore. Every single body in the room was as still as a statue, all of our eyes locked upon the alicorn. It had been the barest whisper of a word, but it resonated like a drum inside of me. I’d heard something very much like in just over a week ago after all, in an old bunker...from a little filly trapped in a neverending torment.

Though none of us seemed to have been caught by surprise more than Starlight, who was now staring high up at the jet facade with eyes so wide that they seemed to take up half her face. Her lips quivered wordlessly for a few moments, and I thought that I’d lost my hearing again. Then she swallowed and tried again to speak. This time, a fearful whisper escaped, “Moonbeam…?”

I blinked. I recognized that name. Moonbeam was the name of Starlight’s filly. So then why…?

The gears in my brain, rusty from years of neglect and atrophy, slowly began to turn as they started to put all of the pieces together. Moonbeam, Starlight’s daughter, had been a young foal when the bombs fell, and had been a part of a program being run by the Ministry of Awesome that had merged the deficient brains of afflicted foals with computer programs to try and help them become whole ponies again.

To me, knowing what I did now, that didn’t sound a whole lot different from hooking a foal up to a computer, like the MoA had been doing as a part of the project that landed poor little Trellis in that bunker. In fact...hadn’t Hoplite said that what they’d recovered―and subsequently had stolen by the Republic―had been been just one such computer?

So, if the Rangers had recovered one of those POSEIDON-foal-computer-things, and the Republic took it from them, and Princess Luna was that foal-powered-computer that the republic took...

Starlight Glimmer’s filly was the foal that had been used in the computer that the Republic stole from the Steel Rangers.

Moonbeam was Princess Luna.

As powerful of a revelation as that little whispered word had triggered within my own head, it had completely broken Starlight. She all but collapsed right there on the floor. Grief, elation, despair; all of those emotions and more battled within her as she was confronted by the bittersweet reunion that she had been hoping for; only to now wish that it had never happened. Not like this.

Luna flickered.

My eyes tore themselves away from the weeping Starlight Glimmer to once more regard the Republic’s ruler. Again, I saw her onyx body distort and vanish for a brief moment. Her piercing pale eyes were alternating between their usual slitted pupils and opaque black orbs as well. The third time her body vanished, it didn’t return; and the true form of Princess Luna was laid bare for all of us to see.

She was a robopony all right, but unlike any of the malfunctioning wretches that a pony might be unfortunate enough to run into in the Wasteland. Though, I noted that she also didn’t look as though she had been constructed as...deliberately? As I would have expected for the supposed culmination of an ancient Ministry project.

Whatever her initial appearance might have been, her stature had not been an illusion. This mechanical equine was every inch as tall and slender as Princess Luna had been when she’d first appeared, seated on her throne. Which already made her very different from nearly every other robopony I’d ever encountered in the Wasteland, save for those construction bots beneath Old Reino, of course. However, I did notice a lot of features about her construction that I recognized, interestingly enough.

I, of all ponies, couldn’t help but have my eyes drawn to her wings, and their interlocking metal pinions, and the pair of squat thrusters mounted onto her spine just above them. It had been scaled up, obviously, but there were too many similarities in both design and construction for there to be any doubt that Princess Luna’s flight was the product of a Gale Force rig of her own. Nor was it the only feature I recognized. The broad diamond mounted in the robopony’s chest that was the same cut and placement as the jewel that powered the holographic rig couldn’t be a coincidence either. Even less so, now that I recalled one of the pre-loaded disguises that Foxglove had discovered in the device that we’d had when we employed it to rescue Jackboot.

And I was sure that I still had that little plastic whistle in my bags that had been so absurdly loud, and yet had produced what I now found to be suspiciously familiar phrases.

All of those things had been linked my one common theme: The Ministry of Awesome. The same group that had commissioned the secret computers with foals at their cores. The group which had overseen the treatment, in part with the Ministry of Peace, of Starlight’s foal, only to betray that trust and use her like this. Thousands of duplicates of the technology integrated into the robpony standing before us had been funneled to one specific remote location.

I was suddenly very curious to see what we would find there…

“What’s going on?” Ebony Song’s frustrated voice boomed through the room, finally disrupting the silence which had hung over everypony, “I ordered you to kill them!” his dark form pushed past his own protection detail as he strode up to stand right in front of the mechanical monarch, “I am the pony that activated you; you will obey my commands! Resume attack protocols, now!”

The metallic form twitched. In an instant, the projection of the armored jet alicorn reasserted itself and the head turned it’s baleful pale glare upon us. I looked to Starlight, who had managed to halt her attack previously, but it was immediately obvious that she wasn’t in any state to do anything at the moment. Ramparts and Foxglove had been disarmed, not that I would have expected their weapons to prove particularly effective anyway. Nor did I have anything on me that I trusted to do the job.

Well, at least in terms of firearms. I did have one other thing to work with though: knowledge.

Stand back everypony, the stupid little filly that thinks she can fix the whole Wasteland is going to use her smarts! Make your peace with the goddesses quickly, we may not have long to live…

“You don’t have to listen to him, Moonbeam!” I called out, stepping up right beside the Prime Minister, and ignoring his pointedly furious glare, “I don’t know what he told you, but he’s not with the Ministry of Awesome, or the old Equestrian government, or anything like that. He’s not your master, or your owner, or anypony you need to care about!”
I jabbed my leg at the pink unicorn nearby who had finally started stave off her sobbing enough to get back up onto quivering limbs and resume looking up at her daughter, “the only pony in the room―in the whole world―you need to listen to is her. It’s really her, Moonbeam. I promise you she’s your ma.

“Now, I know,” I felt my own words threaten to fail me as I recalled how I’d failed this so spectacularly the first time, but I was determined for there not to be a second strike, “that you’re just part of a larger machine, and that you feel like it’s the thing in control―ah!” I gasped and flipped up into the air just in time to avoid a crimson bolt of destructive energy that struck the ground where I’d just been standing. I flared my wings, maneuvering to put some distance between myself and the lethal princess who seemed to have settled on making the talkative pony her first target.

I suppose that was all well and good, honestly. It meant that I didn’t have to worry about anypony else while I kept trying to talk her down, “I know you’re still in there, Moonbeam!” I yelled even as I looped around another line of destruction that carved its way through the air, “I know you can hear me!

“You’re in control, Moonbeam! Not the machine!” at least, I was really hoping that was the case. Admittedly, the young foal in the MoA bunker hadn’t seemed like they’d been able to pull a whole lot of punches. They’d managed to slip me their deactivation code though, so I knew that the foals inside those things were at least conscious of what was going on, and capable of thinking for themselves, independent of whatever program was running.

That meant that their brain was still theirs. Yeah, the computer was supposed to be using part of it to do whatever, but it wasn’t in complete control. I’d already seen Luna stop once, if only briefly. It could happen again. I had to believe it could happen again, “take control, Moonbeam! Tell that computer to go fuck itself and take back what’s yours―flaming horseapples!”

The talismans in my Gale Force rig worked overtime to bring me to a stop mid-air as that crimson death ray of Luna’s swept through the air right in front of me. I managed to just narrowly avoid being sliced in half, but only at the cost of my agility. Which meant that it was impossible to avoid being tackled back down to the floor by the disguised robopony. She may have looked like an alicorn made up of flesh and blood, but that holographic projection didn’t do anything to hide the sensation of being slammed by what was probably somewhere north of a ton of steel and motors.

The reinforced alloys of my gale force rig managed to withstand the collision with the floor of the opera house, and I was particularly glad for the helmet, but my barding did little to stave off the worst of the shock I sustained from such an impact. I was down for the count, and I knew it. That I was even still conscious was a minor miracle, honestly. My head swimming from the blow, I gazed listlessly up into the midnight black face of Princess Luna, only barely registering the growing scarlet glow as her horn charged up to deliver the final blow.

A brilliant flare of light filled my world, and I was certain that I’d been killed.

Then it faded away, leaving me to blink at the spots in my vision that had been left behind. Foxglove was kneeling at my side, offering another healing potion. I gulped it down and craned my head around in an effort to learn what had happened.

Princess Luna was a few yards away. Pinned beneath her, where I had just been a few seconds ago, was the pink form of Starlight Glimmer. A pale sheen of light hovering just between her and the princess faded away, leaving the two staring at each other. Once again, the image of the black alicorn flickered, but it didn’t vanish as it had before.

“I’m sorry,” I heard the unicorn mare say, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what they were doing to you. If I had...I would have stopped them. I’d have burned Rainbow Dash’s whole ministry to the ground if I’d known.

“I’m sorry, Moonbeam,” she reached up with a hoof and gently touched the cheek of the faux alicorn, “I’m so sorry…”

In an act that once more stunned everypony present, Starlight Glimmer lurched up and took the larger robotic alicorn into a hug, her forelimbs wrapped tightly around the long neck, and her head buried in the holographic starscape that was Luna’s mane. The robopony, much to my relief, didn’t seize upon this unguarded moment to slay the unicorn. Instead, and much to my great relief, Luna seemed to actually lean into the embrace.

“...Mommy…”

Again, and I hoped very much for the last time, the illusion fell away, leaving Starlight holding on tightly to the steel construction that lay beneath.

“Kill her!” Ebony song screamed once more, “I order you to kill her!”

My, he certainly did become frazzled pretty quickly the moment things weren’t going the way he wanted them to, didn’t he? I idly wondered if he was going to declare her an ‘enemy of the state’ too…

“No,” that same tiny little voice replied. It didn’t stay tiny for long though, “I won’t,” slowly, and careful not to inadvertently harm the relatively small unicorn mare beneath her, the robopony rose back up onto its hooves. Only, this time, it’s hard black eyes fell onto the Prime Minister and his guards, “and you can’t make me. You’re a bad pony, and you tell me to do bad things.

“I don’t like you.”

Well, there’s four words you don’t want to hear directed at you by a half ton of towering lethal war-bot!

Ebony Song must have been of a similar mind, because he was wilting back towards the room’s exit. I wasn’t entirely sure that he was even aware that he was doing it. Though, as much of a colossal ponce as I’d recently learned that he really was deep down, I couldn’t think of a reason to doubt that he fully intended to run away with his tail tucked between his legs. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the sort to just let things end well for us either, “you’ve got guns,” he snapped at the Republic guards that he’d brought with him, “use them! Kill the traitors!”

“What about the robot?” the older unicorn mare I recognized from the front door asked.

“It’s just a machine,” the stallion spat, holding up the rig that Foxglove had given up, “we can set up another fake with this; but they can’t be allowed to leave and reveal what they know,” and, with that, he was out the door and gone, leaving us to his loyal soldiers.

Ramparts, it would seem, had little issue with confronting his fellow guardsponies. But he was the only one of our group who was in what could generously be called ‘fighting shape’. I’d taken a beating that needed more help than a healing potion was going to be able to provide in the next second. Starlight wasn’t a reliable shot, even at close range, and the wisps of smoke coming from her horn suggested she was at her limit where magic was concerned as well. Foxglove had her rifle up, but it was plain to see on her face that she wasn’t liking the odds of putting her bolt-action rifle up against the automatic weapons of those four guards. I could hardly blame her.

It wasn’t looking good for us.

Admittedly, I had forgotten to factor in Princess Luna―er, Moonbeam.

The robo-alicorn hadn’t taken any damage at all during our exchange, after all, so she was still quite serviceable. She caught on quick for a filly too, and charged the line of Republic guardponies immediately. Credit where it was due: those ponies weren’t anywhere near the wilting lilies that Ebony Song was. Honestly, now that I thought about it, I had yet to meet a soldier in the Republic who did shy away from danger. I supposed that decades of fighting ponies decked out in power armor and advanced weapons made for troops that were built of stern stuff.

Only two of the guards focused upon dealing the rampaging robot. The others turned their weapons on us, apparently quite confident that their companions could handle their former ‘ruler’. I swept up my metal wing covers, shielding myself and Foxglove. Starlight sprinted to Ramparts’ side and provided him with the best protective magical barrier that she could manage even as the earth pony returned fire upon his former comrades-in-arms.

The opera house was soon filled with flying lead, glowing tracers, and clouds of splintered wood as floor and furniture were both chewed away by stray rounds. Each impact on the alloyed shell encapsulating my wings reverberated through my bones. I flared my wings, and flexed my hooves, sweeping up Foxglove and dragging her to better cover from the hailstorm of bullets. Starlight and Ramparts were falling back as well, the pink mare’s face a testament to the strain that she was under trying to keep the both of them protected from the enemy. Perhaps I should have brought RG with us after all…

The only one of us that was giving a good account of themselves, honestly, was Moonbeam. Though, I suppose that should have been expected of the large robot that had clearly be designed for fighting. Most of the rounds that struck her cylindrical neck and torso did so at such an oblique angle that they were deflected away. Those few rounds that did manage to penetrate didn’t seem to find anything vital though, thanks in part to the robot’s shear size.

Asking a foal to absorb all of the damage, no matter how resilient she might be, didn’t exactly sit well with me though. Not when I was supposed to be the hero, “stay low, get to the others,” I hissed at Foxglove just before I donned my helmet once more. Before the violet mechanic could protest, I was airborne and winging my way into the fray.

Moonbeam’s horn flared, and whipped out a crimson bolt, striking one of the guards squarely in her chest. They pitched back, their armor a smoldering wreck, and didn’t get back up. The pony next to the fallen mare scrambled out of the way, maintaining their fire on the robo-alicorn. Their point of aim wasn’t arbitrary though. Heavy automatic rifle rounds found the mounting brackets of one of Moonbeam’s thrusters and managed to strike home. I had to twirl in the air in order to just avoid being struck by the turbine as it tore free of its mount and zipped through the air. Unbalanced, and under-thrust, the large mechapony tumbled to the floor, gouging a deep rut into the floorboards before finally coming to a stop.

“Moonbeam!”

I ignored Starlight’s aggrieved cry and concentrated on my own chosen target. I could best help the alicorn by eliminating the threats. I chose a surly looking earth pony stallion, sweeping in low as he noticed my approach and swung around to track me with his battle-saddle. I splayed my wings, bounding up in a flip, just above the stream of traces that he directed at me. I arced up and over, twirling around as I reached the zenith of my path. My compact .45 was in my mouth, and three shots were queued up in SATS.

Two wasted themselves on the thick ceramic plates lining his spine, but the third snuck through the kevlar weave just above her clavicle. The stallion cried out and tried to spin around fast enough to engage me once more, but a tactically-timed burst from my Gale Force was all it took to close the distance between us. In less than a heartbeat, I was draped over his back.

I wrapped my wings around in front of his neck…

...then twitched my fetlocks to reverse the thrust of my rig’s turbines.

Those alloyed blades were very sharp. He might not even have felt them as I jerked backwards off of him.
I was honestly trying not to think about it too much as I instead focused on lining up shots on my next target. I had to wait for the geyser of blood from the stump that had once been where the stallion’s head was attached to fall away before I could take proper aim as the unicorn mare on the other side. She’d seen what I’d done to her companion, and seemed none-to-pleased. The surly republic mare’s horn glowed as she whipped her combat shotgun around and unloaded in my direction.

Once more, my wings took the brunt of the impacts, but I could feel errant pellets sneaking through gaps in my barding on their way to burrow into my flesh. Frustrated, and knowing that I wasn’t going to get an opening, I flicked a hoof and jetted away to get a better angle at another pass. There were only two of the guards left now, half as many as there had been. Our side, on the other hoof, seemed to be doing much better. I might have some minor wounds, but everypony else didn’t look to be badly hurt.

Starlight was laying on the floor, clutching at her head and writhing, though, I noticed. At first, I thought that she might have been shot, but then I caught sight of her blackened horn. She was burned out again, and badly this time. Foxglove was doing what she could, being a fellow unicorn who certainly knew a lot more about managing that sort of thing that either Ramparts or myself did. The brown earth pony was providing covering fire for both of them.

Nor was Moonbeam out of the fight entirely either. She’d gotten back up onto her mechanical legs and was tussling with the fourth remaining soldier. He was moving around quickly though, and the alicorn was having difficulty striking him with the beams from her horn. I winced as I noticed that he had apparently continued to be selective of his targets. One of Moonbeam’s legs wasn’t moving quite right, and I could see a joint smoldering even as the tracers from his rifles focused themselves on her left flank.

I wasn’t the only pony who’d noticed the current disposition of our opposed forces either. The unicorn mare sneered at the sight that she beheld as she took several careful steps back to avoid Ramparts’ own fire, “fuck this!”

The aura of magic surrounding her horn brightened as she brought up a second weapon, snatched from the corpse of the first of their number to fall at the onset of the battle. It consisted of little more than a broad tube with a truncated rifle stock and an absurdly tall rear sight aperture. The mare’s lips curled back in a menacing grin as she directed the new weapon at the hobbled robopony.

“Moonbeam!”

My warning came just as the Republic mare’s grenade launcher belched forth its ordinacne with a hollow sounding “thwump!” Even for a sophisticate battle-bot, there wasn’t nearly enough time to react. The alicorn’s head turned just in time to see the danger. She tried to bring up one of the alloyed wings to shield herself, but it wasn’t enough. The grenade struck and detonated.

I winced, covering myself reflexively with my own wing coverings, feeling the explosion reverberate through my teeth as the concussion wave hit me. I didn’t go deaf again, but my ears were ringing a bit as a result of being so close to the contained blast. When I looked again, I felt my gut grow cold.

Most of the steel plating on Moonbeam’s right side had been peeled away by the blast, exposing a lattice of wires and actuators that lined her interior. One of her wings had been sheared completely off, and none of the limbs on that side of her body were functioning smoothly. Her neck and head were still moving, offering anemic little bolts of crimson energy that were significantly dimmer and less potent than they had been.

She was in a bad way; a very bad way.

Meanwhile, that mare had broken the grenade launcher open just in front of the stock and was loading a second round into the tube. I rolled onto my hooves and prepared to launch myself at her before she could finish off the mechanical alicorn. There was still a chance that I could get there in time to save her. Once we dealt with these last two guards, then maybe Foxglove could work her miracles on the robopony and get her in good enough shape for us to make an escape.

However, before I could attack, I heard a voice crackling over my pipbuck’s speaker, “door. Behind the throne. Get to it. Now!” I hesitated, wondering if I’d even actually heard the voice, or if that blast had done a number on my head as well as my hearing. Then I caught the briefest of glances from the alicorn robot’s eyes before she was once more focused on staving off the pair of guards confronting her.

She was telling us to run, and to leave her behind to do it. Could I really do that? I could save her, I know I could. Once these two guards were dealt with, we’d have time to regroup and plan an escape for all of us…

That was when I noticed the additional red blips appearing on my Eyes Forward Sparkle. I suppose that it would have been too much to hope that absolutely nopony in all of Seaddle hadn’t heard all of the gunshots and the outright explosion just now. Reinforcements were forthcoming, and none of us wanted to be here when they arrived. We really wouldn’t have time to fix up Moonbeam’s body enough to get her mobile, and we’d find ourselves cornered all over again if we even tried.

The alicorn knew that too. That was why she was telling us to leave.

This little filly was going to sacrifice herself for our sakes.

No. I wasn’t going to let that happen. My family reunion had been sadistically short, I wasn’t going to let Starlight’s be too! I was going to―

“Go! I’ll meet you in the back!”

I―wait, what? How was she going to…

“Windfall! We’ve got to go, now!” Ramparts was yelling as he covered Starlight and Foxglove’s retreat towards the thrones. He’d heard the massage as well, it seemed, and he could see just as well as I could how dire our situation was about to become. In fact, as he was very likely still wired into whatever communications network the Republic used, I was pretty confident he had a perfect grasp of exactly how many other soldiers were coming for us.

It still felt wrong, but I somehow managed to force myself to withdraw with my friends. Not that I was making a quiet departure though. I emptied the rest of my pistol’s magazine at the pair of soldiers, scoring at least one more hit, though not a lethal one. I ducked behind the throne for cover with the others, and that was when I noticed that there was indeed a small wooden door leading to what would once have been the backstage area of the opera house. Foxglove had it open and was struggling to push Starlight through it.

“We can’t just leave her!” Starlight was screaming. I had to force myself to swallow back my own mounting sympathetic grief. I’d said something very similar when Foxglove came to drag me out of the White Hoof camp. Though, things weren’t quite the same as they had been back then. Unlike my mother, Moonbeam was still very much alive at the moment, and could hypothetically be saved.

We’d just have to sacrifice our freedom and/or our lives to do it when we were confronted by the soon-to-be-arriving Republic forces converging on the palace. Moonbeam didn’t want that for her mother. She wanted us gone from here before it was too late.

“Please, help her!” the pink mare continued to plead, still fighting against Foxglove.

I exchanged glances with Ramparts. I was willing―ready, even―to make a heroic last stand, even if it cost me my life. It was reckless, and would have been unreservedly stupid of me to do so, of course; but it felt like a very ‘Wonderbolt’ thing to do. Fortunately, I had Ramparts here with me to act as an anchor against my impulsiveness, and the stallion shook his head solemnly. He was right. Moonbeam was right. We couldn’t stay here.

My ear twitched. Startled, I peeked around the sturdy throne to glance at the robopony and the pair of Republic guards. They were closing in to finally make the kill, and it was quite obvious that there was nothing that Moonbeam would be able to do to stop it. That hadn’t been what I was checking though. What had drawn my attention was a sound that I had taken to be the onset of a predictable affliction of tinnitus. Nopony got as close to as many explosions as I did without developing hearing problems even at an early age, after all.

Except, I had just now become aware that the ever tone that was ever increasing in pitch and volume wasn’t coming from inside my own ears. It had an exterior source, and it was one that I recognized. I’d heard it once before, around the time that the Ministry of Arcane Science hub in Old Reino had blown up. That had been the result of a very special type of high-output reactor, of the type that had also been employed in several construction robots beneath the city.

Now that sound was coming from Moonbeam.

My eyes went wide, “uh oh.”

Ramparts had his head cocked too, looking quizzical, “do you hear something?”

“Remember Old Reino?” I asked, inching closer to the doorway and the struggling unicorns.

“Yeah. Why―oh. Oh, shit!”

The pair of us bolted for the door, our combined body weights finally managing to do what Foxglove hadn’t been able to and pushing Starlight all the way through the door. All four of us collapsed on the other side with a chorus of grunts and groans. Ramparts and I scrambled to our hooves and grabbed up the other mares as well, in an effort to seek out the ultimate exit from this structure. I didn’t know exactly how big of an explosion we were ultimately looking at here, but the last one I’d seen had leveled most of a city block. It was probably a good idea for us to at least not be inside this building when Moonbeam detonated.

I raised up my left foreleg and activated my pipbuck’s light once more to illuminate the dark interior of the antichamber that we’d just entered in an effort to locate our best hope of escape.

“To your right. Stairs. Hurry!”

Ramparts and I looked at each other once more as both of our pipbucks barked the terse commands, uttered with a filly’s voice. I fluttered on ahead while the Courser helped Foxglove with the as-yet-still distressed Starlight. The stairs leading down to the basement of the opera house were not hard to locate, and the four of us were down them in short order.

I touched down on the concrete floor just as our next set of instructions were broadcast to us, “Far wall. Hatch on the floor. You have ten seconds!”

Sure enough, my light revealed a rust-covered iron hatch that had been built into the floor of the basement. Ramparts managed to pull it open without much difficulty, and with a lot less noise than I would have expected from something so ancient. What was also quite unexpected was the light sprouting forth from the steep and narrow metal starwell that the hatch revealed. Knowing that time was against us, we slipped down the stairs, the brown stallion taking up the rear to seal the metal portal behind us.

Not two seconds after he’d closed it, there was a booming explosion that shook the earth, and even momentarily disrupted the lighting that now surrounded us. The bunker we were in seemed to have been built of some pretty sturdy stuff though, and nothing really seemed to give way. I stood there, staring up at the sealed hatch, for several long moments as my mind finished processing what had just happened.

Princess Luna hadn’t been real. She’d just been a puppet; one that had been manipulated all along by Ebony Song in his selfish little quest to retain power beyond what his former elected position would have allowed. Now she was gone and, along with her, any real hope of gaining the martial support of the New Lunar Republic against Arginine’s stable. Of course, those were just the broad ramifications of the last thirty minutes.

Closer to home was Starlight Glimmer, and her all too familiar bittersweet reunion with her long lost daughter. She wasn’t fighting Foxglove anymore in some vain hope of saving the robopony from destruction. There was nothing but dust remaining, after all. Instead, she was simply sobbing into the violet unicorn’s chest, while simultaneously threatening to inflict upon the lot of us a whole slew of rather heinous curses in retaliation for leaving Moonbeam behind.

I wanted to go over there and comfort her too, but I thought better of it. I was the ‘leader’, after all, and thus the one who had ultimately been ‘responsible’ for leaving Moonbeam behind to sacrifice herself for our benefit. She didn’t want to hear any hollow-sounding platitudes from me. I should know. It wasn’t like I’d been in much of a mood to hear anything that Foxglove had to say after my mother died.

Besides, my time was better spent thinking ahead to our next move. Which meant learning a lot more about where we currently were. The short answer was that we were in some sort of old maintenance access tunnel for utilities and such. The narrow confines were lined with electrical conduits and water pipes, making this place feel even more cramped. On the bright side, that meant that we weren’t trapped. There was absolutely another way out of here. In fact, there were probably a lot of other ways out of here, and some of them might even lead outside the settlement and into the Ruins, meaning we wouldn’t have to worry about evading Republic soldiers any time soon.

Though, it was pretty clear that we weren’t the first ponies to be down this way recently. I noticed―It Was Under ‘E’!―that some of the electrical wiring looked a lot more recent and haphazard than the rest. It led from the ceiling near the hatch, down the hall a few yards, and into a room that was set into the corridor. More light was coming from inside.

Along with a single amber blip.

Not sure what to expect, and still more than a little wary after what had happened above, I loaded a fresh magazine into my pistol and slowly crept down the passageway. I very carefully peaked my head around the doorframe and peered inside. My eyes widened as I beheld the source of the blip. I’d seen one of these before too, or something every similar, in the bunker beneath Camp McMaren, though this chassis was not styled after a pegasus; it was a unicorn, curled up and laying on the floor of the tiny little workshop that looked to have once served as a tool repositaory of sorts for long dead utility workers.

As if alerted by my presence, the dark ‘eyes’ of the robopony flickered to life, showing a rosy pink light that contracted around a pair of black pupils. The head looked up, locking its eyes upon me. It didn’t say anything at first. It turned its head to regard its chest. That was when I noticed that the bundle of wires that I’d been tracking had snaked along the floor of this room, and ran right up into this robopony. A second later, there was a clicking sound and a coupling detached, ejecting the wires from the automaton’s chest.

Only then did the robopony rise. It wasn’t much larger than I was really. About the size of a smaller full grown pony. It’s contours were decidedly delicate and feminine in nature, not that I figured robots actually had a gender. I kept my pistol at the ready as it looked back to me once more.

Then it spoke. This surprised me far less than the voice that it spoke with, “Is..is Mommy okay?” Moonbeam asked.

The pistol fell from my mouth as my jaw went slack.

Foot Note:...

CHAPTER 42: TRYING

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I've got a weapon for every situation. Hunting, protection, cold blooded murder...hotblooded murder...

I didn’t envy whatever Wasteland therapist eventually got tapped to sort out Starlight’s emotional issues later in life when she suffered her inevitable complete psychotic break. It was hard to say if she genuinely believed this second robopony could also be her long-lost daughter, or if she had just lunged at any possible escape from the emotional torment of her recent loss. Honestly, I didn’t know what to make of recent developments either. It was all a little much to take in, and I was still mostly operating off of the various bits and pieces I’d been cobbling together as I came across little oddities in my travels.

Fortunately, this new ‘Moonbeam’ seemed to be very well acquainted with a lot of those little details that I was lacking, and was more than happy to fill in all the gaps in our collective knowledge. We all gathered in the cosy little tool room to listen as the robopony finished up her minutes-long hug-a-thon with Starlight.

“So...first things first, I guess,” the synthetic pony started, shifting a little uneasily beneath our gaze, clearly not accustomed to having an audience, “I’m the real Princess Lu―er...Moonbeam, rather. What you saw up there?” she pointed in the direction of what I presumed was a now thoroughly wrecked opera house, “that was a remote. Ebony Song found it...somewhere. I don’t know exactly. He had it before he found me.

“I was just, sort of, controlling it. Well, not me, really,” she amended softly, “it...did most of the work…”

“‘It’?” Starlight pressed from where she sat near the robopony.

Moonbeam’s mechanical body actually seemed to shiver, “the...thing in my head,” oddly enough, it was her chest that she touched when she said this, “the voice. It’s always there, and it keeps telling me to do all of these things...these really bad things,” she turned and looked, almost in desperation, at Starlight, “and I don’t want to. I want it to stop and leave me alone, but it just won’t!”

“It’s the AI, isn’t it?” the pink mare breathed, once more gathering the robopony into her embrace, “those damn MoA bastards changed the program, didn’t they?”

“Can you do anything to fix it?” I asked the pink unicorn.

She shook her head, reluctantly, “I don’t know nearly enough about programing to do anything like that. I’d be genuinely surprised if anypony still alive did,” then she turned back to her daughter, “but we’ll help you, Sweetie. I swear we will. I won’t rest until you’re all better.”

Ramparts cleared his throat now, having remained very silent through all of the exchange up to this point, “not to be the asshole here, or anything, but...she is a robot. You know that, right? That’s not actually your daughter.”

Starlight looked like she was about to hex the stallion with a particularly heinous incantation, but Moonbeam interjected before she could, “it’s okay, Mom. He didn’t mean anything by it. They told us to be ready for this kind of reaction at The Facility,” she looked to the rest of us, “I get that you’re skeptical. I would be too. So...well, I guess there’s no harm in letting you all know the whole truth,” she glanced back to her mother and the two exchanged a long look. Finally, Starlight nodded.

The robopony settled back down to the floor, neatly tucking her legs beneath her body and bowing her head. Foxglove, Ramparts, and I, all looked at one another in confusion before our attention was drawn back to the synthetic pony be a series of clicks and the whirring of servos. Before our eyes, panels along the spine split apart and folded away, exposing much of the robopony’s interior.

“Fair warning,” Moonbeam said, “I’m not going to win any beauty pageants any time soon, heh…”

As close as she was sitting, I noted that Starlight Glimmer was very pointedly look anywhere but the newly formed opening. My own curiosity would not be denied though, and I went ahead and crept close enough to peer inside. I chastised myself for the all too audible gasp and my obviously revolted recoil from what I’d seen. My reaction reduced me to a blushing mess as I stammered over an apology. Moonbeam brushed it off though.

“It’s okay. I know how I look. I think I cried the first time I saw myself,” Foxglove and Ramparts did a much better job of keeping the worst of their reactions in check than I had, but they were both clearly shaken by the sight as well. Starlight looked pretty haunted as well, refusing to look anywhere but the wall until she heard all of the robot’s panels lock back into place.

“Um…” I began, sheepishly, “...so, what, you know...happened to you?”

“I did,” the pink mare responded in a hoarse whisper, “I happened,” she wiped her eyes and nose, regarding the rest of us once more, “we were trying to create new magicks. New spells to help win the war. That meant experimenting with potentially unstable arcane matrixes. It’s pretty common for those sorts of things to unravel halfway through the spell, which can create what is essentially ‘chaos magic’.

“As the name implies, it has unpredictable effects. Most of those effects can be mitigated by the right wards, but certain precautions are meant to be taken with ponies in ‘delicate conditions’, like pregnancy, for example.”

“Why didn’t you take those precautions?” Foxglove asked as cautiously as she could, not wanting to sound critical, in light of the subject matter and the individual’s present.

“...I didn’t know I had to,” Starlight admitted, bitterly, “I was so focused on the work…

“I didn’t know I was pregnant until I was starting to show…” she swallowed and buried her face in her hooves, “by then...it was too late. The...the damage...the magic, it…” she couldn’t continue.

Moonbeam, however, seemed to have a much calmer disposition on the matter. She reached out and placed a consoling hoof on her mother, “it’s okay, Mom. It was an accident. Heh...I was an accident,” Starlight was shaking her head vehemently now, trying to form coherent words, but Moonbeam continued, “oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I know you and Dad wanted foals someday. I just meant that you weren’t trying at the time. Well,” she added with an afterthought, “I guess you were obviously still doing the sorts of things that result in foals, but not with the intent of having them right then.

“You probably should have been more open-minded about anal,” Seemingly despite herself, one of Starlight’s sobs shattered into a cackling laugh that she suppressed. Foxglove’s violet cheeks somehow managed to blush despite her coloring. Ramparts offered a mild shrug. I simply sat and tried to figure out what she’d meant, “oral was an option too, you know?”

“Moonbeam!” Starlight gasped, though it was hard to miss the faintest hints of a smile trying valiantly to work its way onto her cheeks, “You are three years old! Where did you learn about that stuff?!”

“Heh...I was three years old...the last time we saw each other,” Moonbeam replied, her tone growing a little more somber now.

“Were you awake this whole time?” I ventured, unable to keep those desperate pleas from Trellis out of my head. A foal, trapped awake and aware for two centuries, the whole time growing desperate for death. Certainly, for the moment, Moonbeam seemed a lot more calm and rational, but I wasn’t sure yet how much of that was an act.

However, the robopony shook her head, “no, not that whole two centuries. I wasn’t active when the bombs fell. In fact, I didn’t ‘wake up’ until Ebony Song stole me from the Steel Rangers. Up until then, I was essentially inert. I’ve been awake since then though,” she once more looked back at her mother, “which puts me in my twenties, in case you were wondering. I think that’s old enough to talk about ways to avoid having surprise foals with my mother, hmm?

“Especially when I never thought that I’d ever see you again.”

The pink unicorn threw herself upon the robopony in another embrace that looked tight enough to have risked crushing the life out of a flesh and blood pony, “me too, Selene, me too…”

“Selene?” I said, quirking my head slightly, “I thought your name was, Moonbeam?”

“Selene is an old crystal pony word for ‘moon’,” Starlight supplied, relaxing her grip and wiping at her eyes once more, “I use it as her nickname.”

“It’s more creative than Dad’s pet name for me,” the robopony said before growing silent for a moment. Then she looked to her mother and asked, hesitantly, “I...suppose it’s too much to hope…?”

Starlight could only shrug, fidgeting with her hooves, “I don’t know what happened to your father. Maybe he made it to a stable. Nopony here even knows what happened to the Crystal Empire,” I shook my head in confirmation. The state of the Wasteland beyond the valley was largely an unknown in all directions. For reasons that I’d never honestly bothered to figure out, Neighvada seemed rather isolated, news-wise, from the rest of the world for some reason.

“I understand,” Moonbeam nodded. She peered around at all of us, and then cocked her head, “we might want to continue the rest of this conversation on the move. They’re starting to sift through the rubble. Ebony Song’s going to want to make sure I survived,” the robopony rose up onto her elegantly articulated legs and started walking towards the room’s exit and the corridor beyond, “we’ll want to be long gone before then.”

That was a pretty good suggestion, honestly. We very quickly gathered our possessions and fell into step behind Moonbeam. I was still small enough to manage to squeeze in beside the slightly built robopony without much trouble, “if you don’t mind me asking: if you could have left at any time, why didn’t you?”

“Where would I have gone?”

I didn’t have a good answer ready right away, admittedly. I suppose that I was thinking of Moonbeam as having been Ebony Song’s prisoner, but that might not have been a completely accurate interpretation of their relationship, now that I thought about it.

Before I could form a follow-up question though, Moonbeam continued, “besides, The Program was what was calling the shots most of the time,” she said bitterly, “I was just along for the ride, especially at first.”

“At first?”

“When Ebony Song woke me up,” she explained as we all continued to follow the underground passage, “back then I was just a little foal who didn’t know what was going on, or where I was, or what had happened to my mother,” she spared a quick glance at the pink mare. For her part, Starlight looked like she was pondering some choice punishments for the dark hued unicorn stallion if she was ever fortunate enough to cross his path again, “I just sort of...retreated back into my own head. I just let the voice do whatever it wanted.

“I was aware though, of everything. It might have been in control, but it was still my brain. At first, I didn’t understand what Ebony Song was up to. As time went on, I started to understand more about what he was doing. Even then, I didn’t see much of a reason to do anything about it.

“Mostly because I didn’t see a better alternative,” I heard an audible sigh escape the robot, “and...I mean, just seeing the faces of those ponies when they came by to get ‘guidance from the Princess’? My being here was really important to them.

“It gave them hope. I didn’t want to take that away from them.”

“But, it was all a lie,” I pointed out, “did you really think that false hope was better than the truth?”

“Everypony prefers to be lied to,” Moonbeam replied, “they want to believe that the world is a better place than it really is. It’s how they can keep going, even when everything is complete shit―”

“Moonbeam; language!” Starlight admonished from behind us. Then she winced and cleared her throat, “sorry. Habit...I guess you’re old enough to curse now…”

Moonbeam turned to look back at her mother for a few seconds before continuing to speak with me, a little smile touching her mechanical lips, “―even when everything is complete crap,” she spared another brief peek at her mother, “so, yeah, I was okay with letting them think that I was the real Princess Luna.”

“What about the war with the Steel Rangers? Your being here kept that going, you know?”

An audible snort was emitted by the robopony’s speech synthesizer, “the Steel Rangers kept it going on their own. They hadn’t even realized what I truly was before Ebony Song stole me from them. They could have left at any time and let the war end.”

“They were concerned that Ebony Song would abuse you, and they were right: he kind of was,” I pointed out, “I’m not saying the Rangers are great ponies, but maybe if they’d known what you really were―”

“And who says they eventually didn’t?” Moonbeam interjected, stunning me to silence, “I had access to one of the most powerful radio transmitters in the valley, and my brain has a super sophisticated computer wired into it. Did you think I never once tried to reach out to them?

“I told them exactly what I was, and that they needed to stop what they were doing,” she said, not hiding her bitterness on the matter, “I bet you can guess what their answer was…”

“No, but...I thought…” my words faltered as I thought back on my conversation with Star Paladin Hoplite. She had appeared genuinely surprised to learn what Princess Luna was.

“I’m guessing that the Rangers said something very different when you met with them?” Moonbeam probed, very quickly gleaning the answer from my expression. Another derisive snort, “liars in the Wasteland. Shocker.”

I suppose that it really wasn’t one, of course. Nor could I really deny Moonbeam’s conclusion where the desire to be fed lies was concerned. I’d long maintained a very selective view of Jackboot, after all. Those facts aside, that didn’t necessarily mean that I had to like any of it, or agree that it was really the best course of action.

Just because it was something that a silly little filly like me did, that didn’t mean that it was a healthy attitude to have, “if ponies don’t like the reality of the world, maybe they should try and change it, instead of pretending it doesn’t exist.”

The robopony glanced down at me, her pink eyes seeming to study me for a long while, “change the world. A fine idea. I wonder why nopony ever thought to try that before…”

I frowned and looked away, casting my gaze forward. Even I didn’t miss Moonbeam’s mocking tone. Yeah, okay, so it was a bit of a simplistic ‘plan’, if it even deserved to be called that; but that didn’t mean that I was wrong! Sure, just because I didn’t know how I was going to do it…

Not that changing the world was going to be much of an option if we allowed everypony to be slaughtered before we could even try. Getting the Republic’s help had just gotten a whole lot harder, so that was just one more hitch in that plan. There was still the Steel Rangers though, they were a force to be reckoned with. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that the Rangers and The Wonderbolt were on excellent terms, and Moonbeam obviously had a poor opinion of them as well, but the way I saw it: the Rangers owed me.

Besides, Arginine’s stable wasn’t going to just stop at exterminating the Neighvada Valley, they would eventually carry their genocidal campaign beyond the mountains. Even the Rangers had to see the advantage to confronting a threat when it was at its most vulnerable, and that was right now, before they’d mobilized and launched their invasion. If Arginine didn’t think that the Rangers would be quite enough, then we could explore other options as well.

I did still have the coordinates for that weapons cache…

“This tunnel leads us somewhere safe, right?” I finally sighed. Before we could do anything about Arginine’s stable, we had to get out of Seaddle.

“Safe? Nowhere is ‘safe’ in the Wasteland,” the robot quipped, “but there are passages that lead out of the city. I don’t suppose you have any sort of immediate destination in mind?”

“We have to meet up with Arginine first, south of the city,” I glanced at the compass displayed near the bottom of my field of view, frowning as I noted our northbound heading. The exact opposite direction that we were supposed to be traveling to meet up with the larger gray stallion. There wasn’t any way that we could get a message to him either to tell him where we were.

Or even that we were alright. He’d doubtless heard the explosion, if nothing else. I started to worry about how long the stallion would hang around and wait for us to track him down. Would he head back to his own stable if he thought we’d failed?

“Hmm,” Moonbeam paused for a brief moment and I noticed her pink eyes flickering in rapid succession. When the strobing ceased, she then immediately forged on ahead at a brisk pace, “we’ll need to take the subway tunnels. This way,” she hesitated for a few seconds, “oh, and keep your weapons ready.”

I exchanged a concerned look with the others, “why? What’s down there?”

“Ghouls, mutated critters, the odd security bot,” the metallic mare responded simply, “nothing too dangerous. Just, you know, keep your eyes peeled.”

A frown creased my lips as I fell into step beside the robopony. While none of that sounded like anything that was worse than what I’d spent most of the last month fighting―indeed, this would be comparative foal’s play―I still wasn’t looking forward to fighting anything while confined down here underground. I hated not being able to fly…

Two hours later, our group finally made our way out of the pitch black catacombs of the ruined city’s subterranean transport system, out into the pitch black night that still hung over the surface. Even though I knew that we were far from ‘safe’, as Moonbeam had previously noted, just being up on the surface again instilled within me a sense of relief. With a grateful sigh, I flexed my wings out to their fullest span, wincing only slightly as the motion exacerbated my shoulder where a ghoul pony had been gnawing on it half an hour ago. Absently, I rubbed the aggrieved joint and muttered a disparaging opinion of the rotting corpses.

I was far from the only pony to have a new bruise or two after that short jaunt through the tunnels. Fortunately, nopony had suffered any serious injuries. Even so, we all took a few minutes to give each other a quick look over to ensure that nothing had been missed. I caught Moonbeam narrowing her glowing eyes at one of her articulated legs before showing it to Foxglove, “this’ll buff out, right?”

The mechanic turned her practiced eye to the dented paneling on the limb and started her appraisal. Having been given a clean bill of health by Ramparts, I instructed everypony else to stay put while I went for a flight to track down our remaining companion. I was feeling pretty anxious by this point, thinking that two hours was a long time to have expected Arginine to wait for us before simply giving us up for dead.

Once in the air, left with only my own thoughts and no distractions as my eyes watched my EFS for any sign of an amber blip, I couldn’t help but notice my mounting apprehension. I was very worried that RG had already moved on already. What perhaps was surprising about these feelings, was that the concern wasn’t specifically related to his passing on all that he knew about the state of the surface to the ponies in his stable. A few months ago, that would absolutely have been my chief concern: that Arginine was revealing valuable intelligence to ponies who were threatening the Wasteland. But now?

I just didn’t want to leave.

And not just because of the kissing and stuff. I honestly still didn’t see what the big deal about sex was. It was just that being around RG was different than it was with the others. He felt more...genuine, somehow. Not that I thought anypony else was lying, per say, or hiding things from me. But, unlike them, RG didn’t phrase things like he was trying to protect my feelings or make me feel better because he thought I was down. Everything he said, and the way that he said it, were plain and direct. It was what I needed to hear, even if not what I wanted to.

It was refreshing, and I knew I needed it. I could rely on him in a way that I hadn’t found very common.

He was kind of like Jackboot, in a way. That old stallion hadn’t been prone to sugar-coating things either. Having a pony like that in my life kept me...flying level. I didn’t want to lose that, not again.

My thoughts were interrupted when an amber blip finally flickered into existence in front of my eyes. I hadn’t realized how shallow I’d been breathing until that massive, relieved, sigh fell out of my lungs. Even before I’d landed, I knew it was him. After all, there were scant few denizens of the Seaddle Ruins who’d be happy to see The Wonderbolt. I dove for the ground and fluttered in to land outside of the ruined apartment building. Cautiously, I did one more quick scan of the area to see if my Eyes Forward Sparkle detected any nearby threats. When it came up clear, I ventured inside.

“RG?” I called out, loud enough to be heard within the building, but not so high a volume that the sound would carry beyond the block. My gaze was locked onto the golden bar hovering before my eyes as I watched it twitch and start to move around. Then I heard the sound of debris grinding beneath heavy hooves as the familiar imposing form of the massive stallion filled the doorway.

I flitted up and embraced him with a kiss before I was even aware that I’d done anything. It took the stallion a moment to realize what was happening, and I felt him return the kiss. Even I could tell that it was more of an afterthought to him. Something he was doing because he recognized that I needed it. But that was okay, because, apparently, I did.

A few seconds later, I released him and alit back on the ground, “you waited,” I cringed inwardly at the note of surprise in my tone.

The stallion nodded, “longer than I had at first intended when we parted in the city,” he admitted. I found myself cocking my head, pondering whether he might actually be developing something approaching ‘fondness’ for me if he’d actually been willing to change his plans like that for my sake, “but when I heard the explosion, I recalled from the Old Reino incident that it could possibly take you a more considerable amount of time to make the rendezvous,” or I’d set a precedent.

I rolled my eyes, “yeah, things didn’t exactly go well.”

“You failed to secure the support of Princess Luna,” the stallion concluded.

“Well...nooo,” I stressed as I thought how best to explain recent events to him, “we got her support. She’s just not...her. Luna, I mean. Not really,” the stallion quirked an eyebrow, “you know what? It’s probably better if Moonbeam tells you herself.”

“Moonbeam?”

“Yeah. Come on, the smart ponies are thataway,” I jerked my head and leaped up onto the stallion’s back side, “they’ll be better at explaining what happened than I am.”

“Invariably,” the large gray pony breathed as he began walking in the direction that I’d indicated.

I crossed my hooves and lay my head upon them as my ride made his way through the crumbling ruins, keeping a passing eye on my EFS. Our passage should go largely unimpeded, at least where the local gangs were concerned. Even violent sociopaths needed to sleep, after all. That still left the routine threats posed by rampaging roboponies and nocturnal critters though. Most of those wouldn’t prove to be nearly as dangerous as a coordinated ambush by Vipers or a similar group, so I wasn’t particularly concerned.

My gaze fell to the pipbuck on my fetlock, and I figured that it had been a while since the last time I tuned in to either Homily or DJ Pon3 and caught up on current events. I selected the Manehattan-based- personality first, as I suspected that most of what ‘Miss Neighvada’ would be talking about would involve me and, after recent events, I wasn’t feeling like indulging in anything self-serving. I’d much rather have heard about somepony experiencing successes right now.

So I tuned it to the northeastern broadcaster, “―truth is never easy, my little ponies,” my ears immediately perked up, my eyes growing wide with surprise, as I heard the quaiver in Pon3’s deep voice. Clearly, I wasn’t going to be hearing about any particularly uplifting news, “but your ol’ pal, DJ Pon3, swore that he’d bring it to you, no matter how bad it hurts. And make no mistake, listeners, this story is going to hurt. Bad.

“I can’t explain it, and I, of all ponies, don’t want to believe it, but reports have surfaced that our very own Stable Dweller might have...no,” there was a pause for a heavy, ragged, sigh as the announcer steeled himself for what he was about to say, “the Stable Dweller did...wipe out the town of Arbu.”

I blinked, gaping at my pipbuck. Of course, I had no idea where Arbu was, but the way that DJ Pon3 was talking about it, and that he’d called it a ‘town’, was suggestive that this wasn’t some Manehattan bastion of criminals or whatever. I strongly doubted that he’d be talking about it like this if its destruction was good news, at any rate.

He wasn’t done though, “I don’t to know why she did it, my little ponies. I won’t pretend that I can come up with a justification for…” there was another pause as he fought to get the word out of his throat, “slaughter, like that. I...I just don’t know. It’s hard to see your heroes fall, I know. I’ve seen a few in my time, my little ponies. It does happen, and it doesn’t get easier.

“But don’t let this tarnish the good that she did in the past! The Stable Dweller was a good pony once. She just...lost her way. Some ponies...they just do.

“Be careful out there, listeners. If you see the Stable Dweller...keep clear of her. When I learn more, I’ll pass it on. Until then, my little ponies, stay strong, and please...don’t lose your way,” there was a short burst of static, and then Sweetie Belle’s melodic voice drifted in over the speakers with a somber love ballad that suited the tone of the previous broadcast all too well, in my opinion.

I turned off the pipbuck’s radio. The Stable Dweller wiped out a whole town full of ponies? It was hard to imagine. Or, rather, it should have been. Unfortunately, I found the notion all too plausible. I still remembered the old broadcasts about the Lone Ranger, and how he’d very quickly gone from being a treasured Manehattan hero to becoming public enemy number one.

More than that, I still remembered Notel, and how far I’d let myself slip in so many ways. The outright execution that I’d committed there. Idly, I wondered how long it would take for the news of my actions there to make their way back to Homily, and how high her opinion of me would be then.

Never mind Santa Mara. While I’d done nothing to the citizens there, it didn’t erase the expectation from them that I might have lashed out at them. Celestia knows that there was a part of me―a nearly overwhelming part―that had wanted to lash out. To punish them for what they’d done. Had they heard about whatever early reports DJ Pon3 had made about the Stable Dweller?

How close had I come to becoming just like her: wiping out a whole town? I could have. It had felt so easy in those crucial seconds, to just let myself loose and punish those ponies. How many of them would have survived my rage? Would Miss Neighvada have been giving a ragged broadcast of her own to the valley about the now-rogue Wonderbolt, the newest scourge of the Wasteland?

I wanted―maybe even needed―to believe that the Stable Dweller hadn’t just gone off her rocker. I wanted to believe that she’d seen something in the ponies of that town that had pushed her over that same edge that I’d been teetering on the brink of. Slavers, rapists, cultists―something. I needed them to have been involved in something that would have provoked the Stable Dweller. Both because I didn’t want her to be a bad pony, and because I needed to know that how I’d felt―that what I’d very nearly done―wasn’t so unprecedented.

That it wasn’t because I was destined to be a killer. That they were thoughts that could happen to anypony.

After a broadcast like that, I could most certainly use a pick-me-up. Hearing Homily singing The Wonderbolt’s praises would do just the trick, and so I started dialing in the McMaren radio transmission tower. However, before I could, I saw a message pop up on my EFS indicating that I was receiving traffic on the frequency reserved for my conversations with Homily. Curious about what she could want to talk to me about, I switched over to the comm channel and answered it, “hey, Homily, what’s up?”

“DID YOU JUST KILL PRINCESS LUNA?!”

Arginine whipped his head around upon hearing the staticy outburst, regarding me critically, “what?! No! I didn’t kill anypony!” I protested, looking between both my ride and the pipbuck, somehow feeling like I was being confronted by both ponies simultaneously. Then I thought for a brief moment about the Republic soldiers that we’d had to fight, “okay, I mean, I killed a few ponies,” I admitted reluctantly, “but none of them were the Princess; she’s fine! She’s with me. Kind of. It’s complicated.

“Who’s saying I killed her?” even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I found myself already having a pretty good idea of who would be saying that, and why. Ebony Song had just lost his fake Luna-bot, and the sophisticated filly-computer hybrid that was controlling it. It’s not like everypony in the city hadn’t realized that the palace had exploded either. The first question on everypony’s mind would obviously have been in regards to whether or not Princess Luna was alright, and as the Prime Minister no longer had any way to produce her, the simplest explanation to cover up his decades-long deception was to announce that she’d been killed.

By me.

“Prime Minister Ebony Song just finished making the announcement that The Wonderbolt launched an all out assault on the palace and killed Princess Luna! Have you lost your mind, Windfall?! What were you thinking?!”

I don’t know what I was more insulted by: the fact that Ebony Song had pinned this all on me, or that Homily, of all ponies, wasn’t even questioning it! Honestly, that last one really hurt, “I didn’t kill her!” I shot back, “it turns out that she didn’t even exist. Princess Luna never actually came back, it was just a robot that Ebony Song had that looked like her so that he could have himself made into the Prime Minister and retain power without needing to worry about elections,” no, that didn’t sound like a crackpot conspiracy theory at all…

“Look, I can prove it, alright? You remember how I told you about the computers the Ministry of Awesome was building using living foals? Princess Luna didn’t have one, she was one. It was Starlight’s long-lost daughter this whole time,” funny how this was not sounding any less crazy or far-fetched the longer I went on, “I’ll bring her by, she’ll confirm everything.”

“...you realize how all of that sounds, right?”

“Yes. Yes I do,” I’d been living it, and it even sounded like a bad Dash trip to me!

There was a long pause, then, “I’m trying to build Miss Neighvada as a source of news that ponies in the valley can trust,” I could tell that Homily was making an effort to speak very diplomatically about this, “I can’t go to my listeners with what you’ve just told me, and expect to be taken seriously. Not right now, and not without proof.

“You understand what I’m saying, Windfall? Miss Neighvada won’t be able to defend The Wonderbolt. Not yet,” there was the sound of Homily taking a deep breath, “I won’t demonize you, but I also can’t just say nothing about what the Republic is broadcasting either. Ponies would notice Miss Neighvada being silent on a really important bit of news, and they’d wonder why.

“Clear your name, and do it fast. Please.”

“...I’m not a villain, Homily. You know that, right?”

For several seconds that felt like they dragged on forever, there was silence. Then, “I hope so.”

The communication link went dead. The soft sound of the crackling static was deafening. I felt my teeth starting to grind in the back of my mouth. Of all of the ponies in this valley who I should have been able to count on taking my side in all of this, I’d have thought Homily would be at the top of the list! How many times had I saved her life?! How much had The Wonderbolt done for her cause?

But now, when I could have used her help, she was going to turn me away, because she was worried about what it might do to her reputation with some random ponies out there in the valley? I wasn’t even asking her to do all of that much; just let ponies know that The Wonderbolt hadn’t actually assassinated the leader of the New Lunar Republic!

I was asking her to tell ponies the truth! But because that ‘truth’ was a little hard for some ponies to readily believe, Homily was just going to let me flap in the wind while Ebony Song’s broadcasts turned the whole valley against me. I was going to be turned into the greatest villain that Neighvada had ever known, and there wasn’t going to be anything that I could do to stop it. Not without a powerful advocate.

Even if I could get Moonbeam to McMaren, and have her tell her story, there was no guarantee that would do anything. It would turn into the word of some mare that nopony knew, against the Prime Minister of the NLR. Why would anypony doubt his version of events over her’s? I needed a credible power backing my side. I needed the Steel Rangers.

Yeah, sure, they were largely regarded as the mortal enemy of Princess Luna and the new Lunar Republic, but they were also well-known. As the ponies that Ebony Song had robbed, they might even have more physical proof that would demonstrate that Luna hadn’t been real, or at least knew where I could find that proof if it existed. Their word might at least help convince ponies who weren’t part of the Republic. Old Reino and a few other settlements had been skeptical enough to not come fully into the fold of the ‘Princess Returned’, so they might at least be swayed.

Frankly, I couldn’t think of what it would take to convince the minds of Seaddle residents that I hadn’t killed their princess. Those ponies had ‘seen’ her with their own eyes, after all. They’d lived in her city for decades. They’d grown up knowing her and hearing her ‘voice’ on the radio every day. There might not be anything that The Wonderbolt ever could do to earn their trust back; but that couldn’t possibly be the case for the rest of the valley. I could still salvage my reputation. I had to.

Ponies had to be willing to trust me, or they’d never believe my warning about the threat from Arginine’s stable.

“I am eager to hear the details about your meeting with Princess Luna,” the large gray stallion remarked as we continued through the city, “clearly your encounter was more...enlightening than I could have anticipated.”

“Something like that,” I mumbled, once more cradling my head in my hooves.

Arginine was indeed quite fascinated by Moonbeam, and the feeling seemed to be quite mutual. The genetically augmented equine regarded the concept of merging ponies with mechanical bodies with a certain level of Arginine-like ‘giddiness’. I wasn’t entirely certain if he was more fascinated by the physiological implications, or the notion that ponies from before the apocalypse had already been pursuing roads that he saw as inevitably leading towards ‘perfect ponies’.

“The limitations of the available genetic material have long proved a hindrance to our development,” the stallion commented, “the deliberate fabrication of synthetic bodies perfectly suited to our needs would have been an ideal means by which to accelerate our plans.”

“So then why didn’t you?” I asked, not sure if I liked the idea of his stable having been comprised of hyper-intelligent robotponies. How they were now was going to be a challenge as it was.

“We lacked material resources,” he replied simply, “organic bodies grow themselves, and require only a steady supply of nutrients. Our stable’s life support systems were designed for exactly that function. Producing cybernetic bodies would have required refined metals, gemstones, and many other physical components that were unavailable to us. Certainly not in the quantities that an invasion would require.”

“Ah,” that answer didn’t really make me feel any better.

“So, it’s true then,” Moonbeam said, cocking her head up at the larger pony, “your stable really does want to wipe out all of ponykind?”

“We seek to ensure that a better class of pony thrives in the new world,” RG responded with the practiced ease of a pony who had been answering this same question for a while now, “ponies who will not lead us into destruction, like our forebears.”

“Hmm.”

I blinked, as did a few others, and looked at the synthetic pony, “that’s all you’ve got to say: ‘hmm’? He just said his stable wants to kill everypony!”

Moonbeam regarded me with her glowing pink eyes. She lifted up an articulated hoof and began to slowly examine it, “I’m living in a shell that was built by a ministry of warriors, with my brain connected to a computer that’s designed to control combat drones. When I was reactivated, after almost two centuries, the very first thing that anypony asked me to do, was fight, and kill ponies. Since then, I’ve been ‘leading’ a nation in a war, for nearly two decades.

“Believe it or not, I don’t really hold a very high opinion of most ponies right now either…”

“Selene…” Starlight said in a quiet gasp, clearly just as surprised as the rest of us were to hear her say how much she seemed to sympathize with the viewpoint of Arginine’s stable. Of course, when she put it like that, I was hard pressed to find fault with her views.

Still, “Ebony Song was an asshole,” I said, “and , yeah, it looks like he had quite a few other assholes supporting him,” it was ludicrous to think that he’d have been the only pony in the whole of the Republic to know about the truth behind ‘Princess luna’. Those soldiers in the palace certainly hadn’t seemed the least bit surprised by the revelation, and I suspected that many of the other high ranking ponies in the government could have been in on the scam too, “but you have to know that they’re the exception. I mean, look at us!”

The robopony glanced at me with her glowing pink eyes, “weren’t you looking to get me to help you fight his stable? Would you have come to see Princess Luna even if you didn’t need the Republic to help you fight?”

Oh. Right. Okay, so, maybe not a great angle for me to have taken. Fortunately, Ramparts was there to bail me out, “we did want your help to fight, yeah,” or, maybe not. I flashed a frown at the earth pony stallion, but he ignored me, “but it wasn’t specifically you that we wanted to enlist. It was ‘your’ blessing―really, Ebony Song’s it turns out―to let Republic soldiers like me stop combating the Rangers and work on stopping Arginine’s stable. You, personally, wouldn’t have been involved.

“You don’t have to be, even now,” he continued, gesturing towards Starlight, “you and your mother can absolutely go your own way now, since all she was after was finding you again,” he regarded the pink unicorn mare, “you still want to go find that Crystal...Empire, right? Learn what happened to your husband?” she nodded, and Ramparts looked back to Moonbeam, “you’d like that too, right? Paying respects to your father, after all this time?”

I opened my mouth to protest. The last thing that we needed right now was to send away our group’s most potent user of magic right after finding out we’d not be getting the NLR’s support against the augment ponies threatening the valley after all. Moonbeam herself would likely prove immeasurably useful too, come to think of it; and not just where the Steel Rangers were concerned. This was when we needed ponies on our side the most.

But, before I could actually say anything, Ramparts turned to me now, “and I know that Windfall wouldn’t want to keep you two from leaving either, since we’re not here to force anypony to do anything that they don’t want to. We’ll find help elsewhere. Isn’t that right, Windfall?”

My jaw snapped shut with an audible click as I bit back my already prepared rebuttal. I looked squarely at the uniformed soldier, not at all thrilled to have been backed up into a corner by him, especially when he knew how dire our situation was becoming. Still, I was supposed to be the ‘good’ pony, wasn’t I, in contrast to Ebony Song’s coercion. That meant letting my companions come and go as they pleased, no matter how useful their skills would prove. The ponies with me weren’t conscripts. I couldn’t treat them like such.

“Yeah,” I finally said, though a little more tersely than was probably prudent. I cleared my throat and went on, “you two don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. You don’t owe us anything.”

“You’d really be okay with us leaving; just like that?” Moonbeam asked, her synthesized voice managing to inflect a little surprise.

I caught Ramparts’ expression, and took a deep breath, ready to say what the earth pony was clearly expecting from me. Then I got the sensation that a little orange mare was making some not-so-subtle coughing sounds. I could also feel Arginine’s gaze upon me as well. There was a brief moment of hesitation in my mind as I underwent a mild internal struggle.

When it was over, I had the answer that I was ready to give, “well, no,” I said, earning a frown from Ramparts, but I went on anyway, “I would understand your wanting to leave, sure, and I’d let you two go, of course; but I wouldn’t be okay with it.

“This valley is about to be in a fight for its very survival. If we lose, then the whole Wasteland could be threatened. We need every advantage, every resource, that we can get our hooves on. With the NLR in the state that it’s in right now, we need those resources now more than ever,” I shrugged, “and you two are a resource,” I caught the mirrored narrowed eyes on both mother and daughter, and briefly wondered at how familial traits could be passed on to a machine before pushing through their disapproval, “we all are. I’m a resource, Foxglove’s a resource, everypony.

“It’s going to be...a war, I guess. Not just some little tussle with a band of raiders. Arginine’s stable is tough. They’ve already slaughtered hundreds of ponies―”

“We had examined over three thousand specimens by the time of my departure,” Arginine noted.

“―thousands! They’ll kill tens of thousands more before the end. The whole surface population, probably, since even RG can’t think of a reason that they’d let zebras and griffons and any other race go on existing.

“So, yeah, as important as the two of you are, I really wouldn’t be ‘okay’ with you two leaving,” I sighed, “I’d understand, sure; and I certainly wouldn’t try and stop you. I don’t know if there’s anything more I could give to either of you to convince you two to stay, but I’m willing to match any price you name if that’s what it takes,” I looked between the pair, hopefully. Though, since Starlight Glimmer now had exactly what she’d been after, and everything else she wanted was in some far off part of Equestria that I’d never heard of, I couldn’t think of anything that I could hope to use to barter for her assistance. Moonbeam would doubtlessly go with her mother, since nothing was tying her to Neighvada either.

This...wasn’t their home, or even their time. I couldn’t even think of why it would be their problem.

Even now, I could see that little hint of regret in Starlight’s blue eyes. She was going to leave. She’d feel a little guilty about it, sure, but she had her own shit to deal with. The world she’d known had already been destroyed. Everypony she’d ever cared about or loved―save for Moonbeam―was already dead. There wasn’t anything left for her to save anyway.
And, Moonbeam, I suspected that she’d have just as soon been away from this place as well―

“Alright.”

I blinked. As did Starlight and Ramparts, both regarding the synthetic pony with surprise, “you―wait, what?” I babbled, trying to parse out the robopony’s response.

“Alright; I’ll stay and help.”

“Why?” I immediately berated myself mentally for the blunt question. What did it matter ‘why’?! She was going to help; let the robopony’s reasons be their own!

Though it seemed that Starlight was also quite curious to learn her daughter’s reasons for the surprising revelation, “I don’t understand…”

Moonbeam, sensing the familial tension, ended up addressing her mother’s curiosity more than my own as she turned to regard the unicorn mare, “I get why you want to go back to the Empire. I really do. I felt the exact same way.

“When I first woke up. You’ve been awake for...weeks? Months?” Starlight nodded absently, still perplexed by her daughter’s decision, “it’s been almost twenty years for me, Mom. I’ve spent my whole life in this valley, with these ponies. I’ve been watching over most of them for that time,” she turned to look at me now, “and I do care about what happens to them.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “so what was all of that you said before about not wanting to fight anymore?”

“I don’t want to be used to fight,” the robopony corrected gently, “I’m a pony, not a weapon. If all you wanted to do was be like Ebony Song and wield me like some sort of high-tech cudgel, I would probably have left. I mean, if I can’t trust the ‘hero’ of Neighvada to be a decent pony, then what hope is there really for everypony else?” her synthetic lips seemed to crack a faint smile, “but you were honest with me about why you wanted me to stay.

“That’s more than I’ve ever gotten from anypony before. So, for that, and because I don’t want to just let all the ponies I’ve watched grow up over the years die, I’ll help you,” then she turned back to her mother once more, “but it’s alright if you still want to leave. I’ve had years to get over Dad; and you, come to think of it. You haven’t. Maybe it will help you to go and say goodbye. I’ll come find you when we’re done here.”

Starlight’s mouth started to move, wordlessly as she tried to formulate a response. The conflict raging just behind her eyes was palpable. Yet, in the end, it seemed that she resigned herself to the fact that this decision wasn’t really a decision at all. After all, what mother would chose to immediately abandon the daughter that she had just found after looking so fiercely for her. With a sigh, and a resigned smile, she said, “well...Sunburst has waited a couple centuries to be found. I’m sure he’ll be able to wait a little longer,” she looked to me, “we’re both staying.”

The robopony leaned over and hugged the pink unicorn who leaned into the embrace. The gesture evoked an audible ‘aww’ from Foxglove. Meanwhile, I found myself the recipient of an approving smile from Ramparts, and a decidedly awkward peck on the cheek from Arginine. At my questioning look, he merely mumbled, “positive reinforcement,” and straightened himself back up.

“Great,” I said after what I felt was a suitably appropriate amount of time for everypony to finish bonding, “so we’re all going to stick things out until it’s over. The real question is: what’s our next move? Do we go right to the Steel Rangers, or should we find those weapons and see what they actually are? Heck, they might not actually even be there, for all we know…” two hundred years was a lot of time for some random prospector to have stumbled upon the cache by accident. It could very well turn out that we were chasing ghosts, and finding that out only after making promises to our allies about possessing a trove of armaments might not go over well.

“The Rangers might want to be our next stop,” Foxglove suggested, “I get the impression that the NLR is going to be a little out of sorts after tonight,” she glanced to Ramparts, who offered a nod of confirmation, “the Rangers might take advantage if they don’t know we already got Moonbeam out. And if they do know, they’re probably packing up to leave, since she was the whole reason they were even in the valley in the first place.”

The violet unicorn had a good point. Either to avert an assault or to catch them before they vacated the valley, we needed to get incontact with the Steel Rangers as quickly as possible. The weapons could wait. I noticed that Moonbeam looked like she had a few reservations about the plan though, and I asked her about them.

“They kept me powered down in their basement for decades,” the robopony said sourly, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think they’d try to do it again. I don’t think you can appreciate how many of their knights and paladins my―er...the NLR’s soldiers have slain over the years.

“Do you really think they’ll be willing to leave here with nothing to show for it?”

I nodded, though not as confidently as I might have liked to, “Star Paladin Hoplite promised me they would.”

“And the Elder?” Moonbeam prompted. At my blank expression she pressed a little harder, “because they’re the pony who has the final say in a Ranger chapter. I’m sure you believe that Star Paladin was being completely truthful about how they’d want to do things; but it won’t be their call.”

“It can’t hurt to have her as an advocate though, right?”

Moonbeam shrugged, “it will or it won’t,” was her less-than-helpful conclusion, “I just want you to be aware that the six of us are going to be walking right into the heart of Ranger territory with a Republic Courser,” she directed a hoof at Ramparts, who was still wearing his silver and midnight blue barding, “and a piece of hyper-advanced Old World tech,” she indicated herself.

“If this goes wrong, it’s going to go wrong hard.”

That...was a valid point. There were a few measures that our group could take to mitigate the risks though. If I could get word to Hoplite herself, I might be able to get her to play intermediary and arrange for us to meet at a neutral location to talk. Preferably someplace where our group could have at least some sort of minor advantage, just in case. If things went wrong, then we could have Starlight teleport us to safety.

I glanced at the pink mare’s horn and noticed the thin patina of black soot that coated it, frowning. She was going to need a bit of rest, I recalled. We needed to stop leaning so heavily on the magical crutch she offered the group, or she wouldn’t be able to offer it for much longer. Maybe getting those hooves on the weapons first wasn’t such a bad idea after all…

No. I wasn’t really convinced that, even with advanced firepower, that the six of us would be able to fend off a whole chapter of Steel Rangers. After all, if they knew we had what they’d been after for so many years, what need would they have to worry about the Republic? If they did decide to fight us, and win, then they’d just have all those weapons for themselves. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what use they’d put them to, but they hardly had a reputation for being saviors of the common pony in Neighvada.

We’d meet them as we were, and trust that Hoplite was as honorable as she seemed, and that we could find a way to retreat if things got too hot. Like we normally did. Besides, the Wonderbolt was currently sitting at two and oh when it came to dealing with the Steel Rangers. Three and oh if I wanted to count our first tussel at my family’s old ranch. Maybe that little bit of reputation would tilt things in my favor if anypony got any funny notions into their heads.

The question, then, was where exactly to meet them. I thought for only a few moments before the answer hit me, and a smile wound its way across my lips. Really, there was only one place that anypony could hope to have the best home field advantage:

Home.

Which meant I had some calls to make...

Three days later, I finally caught sight of my family’s old homestead once again. Bittersweet memories swam through my head. I left my grounded companions behind and flew on ahead of them, almost subconsciously, drawn back to what remained of the place of my birth. I alit in my old room, which sat open and exposed to the Wasteland by a rocket impact launched from the back of a Steel Ranger. The battle between Ramparts’ squad and the Ranger probing element had been brief, to be sure, but their weapons had ravaged the ancient ranch house in short order.

At least, what hadn’t already been defiled by the White Hooves eight years prior.

I slowly trudged around the scorched interior, kicking idly at bullet casing scattered on the floor. My mind’s eye overlayed the rose-tinted memories of how the room had looked in a far distant, happier, era. Ma tucking me into bed. Pa building me a shabby little dollhouse to play with. My brother hiding said dolls…

A burning sensation behind my eye prompted me to remove the old Enclave helmet and rub at it, all the while struggling to ignore the tingling in my nose. I tucked the helmet under my wing and stepped out into the hall beyond. Even now, after all this time, and knowing that they were all long dead, I felt like I was intruding into the rooms of my parents and elder brother. I’d hardly ever seen inside of them as a little filly. That made it hard to see them as they had once been, and so the desolation was much more pervasive.

I made my way downstairs, sighing at the sight of the very nearly opened up side of the house that had borne the brunt of the Ranger attack. The interior walls were similarly scarred by bullet holes and black scorch marks. A reflexive shudder went through my spine as I wandered through the kitchen. There were no bodies any longer, but the blood was still evident, if heavily faded. Somehow I managed not to retch, even as echoes of those agonizing wails reprised themselves in my memory. Even now, I didn’t know if they’d tortured my father to get me to reveal myself, or just because those White Hoof fucks had enjoyed hearing him scream.

Just as I was about to step out the back and survey the old barn where I’d hid, I felt my wing quivering. Curious, I peaked around and soon discovered that it wasn’t my wing that was shaking, but my helmet. I frowned and brought it back around for a closer examination. I soon realized that it wasn’t really vibrating, but that there was a sound playing over its speaker system. Cautiously, I slipped the helmet back on to listen.

The sound turned out to be just a repeated melodic series of beeps, but that turned out to be just one of several anomalous things going on with it. There appeared to be a visual component as well, though it wasn’t anything like my usual Eyes Forward Sparkle. The aesthetic was...darker, more angular. Enclave. My eyes darted immediately to the text blinking in the upper-left corner.

>>TRANSPONDER LOCATED

Transponder? Where?

I craned my head upwards, looking around quickly in an effort to track the signal that my helmet was picking up. If this thing was picking up Enclave signals, that suggested that one or more of the elusive fliers was prowling around nearby. A frown creased my face as I thought about how little I wanted to have to deal with an Enclaver right now, when there were going to be Rangers in the area sometime in the next twenty-four hours, provided that they received Homily’s broadcast, and were willing to accept my terms…

There was no telling how the Steel Ranger delegation would react to seeing a patrol from the Grand Pegasus Enclave flitting about in the area. I suspected that there was little hope that they’d chalk it up to the genuine coincidence that it was. Worst case scenario, the Rangers decided that the winged Wonderbolt had Enclave connections―like every pegasus was assumed to in the Wasteland―and decided this was all an elaborate trap. The perpetual animosity between the two technological powers made the Ranger’s war with the New Lunar Republic look like a lover’s spat.

The sooner I found the source of this signal and convinced them to leave the area the better. Now why couldn’t I seem to find out where the damn transponder was coming fro―

…

I finally found the source. Only it turned out to not be coming from above at all. It turned out to be originating from below, somehow.

“The basement?” I actually spoke aloud, taken aback with bemusement at the notion that I was picking up an Enclave signal from what had to be the most counter-intuitive of places. What was an Enclaver doing in my basement?

There was only one way to find out. I lifted into the air, keeping my hooves just off the ground, and drifted through the house to the basement stairs. Pausing at the top, I frowned and took out my compact semi-automatic. There was next to zero possibility that this was some sort of ambush being directed at me specifically, but I couldn’t come up with a lot of benign reasons for a member of the xenophobic fliers to be holed up in my house. It was thus best to be prepared.

Slowly, I gliding down the stairs, keeping the pistol pointed ahead of me as I quickly surveyed the cool, dark, cellar. This had served as the primary storage location for much of the ranch’s wears as they awaited transport to nearby markets or, in the case of cheeses, were aged the appropriate length of time. The White Hooves picked it clean, of course, just before moving on to their next victims. All that remained now were empty shelves and broken barrels.

It was also lacking in bars, either golden or scarlet. My pipbuck insisted that nopony was down here. Yet, my helmet remained convinced that it was picking up an Enclave signal. I kept my gaze locked upon the symbol hovering on my visor as I advanced upon it, slowly. Frustrated by the darkness, I turned on my pipbuck’s flashlight. If I thought that shedding light upon the situation would provide any answers, I was sorely mistaken. Indeed, it only evoked more frustrations.

There wasn’t anything there. My light, and the dot denoting the transponder, fell upon a blank wall.

I spit the weapon back into its holster with an annoyed grunt. A wall. My helmet had brought me to a wall. It wasn’t even a particularly interesting looking wall! Every other scrap of masonry down here at least had shelving lining it to give it some character or use. Where I’d been led to was just...empty…

My brows furrowed as my head listed to the side. Why was it empty? I looked to either side, noting the rows of shelves that existed only a few feet in either direction. It seemed more than a little odd, thinking on it now, that this portion would have been left devoid of precious storage space. It was simply a waste, honestly.

Out of curiosity, I glanced back up at the stairs and shined my fetlock-mounted light along the ceiling, mentally tracing out the layout of the house above. I was directly below the kitchen right now. Specifically, I should have been right about where the doorway was leading out to the cattle pen and the barn. Right past here would have been a small porch…

...A porch with a stone foundation.

I found myself wondering now if that foundation extended below ground level. My light focused upon the bare wall, I leaned in closely to the stonework, drifting to either side to compare it to the masonry the shelves were built against. That was when I saw it: a faint seam. A nearly invisible line etched along the stones that denoted new―well, newer―construction that had been added later. Whoever had built it had done exemplary work. If I pulled away even just a few feet, I was hard pressed to pick out the exact spot where an edge had once existed. The stones themselves were of the same nature and shape, but the mortar looked like it had been applied a little more thickly.

Somepony had walled up whatever my helmet was picking up back there. Now I just needed to decide if it was going to be worth my time to get at it. I certainly couldn’t deny that I was more than a little curious to learn what the Enclave could possibly have buried in my family home, and why. Heck, how long had this been down here? Did this predate the end of the war?

Well, if nothing else, it would probably be a good idea to at least find a way to turn off that transponder. I wasn’t sure if it was Something that the Steel Rangers would be able to detect, but considering how familiar they were with the Enclave and their technology, I wasn’t really willing to take that chance.

So...the question was now: How did I knock down a stone wall? I could wait for the others to get here and avail myself to either Starlight’s magic, Moonbeam’s servos, Foxglove’s lance, or Arginine’s bulk. Those were all perfectly cogent courses of action that would strike anypony as being perfectly reasonable.

I wasn’t sure if I imagined it or not, but I felt the sensation of five little ponies collectively face-hoofing as I revved up the Gale Force and slammed my way through the stonework like an alloyed wrecking ball. The wall turned out to have been much thinner than I’d anticipated, and I ended up having to peel myself off of the basement’s genuine foundation, and the missing shelves. If I ever managed to find out where the Gale Force’s inventor was buried, I’d need to remember to visit and commend her on building a truly rigorous piece of equipment. I could see why Rainbow Dash had been so smitten with it!

The pipbuck light was back out now as I examined the little covy that I’d revealed. It took no time at all to locate the only object of note in the nook, and the indicated source of the signal: a small wooden chest. I fluttered my wings to clear them of rock dust and wooden slivers and bent down to examine the ancient container more carefully. It wasn’t particularly large, honestly. Little more than a small footlocker. Experimentally, I tried to lift it. It had a little bit of weight to it, but nothing truly substantial.

I wrenched it from its tomb and flew it upstairs so that I could get a better look at the crate and its contents in the daylight, so that I didn’t risk missing anything in the darkness of the basement. I set it down in what was left of the living room and lifted the lid, a little surprised that it hadn’t been locked. Though, I suppose that if somepony was going to go through all the effort to seal it away behind a false wall, it probably wouldn’t occur to them that it would really need to be locked.

Inside was something that was both immeasurably surprising...and half expected.

After all, what would have been emitting an Enclave transponder, if not a set of Enclave barding?

I drew out the armor, taking in its deep purple and black color scheme that I had never before seen this close before. Indeed, I’d only ever in my life caught fleeting glances of the high flying pegasi at a great distance. Only proper members of the cloud-dwelling nation could get anywhere near the thick overcast clouds without risking being struck down by their automated defenses. A warning that Jackboot had drilled into me to great effect shortly after I began flying. I rarely ventured far above the tops of the tallest buildings that I’d ever seen, not knowing exactly how forgiving those defenses were, but reasoning that they obviously didn’t strike down ponies walking along the roofs of buildings.

Idly, I wondered if this transponder might be my key to accessing that cloudy domain…

A snort escaped my nose as I shook my head. It wasn’t as though I’d make it very far once I got challenged by a patrol. Besides, I didn’t have any business in the Enclave, and nothing I’d ever heard about them suggested that they’d be the least bit interested in helping out the residents eeking out a living on the surface. No, it was best I just find out how to silence the transponder permanently and let Foxglove see if she could make some use out of the material.

I noted that the sole source of electronics from which the signal could be coming from was what appeared to be some variant of pipbuck built into the barding’s left foreleg. Sleek and black, the device matched the aesthetic of the rest of the suit perfectly, but it looked far too small to be capable of performing all of the tasks of a proper pipbuck. Likely a slimmed down military version. It probably didn’t even have SATS, looking at it.

It was still working, which was quite surprising, given its age. Though I did receive an immediate message alerting me to the near-depleted state of its internal power source. Fortunately, it was similar enough in design and function to my own fetlock-mounted computer that I was able to navigate its menus until I found the setting that would turn off the homing signal. Curious that it was on at all, given how weak it had been. My helmet hadn’t even registered it until I was just a few yards away.

Perhaps its last owner hadn’t lived long enough to turn it off?

They’d lived long enough to record a few logs though. I quickly got what files I could find transfered to my own pickbuck. There weren’t many of them, but I found myself hoping that there might be even a few answers present on them.

That last act seemed to have been what finally took the last few motes of power from the device’s power source, and it finally died completely, the screen fading to opaque blackness. I glanced at my own pipbuck, double-checking to make sure the transfer had been successful. It announced that four new audio files had been added to its database.

Having pretty thoroughly retread my home in an effort to get every possible ounce of sentiment out of it, and figuring that my companions wouldn’t arrive for a decent while yet, I made myself comfortable on the back porch and cued up the first of the logs. Time to find out how Enclave equipment made it into my family home.

The first file started with the quiet hiss of static that denoted a recording was being made, but that nopony was talking yet. Then there was a heavy sigh, and a young stallion’s gentle tenor came over the speakers, “...I guess...well, if you’re hearing these things, and you’re Enclave: fuck you. I hope the Lightning Rods malfunction and fry you on the way back up. If it’s somehow you, Mom...I’m not sorry for what I did,” there was a brief pause as they swallowed, “I don’t care if it was ‘stupid’ or ‘meaningless’ or whatever. It was the right thing to do,” he chuckled, “guess I’ll be your namesake after all, heh…”

“Also...I stole McGillicutty and McGee. I know they were special to you, but I figure they deserve to do some real good in the world instead of just gathering dust in your room. So...yeah. You can ground me if I ever make it back alive or whatever.”

“If you’re a surface pony,” the disembodied voice said in a slightly more chipper tone, though the tinge of regret was still audible behind the faux levity, “greeting from above the clouds! And...for what it’s worth: I’m sorry for what we did―what we’re still doing. We could be helping, and we’re not.

“...we probably never will,” he added with a dejected sigh, “but...I want you to know, for what it’s worth, that there are some of us in the Enclave who want to. Just, not a lot of us. I’m not making excuses. I’m just letting you know how it is.

“If it means anything―if it matters―I tried to make a difference. Both up there, and down here with you. I did try. I hope that’s enough.

“...sorry.”

The recording ended with a sharp click, leaving me in silence once more. I stared at my pipbuck in wonder. Obviously, I had fully expected to hear that they were a member of the Enclave, but the notion that one of their reclusive order had gone rogue and come down to the surface like that wasn’t what I thought I’d hear. At most, I’d figured that they’d been a last survivor of some lost patrol or something.

Spurred on by my curiosity, I went ahead and started up the next recording. This time I was greeted with haggard breathing right off the bat from a pony who was clearly in a great deal of pain, “aargh! Okay…” he swallowed and hissed through his teeth, “I was an idiot. You were right, Mom. You were right. I wasn’t ready, and neither are the surface ponies. The first ones that didn’t just run away at the sight of me...well, they shot me instead.

“I guess they’re still holding a grudge, even after a hundred years…” another pained gasp, “I got clear, but…” he sighed, “there’s a lot of blood, and I’m out of potions.

“There was a...building―old house―that I spotted from the air. Going to see if I can make it there. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Find a potion or two.

“If I don’t...then I guess you get the satisfaction of being right. Like you always are…”

Well, obviously the house that he made it to was this one. Odd though. While I didn’t know for certain how long ago my family had settled in this place, I was fairly sure that my grandparents hadn’t been the first to run the ranch...I suppose that this pegasus must have gotten here a short time before my ancestors restored it. Caravans, passing in the night, or something like that.

I played the third log.

“Not dead yet,” the tenor voice of the long dead stallion began, “but I can’t take credit for that. It turns out that not everypony hates us on principal. The house I found wasn’t empty. Good thing too, since I passed out before getting all the way there. The current occupant found me. A Miss Ayrshire. Nice mare. Reminds me of you, Mom: she called me seventeen different words for ‘stupid’ the moment I told her what happened,” he chuckled.

“She patched me up pretty good. Knows her stuff. Still, I won’t be going anywhere for a day or two. Not sure where’d I’d go anyway,” the stallion sighed, “I can’t go back home, and it’s pretty clear that not a lot of ponies down here want my help either.

“I don’t plan on giving up though. Somehow, I’m going to help. I’m going to make the surface better. I am―”

“Who are you talking to?” I heard a mare call out in the background with a decidedly reproachful note in her voice, “you’re supposed to be resting! You must have more feathers than sense in that head of yours!”

“Uh oh...um, just talking to myself! Must still be delirious or somethi―” there was a sharp click the recording stopped.

I sat there in silence for several long moments. I wasn’t any sort of expert on my own genealogy going back all the way to before the Great War or anything like that, but I did still recognize the name, ‘Ayrshire’. She’d been long dead by the time of my own birth, but my ma had known her, and had mentioned the name a time or two while telling me and my older brother stories about the family. She was my great-gran. That had been the voice of my great-gran in the recording.

Would that mean that I’d hear more of her in the next log?

The last recording started out very differently than the others. A voice that sounded much too young to have been the stallion from before was speaking, though definitely still male, “...woah. Neat!” there was the sound of scraping and scuffling suggesting somepony was handling the device and its associated barding rather roughly. Then the youthful voice spoke again, but with a rather distinct affectation that reminded me of when I’d give my dolls their own voices and personalities while playing, “command, this is Sky Raider Whipper Wind! I’ve sighted the enemy; requesting permission to engage,” then the colt swiftly shifted into another role, “krrrk! Damn it, Whipper Wind, return to base! You’re a loose cannon!” the pseudo-suave, yet cockey tone from before returned, “oh, I’ll unloose my cannons alright! Bambambam!”

I covered my mouth with my hoof in an effort to stifle my laughter so that I didn’t miss any of what was being said. Though my ear did twitch at the name. Hadn’t Whipper Wind been the name of my―

There was a loud crashing sound and a pained groan that came over the speaker. A moment later the colt, having dropped all affectations and sounding much like I remembered whenever I’d realized I was going to be in a lot of trouble soon said, “uh oh. Um…”

“Whip! What in skies above are you―” this was the older pegasus stallion from before, I realized, “oh. Heh,” I heard heavy hoofsteps getting nearer, “you’re supposed to be cleaning up the attic, not making it messier. I see you found my old barding.”

“This was yours?” the colt asked in wonder.

“In a former life,” I heard the stallion say in a somber tone. I heard more sounds of scuffling as I envisioned the barding being removed and folded up once more.

“I never knew you were in the Enclave! What’s it like in the clouds? Is it true that there are big balls made of gold and silver up there like Ol’ Coot says? Why’d you leave?” the colt spouted one question after another in quick succession, to the point that I found myself wondering if he was even interested in getting any answers to them.

Finally, the stallion cut him off, “that’s enough,” he said in a terse tone, snapping the colt to silence, “none of it matters, and I don’t like talking about it. That’s the end of the matter.”

“But―”

“I said that’s enough,” the stallion snapped. There was a moment of silence, then, “go check on the brahmin. I’ll clean this all up.”

“Okay, Pa…” the dejected colt mumbled just before I heard tiny hooves walking away. In the distance I heard a quiet, “oh! Hey, Ma. Nothing’s broke; I’ll be in the barn, bye!” the sound of hooves moving at a much faster pace faded away, replaced by another heavier set.

“I see he found your old barding,” a mare said, who I recognized as being the same voice as had belonged to my great-gran in the last recording. Her tone was just as stern too, “I’ve told you a few times to get rid of it. It’ll just cause trouble if anypony around here finds it. You know there ain’t a lot of love for your old comrades around here.”

“I know. I just...it’s hard to let go of it.”

The mare sounded much closer now. When she spoke this time, it was with a tenderness that I’d yet to hear from her, “it’s been gathering dust up here for years. You’ve told me you can’t go back,” she chuckled, “in fact, I believe you’ve made it pretty clear you don’t ever intend to leave…” her words became more serious again, “I don’t want him finding these things again. I don’t want him taking after you, and going looking for trouble because of some fool notions of being a ‘hero’.

“I want him to stay safe, and happy...and here. Like us.”

“Alright,” the stallion said after a long pause, “I’ll figure something out.”

“Good,” the mare said before I heard hoofsteps walking away, “lunch’ll be ready in half an hour,” her steps faded away.

There was the sound of more rustling as the remaining stallion presumably went about clearing whatever mess the colt had made. This went on for several seconds, then, “oop! Have you been recording this whole time?” he sighed, “that foal...it’s been so long...how do I even turn this damn thing back o―”

That was the final file, and yet it left me wishing that there might have been many more. Like Ayrshire, I’d recognize the name Whipper Wind too. He’d been my gandpa. A pony that I’d never met myself. My mother had talked about him a lot though. Brash and headstrong, according to her, and he hadn’t been much inclined to put up with ponies trying to bully others. She told me how that attitude had eventually led to his death at the hooves of a band of local raiders when he refused to pay their ‘protection fees’. In the end, his sacrifice had been the impetus to get other local farmers and ranchers to band together and drive that gang out, so he’d been regarded as a bit of a local hero after the fact.

I’d never known that he’d been the son of a pegasus. Nor, I now realized, did I even know how that stallion had died. Or what his name had been! I probably never would, either. My mother might have known, but…

It was frustrating to know that there would forever be so many mysteries. Not that I’d ever been inclined to think much about my own heritage. It had hardly seemed like it really mattered all that much. At least, until I’d found out that my ancestors had a habit of standing up for other ponies. The realization actually instilled within me this tiny little feeling of familial pride; like I was carrying on a tradition that I hadn’t even known existed.

Jackboot would probably have had all sorts of comments to make on those feelings, and I couldn’t deny that what I’d recently learned from these logs was hardly a resounding endorsement of that sort of mentality. It certainly didn’t seem conducive to a long life. But, come on! That pegasus had been so driven by the idea of helping that he’d abandoned everything he’d ever known in an effort to help others. Sure, it turned out that they didn’t seem to actually want that help, but he’d still made that sacrifice for them! Who’s to say that he didn’t make the world a better place? He at least seemed to have made my great-gran happier. That was something.

Intent mattered. I refused to believe that it didn’t. Maybe I was a little biased on that idea, considering my own choices in life; but I didn’t care. More than a few ponies had made a lot of sacrifices on my behalf up to this point too. My parents, Jackboot, even most of my companions had either chosen to, or been forced, to give up something important to them in exchange for helping me. I had an obligation to make that mean something.

It wasn’t just about me anymore. Too many other ponies had given too much for it all to amount to nothing. I wouldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t.

The files now reviewed, I once again returned my attention to the contents of the chest. The pipbuck-like device was completely dead, but I suspected that Foxglove might be able to find some use for its parts. The violet and black barding was in decent shape, despite its age, but I already had a rather robust set of armor that I felt had a much more appealing color scheme. I didn’t have a use for a second Enclave helmet either.

Then two identical objects caught my eye, buried deep at the bottom of the chest. I reached in and picked them out, turning one of them over curiously in my hooves. At a quick glance, they had looked to be some sort of bracer. Which struck me as odd, since the Enclave barding had already had integrated leg protection built into it. An after-market bracer seemed a little redundant. However, upon closer inspection, it was clear that the device wasn’t armor, but some sort of weapon. It wasn’t built like any power hoof that I’d ever seen though, despite the fact that it quite clearly attached to a pony’s foreleg.

Another curious little feature was a pair of names that had been stamped into the steel surface of each device: ‘Bucky McGillicuddy’ and ‘Kicks McGee’. I’d idly wondered what the pegasus in the recordings had been talking about in that first log. Now I knew. Not that the revelation helped me understand all that much about the objects. I could identify that there was a barrel affixed to each of the bracers, but there wasn’t an obvious port for either a magazine or even a firing mechanism. Parts of them jiggled slightly though, suggesting that there were moving parts associated with the devices.

They slipped on simply enough, and even sat in such a way that accommodate my pipbuck. I suppose that was to be expected, if they’d been designed with Enclave barding in mind, and the pegasi utilized similar fetlock computers. Attaching them didn’t really seem to instill me with any great sense of how they operated. I did notice that my Eyes Forward Sparkle insisted the weapons were loaded though, and inexplicably were each capable of firing a dozen shots. Not that I had any idea of how to do that.

There was no trigger-bit, or even a button to press on the casing. Nothing that suggested how I was supposed to fire the weapons. If that was what they truly were. I mean, they had ‘ammo’ somehow, but how was I supposed to fire it? It wasn’t life they’d even make particularly good melee weapons since they didn’t cover my hooves themselves. They didn’t seem to get in the way of hoof-to-hoof fighting though, so that was something.

Experimentally, I lifted into the air and took up a defensive stance that I’d developed for while in flight. I cocked back a hoof to deliver a punch to see how the weight would affect things. That was when I heard a sharp ‘click’ from the device. I froze, glancing at it. It seemed that the sudden motion had dislodged something. No...that wasn’t right. It had engaged something! The outer steel sleeve had shifted back with the momentum of my motion, exposing a previously obscured spark pack of the sorts most magical energy weapons used. It was fed into a host of sophisticated looking mechanisms that if probably would have taken a pony like Foxglove to understand the workings of.

A little more mindful of the direction that I was facing, and having an inkling as to what was about to happen, I swung the hoof forward in a single punch. Sure enough, the casing slid forward and the odd looking weapon discharged with an echoing boom, sending forth an orange bolt of energy approximately the size and shape of a Sparkle-Cola bottle. The projectile very quickly left sight entirely as it streaked out into the Wasteland.

“Whoa,” I breathed as I once more stared at that curious contraptions.

“Windy!”

I turned at the sound of Foxglove’s frantic yell and found that my grounded companions had finally arrived at my old homestead. They had their weapons drawn and were scanning the area, prepared to face any threat that they might encounter. Of course, I could see no crimson markers on my Eyes Forward Sparkle. It took me only a couple of seconds to realize that they’d heard the sound of me testing out the weaponized bracers that I’d discovered and assumed I must have been under attack.

“It’s alright,” I assured the small gang of ponies, flitting over and flashing them all reassuring smiles as I pointed at my forelegs, “just trying out some new artillery I found. Neat, huh? Apparently they’re family heirlooms!”

Everypony very quickly relaxed their guard. Foxglove fawned over the weapons, managing to very quickly discern a lot more about their operation and capabilities from just a few minutes of scrutiny that I’d likely have ever managed on my own no matter how much time I was given. Towards the end, she was even muttering quietly to herself about ways to better integrate their capabilities into my barding and the Gale Force. I was perfectly happy to let her tinker, if for no other reason that it was nice to seen her relaxed and content once more.

Ramparts didn’t hang around the house proper for very long, electing to perform a quick patrol of the surrounding area. I was quick to point out that I could have done it much more quickly than an earth pony could have, but he insisted, “you just got home. You shouldn’t have to leave so soon.”

Something about his tone dissuaded me from pressing the issue after that. It wasn’t until he was out of earshot that the words finally clicked. How long had he been in Seaddle before he’d learned that he might have to leave it for good? He hadn’t even been able to say a proper goodbye to Yatima and his son before having to part their company again for who knew how long? I was certain that those two would be fine. Summer Glade would take care of them and get them to New Reino safely.We’d have to swing by there some time soon to make sure that Ramparts could see that for himself too.
Maybe I could ask Homily to find some way to get a message from them?

Starlight Glimmer, on the other hoof, clearly had no intention of going another step further that evening. She found the remains of a couch in the den and all but collapsed into it. Meanwhile, Moonbeam started poking about the ruins of the house, exploring. There wasn’t a lot of deliberate intent behind her search. Mostly it just seemed like she just wanted to see it. Considering she’d spent most of her life never leaving Seaddle, I guess it was understandable that she’d find even a crumbling ruin like this a little fascinating.

“Your home is...pleasant.”

I snorted and craned my head up to look at Arginine, “it’s a wreck,” I countered, gesturing at the scorch marks and bullet holes. Then I sighed, “but, yeah; it used to be really nice. Someday...I don’t know. Maybe I can fix it up,” not that I really knew all that much about carpentry and home repair. I killed things. I didn’t put stuff back together.

“It’s weird,” I went on, not sure if I was really speaking to the large gray stallion anymore, but feeling like I needed to talk nonetheless, “I’d always thought of this as my house. I never even thought about leaving it. I was going to grow up here, and take over someday. Me or my brother, anyway. Even when I was with Jackboot, I kept thinking about how ‘someday’ I’d come back here for good. Rebuilding this place was my goal for the future.”

“Your words imply that your intents have changed.”

“Maybe? Probably. I don’t know,” I shrugged, “things are changing so fast these days that it’s hard to figure out what kind of future I can have anymore.

“I just found out my great grandpa was an Enclave pegasus,” it was still an odd thought to wrap my head around.

“Does that revelation about your ancestry have a bearing on our immediate plans?”

“I mean, no, but…” I shook my head and groaned, “I don’t know what to make of it, I guess. I know it shouldn’t matter. I never knew him. I did find some old logs of his,” I tapped my pipbuck, “what I learned makes me wish that I had known him though. I think he’d approve of what I’m trying to do,” a heavy sigh escaped me, “trying being the operative word,” I said as a deep frown creased my face.

“The loss of the Republic’s support will severely impact the likelihood that the surface will be able to repel our invasion,” Arginine agreed. I didn’t miss his choice of pronouns either. It was easy to forget that his interest in helping me was rooted heavily in his own desire to see the ponies from his stable face the most significant resistance possible, thereby proving beyond a doubt exactly how superior to surface ponies they were. Losing out on the help that the NLR could have given to such a counter-force meant, to him, that their victory would be...tainted, in a way.

“We’re no beaten yet,” I assured him, “there’s still the Rangers and New Reino,” while not a true martial power in the same way that the power-armored ponies or Luna’s military forces were, the casino barons of the city-state of New Reino had wealth enough to outright buy a truly formidable army formed from every mercenary band and gun-for-hire that lived in the valley. Getting their help would be foal’s play, especially with ponies like Summer Glade to vouch for how much of a threat Arginine’s stable was to their bottom line. If all they figured they had to do was throw caps and bits at the problem in the form of disposable mercenaries to keep ponies coming into their city to spend their money, they wouldn’t hesitate.

I was also pretty hopeful that I could get the Rangers on our side still. On top of them owing me a lot for ending their war with the Republic, I figured that I should be able to sweeten the pot by pointing out that Arginine’s stable would undoubtedly be a veritable treasure trove of Old World technology. Those ponies should start chomping at the bit to get a piece of it.

“Indeed,” the larger stallion acknowledged, then paused for a moment before looking at me with a, what was for Arginine, curious expression, “you are not despairing over this setback as much as I might have presumed based upon my past observations of you.”

I snorted, “I did most of that during the flight here,” I admitted, “but, yeah, I get what you mean. What happened in Seaddle really sucks, and for a lot of reasons for a lot of ponies, but I also know there’s nothing I can do about that right now. I just need to keep focused on what I can do, and what went right. Like reuniting Starlight with her daughter,” it was a silver lining I was determined not to lose sight of amid all the other recent dark clouds I’d encountered recently. One of the few things that had gone as right as I had any right to expect it to have. All things considered.

Bringing a mother and daughter back together after being separated by two hundred years was nothing to shake a hoof at, right?

“I’ll wait to see how things go with the Rangers before I think about actually breaking down into a deep depression,” I smiled up at the stallion to accentuate the joke. Though, in the back of my mind, I was desperately hoping that it was a joke. If, for some reason, I couldn’t get Hoplite and the Steel Rangers on board…

...best not to think about that. Positive waves, Windy. Put out those positive waves.

“We should get settled in for the night,” I said finally, shaking myself free of those nagging doubts, “the Rangers will be here in the morning to talk.”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 43: TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE

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Forecast: A rain of blood will flood the desert and not purify it.

My eye fluttered open, peering out the open window, framed by the faded two-century old wallpaper that coated my parents’ old room. It had been a decidedly odd feeling to come in here and actually curl up in their old bed. Not since my earliest memories had I ever slept in this bed, and even then only on thore rare nights where a nightmare plagued my slumber. Even now, waking up in this place filled me with a dual sensation of the familiar and the foreign. That feeling was compounded slightly by the large warm body that I was pressed up against. A figure large enough to make my sleep-addled brain momentarily conclude that I was a little foal waking up next to her father.

I very quickly chased that listless thought from consciousness, noting that it had still set my cheeks to burning. Ugh...it had been bad enough thinking of Jackboot as my father while pining for him; the last thing I needed was to ever think of Arginine that way too!

I had issues…

My mouth split open in a deep yawn as I rolled over onto my belly and proceeded to stretch out all six of my limbs. I could get used to not being woken up in the middle of the night to take a watch while out in the Wasteland. There were clear advantages to having a member of the team who was some sort of organic-robopony hybrid, or whatever Moonbeam was. I still wasn’t completely clear on all the details of the whole brain-merged-with-an-AI thing. She’d tried to explain it to me a few times during our trek here, dumbing it down a little more with every telling, but I still hadn’t been able to wrap my head around more than the bare essentials: her living body was sustained as a newborn foal that had been wired into a computer. That computer had, in turn, been integrated into the robopony body.

According to Moonbeam, she wasn’t really a part of the robopony any more than I was a part of my barding. It was just a means of locomotion for her. She could be just as easily swapped out of it and into any other piece of industrial equipment. Provided, of course, that the equipment possessed the appropriate interface for her systems to physically plug into.

But, while this meant that she was technically more a living pony than an actual robot, the nature of her augmentations had affected her in ways that normal ponies weren’t. One of those aspects was that she didn’t require any sort of sleep. As long as she was powered up, she could stay awake for weeks, or months, or even years at a time.

That meant that she could take the watch for the whole night, and still be perfectly ready to go the next morning as well. Her robopony body’s built in sensors also made her the perfect sentry during the night, able to see better and farther than any of the rest of us possibly could have. For my part, I’d been rather glad to be able to get a full night of uninterrupted sleep. To say nothing about finally having someplace where Arginine and I could have a little privacy for some...stress relief. We still weren’t having any actual sex, per say―I hadn’t been in Seaddle long enough to talk with Doctor Lancet about getting a contraceptive implant―but that didn’t mean that I still couldn’t avail myself to Arginine’s intimate knowledge of all those sensitive spots on a mare’s body.

Relaxed and rested were two things that I hadn’t been at the same time in what felt like...well, forever! I let out a satisfied sigh and gently nuzzled the large warm hulk in the bed with me before easing myself out of the bed. My mood was ever so slightly dampened by the ghostly expectation of finding my mother cooking breakfast as I made my way downstairs, which was how things had always been as a young filly. The memories were so pervasive that I could actually smell fresh cooking.

...and even hear something sizzling in a pan…?

Wait, what.

I fluttered the rest of the way down to the ground floor and peered around the corner of the stairwell into the kitchen. It turned out that I had not been imagining things after all. Ramparts was working at the stove, dividing his attention between a couple of pans that contained what couldn’t possibly have been anything from our traveling rations. I’d had Cram that was cooked every way imaginable, and it had never smelled or looked like that! There hadn’t been anything left here at the house, so unless somepony had managed to do some rather particular last minute shopping in Seaddle that I hadn’t known about―

“Good morning.”

I jumped with a start at the mechanically synthesized voice of Moonbeam as she stepped past me. She was floating a basket in her telekinetic field, taking it to the kitchen. She presented it to Ramparts, and the earth pony stallion pawed through its contents before selecting a few items from within and setting them on the counter, where he then went about cutting them up with his combat knife while the robopony took over watching the sizzling pans. He spared only a moment to offer his own passing greeting before carrying on with his dicing.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” I said as I approached the pair and lifted myself into the air to get a better look at what was being prepared. It looked like a curious collection of vegetables and tubers liberally sprinkled with flakes of...grass? I had to admit, it smelled absolutely wonderful, whatever it was.

“Sandy’s my sister, remember? She wasn’t the only one who helped our parents run that inn when we were foals. Admittedly, I’m not quite as good as she is, but I’ve been around a stove long enough to know what I’m doing,” he added with a wink.

“Neat. But, uh, where’d you get all of that?” I asked, jabbing a hoof at the basket full of food that Moonbeam had carried in, “don’t tell me a caravan was going by here just now?” I turned my head towards the front door in curiosity.

“Not at all,” the robotic mare replied, “I foraged these from the Wasteland.”

“You-wait-what-now?” I sputtered, doing a double-take as I gaped at Moonbeam, “how?”

The robopony’s rubbery muzzle was split by a smile as her glowing rosie eyes flickered, “there was a mare from the Ministry of Peace who worked at the facility where I was being...treated. Anyway, she was very knowledgeable about Equestrian flora, to include what wild plants could be safely eaten and how to find them. Admittedly, not all of those species survived the end of the world, it seems, but some have endured,” she gestured to the basket.

I thought back to our visit to the Ministry of Awesome bunker where we’d found Starlight Glimmer. I recalled the office that had been identified as hosting a pony from the MoP, “Treehugger, right? That was her name?”

“Correct!” Moonbeam nodded, “I liked her. She was very patient with me while I was learning to communicate through the interface,” her smile faltered somewhat, “Mom told me that nopony else in the facility survived?” there was a questioning note in her voice as she looked up at me. It wasn’t that she doubted what Starlight had told her. She was just...hoping, that maybe Starlight had been mistaken.

“We didn’t find anypony else alive, no,” I confirmed. Not that I could say for certain one way or the other who had been present in the bunker the day the bombs fell and who might have been elsewhere. It was entirely possible that Treehugger had been out and about at the time for all I knew. It wasn’t like we’d gone through and taken a roll call in the place. Not that it mattered, since two hundred years had elapsed since that day. Suffocated in a sleep chamber, baked by balefire, or something as mundane as old age: Treehugger was long dead by now.

“She was a good pony,” Moonbeam sighed, “but, yes; between the two of us, Ramparts and I have managed to put together a decent enough breakfast for everypony.”

“It smells amazing,” I agreed, thankful to be off the topic of long dead friends, “whatever it is?” I stressed the implied question.

“Fried wild tubers and scallions,” Ramparts replied, “with some thistle and something that looks a little like a snap pea,” he glanced over at Moonbeam for confirmation, but the robopony simply shrugged. The earth pony grunted and continued on as he spread out the freshly diced legume he’d just finished working on, “along with parsnips. Seasoned with thyme,” he added, sprinkling some grass shavings over the pans.

“And what’s that?” I asked, poking a hoof at the grass.

“That’s the thyme.”

“Time for what?”

Both Ramparts and Moonbeam turned their heads to look at me. Between them were mirrored synthetic and biological versions of deadpanned expressions, “don’t,” Ramparts stated.

“Don’t what?”

Moonbeam floated up a little sprig of tiny leaves, “here, taste this.”

“Uh, okay,” I took the offered plant and sniffed at it, immediately recognizing it as the dominant odor from the pan of sizzling breakfast. I gave the sprig a lick and my eyes went wide, “this is good!” I plopped it into my mouth and set about sucking on the potent taste, “what’s it called?”

“That’s the thyme,” the ropobony said patiently once more.

“Time for what?” I turned my head as I heard the half-yawned question from Foxglove, who was just stepping into the room.

“Don’t!” Ramparts stressed once more, a bit more loudly as he went back to tending his pans of food.

I rolled my eyes and ignored the stallion, “looks like it’ll be time for breakfast soon,” I informed the violet unicorn mare, gesturing to the pair of ponies working at the stove, “Moonbeam found some food and Ramps is cooking it up,” I drifted over to the mechanic mare and pulled the sprig from my mouth, “here, you have to try this stuff!”

Before she could respond, I popped the herb into the sleepy mare’s mouth. She blinked, sucked on the plant for a few seconds, and then smiled with a satisfied hum, “this is pretty good. What is it?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “they haven’t said yet.”

“It’s thyme!” the former courser snapped.

“Time for what?” Starlight popped her head into the kitchen now, sniffing eagerly at the air wafting through the doorway, “ooh, breakfast! That smells great. Uh…” all four of us were now looking at Ramparts, who was very slowly and deliberately banging his head on the counter next to the stove, “did I miss something?”

“Perhaps if you all wouldn’t mind setting up a place for us to eat?” Moonbeam suggested as the earth pony continued mumbling epithets under his breath.

It took a little bit of doing to get things moved around in the house’s old den, but the pair of unicorns we had helping us saved a lot of time as we gathered appropriate seats and surviving surfaces from the rest of the house in an effort to create a proper dining room. The completion of our assigned task coincided quite timely with Ramparts finishing up breakfast and serving up the initial batch before returning to the kitchen to get the rest. It was at about this time that the last member of our party finally made his own way downstairs, sniffing gingerly at the air.

“I gather that somepony managed to locate a strain of thymus vulgaris?”

I cocked my head at the large gray stallion, “a strain of what?”

“That would be thyme,” Moonbeam informed me from where she was seated, though without a serving of her own. She apparently didn’t actually eat, her organic components maintained by various talismans.

Ramparts returned with the rest of the breakfast he’d made, looking around, “time for what?” then the stallion froze in place, closed his eyes, and began to curse rather loudly while several of the others lost their composure and took up a raucous laugh, leaving only Arginine and I to stare in confusion.

Fortunately, Moonbeam was kind enough to explain the basis for their mirth while we ate, “why would anypony name it that anyway? It’s like they were trying to create confusion!” I then received a rather lengthy lecture on the subject of the ancient ponies of southern Equestria and the dialect of Old Ponish that they spoke at the time and how, while that language was eventually supplanted by modern Equestrian, a lot of the names for things that those ancient ponies had discovered endured.

Or something to that effect. I had honestly faded in and out a few times while she was talking.

Curiously amusing misunderstandings aside, the rest of the meal went by quite pleasantly. It was the perfect follow-up to a comfortable night of uninterrupted sleep, and it touched upon something deep within me that I hadn’t felt in, well...not since leaving home, honestly. Looking around the cobbled together table with all of these ponies enjoying a home-cooked meal and chatting affably with one another I was struck by those bygone sensations of something familiar, yet long lost:

Family. These ponies felt like family.

Well, some of them at any rate. Starlight and Moonbeam were still pretty new faces compared to the others, and I still didn’t know as much about them as the others. Heck, I was still learning new things about Ramparts! Though, I guess that wasn’t so very different from my actual blood relations. I had, after all, only yesterday made some new discoveries regarding my own ancestry. But that was part of growing up and deepening those bonds with your family, wasn’t it? You weren’t born knowing everything about your parents or your siblings. You learned them, slowly, over the course of your lives with them, and grew closer to one another through shared experiences.

I couldn’t think of a better way to describe these other five ponies, and it seemed pretty clear by now that we weren’t going to be leaving each other’s company any time soon.

A family breakfast. The first I’d had in a long, long, time.

“You okay, Windy?” Foxglove asked me in a low voice as she leaned in, looking a little concerned, “is something wrong?”

It was only at that moment that I realized my eye was burning and a little bit of dampness had been seeping out the corner. I quickly wiped away at the burgeoning tear and smiled broadly at the violet unicorn, “just happy,” I told her. Foxglove appeared briefly confused, but then smiled herself and glanced around the table before nodding her understanding.

Then I felt somepony tap me on my shoulder and looked up to see Moonbeam standing behind me, her gaze directed towards the outer wall of the house, “the Steel Rangers are approaching the house. Approximately five hundred meters out and closing,” then she added, “radio chatter suggests a dozen individuals.”

I felt myself tense up reflexively. A dozen Steel Rangers? Considering that all I wanted to do was talk with Hoplite about getting them to help the valley fight off Arginine’s stable, that seemed a bit...excessive. Admittedly, that was about the number of Rangers that I’d encountered every time so far, but both of those prior encounters had been when they were assaulting fortified positions filled with combatants.

Is that what they were expecting this time too, or was that just how the Rangers traveled?

Please, I thought, don’t let it be the former. All I want is to talk. That’s it. Don’t let this become another stupid fight…

With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself back from my nearly finished plate, “everypony gear up,” I announced, “the Rangers are almost here. A lot of them. A lot more than you need for a simple ‘friendly chat’,” all around the table, I could see the concerned expressions of the other ponies, “hopefully they won’t start anything, but…”

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst,” Ramparts nodded as he too stepped away from the meal and went to secure his gear.

“Right,” I sighed, “Moonbeam, I want you to stay inside and out of sight,” I could think of only one thing that would compel the Rangers to want to take such an aggressive posture with our group: we currently had their ‘stolen property’. I’d been given Hoplite’s personal assurance that the Steel Rangers wouldn’t want anything to do with Moonbeam, knowing that she wasn’t actually technology, but a living pony. However, I also needed to consider that Hoplite didn’t actually command the entirety of the Steel Rangers, and might not even be present here today.

“Ramparts, you too,” I added. Before the earth pony stallion could protest, I continued with, “I don’t want them associating us with the Republic, and your courser barding will undermine that. You too, Starlight,” while not an actual Republic soldier, her barding was still an NLR design, “you three can provide support if things go sideways, but not before.”

All three ponies agreed, if reluctantly. That left myself, Foxglove, and Arginine to be the trio that went out to meet the Rangers. We all donned our respective barding and made certain that our weapons were functional. I noted that my own armament had shifted considerably from what it was during my initial confrontation with the technophile order. Gone were my twin set of submachine guns and their varied assortment of ammunition. I still had the carbine available as an option if I really wanted it, but…

This wasn’t going to be like the fight at the Arc Lightning factory. There wouldn’t be places to set up firing lines and take cover behind overturned desks. If things did go south, and the Steel Rangers started shooting, engaging them from a distance wasn’t going to go well for me. There would be too many of them to effectively dodge their weapons fire. Staying in close and making them hesitate out of fear of hitting their comrades was how they’d need to be fought. I knew that the sharp wing-blades of my Gale Force was capable of slicing through their power armor in its more vulnerable locations. Even my compact pistol was of a high enough caliber to punch through when the muzzle was just about pressed up against it.

My eyes went to the pair of ancient forelimb bracers that I’d found last night. I’d seen what a blast from them could do at range. A tactile hit from one of those things would probably hurt a Ranger pretty good too.

If it came to that. Merciful Celestia, please don’t let it come to that…

“They’re here,” Foxglove said from the doorway of my parent’s old bedroom where I was getting ready, “Arginine and I are as ready as we’ll ever be, and the others have set up barricades along the outer wall of the house. Just in case.”

The violet unicorn was clearly hoping that this wouldn’t turn into a fight either. I secured the last clasp on my new bracers and briefly glanced in the direction that the Rangers were approaching from. I could now see the dozen amber blips that denoted them with my Eyes Forward Sparkle. I noted that, if they were close enough to be picked up by my pipbuck, then that meant that Ramparts, Starlight, and Moonbeam would also be ‘visible’ to the Rangers’ own detection suite that was built into their power armor. That couldn’t be helped.

I looked now to the unicorn mare, noting Arginine’s large bulk standing just beyond her. Both ponies were wearing their barding. Foxglove’s eldritch lance was slung across her back, but her rifle was nowhere in sight. Clearly she’d reasoned that any fight would be at close range as well, and that her lance would prove far more valuable. The gray stallion had his modified energy rifle tucked away neatly at his side.

A mechanic mare, and a scientist stallion; but, for the moment, both of them looked a lot less like the technically-minded ponies that they were, and a lot more like mercenary soldiers. A wan smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I contemplated the pair of ponies. In a better world, neither of them would probably have ever touched a gun of any sort. Even myself who, but for a twist of fate, would have just been a farm pony living a sedentary life, looked as far removed from a ranch hoof as could be imagined.

I caught sight of myself in the dingy mirror of my mother’s old vanity, and saw my own dirt-smudged face, covered by a black patch to hide the scarred-over flesh where an eye had once been. What might have once been a smooth white coat speckled with burs in my fur where shrapnel had marred my flesh. My teal-streaked mane was shaggy and unevenly cut where close calls with energy weapons had burned patches away. Once brilliant blue and gold barding was faded and spoiled by dried blood and scorch marks.

Idly, I wondered exactly where that cute little filly that I remembered myself being had gone, and how long ago it had been since she’d been replaced by this mare that I was looking at right now. A mare who looked a lot more like the very raiders that I had spent my life fighting than a ‘Hero of the Wasteland’ that Homily made me sound like in her broadcasts.

Still, I could at least take some small measure of comfort in the knowledge that, while I looked nothing like the plucky young hero I styled myself as being; I did look exactly like the kind of pony who was allowed to think she stand hoof-to-hoof with a group and Steel Rangers and make them flinch before I did. I donned my enclave helmet and turned away from the mirror, “let’s go meet the neighbors.”

It was immediately obvious that Hoplite wasn’t among the Rangers that had come to see us. The Saddle Arabian ghoul was hard to miss with her towering height, slight figure, and her painted green power armor. I took that to be an unfortunate sign. Of all the Rangers in the valley, Star Paladin Hoplite would have been the closest thing to a sympathetic ear that I could have expected within the organization.

That wasn’t to say that there wasn’t a Ranger that didn’t stand out from the group. They weren’t anypony that I recognized, but it was obvious that they were the pony in charge. While every other armored pony looked nearly identical to one another, save for their choice of armament, this pony’s barding was gilded with golden motifs and additions that served a clearly aesthetic purpose, rather than a functional one. Steel plates reinforced their joints, molded to look like the skulls of roaring ponies, each with rubies for eyes that glimmered in the morning overcast.

I felt myself frown as we approached them. This was quite clearly a pony who had a really high opinion of themselves. Whether that sense of grandeur was well deserved or not, I felt like I knew that talking with them was going to be an...unpleasant experience.

Hope for the best, Windfall, I echoed Ramparts’ own earlier mantra as I came to a stop at what I hoped was a reasonable from the Steel Rangers. I didn’t want to march right up on them and come off as confrontational, but nor did I want them to get the sense that I was intimidated. I mean, I was feeling intimidated―one of those Rangers had quad missile launchers!―but I didn’t want it to be too obvious to this pony in the skull barding.

“Good morning,” I began our interaction, trying to gain even the slightest leverage by taking control of the conversation, “I was expecting to speak with Star Paladin Hoplite,” I looked up and down the line of Steel Rangers arrayed opposite us, “and I was also expecting a lot fewer of you,” maybe that’s where I should have ended things, but I was The Wonderbolt, the most badass pegasus in the entire Neighvada Valley, so I smirked at Skull-pony, “don’t tell me you’re so scared of little old me that you need to bring a whole army just for a friendly chat?”

That earned me a few annoyed growls from a few of the Rangers. A couple shied ever-so-slightly away from me though. I suspected that I must have had something of a reputation with these ponies by now, especially with Miss Neighvada bragging about The Wonderbolt’s exploits. Of course, that probably meant that there were more than a few Rangers standing here who were also feeling motivated to knock me down a peg or two. Only Steel Rangers were allowed to be certified badasses, after all.

Well, them and the Enclave.

I had to admit that I was a little surprised to hear a chuckle from Skull-pony in response to my taunt, “Initiate Hoplite was right about you, Wonderbolt,” a rich baritone replied. I didn’t miss the stress that he placed upon the new rank, which I also recognized as a much lower one that she’d had during our last meeting. That struck me as a bad sign, and my hoped that this meeting would end cordially began to wane. That feeling was compounded as his statement, which could easily have ended in a complementary fashion, took a sharp, downward, turn, “your overinflated ego does you a great disservice.

He then abruptly changed tacts, “where is the robot? We know you have it here with you. Surrender it now, and maybe I’ll change my mind about executing you and your friends for your folley.”

It was my turn to growl now, “I’d like to see you try,” I was already pretty sure that this was all going to go sideways any minute, but I tried once more to get things going back the way that I’d hoped, “I had a deal with Hoplite: I get Moonbeam away from the Republic, and you end your war with them. I did my part. Now I’m asking you to hold up your end, and to ask you to help protect the Wasteland from another, bigger, threat.”

“We are not mercenaries to be negotiated with to settle your petty, barbarian, squabbles with one another,” Skull responded indignantly, “ours is a higher calling. A noble crusade for the good of all posterity, and we will not be dissuaded from it. Now,” my attention wavered briefly as I noticed several of the other Rangers training their weapons on the three of us, “this will be the last time I ask: surrender the machine.”

“Her name,” I stressed, “is Moonbeam; and she’s not going anywhere with you.”

Skull was laughing again, but I got no sense that it was a mirthful one. Each cackle oozed with derision, “they named it! You simpleton; you don’t have the faintest idea what that thing is, do you? That weapon is dangerous, and it can absolutely not be trusted in the hooves of barbarians like yourselves!

“Return it to our care, or the lives of you and your friends will be ended here and now.”

Every blip went red.

Why did it have to be like this? It wasn’t fair.

A cold chill ran down my spine as I noticed that the other eleven Rangers had all, by now, leveled their weapons at the three of us. With the Gale Force, I knew that I could move fast enough to take the initiative in the fight and get in a few hits before they could take me out. By then, I’d be right up next to them, and there’d be no way for them to mass their fire like they could now.

The story was different for Foxglove and Arginine though. RG could manifest a magical barrier, I knew, but there was no way that it could endure for long enough to keep himself and the violet unicorn mare alive while they got somewhere safe. There was no way that Ramparts was going to be able to provide nearly enough fire support to suppress the Rangers.

Skull’s smugness turned out to be pretty well justified. I wasn’t seeing a lot of options available to us that ended with all six of us walking away from here with our lives. Maybe if I could stall for time, something would come to me, or I’d catch an opening…

“Keep him talking,” I heard Moonbeam say over my helmet’s headset. I had to fight back an urge to respond to her. While there was little likelihood that anypony but me could have heard what she said, they’d certainly hear any reply I’d make. In lieu of any worthwhile plan of my own, I was perfectly willing to act on somepony else’s.

So, I bottled up my frustration, bit back any one of several antagonizing quips that I would much rather have made, and put on my best ‘let’s come to an arrangement’ face as I looked at the lead Ranger, “you’re right,” I admitted, trying to sound as sincere as I could, “I really don’t know a whole lot about what I’m dealing with when it comes to Moo―er, that robot...thing,” I shrugged, “but I do know that it has this really cool robopony body. One that’s a lot fancier than any of the other toasters rumbling through the ruins around here.”

As I spoke, I noted that a scrolling wall of text had appeared in the upper left corner of my Enclave helmet’s visor, in a similar fashion to what my pipbuck would show me when it had alerts for me. Only these weren’t any sort of alerts that I’d ever seen before. In fact, it was hard to make any sense of most of what I was seeing, it was crawling by so fast. What I could catch was barely readable anyway, seeming like random combinations of letters and numbers that only occasionally resembled awkwards abbreviations of words.
However, there was one bit that I could make out clearly, and it wasn’t moving. It appeared to be the title of whatever program or operation was running:

>>POSEIDON CONTROL

I recognized that word. It had been written on the chamber where that foal had been kept beneath McMaren. It had stood for what again? Project something-or-other Network? I was pretty sure it had a lot to do with the computers that used the brains of foals like Moonbeam. I had to guess that was what the mare was doing now: using that supercomputer in her head to do...something. Whatever it was clearly needed more time, so that meant I had to keep these Rangers talking until it was ready.

“I’m betting it’s got to be pretty advanced,” I went on, my confidence boosted slightly by the fact that none of us had been blown to bits quite yet, “advanced enough that you’re not sure you could catch up with it if you just wiped us out here and spooked her...it,” I waved my hoof around at the gathered Steel Rangers, “isn’t for me...is it?”

My eyes were drawn back to my display as the stream of letters and numbers ended, replaced now by a message:

>>INTERFACING COMPLETE.

>>MWT OS OVERRIDE PROTOCOLS ONLINE.

>>ZAP_APPLE_JAM.EXE VIRUS READY FOR UPLOAD.

Then Moonbeam’s voice was back in my ear. Only, this time it sounded...flat; disinterested, “Electronic warfare countermeasures ready for distribution. Limitations in local relay data transmission systems restrict upload to one target at a time. Twelve targets identified. Estimated time to completion of upload to all targets: seventeen minutes.”

“seventeen min―!” I somehow managed to catch myself mid outburst and forced myself into a coughing fit to cover the rest of what I’d been about to say out loud. I finished up with a few pounds to my chest and offered an apologetic grin to Skull, “sorry. All the dust. I should probably invest in a respirator like you’ve got, Mister…?” I prompted, realizing he’d yet to give his name, and that seemed like a sure-fire way to get him to keep talking.

I still had no idea how I was going to be able to stall these guys for seventeen minutes! Moonbeam had to be out of her half-computer mind! And what was with that weird monotone voice of hers?

“Star Paladin Achilles,” the Ranger sneered through his armor’s speaker system, “and you are correct, you are not regarded as nearly enough of a threat to our order to warrant a team this size. If all we wanted was to kill you, I’d have just come here on my own to do the deed,” he chuckled again, “I’d have already been on my way back to the stronghold by now, in fact…”

I very nearly pulled a muscle keeping my eye from rolling at the comment; and almost popped a blood vessel as I noted the progress bar that had appeared on my visor’s display to denote the upload process was at 0.2% and crawling upward with agonizing slowness. Horse. Fucking. Apples.

“But,” the Star Paladin went on, seemingly irritated at the thought of conceding any point to me, “you are mostly correct also as to why we’ve spared your lives thus far. The Elder advised me that if there was a chance to make you see reason and give up the AI willingly, I should at least make the attempt. It is quite dangerous, as you pointed out.

“To that end: what would it take to convince you to return the AI?”

There we go! I had him negotiating. This was something that might be able to be drawn out long enough to buy Moonbeam the time she needed for that upload of hers. If I made the right combination of concessions and demands to keep us talking, while making Achilles feel like actual progress was being made, we might actually pull this off!

“In addition to the obvious guarantee that you let me and my friends leave unharmed?” I prompted.

“Windy, you’re not serious?!” Foxglove hissed at me, but I held up a hoof and glared briefly at the mare. She huffed but quieted down.

“Naturally,” the Star Paladin nodded, “you barbarians like caps and guns, isn’t that right? I’m certain the Steel Rangers can adequately compensate you with both. Name a price, and we’ll see what can be done from there.”

I frowned slightly, feigning thinking of a number. The Steel Rangers were huge players in the Wasteland, and they’d been at war for the better part of two decades trying to get Moonbeam back. I couldn’t really even comprehend the staggering cost in lives, weapons, ammunition, supplies and powered barding that must have been expended over that time. I could spit out a number in the millions and that probably wouldn’t be a drop in the bucket compared to what they’d already wasted trying to do what I accomplished in an evening.

While that thought prompted a chortle that needed to be stifled, it did leave me with a bit of a conundrum: what demand could I possibly make that Achilles wouldn’t just accept out of hoof and totally destroy my plan to draw this out? I mean, I was sure he’d try to haggle me down on any amount of caps that was indecently large, if only on principal, but the bottom line was that the pockets of the Steel Rangers were so deep that the two of us would inevitably reach an agreement far too quickly. After that, there’d be no way I could stall for time without being obvious about it. He might have an ego on him, but whether it was justified or not, this was the kind of pony who wasn’t going to shy away from pulling the trigger first if he decided I was trying to play him.

I smiled broadly at the armored stallion, “I’ve got plenty of caps. A lifetime of bounty hunting will do that,” I said dismissively, “and this is the Wasteland. You can’t take three steps through some ruins without tripping over a rifle or a box of grenades. I mean, the whole world was a warzone after all,” both of those statements were true enough, and helped me justify the lead in to my initial demand, “what I’m a lot more interested in is services in lieu of payment,” I sat myself down on the hard scrabble, adopting a relaxed pose and suggesting that we might be talking for a while.

“I’ve already told you that we are not mercenaries,” Achilles stressed, sounding obviously irritated.

“So? You can do other things for me besides fight,” I pointed out, “information, connections, technology; the Steel Rangers have a lot that they can offer me that will go a lot farther than some measly caps and a stack of rifles.”

The Star Paladin was silent for several long moments, and I found myself wondering if maybe I’d already managed to push to hard. I stole a glance at the progress bar: 4.3%. I mentally screamed. Then, much to my relief, the Steel Ranger said, “and what, precisely, do you have in mind then?”

Alright, I had him negotiating, and for something that I hopefully would have to fight pretty hard to get out of him. Now all I had to do was reach farther than he was willing to go, listen to his counter-offer and draw things out from there, “I want the location or every Old World Ministry facility in the entire Neighvada Valley,” I began, “Wartime Tech, Awesome, Peace, Morale, all of them. Stables too. Everything from the Great War that you guys know about, whether you’ve already investigated them or not. Along with all of the information you have about them.”

Again, Achilles was silent for a few more seconds before speaking, “I assume you intend to raid such places for equipment. I’ve already offered you money and arms. Why not take the easy payout?”

“I already told you: I’ve got money, and weapons are everywhere. I’m interested in fortified installations and advanced tech from the Great War,” I replied, hoping that my emphasis on the latter would help to trigger his inherent Steel Ranger impulse to deny my request. After all, one of their chief tenets was keeping tech out of the hooves of other ponies, right?

“I don’t know if Hoplite mentioned this, but the Valley is facing a bit of an invasion. To fight that, I’m going to need access to fortified bunkers to use as safehouses and staging areas to combat them, and I’m going to want as much of what Old Equestria used to fight the zebras as I can get my hooves on. Bonus points if you know about any megaspells that the MAS had stashed in the valley that were never used in the war,” I was hoping that I hadn’t pushed things too far with that last bit. If nothing else, it gave Achilles a pretty obvious place to start pushing back.

The counter hit 8.4%. At the same time, one of the hash marks on my EFS flipped from crimson to amber. One down, but still a whole lot to go. Now I just needed to be ready to pick out a few parts of the Steel Ranger’s counter offer to insist on to keep us talking. I’d let him keep any megaspell locations secret, of course, and any places he insisted had technology too powerful for ‘barbarian’ ponies, but I should be able to insist that he―

“Agreed.”

My brain tripped over itself, “wait, what.”

“I agree to your demands,” Achilles amended, sounding a little annoyed. Though there was also a note of resignation in his tone as well, as though he recognized that the price was rather steep, but not wholly unreasonable somehow, and a price worth paying for what they were getting out of the deal. Was he crazy?! I just asked for access to Old Equeatia super-weapons! He’d just reminded me, like, five minutes ago that the Steel Rangers were explictly tasked with stopping ponies like me from getting their hooves on those!

No. no, he wasn’t crazy, I realized. But I’d clearly misjudged something. I just didn’t know what it was yet. I narrowed my eyes at the Star Paladin, “I mean it: every Old World government installation in the valley, no matter how small or what’s inside it.”

“I understand completely,” the armored stallion insisted, “I will fully comply with that request. Here.”

I received a smattering of update notifications on my EFS. Incredulous, I whipped up my pipbuck and flicked over to the map. There were seven new locations on it that hadn’t been there a moment ago. The regional hubs for the Ministries of Morale, Peace, Wartime Technology, and Image, as well as two stables, and one marker which bore the name: Shetland Base Annex. I noted in the back of my head that none of these markers were anywhere near where I knew the Ministry of Awesome weapons cache to be. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to take this as a good sign that it meant the Steel Rangers hadn’t already raided it themselves, or an indication that, as the group most likely to have come across information about the cache in their own records, that it demonstrated Achilles was holding back.

“How do I know this is everything?” I asked, favoring the armored stallion with a suspicious glare. This was going way too well. So well, in fact, that it was a complete disaster! The upload wasn’t even a tenth of the way done!

“Frankly, you don’t,” the Star Paladin responded nonchalantly, “but I can’t think of any way to prove that’s all we have in any way that you couldn’t reasonably dispute. Suffice it to say that there is a reason that the Steel Rangers never had a permanent presence in the Neighvada Valley prior to the theft of our property by the Commonwealth. Simply put: there is nothing of consequence here for us, and never has been. What few facilities are here that we deemed of value, we have thoroughly stripped during the last twenty years.”

Now, I knew that wasn’t true. The Rangers hadn’t touched that bunker beneath McMaren after all…

Then I remembered that Hoplite had admitted to not knowing about the bunker beneath the military complex. They’d thought they were just scouring an old ruin on the surface. Everything I’d learned so far during my own travels had suggested that, yeah, the Ministry of Wartime Technology hadn’t had a huge presence in the valley, save for a couple of civilian contractors and factories. Most of the region’s secrets seemed to connect to the Ministry of Awesome, and I’d discovered that that ministry had been bending over backwards to hide its activities from everypony, even their sister ministries.

Achilles probably had just given me everything that I’d asked for. Ministry hubs, bases, stables―

My eyes went wide and my head whipped around to look at RG, “what number was your stable?”

“126,” the somber stallion replied simply.

I stared down at the map. The number 126 hovered above a cogwheel icon that denoted one of the ancient fortified bunkers built during the Great War. We had it. We had the precise location of Arginine’s stable.

“Now then,” Achilles cleared his throat, “since your demands have been satisfied to your own satisfaction, give over the AI.”

Not even 15% yet. I needed more time, but there was none left to have. Not really. How long could I possibly stall?

Stall? Who was I kidding? This Star Paladin wasn’t going to have any of that. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t still buy at least buy a few more minutes. After that...well, we’d have to hope for a miracle, “Foxglove, go back and get the robopony. Bring it out here.”

“What?!” the mare blurted once more, “Windfall―”

I turned and fixed the mare with a hard stare, “the nice Steel Ranger just gave us everything we asked for. All he wants in return is a dumb robot. So go back to the house and send out the dumb robot that he wants to see.”

The emphasis on the last word was subtle, and I hoped that it sounded to the Rangers like I was scolding the unicorn mare. I hoped as well that Foxglove had caught my meaning. It was hard to tell from her expression, because she was still quite incredulous at the thought that I appeared to be giving up Starlight Glimmer’s daughter to the Steel Rangers. Obviously, she was quite right to believe that this was not something that I would, in my right mind, ever do. Whether or not she grasped that I was trying to hint at my desire to do something else was up in the air.

As an added measure, I stood up and approached the mare, maintaining my annoyed demeanor, “now get your flank back there and bring back that piece of two-hundred year old junk,” I jabbed the mare stiffly in the chest with my hoof. At about the precise point where the control gem on the holographic rig would have been when it was being worn. Again, I stressed, “he wants to see that robot.”

Finally I saw realization dawn in the unicorn’s eyes. Slowly, she nodded her head, her eyes darting between me and the Star Paladin, “right...I’ll go and get her. It,” she corrected before turning and trotting off back towards the house. I suppressed a frown as I saw her moving at such a brisk pace. Of course, Foxglove didn’t know about whatever it was that Moonbeam was doing to the Steel Rangers or the little progress timer that only I could see; so she couldn’t possibly have known about my desire for everything to move along at as slow a pace as was excusable.

This left me and Arginine with the dozen power-armored ponies. Two of which now identified as amber on my EFS. Watching that little golden bar in silence was going to drive me out of what was left of my mind. So, “you’re pretty determined to get that robot back,” I observed. As long as these Rangers were feeling like talking instead of shooting, I might as well try to get as much information as I could out of them. What harm could it do, “I don’t understand why though. Sure, it’s pretty advanced,” even a mechanically ignorant pony like myself could clearly see that Moonbeam’s chassis was on a completely different level from your run-of-the-mill robopony, “but is it really worth all this?” I waved a hoof at the gathered Rangers, “it’s just a little robopony.”

“A barbarian like you could never hope to comprehend how powerful such technology is,” Achilles scoffed. I grit my teeth and resisted the urge to retort. I wanted him to keep talking, “the affair at Seaddle all those years ago was a mere fraction of its potential. Left unchecked, it could devastate the entire Wasteland a hundred times over; more damaging than even a rampant megaspell.

“If it were up to me, I would just as soon destroy the blasted thing and be rid of the threat it poses,” the Star Paladin continued, prompting me to take careful note of what he was saying now, “but the Elder insists such treasures must be sequestered and protected. Our mandate is to protect the treasures of our ancestors, not destroy them. As their instructions aren’t for me to question, I will comply with those orders.”

“It’s just one little robot,” I pointed out again, my face contorted in confusion, “how dangerous could it be?” Moonbeam? More dangerous than a megaspell? I couldn’t see it.

“It’s not my job to educate you on ancient Equestrian history. Suffice it to say that the AI in that robopony was the culmination of a strategy being developed to counter the dragons being employed by the zebras and finally secure Equestrian airspace against future incursions.

“That’s the kind of power that’s being discussed here, and why we want it back.”

Okay, so, yeah, that sounded like something that was pretty dangerous to trust in the hooves of just anypony. Then a thought occurred to me, “wait a minute...if that thing was supposed to be so ultra powerful that dragons couldn’t win against it, then how come four Republican soldiers were able to take it down so easily?” this question I posed to Arginine, hoping that the much smarter pony would be able to answer such a question, because I couldn’t fathom it. Yeah, the Princess Luna robot had certainly been tough, no argument there, but secure-all-of-Equestria tough? Not likely…

Before I could get an answer though, there was a, “Sir!” and one of the Steel Rangers pointed, getting the attention of their commander and indicating behind us. We all reflexively looked in that direction, and I saw Moonbeam approaching us. Or, rather, I saw what I really hoped was Foxglove in the holographic rig disguised as Moonbeam…

“It’s refreshing to have something go smoothly for once,” the Star Paladin said in a bemused tone.

I’ll admit, that triggered the mildest of guilty feelings deep down within me, hearing that. How many times in my life had I wanted something to go nice and easy, only to have it not? I mean, this very interaction with these Steel Rangers was the latest in a long line of disappointing encounters. And now the metaphorical rug was about to be yanked right out from under these Rangers, and to me benefit to boot!

Frankly, it was karmic justice for the wrench they’d just thrown into my own plans, but I couldn’t help but empathize. Just a little.

The progress bar in the corner of my visor went into overdrive, speeding to completion in a matter of seconds, and suddenly I saw nothing but soothing amber blips beneath all of the Steel Rangers. I blinked in surprise, but didn’t even have time to fully appreciate the miraculous stroke of luck before my brain once more experienced a jarring lurch as the approaching robopony spoke in Moonbeam’s voice. Still retaining that flat monotone that teased at the hackles on the back of my neck.

Speaking of plans not going smoothly...

“You are advised to withdraw from this area,” the metallic mare instructed, her dispassion sending a shiver through my spine. I experienced a vivid flashback to my time beneath McMaren and the roboponies I’d encountered there. This wasn’t the same Moonbeam that I’d just been having breakfast with, I realized. This was...something else.

This was the AI. This was, “Poseidon…?”

I hadn’t even known that I asked the question aloud, but it managed to escape my lips in my surprise. The robopony’s head turned, favoring me with a look from the pinprick pupils of its rosy pink eyes, “assessment correctness: marginal. Primary control node of Poseidon Initiative retains unique network ID: Selene,” she then returned her attention to the gathered Steel Rangers, “order repeats: withdraw to a distance of one kilometer, or face elimination. You have five minutes to comply.”

“Woah, hey, Moonbeam!” I hopped in between the robopony and the Rangers, again feeling that foreboding sense of deja vu, “let’s not go eliminating anypony okay! They’re leaving,” I turned my head to the gathered Rangers, “right? Please?”

They weren’t going to leave. Nor did any of them seem to be particularly phased by what the robopony was saying, “let’s not make this difficult,” Achilles sighed, “or I’ll be forced to deactivate you and drag your metal rump back to the bunker. I received a briefing on your schematics, and I know for a fact you down have any weapons built into your chassis, so let’s not pretend you’re any kind of threat us like this.

“Especially not when I have the command codes,” the Star Paladin snorted dismissively.

“You now have four minutes and forty seconds to vacate the area to a distance of one kilometer,” was all that Moonbeam―er, Selene, I guess, said in response.

“Fine, have it your way,” Achilles sighed, “voice command: program termination. Authorization code: Light’s out.”

The stylishly armored stallion looked at the robopony expectantly for several seconds. I looked between the both of them. Clearly he had expected something to happen and, honestly, I’d been afraid that something would too. However, nothing really seemed to. Selene continued to stand there, staring down the Rangers arrayed against her.

Soon, the Star Paladin gave a frustrated grunt and repeated in a more pronounced tone, “I said: program terminate; authorization code: Light’s out. Comply! What is wrong with this stupid thing,” he grumbled.

“You now have four minutes and twenty seconds to vacate the area to a distance of one kilometer.”

“Terminate! Light’s out!” Achilles screamed at the robopony through his helmet.

Then the robopony snorted. A moment later, it did it again, and then a spurt of laughter followed as the flat voice melted away, replaced by the much more vibrant synthesized vocals that I’d come to associate with Moonbeam. Considering that the reaction resulted even RG’s eyebrows, I could only assume that Achilles’ eyes were as wide as my own, “wow, I wish I could see your faces!” the robopony cackled. Then, she quipped, “oh, wait; I can!”

She sat back on her haunches and clopped her metal hooves together. On cue, all twelve of the helmets of the Steel Rangers hissed and parted, revealing the stunned faces of the living ponies beneath. They immediately recoiled and looked around, gaping between their barding and their fellows. Except for the bronze-coated furious Achilles, who recovered enough of his composure to equip a suitably furious glare at Moonbeam, which only made her laugh even harder.

“Why aren’t you offline?!” he blurted, “and why are you laughing? Robots don’t laugh!”

“But ponies do,” Moonbeam fired back in a mirthful tone, “and to answer your first question: Selene is offline,” the robopony rubbed her chin pensively, “I didn’t think anypony but Ebony Song had those codes. Good to know. I’ll have to see if there’s any way I can change them, or this is just going to get inconvenient…”

Achilles opened and closed his mouth several times in consternation. His golden brown complexion was growing steadily more crimson, so I took the initiative and interjected myself into the conversation in the hopes of defusing things, “Star Paladin Achilles? I’d like to introduce you to Moonbeam. She’s the actual―living―pony at this thing’s heart. She’s not a program.”

“Correct,” Moonbeam nodded, her synthetic lips spreading in a broad smile, “though, in fairness, you were speaking with a program just a minute ago,” she glanced over at me, “I brought Selene out for a bit to hack their barding. The Ministry of Awesome was ever so naughty back in the day,” she winked, “they didn’t limit themselves to developing electronic countermeasures against just enemy computer systems.”

She straightened up and fixed the Rangers with a much sterner look now, “I have full access to the operating systems of your power armor. My range is limited, I will admit, but at this moment―and while I’m this close―you are less than powerless against me,” even though I wasn’t the target of Moonbeam’s ire, I could still feel myself cringing away from the ice in her voice. I suppose that I could understand her animosity. These ponies had effectively kept her locked up in a cupboard, unconscious, for a long time; and they were only here now to do it again.

I’d be a little put out too, if I was in her place.

“So,” her lips pulled themselves into a sneer, “all of you are in fact, going to turn your happy flanks around and leave. Is that clear?”

While the rest of the unmasked Rangers were looking appropriately worried, Achilles had managed to retain his scowl this whole while, “I am under orders to bring you back to the Elder, and I will―”

“Have to find a way to explain to the Elder that that’s not going to happen,” Moonbeam finished for him, “ever.”

“We are not leaving without you,” the Star Paladin stated flatly.

The robopony cocked her head and thought for a moment. Then, “okay. I accept,” he closed her eyes for a moment, bobbed her head, and then opened them again.

“Wait, what?” I asked, puzzled by what had just happened.

“I agree to their terms,” Moonbeam said matter-of-factly, “they’re never leaving.”

It was at that moment that I realized that the expressions of the faces of several of the Steel Rangers were indicative of ponies straining with valiant, yet futile, effort to move. Yet their barding remained rooted soundly in place. Those expressions began to shift very quickly to panic as they soon discovered that even the systems that I assumed existed to allow them to extract themselves from a suit of unpowered barding weren’t functional either.

Achilles was looking worried now.

“So, there’s some funny little hurdles involved in building a robot body that is designed to support a living organic core,” Moonbeam began, as though giving a lecture in a classroom, much to the chagrin of the Rangers, and my own bafflement. This felt like quite the non-sequenture, “chief among them: how do you keep that living core alive? I mean, I’ve got a brain―well, most of one, anyway―and you can’t just stuff a brain in a jar of saline and expect it to function like it always did. That’d just be silly!

“My living body needs sugars, and oxygen, and amino acids,” she went on, “just like anypony else. But eating and mechanical parts don’t mix all that well. Not that my body can eat all that much anyway,” she amended with a shrug, “I didn’t even have teeth when they stuck me in here!”

Then Moonbeam did something I didn’t think I’d ever see a robot do: she took a deep breath. At least, that’s what it sounded like, “nothing like a breath of fresh air,” she smiled, “and it turns out that’s all it takes; because air has everything you need for life: hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen―all the building blocks for the sugars and proteins that ponies need to live!”

“What I’m getting at is that, thanks to an absurdly sophisticate array of conversion talismans, and a prototype arcane reactor that I think might run on just a tiny bit of Impelled Metamorphosis Potion, as long as there’s air for me to breath, I can just squat my shiny metal ass out here in the middle of nowhere and be perfectly fine for several weeks. I mean, I’ll eventually need to either swap out a couple spark batteries or find a generator to plug into for a bit, but that’s a long way off right about now.”

Moonbeam hesitated and looked between all of the Steel Rangers, “how long can you sit in that barding of yours and be perfectly okay?”

Once again, Achilles was the only one who managed to maintain their composure, but even I could spot the cracks in his otherwise stoic expression, “more will come for us when we don’t report back,” he warned.

“...and the moment they get close, I’ll infect their power armor with the same virus that’s locking up yours,” she said in a bored tone, then, “now, here’s the thing: I’ll let you know right now that I am well aware that your suits have anti-virus suites, and that they’re even now working on getting everything moving again. I know this because I’ve been re-uploading that virus the whole time we’ve been talking. I may have needed Selene to open the door initially, and do all the heavy lifting at first, but even the organic part of me can just hit the mental equivalent of ‘ctrl+v’ on whatever it was that the AI did the first time.

“As long as I’m right here, you’re all stuck, exactly where you are, until I chose to leave,” again the robopony was regarding the Steel Rangers with a cold stare, “and I’m not going anywhere until you’ve agreed to leave me alone. Forever.

“I’m not your property. I never was, and I never will be.

“So what’ll it be?” she finished, regarding Achilles expectantly. He was silent. After a few seconds, Moonbeam looked at me, “you can all go back inside and finish breakfast. I’ve got things covered out here. It looks like it might be a while. On the bright side: I only need to keep this up for, like, three or four days. They’ll all have died of thirst by then…”

“Fine,” the Star Paladin growled reluctantly, “we’ll withdraw. For now.”

“‘For now’ doesn’t sound like ‘forever’,” Moonbeam noted, “and I think that’s what I said,” before the stallion could reply, she shrugged, “but whatever. You can tell your fellow Rangers what I said, or not. That’s up to you. Just keep in mind I’m not going to be this forgiving next time,” the robopony narrowed her glowing pink eyes at the Star Paladin. Just then, his barding finally moved, in the form of his right hind leg jerking. However, the motion happened with such sudden speed, and to such an extreme degree that I winced when I heard the decidedly not mechanical crunching sound echoing from within.

Achilles screamed.

A moment later, the weapons attached to the barding of every Steel Ranger dismounted themselves and clattered to the ground. Then a few Rangers fell over as well as they found themselves unexpectedly having to support themselves now that their barding was no longer frozen in place. The Star Paladin was one of those who fell over, hissing through grinding teeth, his leg cocked out at an unnatural angle.

“Huh,” Moonbeam said, feigning disinterest as she brushed a bit of dirt off her hoof, “imagine that: I can freeze your barding or move it. Fascinating,” she looked down at the crippled Star Paladin, “did you know that the range of motion on power armor was greater than the range of motion of the average pony? I mean, I’m sure you know that now…

“Just something to keep in mind,” she looked to Arginine, “hey, big and tall; be a dear and collect their weapons? We’ll call it a ‘stupid tax’,” the large gray stallion nodded and an amber glow surrounded the scattered weapons and levitated them towards us, “you two head back,” Moonbeam said, “I’ll make sure they don’t loiter.”

I looked first to the robopony, and then to RG. He regarded me questioningly, but I bobbed my head in the direction of the house. He paused for a moment, and then walked away, floating the weapons in a loose cloud around him as he headed back to the others. I chose to remain with Moonbeam and watch as the Steel Rangers collected themselves, and their hobbling commander, and eventually started making their way back in the direction that they had came. The look that Achilles gave the both of us could be summed up rather succinctly in a single word:

Hate.

This wasn’t going to be the last that the two of us heard from that stallion. Of that, I felt sure.

When they were finally gone from sight, I heard Moonbeam’s resigned sigh. Which, I now knew was more than just a simple affectation, “well,” she said with a wan smile, “that could have gone better…”

“It sure couldn’t have gone much worse,” I agreed as the two of us finally started making our way back to the house, “we’re lucky you were here,” I noted to the robopony.

“If I hadn’t been, they wouldn’t have either,” she pointed out, “this was the least that Selene and I could do,” the frown was there only briefly before the robopony hid it behind a weary smile, but I still caught it.

“How does that work, exactly: the whole AI thing?” I remembered Trellis, and how it had been clear that she was acting separate from the computer program that had been controlling the underground facility. Then again in the throne room in Seaddle, and dealing with the Princess Luna robot that I could now see didn’t seem to possess anywhere near the awareness that Moonbeam obviously did, “do you really control it, or…?”

“No, not really,” the robopony shook her head, “the computer uses my brain, but it’s not a part of me. Not like you’re thinking. Whenever it’s in control, it’s like I’m dreaming. I’m kind of aware of what’s going on, but it’s...distant. Like everything I’m seeing is happening to somepony else. I can’t control what Selene does.”

“But you can turn it on and off at will,” I noted.

“Ehhh…” she said, hesitantly, “on? Yeah. That’s as easy as blinking. Off? Well…” she frowned, “if I can catch it while it’s not doing anything important I can usually get control back pretty easily.”

“Wow. That’s gotta suck,” it was my turn to frown now, “but I thought the AI was supposed to be there to help you? Why would they make it so it’s hard to get control of your own body back?” then another thought occurred to me, “wait...why can it even take over at all?!”

Moonbeam smiled and lightly booped me on the nose, “give the mare a prize!” then the smile faded slightly, “the ponies that could answer those questions all died a long time ago. I certainly don’t have them. Though, given what I know about the MoA and the stuff they had their hooves in, I’ve concluded that their whole ‘Egghead’ thing to help foals like me wasn’t as altruistic as the brochures made it out to be.”

Again I thought of Trellis. What had their parents been told was happening to their child? When we’d first revived Starlight Glimmer, she railed about the Ministry of Awesome scientists running that facility as having lied to her about where her daughter really was and what they’d been doing to her. If the bombs hadn’t fallen when they had, I wondered what Moonbeam’s ultimate fate would have ended up being?

“Should I keep that ‘light’s out’ thing in mind then? As a way to snap you out of robo-mode?” I offered.

Moonbeam grimaced, “I’ve already changed the protocols,” the mare said tersely, “and I’ll be keeping the new pass phrases to myself. No offense.”

“Oh. Right, sure,” I didn’t press the issue, but I’d be lying if I said I was put completely at easy by her statements. If she found it difficult to reassert herself on her own, then why wouldn’t she want me or somepony else to be able to snap her back to herself for her? Maybe it was a robopony thing...or whatever she was. Cyberpony? It was hard to think of her that way, since there wasn’t all that much ‘meat’ in her makeup; and what there was...well, I couldn’t honestly bring myself to call that...thing that I’d seen in the tank a ‘pony’. I felt a little guilty thinking that way, and I wouldn’t―under pain of death―ever reveal that thought out loud, but the instinctive reluctance was still there.

‘Moonbeam’, to me, wasn’t that blob of disfigured limbs in the tank, speaking through a robopony body. She was a robopony who had a very unique processor. Whether that was the right or wrong way to think about it, I didn’t much care. I still liked her, regardless.

What I most certainly didn’t like was our overall situation. We were very quickly running out of places that I could turn to for help. Knowing the precise location of our target didn’t do us any good if we could muster the forces to actually do anything about it. The Republic wasn’t going to spare me anything more than a trip to the gallows if I went anywhere near them. Now it seemed that I’d lost whatever support I’d been building with the Steel Rangers too.

It turned my stomach a little to hear what had happened to Hoplite. I idly wondered if merely mentioning my offer to her superiors had been enough to earn her such a drastic demotion. From our last couple of meetings, I certainly couldn’t see her as being the type to stick her neck out there for me on anything, let alone something that would get her punished like that. Could she have had more integrity than I gave most Rangers credit for? She’d been around long enough to have known the original leadership that headed the Ministry of Wartime Technology, so I supposed that it was possible her sense of duty and what was ‘right’ didn’t completely jive with modern Ranger doctrine.

After all, as long as she’d been a part of the Steel Rangers, I suspected that there had to be a reason the ghoul hadn’t been elevated to the position of Elder…

So, two of the big super-powers in the Valley were now, officially, a wash. I could think of only three other major factions in the area:

Obviously, there was the Grand Pegasus Enlcave. Though, their inclusion on this short list was purely for academic reasons. The xenophobic fliers didn’t involved themselves with ‘surface matters’ as a rule. Even if I could figure out some way to get into contact with them, I couldn’t think of any way to get them to help us. They wouldn’t lift a feather unless they felt that Arginine’s stable represented a threat to them too, and even I couldn’t see how those ponies could possibly pose any sort of danger to the cloud-bound nation.

Another non-starter was the White Hooves. Even assuming that they’d gotten their act together after Jackboot killed their leader, I’d genuinely rather die than go crawling to them for help.

That left a group that, really, wasn’t all that bad of an option: the casino barons of New Reino. I wasn’t convinced that I’d be able to get them to help out of any sense of duty or altruism like the Republic or Rangers might have, but those ponies were at least forward-thinking enough to recognize that they weren’t going to stay in business for very long if all of their customers were dead. New Reino didn’t have a standing army, per say, that was true, but the barons had close ties with every major mercenary outfit in Neighvada. If I couldn’t convince them to put together something on their own, then I could at least use those connections to hire a suitable force of my own.

All that I’d need is enough liquid capital.

I did have a decent nest-egg for myself built up, sure; but nowhere even close to what it would take to bankroll a whole army!

But...I might no where I could get my hooves on enough merchandise to sell for what I’d need. If Achilles had really been telling me the truth about giving me the locations to all the pre-war sites that the Steel Rangers knew about, and the MoA cache hadn’t been among them, then that meant that there was a stockpile of advanced weaponry just laying around out there in the Wasteland. More than enough to cover the forces I’d need to hire.

First things first though: I needed to get to McMaren and prove to Homily that I hadn’t, in fact, murdered Princess Luna. Even if they weren’t part of the New Lunar Republic, the rulers of New Reino weren’t going to be very receptive towards the pony who’d destabilized their biggest trading partner and certainly impacted both their trade economy and their primary source of tourists.

Bounty hunters were going to be a problem too, now that I thought about it. Pritchel and Medica knew enough not to try and come after me, sure, but I doubted that they’d be doing much to get the word out that I was more trouble than any amount offered for my head could possibly cover. After all, the more hunters I took out, the less competition they’d have for future work.

Even if I cleared my name to the satisfaction of ‘Miss Neighvada’, and even the ponies of New Reino, Ebony Song was going to keep insisting on the narrative he’d built, and keep a bounty up there for my capture or death. Nothing I could do would change his mind on that.

Maybe I was better off keeping my nose out of public places…

When Moonbeam and I finally returned to the house, I’d put together a tentative plan to suggest to the smarter ponies of our little band. Which was to say: everypony who wasn’t me.

“We’re splitting up,” I began, and I could already see more than a few dubious expressions being shared among the others, “we have a lot to get done, and not a lot of time to do it in. Foxglove, I want you, Ramparts, and Arginine to head to New Reino. You know the casino barons and who we need to talk to about hiring mercenaries. Start sniffing out groups that you think we’ll be able to rely on, and what price they’re asking for. Arginine’ll be able to give you an idea of the approximate numbers we’ll be up against at his stable.

“Ramparts,” I turned to the earth pony, and flashed him a wry smile, “help out Foxglove as much as you can, but feel free to spend time with Yatima and you foal too.”

“What about you?” the violet unicorn mare asked.

“Starlight, Moonbeam, and I will be going to McMaren,” I informed her, “once I’ve cleared everything up with Homily, we’re going to track down that weapons cache. We’ll use it to bankroll the mercenaries you find.

“From there...well, we’ll figure out what needs to be done to strike at Arginine’s stable,” I knew nothing about coordinating large scale assaults or anything like that. Organizing a strike with a couple of ponies against a band of bandits or monsters? Sure. Jackboot and I had done that a hundred times. But massive military actions involving hundreds, or even thousands of ponies? I didn’t know the first thing about that. That would be solely in the hooves of whatever ponies were in charge of the mercenaries that we hired. All I should need to do is point them at the stable and say ‘go’. Then pay them when everything was done.

There were still a couple of unsure expressions from the other ponies. Foxglove and Arginine among them. Ramparts seemed to be perfectly content with going to new Reino, and Starlight was happy as long as she got to remain with her daughter. Moonbeam hardly cared where she was going, of course. The violet unicorn was simply very uneasy about leaving my side. I had to admit that the last few times that had happened, she’d returned to find me a little worse for wear, so I could understand her trepidation. Still, of all of us, she knew New Reino the best.

Arginine’s hesitancy was a little harder to parse. He shouldn’t really care where he was going or who he’d be with. I decided to talk with him about it later. For now, “everypony get packed up. The sooner we get our jobs done, the sooner we can meet back up again,” I tapped my pipbuck and gestured to Ramparts, “we can keep each other updated if anything comes up.”

Starlight Glimmer groaned, “we’re really going to leave already? Can’t we take a day or two to rest or something?”

“You can ride on my back if you want,” Moonbeam offered, her pink eyes sparkling with a hint of mirth, “not many fillies get to give their mother a ponyback ride before ever getting one.”

I could see how that was meant to be funny, and even found myself smiling at the joke, but the pink unicorn winced and looked away. Obviously, her history with her daughter would be a sore topic for a while longer yet. I cleared my throat and spoke up quickly before the awkwardness of the ensuing silence got too cumbersome, “we’ll spend some time in McMaren,” I assured her, then I looked at the robopony, “I want you to look over that underground facility we found there last time,” at Moonbeam’s questioning glance, “it was full of roboponies that were at least as advanced looking as you,” I added in a more somber tone, “and there was a filly there who was like you. Maybe there will be some answers.”

“‘Was’?” Moonbeam pressed, catching the tense that I had used.

It was my turn to wince now, “she…” my voice caught for a moment, and I felt it tighten as I relieved the memories of what I’d done, even if I hadn’t meant to, “she wasn’t asleep the whole time like you were,” I finally managed, “she was tired. She wanted to...she tricked me into turning her...off,” I couldn’t bring myself to use the k-word, even if that’s what it had really been.

“I see,” was all the reply that I got from Moonbeam. Not that I was sure what else I would have wanted her to say. Honestly, the less I had to talk about the event, the better.

“So...yeah,” I cleared my throat and did myself to perk myself up, “let’s get going. We have a Wasteland to save!” Much to my own surprise, I even managed to sound excited at the prospect. Everypony nodded and we bent to our tasks.

It worked out that Arginine and I had spent the night in my parents’ old bedroom, because that meant that was where we both headed to pack up our respective gear. Arginine was being his usual stoic, silent, self as he reviewed his own meager possessions, so it fell to me to initiate a dialogue, “you didn’t look happy downstairs,” I noted, in an attempt to draw something out of him.

“I never look happy,” was his flat reply, “nor angry, nor sad.”

“You know what I mean,” I said, rolling my eyes, “and you’re avoiding the question. I know you better than you think, and something’s bothering you. If you can be my shoulder to cry on, I can be yours. What’s wrong?”

The stallion was silent for a moment, then, “you are sending me away.”

I paused in my packing and looked around at the large grey stallion, my lips curled up in a smile, “are you...are you going to miss me, RG?” the stallion snorted, evoking a giggle from me as I continued, “and I’m not ‘sending you away’. I’m splitting the group us so that we get get twice as much done.

“Foxy knows New Reino and the ponies to talk to. Ramparts knows military stuff, and will be able to help her talk ‘soldier’ with the any mercenaries we try to hire, and you can give Ramparts an idea of how many ponies we’ll need to bring to the fight,” I pointed out, “Starlight and Moonbeam wouldn’t be any help there, and I need Moonbeam with me to convince Homily of what happened anyway. I don’t need any of you though,” I winced at the way that had sounded, noting the stallion’s own sour look, “I didn’t mean it like that!”

I flitted over and leaned up against the stallion, “all I’m saying is that is that this is the way that I can see to get the best results in the least amount of time. Can you tell me honestly that you’d be more help to us in McMaren than New Reino?”

“No,” Arginine admitted, “I cannot,” after another moment’s thought, he looked down at me, “my initial concern was for how best to maintain your emotional stability without access to physical stimulation as a means of stress relief,” and with that, my coat shifted from white to red, the feathers on my wings frizzing out in a rather undignified fashion. If Arginine noted my reaction, he said nothing, though I couldn’t see how he’d have missed it, “though, I must concede that, in light of recent events, you do seem to be taking the setbacks you have suffered rather well.”

That little reminder quelled my embarrassment just as quickly as it had flared. He wasn’t wrong. A younger me―that is to say: me from a month ago―would probably have had a full on mental breakdown over seeing all of her plans shattered so utterly in less than a week. However, for better or worse, present me was growing some rather thick mental calluses in the wake of such monumental setbacks in recent history. The sad truth was that is wasn’t that I wasn’t taking how things with the Republic and the Rangers had gone hard; it was just that...well, I was sort of used to it by now.

Of course things hadn’t worked out with them. Why should they have? Things hadn’t with out with the Lancers. Or the ponies of Santa Mara. Notel. Jackboot…

My life at this point could be boiled down to a string of unending disappointments. If I broke down and cried every single time I took another blow just like this, well, I’d just be crying all the damn time. Truth to tell: I was all cried out.

“It is what it is,” I shrugged, “but we’re not out of options yet,” I looked up at the stallion and managed to conjure up a wry smirk, “if things in New Reino didn’t pan out, or it turns out there is no secret weapon’s cache, then I’ll probably need some of that ‘physical stimulation’,” if either of those things went bust, all hope of saving the valley―and the wider Wasteland―would go up in flames with them. At that point, knowing that everypony was doomed to die, I was probably going to need a lot of ‘stimulation’...

“But, until then,” I fluttered up and gave the stallion a peck on the lips before drifting back to my gear, “let’s hope for the best. Heck, if things actually do work out, maybe we can try out some genuine celebratory sex! I’m told that some ponies actually do it when they’re really happy too, after all,” I winked at the stallion.

Yeah, fooling around because I felt too good not to want to struck me as something to look forward to.

Positive waves, Winfall; positive waves...

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Robotics Expert - Some of your best friends are robots(sort of?); 25% bonus to damage to roboponies and a chance to shut them down when you sneak up on them.
Sneak skill at 50

CHAPTER 44: HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?

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It was about justice, about doing what's right. And that act of goodness, that's ours. All the good we've done. That's ours and ours alone.

While I had been quite confident in the justifications for how I’d split our group up when we departed my old home, I had to admit that I was having second thoughts about the whole mess by the time McMaren came into view. None of that had anything to do with my upcoming dealings with Homily or anything like that. It was more that, as our trip wore on, I very quickly realized that I hadn’t managed to pick the best ponies to engage in conversation with. In fact, in between the scattered awkward attempts at failing to start a dialogue, nearly all of our trip passed in silence.

I hadn’t really expected that though. I mean, I might not have really thought things through much in terms of what I might have to say to either Starlight Glimmer or Moonbeam. After all, those two were both ponies largely out of time that I couldn’t relate to much. They were from a very different world than I was. I didn’t know anything about magic the way that the pink unicorn did, and my list of questions about what it was like being a robopony only went so far before I was left with questions so ridiculous that I’d rather have left them entirely unasked as opposed to opening my mouth and looking like an idiot.

Honestly, I had figured that the two of them would spend most of the trip reconnecting, and I could just sort of listen in to their bonding and learn about the both of them. That was certainly how things started out in the first few hours, as Starlight posed a few probing questions to learn what her daughter had been up to since waking up in ‘the future’, as she had put it. These lines of conversation hit dead ends pretty quickly though, as Moonbeam was quick to point out that she had spent the last twenty odd years as a puppet despot that a tyrannical stallion was using in his bid to retain his grasp on the power he felt he was in danger of losing; and that the artificial intelligence wired into her brain had been in control for most of that time.

As a result, Moonbeam insisted that she had not developed any hobbies, or made any friends, or found fulfilling employment since ‘waking up’. Meaning that she had nothing new to tell her mother since the last time the two of them had spoken, two hundred years ago. Since Starlight had spent those intervening centuries in a form of stasis, she didn’t have much to tell her daughter about either. Nor did she seem to yet know how to approach the fact that her ‘little filly’ was not one anymore.

It was...agonizing...to listen to the two of them trying to pick up their lives where they’d been left off, and failing spectacularly. There wasn’t much that I could think to do to help them out either. Yeah, sure, I could kind of relate to the whole ‘being separated from a parent you assumed was dead’ thing; but my own reunion had fallen pretty far short of even the ‘bittersweet’ mark that theirs had achieved, in my estimation. Both of these ponies were still alive after more than a day, so they were already doing a lot better at this whole thing than I’d managed to. So I spent most of our journey staying up out of earshot, ‘spotting’.

And I was doing that, certainly. Though, my thoughts did wander quite a bit while I was doing it.

Maybe it wasn’t the most productive use of my time, and somepony could certainly make the argument that I was getting a little ahead of myself, but I spent most of that time thinking of what I’d do with my life once we’d defeated Arginine’s stable. After all, quite a few things had changed since the last time I’d formed my tentative plans for my adult life. Which, admittedly, was fast approaching, if it wasn’t already here…

Rebuilding that old house, getting the ranch back in order again...I was starting to doubt how feasible that all really was. Especially with the Republic in the turmoil that it was in. Miss Neighvada was broadcasting daily updates on the state of the NLR in the wake of Princess Luna’s ‘assassination’. There had been a predictable amount of panic in the immediate aftermath, and martial law had since been declared. That wasn’t doing much to fix things though.

Ebony Song was likewise making continuous announcements of his own, trying to settle everypony’s concerns, but it didn’t sound like he was having a lot of success. His plan to build Moonbeam up as the real Princess Luna was coming back to bite him in the flank. The Princess Returned was supposed to have eventually fixed the whole Wasteland, and now she was gone. Ponies’ faith that the New Lunar Republic could endure without the guidance of the same Luna for which it had been named was buckling. These fears were compounded by the steady rise in raider activity within the Republic’s borders. Ebony Song had consolidated the Republican Guard in Seaddle itself in an effort to ensure he’d be able to stay in power as the NLR’s new ‘regent’. This meant that there wasn’t anypony left to keep the peace elsewhere.

Towns like Shady Saddles and Santa Mara didn’t have robust guard forces, since they’d come to rely on getting their protection from the Republic’s own soldiers. Now those soldiers were gone, and the local raiders knew it. I’d lost track of the number of farms that were reported as being razed to the ground. The only safe place left in that whole part of the valley was Seaddle itself. Naturally, ponies were flocking to it in droves, seeking the protection its defenses offered.

Of course, a sudden swelling in the population, coupled with the destruction of so much of the surrounding food supply was a disaster waiting to happen. There wasn’t a full on crisis yet, not after just a little over a week, but only a fool could miss the writing on the walls. Seaddle was a powder keg, and it was going to go off any moment. When it did…

The bottom line was that the valley wasn’t going to be the same place I remembered as a filly. Trying to get the ranch running again in whatever eventually emerged once everything inevitably melted down...just didn’t seemed like a plan that stood any real chance of working out. I’d need to start thinking about real options available to me, and not the sentimental dreams of a child who’d been trying to fool herself into thinking her life would ever be like it had been in the ‘good old days’.

Looking at my skill set, the glaringly obvious choices seemed to tend along the lines of caravan guard or mercenary. Maybe part of one of the new town guards that were invariably going to be popping up now that the Republic’s soldiers weren’t fulfilling those roles. Something that favored a mare who knew her way around a gun.

The problem with that was...I didn’t know that I wanted to be that kind of pony my who life. My cutie mark be damned; I didn’t want to spend my whole life killing ponies! Maybe I couldn’t have a herd of brahmin and a quiet life on a farm, but I still wanted to settle down with somepony and have a family someday! I couldn’t do that if I was traipsing around the wasteland following merchants…

I supposed that I could just not do anything at all and let whatever stallion I eventually fell in love with bring in the caps while I raised our foals. That was a possibility. Not that I really felt comfortable with the notion of not doing anything for a living...I mean, if I was being honest, there was this part of me, way deep down, that was honestly loving what was going on now.

Not the violence and the mayhem, no! That was utterly disheartening, and I hated that I’d had a hoof in it. No, I meant the stuff that I was doing right now. Heading off to McMaren to clear my name and then going to search for the weapons we’d need to save the valley while my friends searched for ponies willing to help us fight? That part I was enjoying; the helping out the ponies of the Wasteland. Even if nopony really seemed to either know or care that I was doing it.

That wasn’t quite fair, I suppose. There were ponies who knew what the Wonderbolt was up to. Ponies like Homily and her compatriots in McMaren for starters. Even if Miss Neighvada had been pretty quiet about me in her broadcasts over the last few days that I’d been listening to them. I knew the reason for that, of course; and I was on my way to fix it. Then it would be back to business as usual, and her news updates would once more be reminding ponies that there was a mare out there trying to bring them a little peace, and a bit of hope.

The praise wasn’t why I was doing this, but I couldn’t honestly deny that it didn’t feel good being recognized as a hero. I was even finally starting to believe that I was one!

I caught sight of our destination long before the pair of ponies beneath me, thanks to my aerial vantage point. Even though it hadn’t been all that long since the Steel Ranger attack, I was pleased to see that a little bit of progress had been made towards recovering from it. That might actually have been an understatement, I amended. If I could see visible signs of improvement from this high up and this far off, that was actually indicative of a tremendous amount of work that the ponies there had gotten accomplished! There looked to still be a lot left for them yet to do though, if the collection of tentage on the base’s parade grounds was any indication. I hadn’t realized that the barracks had taken such a big hit during the attack…

Wait a minute. No it hadn’t! I’d been in there myself; the barracks was fine, and had hardly looked inhabited! Heck, given the losses that the ponies at the base had suffered when the Rangers had hit them, they should have had no shortage of space to bed everypony. So then why were there all those tents? And was that...construction? Yeah, it was! They were using the rubble of the destroyed structures as masonry materials to build a second barracks right next to it!

What was going on?

I dipped down low and related my findings to Starlight and Moonbeam. For all the good it did. Starlight was more interested in hearing how close we were, and that an end to their walking was close at hoof. Moonbeam, well, didn’t have much to say on the matter, since she didn’t know any of the ponies there. Honestly, neither of these two had the history with the ponies of McMaren that I had. Foxglove would have been a lot more interested.

In fact, now that I thought about it, I was only just now realizing that something had slipped my mind while breaking our group up. I’d sent Ramparts to New Reino in no small part to reunite him with his wife and child. It was only at this precise moment that I remembered that Foxglove also had a pony that she was close to, and might have liked a chance to see again. Though, even if I had remembered that, I wasn’t positive that I would have changed things around. Her knowledge about New Reino was too valuable to waste by bringing her here and only sending the stallions to New Reino.

It was something to keep in mind for later though, finding a reason to bring the violet unicorn back here. I could certainly appreciate the value of having somepony at hoof to confide in and, er…relax with. I was definitely looking forward to getting all of this over and done with and getting back to Arginine.

I might not have been the Republic’s favorite mare right about now, but both Windfall and the Wonderbolt had earned no small amount of goodwill with the ponies of McMaren. I’d saved their flanks no less than three times in the last year, after all. If the reports of my alleged assassination of Princess Luna had mussed any manes here, Homily’s insistence on waiting to hear from my side of the story before passing judgement was keeping whatever animosity might be present in check. Not that I got the impression from the warm welcome we got at the gate that I was on anypony’s ‘shit list’ around here.

Miss Neighvada herself was even there to greet us in the sunflower-hued flesh. While a lot of eyes of the gathered ponies who might have also heard of my imminent arrival had obviously been focused on my trademark blue barding initially, everypony’s attention very quickly, and understandably, shifted to Moonbeam in short order. While roboponies weren’t a rarity in the Wasteland, friendly ones were hardly common, and automatons with the kind of sleek chassis and eloquently articulated limbs that she had were simply unheard of. Well, almost.

Those kinds of features might not have been as surprising to the ponies of McMaren, I supposed, as my eyes caught sight of what could only have been a merchant cart passing by us on its way out of of the gate, and the neatly organized collection of robopony parts that it was laden with. I blinked at the sight in mild surprise. A more thorough observation of the old military base soon revealed that it looked a lot less like a fort, and more like a...town. Those tents, I soon realized, weren’t homes―well, not all of them, anyway―they were a market!

“You ponies have sure been busy,” I found myself murmuring under my breath as I took in the new sights of the old military base. I followed the utterance up with an inquiring look to Homily, “this place looks way different from how it did a couple weeks ago.”

The earth pony mare offered up a proud little smile as she too reviewed the newfound hustle and bustle of what had only recently been a small little radio station outfit, “I do have to admit, it’s more of a response than I thought we’d get this soon. Though, I’ve actually been laying the groundwork for a while now.”

“Oh?” I pressed as the four of us began to walk deeper into the base’s interior, heading for the radio tower.

“Well, yeah. Don’t forget: this whole thing started out as much as a business venture as it did my desire to give the valley a reliable source of news. It’s not like everypony that came with me was doing it out of the kindness of their hearts. They’re skilled professionals, some of them with families back in New Reino who need to be taken care of.

“The bits to pay them needed to come from somewhere,” she pointed out.

I’ll admit, I hadn’t really thought about that. I mean, even Jackboot and I hadn’t worked for free. I wouldn’t classify much of what we did as the sort of thing that collected a regular salary or anything, but we collected bounties and sold valuable gear from our quarry to keep ourselves in food, bullets, and booze. Obviously the ponies here weren’t going out hunting bounties on raiders and such, but I hadn’t thought about where they got their funding from exactly. A point I sheepishly admitted to Homily.

“Well, at first everything we needed was being paid for by Scratch. He was the primary backer behind all of this,” the mare reminded me, adding, “he even hired you and your friends to come get us out of that first tight spot of ours, remember?”

That day felt like years ago, but I did remember how Jackboot, Foxglove, and I had rescued Homily and her comrades from the bandits holding them for ransom. Then I recalled why it was that Homily was probably not getting the regular stipend from her griffon benefactor anymore. That night was not one that I looked back on with a lot of fondness. In my defense, such as it was, I hadn’t been in a very good place, emotionally, when I’d tracked down and murdered the casino baron in his office. In hindsight, I’d like to think that I wouldn’t have done it, if given a chance to live that day over.

Granted, there was a lot in my life that I would have done differently, but shooting Scratch did make the top ten on that list. His death hadn’t fixed anything. It hadn’t even made me feel better in any meaningful way. Never mind that I hadn’t even thought about how much I might have been hurting other ponies by doing it. Ponies, it turned out, like Homily, who I liked to think of as being my friend. Scratch wasn’t, and probably had never been, anything approaching a ‘good’ individual; but I’d come to learn that if I was going to kill any living creature that didn’t ascribe to my ideals of what was ‘good’, then I was going to be killing things for a long time…

Homily’s question had, fortunately, been rhetorical, and she went on, “when he died, the caps dried up quickly,” the yellow mare explained, “I’ve been spending the past few months trying to come up with ways to make more, but there wasn’t a lot of options. Honestly, this all came very close to having to be shut down,” she said somberly, “then the Ranger’s attacked and...well,” she let out a heavy sigh, “as much as I hate saying it, that attacked saved this place.

“We never would have known about the Ministry of Awesome installation under our hooves if they hadn’t showed up. The tech down there is mostly perfectly preserved, and that’s not super common in the Wasteland,” she explained, “advanced electronics is a niche market, to be sure, but it’s also a very lucrative one if you know the right ponies. And I happen to know those ponies. I put the word out to prospective buyers and merchant companies, hired some additional muscle to keep us safe for when word got around to less desirable groups…

“...and all of this sort of happened almost overnight,” she waved her hoof at the tentaged market square, “the buyers came in to get the salvage we were selling, and a wave of vendors followed right on their tails, ready to sell us stuff in order to get a share of the caps that we’d all just made,” she chuckled a little to herself, “they’re sort of like leeches, like that; but they’re leeches selling Wild Pegasus and Sugar Apple Bombs, so I don’t mind.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” I finally piped in again, while looking around at the familiar bustle of ponies haggling over wares, “I’d say this place was a town or something.”

Homily paused in her tracks, seemingly caught off guard by my observation. Then, after several long moments of thought, she let out a surprised little laugh, “heh. I...think it might be,” she looked back at me, wearing a bewildered smile, “I never really thought about what went into building a settlement before, but…” she looked around once more, “this does seem to resemble one now.”

“Should I start calling you Mayor Homily?” I teased.

“Oh, sweet Goddess, no,” the mare groaned, “I’m too busy just being Miss Neighvada! I don’t have time to run a whole town.”

“Well, you’re going to have to find the time,” I pointed out, “after all, this is just the start. How long do you think it’ll be before those ponies working for you just bring their families up here once they figure it’s safe and they miss them? This base will be crawling with foals soon enough. That means you’ll need a school too. Maybe a clinic for when ponies get sick or hurt. Or to help deliver all the new foals that’ll follow, what with the families being together again.

“Face it, Homily, the ponies here are going to need a leader. Or, at least, somepony to keep them organized and feeling safe.”

The mare let out another defeated moan, “this was supposed to be just a small news gig! I’m just a voice on the radio; I really don’t think I have what it takes to be in charge.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short. I bet you could do it if you tried,” then I added, “unless you know anypony better qualified?”

Homily snorted and resumed walking towards the broadcasting station, “not unless you want the job!”

My brain stalled out for several seconds as I processed what the earth pony mare had just said. Me? Me? In charge of a town? She couldn’t possibly have been serious. I decided that she must have, in fact, been making a joke and managed to get out a laugh that only sounded mildly forced, “ha! Sure, right; I’ll get right on that after I’ve saved the valley from certain destruction at the hooves of a hoard of genetically modified genocidal psychopaths…”

I eased up a little bit as I heard Homily laughing now too, “I guess your plate is rather full at the moment. Speaking of,” she continued, shifting the topic of conversation, “let’s go ahead and get at least one thing taken off of it. ‘Miss Neighvada’ is currently off the air for another hour or so, so I’ve got plenty of time to talk with you and your friends about what happened in Seaddle,” she looked back, her gaze darting briefly to Moonbeam’s metal form, “I’m sure it’s going to be...interesting.”

It had stabbed deep into my soul when I’d received the first message from Homily about the stories coming out of Seaddle concerning ‘Princess Luna’ and my part in her ‘death’, and that the earth pony had believed that I’d do something like that. If I was being honest with myself, a lot of that pain sprung from the personal knowledge that doing something ‘like that’ wouldn’t actually have been out of character for me. I’d assassinated several ponies in my life. Recently, even. I’d killed ponies because they’d offended my sensibilities and I wanted them removed from existence.

Perhaps there might have even been circumstances under which I actually would have murdered Princess Luna. Just because I couldn’t think of them at this moment didn’t mean that those circumstances didn’t exist at all. Assuming, of course, that it was actually even possible to kill the genuine article. Presumably, the real immortal goddess, wherever she actually was, wouldn’t be particularly easy to remove.

In any case, it must have spoken wonders for Homily’s respect for me that she was willing to hear out my and Moonbeam’s side of the story, as fantastical as it sounded. Even knowing the bona fide truth of the matter, and having had the facts confirmed through multiple sources over the months, I still found myself sitting in stunned silence while the robopony spoke her piece in the broadcast building. I could tell that the yellow earth pony was a little dubious at first, but her skepticism began to slowly melt away as Moonbeam broke down the details of what had happened to her over the years as the ‘ruler’ of Seaddle. Many of which were things that even I hadn’t known.

“When I first ‘woke up’,” Moonbeam recounted, “I was scared and confused. The last thing I’d remembered was speaking with Miss Tweehu―er, Treehugger,” if robots could have blushed, she might have right there, “she’d told me that I was going to be taken on a trip, and I’d need to be put to sleep before we left. I didn’t understand at the time what that really meant. I managed to figure out much later that what they were doing when I was ‘asleep’ was working with the AI wired into my brain.

“Those integrated electronic components have blessed me with a nearly perfect memory that I can review like a holotape. At least, the parts of it when I’m me. When Selene is running things, not so much.”

“Selene?” Homily prompted, sounding a little surprised at the mention of the name.

“That was what the staff kept calling the AI,” the robopony explained. I heard Starlight growling low in her throat at the knowledge that even her pet name for her daughter had been appropriated and soiled by the ponies that had abused not just her trust in them, but her own daughter as well, “I don’t know a lot about what I get up to when it’s running things. Either it’s not storing that stuff in my brain, or my conscious mind can’t access it if it is.

“I’ve reviewed what interactions I can remember having with the facility staff several times over the years, with the benefit of age, and I’m thinking that the Ministry of Peace was completely unaware of what their MoA counterparts were doing with us.”

“Us?” Starlight prompted, “you mean the other foals? They were using all of them?”

“Not all of them, no,” Moonbeam corrected, “as best I can figure, the project was started with genuinely good intentions by the MoP. Rampant experimentation with new chemicals whose properties weren’t yet fully understood and the creation of new magicks using untested spell matrixes were resulting in a number of unanticipated medical complications, especially for expecting mares. A lot of those complications were mild, on the whole, and could be treated easily enough with conventional medicine.

“Obviously, there were more...extreme defects, as well,” I saw Starlight flinch away at that, even though I couldn’t see any sign that her daughter might have been trying to single out their own situation or place blame. This would likely be a source of discomfort for the pink mare for a long time to come, and understandably so, I suppose, “I think it was those cases, like mine, that the Ministry of Awesome took an interest in. Specifically ones involving similar conditions to the one I suffered from.”

“Can you think of why that might be?” Homily pressed from around the pencil in her mouth that she was using to take notes. She’d need to sort through everything later when she put her broadcast for the evening together. Telling the valley everything might have been a bit much to take in, and likely go over more than a few heads. She’d need to sift through everything she was told here in order to frame it all in a way that would be easy to both understand and, more importantly, believe. None of this explanation was going to do any of them any good if Miss Neighvada’s listeners all decided that she was full of horseapples.

“I don’t know what exactly was wrong with the others, medically,” Moonbeam admitted, “but if they were being used in the same way that I was, I assume they were similar to how I was, physically,” another hard wince from Starlight. Homily asked for more clarification, “when I was born, my brain was whole and intact, but it was...deficient? The neurons were there, and they were otherwise healthy, they just weren’t firing like they should have been. Even my heart and lungs barely worked on their own.

“The treatment, if you could call it that, involved surgically implanting a computer into part of my brain, which contained an artificial intelligence. The idea was that this software program would stimulate the neurons of my brain to get them to do what they were supposed to be doing naturally. Like a crutch, but for my brain. The software program was reported to be completely benign,” Moonbeam’s synthetic lips pulled back in a grimace, “in at least my case, that statement was...misleading.”

“Windfall mentioned over her pipbuck that it could control you,” Homily prompted, to which the robopony nodded.

“It has direct control over every function of my brain, which includes moving and talking, obviously. Though, I don’t think that taking control of my own body is its primary purpose. After all, there isn’t necessarily much that I can do like this that can’t be accomplished by a typical robopony equipped with the same sophisticated AI that I am.”

“So then why bother doing all of this?” this time I was the one to ask the question.

“I’m not sure,” Moonbeam admitted, “it honestly seems like an incredible waste of resources,” I noticed that I wasn’t the only mare with a quirked eyebrow upon hearing this statement, “I don’t know the actual limitations of the AI, but do know that it is capable of far more than Ebony Song was using it for. His understanding of it was actually extremely limited. After all, he was a politician, not a computer expert. He had it running in a very simplistic way, using strict guidelines that he set. I could only say certain things and give certain responses to questions,” I recalled the interaction that I’d have with Selene as Princess Luna, and how she’d only said a few things in response to specific statements.

“I think he was concerned that any improvisation might have given away his act. However, I am convinced that this program is capable of a great deal more. After all, effectively operating an organic brain is not something that I think of as ‘simple’, even for a computer. If this AI is capable of that, then why wasn’t it being used to operate the nation’s security roboponies? Equestria could have fielded an army of hyper-intelligent robot soldiers,” Moonbeam pointed out, “the war would have been over at that point.”

“Maybe that was what they were planning to do with you,” Homily posed, “turn you into a weapon?”

My eyes darted to Starlight Glimmer as I saw her nostrils flare and her face harden with barely contained fury. She said nothing out loud, but I got the distinct impression that she was internally heaping another mountain of curses and epithets upon the Ministry Mare who’d been running the project that had done this to her daughter.

“Perhaps,” the robopony sounded more than a little unconvinced, “but why would it need a foal to work?”

Homily shrugged, “maybe you act like an amplifier,” she offered in an offhoofed tone.

Moonbeam stared at the earth pony, her glowing pink eyes slowly pulsing, in what looked very much like a brief series of stunned blinks, “what?”

The yellow mare seemed a little less sure of herself now as she tried to explain what she had meant, “well, I mean, I don’t know how brains work and all that―I work with radios. But, I’m assuming that if the computer in your brain can work with it at all, there can’t be a whole lot of structural differences when you get right down to it, right?”

“Neurons operate in an arguably similar fashion to transistors, yes,” Moonbeam supplied, still sounded a little guarded as she tried to follow Homily’s train of thought.

“Well, with electronics―and specifically radios―you can use two things to boost your transmission range: more power and a longer antenna, which is basically just more metal. Sometimes it even helps to fold up the antenna into a compact shape,” she tapped her hooves together nervously, “but I don’t know if that’s how your thing works. I was just thinking out loud.”

“No, it...there is merit to that theory,” Moonbeam said, her synthesized voice sounding distant, “a computer’s capabilities are effectively limited by the number of transistors they have access to. The more transistors they have, the faster they can operate, and the more they can do at once. With the number of neurons that a brain holds, a computer that used them as its processor...it would be very powerful indeed.

“I’m honestly not certain what its limits would be…”

“Well, it’s at least capable of running a multilevel underground facility and a few dozen roboponies,” I offered in an effort to be helpful in a conversation that I was honestly only barely following.

“What?” Moonbeam asked flatly, staring at me.

“Well, I mean, a pony who was just like you was operating the MoA bunker under this base, and when they, um...turned off, all the systems went dark and all of the flying roboponies that had been trying to kill us stopped moving. I mean, that AI was pretty much controlling everything in there. It was honestly kind of freaky,” I gave a small shiver as I recalled my interactions with the robopegasi and their off-putting conversations that they’d had with themselves as though I couldn’t hear them when they weren’t speaking directly to me. Alright, so maybe the AI hadn’t been a genius when it came to lying and stuff, but it had to be pretty hard for even a computer to control all of that stuff at once on its own, right?

Then I noticed that Moonbeam was still staring at me, her metal and plastic face a mask of shock and surprise, “what? I already told you all about that place. It was the whole reason I went back to Seaddle to speak to you, er, Princess Luna. I told you all about how the computer that ran it was powered by a foal. Remem...ber...?”

Then it hit me: I’d told Princess Luna. I’d told Selene, and not Moonbeam!

“Oh, horseapples,” I winced hard as I buried my face in my hooves, banging them against my forehead.

Moonbeam had apparently given up on the idiot pegasus trying to beat some smarts into her own head and whipped around to look at Homily instead, “there’s a pony like me under this base? Why didn’t you say so sooner?!

“Where are they?”

Unfortunately, the sudden shift in both topic and tone had caught the yellow mare off guard, leaving her to sputter through an attempt at an answer. She would have gotten one out in another second or two, but it seemed that Moonbeam wasn’t interested in waiting even that long to hear about her kinsmare. With a burst of speed and grace that even a pegasus like me found enviable, the robopony mare flowed out of the broadcasting building and darted outside. I zipped out after her.

“Moonbeam, wait!” honestly, I was surprised that she did.

“Where are they?” she demanded, “are they okay?”

I bit down hard in an effort to stifle any thoughtless answer I might give. If Trellis really was another one of the foals from the same place that Moonbeam had been treated, then they might have known one another. They might have been friends. Even if they hadn’t been, the two of them had a shared experience that would have served as a bond between them that nopony else could possibly have understood.

They were kindred spirits. Or rather, would have been kindred spirits.

But I’d killed her. I hadn’t understood what I was doing, and I hadn’t meant to. I’d essentially been tricked into doing it by Trellis herself. But would Moonbeam understand that? I’d only known her for a little over a week, of course, so I couldn’t know how she’d react. She had a right to know the truth though, and I had no right to be the one to hide it from her.

“Her name was Trellis,” I began, being more careful with my choice of words and my delivery than I remembered ever being when talking to another pony, “the Ministry of Awesome was using her to run a hidden facility under McMaren. Unlike you, she hadn’t been sleeping for two hundred years or whatever. Her AI had been running that whole time.

“I think she was ‘awake’ for a lot of that time too,” I went on, a little more quietly as I recalled my―tragically brief―interaction with the foal, “we were being attacked by the roboponies and automated defenses. A lot of ponies were in danger. I asked her how to turn off the defenses.”

Moonbeam had been completely silent up to this point, merely staring at me with those glowing pink irises of hers. It was hard for me to meet them now, “she gave me a code to use.

“It killed her.”

I couldn’t look her in the eye when I said it. Which only made me feel even worse about the whole thing. I hadn’t known what I was doing. I hadn’t known who or what Trellis really was. I hadn’t really known all that much about Moonbeam or what she’d been through, despite what Starlight had revealed to me between her multiple cursings of Rainbow Dash. Intellectually, I knew that I had no reasonable blame in what happened. What I had done had been in the interests of saving the lives of others; and had I known what my actions would cost, I’d have moved the mountains that ringed the valley in an effort to find another way.

Yet, ultimately, I’d been the one to tell Hastati how to kill Trellis.

“I’m sorry.”

It was a pathetic pair of words to use, but it was all I had.

It felt like an eternity had passed, waiting for a response from Moonbeam, “I see. Thank you for telling me.”

There’d been no sarcasm there, but I still felt compelled to explain myself further, “I didn’t know that you didn’t always remember what Selene saw and heard,” I said hastily, “I thought I’d told you about it, I swear! I wasn’t trying to hide this from you, really.”

“I know,” the synthetic pony nodded, “and I’m sorry for getting worked up back there,” her eyes passed over me, and that was when I noticed that the other two mares were out here with us too, “I’m just...I know what it must have been like, is all.”

“It’s alright,” Homily said, a sad smile on her face. She nodded her head off to the side, “I can show you where we buried her. You can pay your respects, if you’d like, or…” my own gaze followed the direction that the yellow mare had indicated, and I spied the cemetery that had been cordoned off in a section of the base. Another common feature of a town, I noted absently. Though, one that seemed to already be far too large for a settlement that was still so young.

“No, that’s fine,” Moonbeam insisted, “I’m alright. I would like to examine this facility though; get an idea of the capabilities that my AI might have.”

“Actually,” the yellow mare began, drawing all of our attention to her pensive tone, “I think that there is something down there that you should see.”

The three of of exchanged confused looks.

“Yeah...that’s not ominous,” I heard myself murmuring under my breath as the four of us stood in front of a rather intimidating looking door located in what could best be described as an ‘out of the way’ corridor on the facility’s Utilities Level. Even back in its heyday, during the war with the zebras, I found it rather unlikely that this area of the underground base would have seen a lot of hoof traffic.

What was particularly notable about the heavily reinforced metal hatch though wasn’t its location, but rather the stenciled words written above it:

S.E.L.E.N.E Control.

“We spent the first few days after the attack mapping this place out as best we could,” Homily explained, “after what the Rangers had done to our defenses, we wanted to see if we could actually move everypony down here so we’d be better protected.”

That made a certain amount of sense, I supposed. McMaren was surrounded by a lot of open ground that took a lot of ponies to cover when it came to sentries. This place had only the single entrance as far as I knew. That pretty severely limited the avenues of approach for an attacker. Yeah, you ended up trapped with no way to escape if things got bad enough, but that could happen even above ground if the enemy had sufficient numbers. At least down in this place, Homily’s ponies could keep themselves alive long enough for help―specifically me―to arrive and bail them out.

“Ultimately, we decided not to though,” the yellow mare continued, “not any time soon, at least. With the computer down, nothing seems to be working, to include the ventilation system. If we had to close ourselves off down here, we’d suffocate within hours.

“This place’s reactors were all tied to the computer, and we’re not sure how to go about getting the power to work independently. So instead we’re going to see if we can get another of the generators topside working to give this place some juice. There’s certainly plenty of parts available for us to use.

“Anyway, because there’s no power yet, we’ve had to cut our way through most of the doors that were closed when Windfall shut this place down. It’s slow going, but we were making steady progress. Until, that is, we reached this door.”

“What’s so special about this one?” I asked. I mean, yeah, it certainly looked a lot sturdier that most of the other hatches in this place, but steel was steel, right? I couldn’t see anything about it that suggested a torch―or perhaps an eldritch lance like Foxglove had―couldn’t eventually cut through it and reveal what was on the other side.

I was about to say just as much when Homily reached out with her hoof and touched the door. Or, rather, she tried to touch the door. Her hoof never managed to actually make contact with it though, instead stopping about an inch short, coming to rest against a shimmering wall of cyan energy radiating out from her hoof’s location. She accentuated her point by more forcefully pounding against the field, sending out brilliant ripples that faded away as they washed over the door’s surface.

She withdrew her hoof and glanced between the three of us, “that’s what’s ‘special’.”

I blinked, “oh.”

The door’s reaction to the contact had managed to pique Starlight Glimmer’s interest though, and the pink mare began studying the field of magic quite intently. She proceeded to prod the barrier herself, with both hoof and horn in her effort to divine its nature, “definitely a ward of some sort,” she mumbled, more to herself that for our benefit, I suspected, “an enchantment would have dispelled by now. No sign of runes carved into anything,” she added as she scrutinized the surrounding surfaces, “so it’s probably being generated by an object of some sort. Since there’s nothing obviously magical out here, I’d say whatever is sustaining the field is also inside of it.”

“So then how would anypony get in?” I asked.

“I can think of a few ways, actually,” the unicorn explained, “any unicorn who knew the matrix key could take the barrier down instantly. It could even be tonally activated, which might be more likely given that I’m guessing this place had a lot more pegasi than unicorns. Though, if they wanted this thing to be really secure, they’d have it tuned to specific ponies.”

“So how do we get in?” Homily posed, “assuming that’s even possible.”

“Well of course it’s possible,” Starlight responded, adding a slight roll of her eyes, “but without a lot more information, I can only make guesses. If it’s a tonal lock, then somepony just needs to speak the passphrase. I assume that there’s a record of what it would be somewhere, maybe on a computer in the office of a high ranking pony who worked here. That’s a best case scenario, honestly.

“If it was gene-locked, then we’ll need a pony who had access. Given that I’ve never heard of a pegasus living for over two hundred years, and the unlikely possibility of finding such a pony frozen in stasis like I was, that’s probably not going to happen,” she added with a wry smirk, “it’s possible a direct descendent would work though.”

“If a pony who worked here survived, they went to the sky,” Homily pointed out, “so any descendant would be with the Enclave,” her tone made it clear that idea was a complete non-starter, to which I had to very much agree. I’d have been the only one of us that was even capable of reaching Enclave territory, and I’d have been shot on sight almost as quickly as any other ground-bound pony who’d have tried to breach their defenses.

Trying to find a passphrase was at least a possibility. Obviously, none of the computer systems were operational at the moment, but if and when the McMaren ponies got the generator they were working on connected into the local grid they could start looking. I supposed that there was nothing that made getting through this door a huge priority. I mean, yeah, I was pretty sure, judging by how quiet and intently that Moonbeam had been staring at her stenciled name above the door that she would very much like to get through in the very near future; but the fact was that the door wasn’t going anywhere.

There probably wasn’t a faster way to get inside, unless, “could you get rid of the barrier?” I asked the unicorn, “you know magic and stuff really well, right?”

Something that I had said apparently evoked a brief eye-twitch from the pink mare, “yes, I do; but the fact that you’re even asking that question means that you clearly don’t know ‘magic and stuff’.”

“Of course I don’t,” I replied in my own slightly exasperated tone, fluffing out my pinions, “I have wings, not a horn.”

“My point is: getting rid of a ward like this isn’t as simple as just zapping it. If it was, then they’d be pointless, wouldn’t they? It’d be like a lock that you could open with any old nearby stick. Wards like this one are keyed to very specific patterns, be they sound, or biology, or even magic. Trying to force anything with the wrong pattern would go badly. Very badly.

“With a few weeks, or maybe a month, of study and testing I could probably break through, sure,” she added, making it clear through her tone that we should all feel rather impressed by such a revelation. But, since I had heard that some ponies could open locks with pieces of wire in a little less than a minute, I wasn’t in any particular state of awe over the notion of taking a whole month to open a door, “but my understanding is that we don’t have that kind of time, right?”

We did not, I was forced to agree. With Starlight and Moonbeam in tow, it was going to take the better part of two weeks to both track down the weapon cache and meet back up with the others in New Reino. Delaying that by a whole month just to open a door in an abandoned Ministry of Awesome bunker wasn’t acceptable to me. I turned to Homily, “how long will it be before you get the power back on, do you think?”

The yellow earth pony stroked her chin pensively, “honestly, running the cables is going to be harder than getting another generator working. It’s not like we had a lot of that stuff lying around. We found some cabling leading from this bunker to...somewhere, but most of it’s buried pretty good. Digging it up will take a couple months, probably.

“I’m actually thinking of putting out an order to have some scavengers grab us some from Old Reino, now that it’s safe to prospect there,” the mare flashed me an appreciative smile, “so, maybe a couple weeks? I’ve already got a couple ponies here who know a thing or two about getting around Old World computer firewalls, so we’ll be able to access most of the archives pretty quickly once everything is back up and running.”

“Well, that sounds like a plan then,” I thought out loud, “we’ll head out in the morning to go find that hidden cache, meet up with the others, and then come back here. By then you’ll be able to open...the…”

All three of us went silent as we had all turned to look at the warded door which had so frustrated the efforts of the McMaren ponies to breach it. Only now, it was open. Moonbeam was standing there, in the open doorway, staring into the interior, her gaze riveted on something that we couldn’t see from where the three of us had been discussing our options.

“Oh.”

“How did you do that?” Starlight demanded in a borderline incredulous tone. Understandable, I supposed, as her daughter had apparently found a way to bypass the ward in considerably less than a month. Not that Homily and I weren’t also very curious to learn her secret.

“I just touched it,” Moonbeam replied, distracted. She hadn’t so much as twitchced her glowing pink eyes from the interior of the room beyond the door. I fluttered into the air and peered over the top of her. What I saw left me rather speechless as well. Not because I was struck by the significance of what was inside, but more because I honestly had no idea what I was looking at.

Homily seemed to at least have an inkling though, “that’s one weird looking robopony charging station,” she noted. It was only then that I noticed some of the structural similarities that the machinery in the room did have in common with the little vestibules in some Old World structures that were used to hold security robots in a state of hibernation. Though even I could tell that there was a lot more going on here than simply charging spark batteries and uploading commands.

It also looked more than a little like the room that I’d found Trellis in.

“If the ward dropped the moment you touched it,” Starlight said, “that means it was keyed to you. But I don’t understand. This place is some kind of secret MoA tracking station or whatever. Why would they have a room here reserved specifically for you?”

“Not me,” the robopony corrected, shaking her head before pointing a hoof to the stenciled letters above the door, “the AI,” she took a step into the cramped confines of the little room beyond the door. She immediately froze as fluorescent lights flickered to life overhead. This, seemingly despite there being no power for any other lights in the rest of the dead installation.

“How…?” Homily began in confusion.

“It’s not drawing power from the facility,” Moonbeam informed her in that same detached tone, like she was working off of a vague memory, “this room is powered by the same generators that run the tower. That’s where the buried cables go,” she glanced to her side, at the small computer terminal that had also booted up when the lights turned on. I could see the screen from where I was hovering. It was prompting her for an activation code of some sort.

Moonbeam reached out to the keyboard with one of her synthetic articulated hooves and slowly, and deliberately, tapped at the keys, mumbling as she did so, “En. One. Gee. Aich. Seven. Em. Four. Are. Three,” she entered the sequence of letters and numbers and then confirmed them with a subsequent command. All four of us were still as we waited with rapt attention for the response from the little terminal.

>>ESTABLISHING CONNECTION TO HANGAR…

>>...

>>ERROR! NO RESPONSE FROM HANGAR CONTROL!

>>N1GH7M4R3 PROTOCOL ABORTED.

Silence hung in the air for several long seconds as we continued to stare at the screen to see if the terminal did anything more. Then we were all startled as Moonbeam visibly shook herself, as though she’d just awoken from a daydream. Her pink eyes flickered several times as she look around at her surroundings, almost as though for the first time, “where…?” she hurriedly backed out of the room, nearly bowling me out of the way in her haste, “what’s going on?” the mare demanded.

“You tell us,” Homily said, gesturing to the terminal.

“I…” the synthetic mare seemed paralyze for several long seconds, her eyes once more flickering in rapid succession. Then, “I need to leave,” and with that, she trotted quite briskly away from the mysterious little room and made her way towards the facility’s exit. The rest of us exchange brief glances with one-another before Starlight and I took off after her. Homily remained for a while longer, citing her desire to more carefully examine the contents of the room to see if she could better divine its purpose.

Despite the numerous pleas from her mother to do otherwise, Moonbeam neither stopped, nor even slowed her progress, until she was well outside the bunker that disguised the underground installation’s entrance. At that point, not only did the robopony stop, she effectively collapsed, burying her face in her hooves as she proceeded to, of all things, hyperventilate.

Starlight’s maternal instincts appeared to kick in at that point, and she swiftly maneuvered to her daughter’s side, laying down beside the synthetic pony, “it’s alright, sweetheart. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

The unicorn mare’s words seemed to be doing at least some amount of good. Moonbeam leaned into her mother’s side, and her breathing eventually began to slow until it had returned back to its normal, nearly undetectable, levels. For my part, I was a little torn between offering my own words of support, and not wanting to intrude on what had been the most familial moment that I’d seen the two of them share since their initial meeting.

Though there was certainly a part of me that would rather have been anywhere else in the Wasteland right now, rather than watching somepony get to have the sort of touching reunion with their long-lost parent which I had been denied all those months ago. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being both happy for, and jealous of, a robopony...filly...thing. In the end, I settled for maintaining both my silence and a respectful distance as Moonbeam recomposed herself.

“I didn’t even feel it that time,” I heard the synthetic mare say, “Selene...she took over, and I didn’t even feel it! She’s not supposed to be able to do that,” I heard her add in little more than a whimper, “they told me I’d have total control…that Selene couldn’t come out unless I let her,” her fore-hooves clenched, gouging deep furrows in the hardscrabble with disturbing ease, “but, I mean, what kind of sense does that even make, right?

“Two-year-old me thought that sounded perfectly reasonable, sure, but now? An older and wiser me has to ask: why would anypony even design a ‘helper AI’ with the ability to override a pony’s conscious thoughts, unless they meant to be able to use that function when it suited their needs, and not the pony being helped?”

“If I’d known any of this, I swear to Celestia I wouldn’t have enrolled you in that program, Moonbeam,” Starlight assured her daughter, embracing the distraught robopony in an aggrieved hug of her own, “I should have known better,” she insisted through gritted teeth, “I just...they said they could help you, and I...I was just so desperate!

“I did everything wrong when it came to you,” the pink unicorn continued, burying her face in the side of the metal pony, “I experimented with unstable magic without taking precautions against getting pregnant. Then I ignored the warning signs of my pregnancy while taking those same risks. Then I enrolled you in the first experimental procedure that promised to help without asking even basic questions. Then I didn’t even notice they’d switched you with another foal for months!

“I failed you at every turn,” she was openly sobbing now, which honestly only added further to my initial discomfort, “it’s all my fault, and I’m sorry. I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but I am so sorry, sweetheart!

“If I knew how to fix this, I would in an instant…”

“You didn’t do this to me,” Moonbeam replied, softly, returning her mother’s embrace, “Selene is the Ministry of Awesome’s fault, not yours. Besides…” the robopony’s mouth opened, as though she were going to say something more, but then it slowly closed once more. From her position, Starlight Glimmer wasn’t able to see her daughter’s face, but I could. Made out of plastic and metal as it was, it wasn’t quite as expressive as the face of a typical pony, but the designers had seen fit to include enough basic articulation that I saw the brief look of...what looked to me to be a lot like genuine fear, before she managed to school her features into something a little less intense, her pink eyes very briefly darting in my direction.

She abandoned whatever thought she’d been about to express, and simply resumed the embrace.

This was about the point that my discomfort levels reached their peak, and I turned around to leave and give the two of them the privacy that they were entitled to at a moment like this. That was when I noticed that Homily had returned to the surface as well, and had taken up a rather respectful distance from the pair also. I fluttered over and landed beside her, “you’re already done looking over the room?”

“Hardly,” the yellow earth pony mare sighed in a defeated tone, “but everything went dark again about a minute after Moonbeam left. Then the ward went back up and kicked me out,” she peered over at the pair of despondent mares, “I guess it needs her nearby to work at all. But I’m thinking it can wait a while,” her gaze shifted between myself and the base’s radio tower, “which works out, because it’s getting close to Miss Neighvada’s next broadcast.

“Care to join me?”

“Really?” I hadn’t intended to sound quite as surprised by the invitation as I ended up sounding.

“Sure! After all, we’re about to clear your name. You should get a chance to speak in your own defense at least,” the mare flashed me a broad grin, “besides, with everything you’ve done for us, you are long overdue for an on-air interview!”

Homily made a few final slight adjustments to the equipment while I did my best not to look as nervous as I felt. I’d never been part of anything like this before where I was going to be heard by a huge audience. I had yet to find a part of the Neighvada Valley that couldn’t hear the yellow mare’s broadcasts. Even ‘Princess Luna’s’ old announcements couldn’t be heard everywhere in the valley.

It didn’t help that I was very much aware of how important this interview was going to be. For the better part of a week, the big news story being passed around was that the Wonderbolt had assassinated the ruler of the New Lunar Republic. I was, without a doubt, the most hated pony in the valley, even in places that the NLR didn’t hold dominion over. Places like New Reino might not have technically been integrated parts of Luna’s Republic, but that had a lot more to do with politics than anything else. As far as I knew, the ponies there had still believed that Princess Luna was the real deal, and that she was actually going to end the Wasteland and bring back the Equestria of old.

Sitting here now, and knowing that my defense of my actions was going to amount to: everything ponies had known for the last two decades was all a lie and Prime Minister Ebony Song had been running a massive con on everypony this whole time, was going to be a decidedly hard sell, to say the least. If there was any silver lining to be had, it was that Moonbeam had been able to provide Homily with pretty much every detail about the whole affair, which meant that the mare also knew everything that she needed to poke some very big holes in Ebony Song’s story.

That being said, I wasn’t so naive as to think that this one broadcast was going to completely fix everything. ‘Luna’ had been a very important part of a lot of ponies’ lives. She’d been their one real hope that all of the suffering and strife of their meager existence in the Wasteland would soon come to an end. False or not, I’d still taken that hope away from them for good. A lot of ponies weren’t going to thank me for doing that, even if that hadn’t been my intent.

After all, I’d been one of those very ponies who’d been so sure that Princess Luna would ultimately be the salvation of the Wasteland. The hate and loathing I felt for Ebony Song for betraying that trust that I’d placed in her was what so many others were going to be leveling at me, no matter how this went. The best I could hope for was probably to at least divide their ire between us and water it down enough that nopony did anything too rash when I showed up in town.

“So, the way this will work,” Homily said in a gentle tone, “is that Miss Neighvada will go on, and she’ll do her broadcast and expose everything that Ebony Song did. After all of that, I’ll introduce you and then you and her will just have a friendly chat. This isn’t going to have any sort of ‘gotcha!’ questions. Just a relaxing talk between friends, okay?”

Despite her assurances, I still swallowed nervously, “yeah, sounds good. Umm,” I raised a hesitant hoof, and Homily gestured for me to continue, “did you just talk about yourself in the third person?”

The mare blinked, and then smiled, “oh, that, heh. I tend to think of ‘Miss Neighvada’ as somepony else, since she’s more of a...character, I guess, that I play while I make broadcasts, and not the real me.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, it’s kind of nerve wracking to be speaking to so many ponies. I’m an engineer, not a newspony! I wasn’t ever supposed to be the pony doing the actual talking, but the pony I hired to be the ‘voice’ of this whole endeavor, well, he didn’t make it to McMaren at all,” she gave a sad little shrug, “so I’m just here doing the best I can. Miss Neighvada is what I imagine a well-informed pony should sound like, but I wouldn’t say she’s very much like how I am when I’m talking to ponies for real; like I’m doing with you right now.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The mare canted her head suddenly and placed a hood on her headset. She held up the other to me in a gesture to be quiet, smiling, “and here we go...”

Then, in an instant, the young mare seemed to transform before my eyes. Her body loosened up as she leaned herself over the control board, cozying up to the microphone as though it had taken her out to dinner at a fancy club. Her face was almost sultry as she took a deep breath and began her broadcast.

“Good evening, Wasteland! Sorry for keeping all you lovely ponies waiting so long, but I hope you at least enjoyed the selection of music that I personally put together for you to keep you all company until I got back. It was all for a good cause, I promise you, because Miss Neighvada has just come into some information that is going to shake everypony to their very core!

“Now, I’m going to preface this with: what you’re going to hear from me is going to be very hard to swallow. It is. I wasn’t sure that I was going to believe it when I first heard it! But, I have seen the evidence with my own two eyes, everypony, and I’ve checked my sources forwards and backwards. Even so, it’s going to sound more than a little bit crazy when I tell you what’s up.

“A few of you out there aren’t going to believe it no matter what,” her tone shifted down to a slightly more serious note, “and even more of you aren’t going to want to believe it. I know I didn’t,” Homily flashed a brief, almost apologetic glance, in my direction, “but what we all want to believe, and what the truth is, aren’t always going to be one in the same. We’ve experienced that before, my lovely listeners, and I’m sure we will again.

“All I can ask is that you listen to what I’m about to say, and then remember how Miss Neighvada has never steered you wrong before. Remember why I started broadcasting in the first place. Keep our history, our relationship, in your mind. Please, just do that thing for me.”

Her smile returned now, “well, after all of that build-up, I’m sure you’re all just about frothing at the mouth to hear what that news is, aren’t you? Well, here we go: My little ponies; Princess Luna was not―let me repeat that―not assassinated. Not by the Wonderbolt or anypony else.

“Because she wasn’t even real to begin with…”

I’ll admit that I did a lot of drifting in and out while Homily―or rather, Miss Neighvada―regaled her audience with a recounting of the events of the last week. Having actually lived through the story she was telling, I didn’t find it quite as enthralling as I hoped her audience did. Instead, my attention was being more firmly held by watching this...stranger sitting on the other side of the microphone from me. This wasn’t the same mare who’d given that first, hesitant, broadcast all those months ago.

This wasn’t even Homily, like she’d said. I was watching the Miss Neighvada, the Wasteland’s newest radio diva, speaking to the valley, full of her loyal listeners, and I was seeing her do so with a natural looking grace that seemed so foreign to me.

Well, maybe that wasn’t strictly true. At the risk of coming off immodest, I knew pretty well that I was indeed quite talented in a few areas. I had yet to meet a raider that could match me in a fight, after all. I’d even gone hoof-to-hoof with Steel Rangers, and my fair share of Wasteland monsters as well. I’d not rated myself super high in that regard for quite a long time, growing up with Jackboot. Mostly because the older earth pony had been objectively better at just about everything than I was.

That had given me something of a warped perspective where my level of skill was when compared to the ‘average pony’, because I’d never really seen a genuinely average pony in action. I’d only known what Jackboot could do, and what the bandits that we fought could do. Since I always came out on top of the bandits, but never quite measured up to my guardian, I pegged my abilities as being mediocre, at best.

Then I’d met Foxglove. A mare with a passable skill with some weapons, but who was certainly nowhere near the fighter that I was. She’d balanced that out with a level of mastery in quite a few other areas that I’d never be able to match, to be sure, but that was about the time when it started to dawn on me that, when it came to fighting, I was good at it. Great even.

That being the case, I suspected that it was well within the realm of possibility that a lot of ponies―perhaps even Foxglove herself―regarded my aerial combat abilities as being very graceful, in their own right. But, that was the result of a lifetime of practice, and quite a few missteps along the way. That wasn’t really the case with Homily though. She’d only been playing the part of Miss Neighvada for a couple of months. And, by her own admission, this wasn’t something that she had planned on doing as a career. Yet, somehow, she’d made more than a merely modest show of it.

To me, that was impressive. She was genuinely good at something that clearly lay well outside her innate talent with electronics. That was something that I couldn’t relate to. As much as I resented my own aptitude, I was good at what I did because I was supposed to be good at it. Not that I was being dismissive of the years of tutelage that Jackboot had given me to further that mastery. I simply couldn’t see myself being any good at something other than fighting and killing. As much as I might liked to have been.

Nevermind that I’d never given any thought to what other skills I’d have liked to try and master if even given the chance…

“...and now, my lovelies, I’d like to announce a truly special treat―for all of us!―I have, with me in the studio today, the one and only Wonderbolt herself!”

I snapped out of my little reverie just in time to catch Homily’s introduction and broad smile, as she gestured for me to finally speak up. I hurriedly cleared my throat and leaned into the microphone as close as she was, noting in the back of my mind how close it was putting my face to hers. If I hadn’t known better, I might have been of the mind, from ‘Miss Neighvada’s’ very inviting eyes, that she was luring me into a kiss.

Indeed, it was only now that I remembered that I wasn’t completely firm on all the details of exactly how exclusive Homily and Foxglove were…

“Hey, Ho―er, Miss Neighvada,” I hastily corrected, my face creasing into an apologetic grimace at the yellow mare. Her warm smile didn’t so much as falter for a moment though as she urged me to continue, “it’s good to be here. Thanks for giving me the chance to clear my name,” I felt my nervousness slowly beginning to ebb away as I spoke. It was feeling less like I was talking to a valley full of ponies, and more like it was just the two of us having a conversation, which I’d had with Homily several times.

Of course, this was my first time speaking with her alter-ego. I was finding her to be much more, erm...intense company than her more reserved counter-part.

“Honey, with as many times as you’ve pulled my flank out of the fire? How could I not! In fact, with as much as you’ve done for this valley over the years, I’m sure that there’s a lot more ponies than you think who feel the same way,” she pointed out before using that statement as a segue into her first question of the interview, “after all, you’re a Neighvada native, isn’t that right? And you’ve been helping to clean up this valley since about the time you learned to fly, if I’ve heard correctly.”

I was actually genuinely surprised that she’d known that. It certainly didn’t sound like she was really guessing with her questioning tone; merely prodding me for details about what she already knew the broad strokes about. So I told her. That was about when this started to feel less like any sort of ‘interview’, and a lot more like the late night talks that I had with RG.

I told her about my parents, and how they’d been killed by White Hooves. I talked about being taken in by Jackboot, and how he’d taught me to look after myself and had set me on the path that I was on now: fighting bandits and slavers and such. I talked about the first pony that I’d really helped: Golden Vision, and how she’d eventually met her end by choosing to commit suicide over being used as a sex toy by a Republic senator. Homily didn’t press me for a lot of details about that, but was gracious enough to confirm for her listeners that the NLR’s system of ‘indentured servitude’ had been rife with exploitation and abuses.

“Of course, now that we know this was a system that was created by a loathsome little fuck like Ebony Song, I guess it’s not really all that surprising the NLR would have what was essentially a way to enslave its very own citizens,” Miss Neighvada sneered, “I don’t think any rational pony out there can honestly believe that the real Princess Luna would have been okay with doing that to her own, devoted, subjects, could they?” she said, speaking more into the mic than to me. Then she slipped back into her warm, interviewer, demeanor, “I think it’s safe to say that you’ve pretty much devoted your whole life to helping other ponies. That’s pretty amazing, actually. Does being a hero really pay the bills?”

“Some days,” I couldn’t help but chuckle a little, mostly thankful to be on a lighter topic, “mostly it’s hocking the gear that raiders had on them. Since most of what they have came from merchants they robbed, there’s usually something worth a decent amount of caps. I’m not going to be moving into a New Reino casino penthouse any time soon,” that earned a laugh from Homily, “but I don’t miss many meals, no.

“Honestly, I’m not even spending a whole lot of caps these days anyway. When the first thing you do rolling into town is stop a Ranger attack or kick out a bunch of mercenaries holding the ponies there hostage, you end up getting a lot of things ‘on the house’, like dinner and a bed. I don’t think I’ve ever spent a single cap in McMaren, now that I think of it.”

“Like we would ever consider making the mare who practically founded this place for us pay for anything!” the other mare grinned, “but it’s nice to hear that the ponies of the valley still manage to hold onto their sense of decency and gratitude even in light of everything going on these days. With tensions running so high, I was ready to see ponies getting a little more tight-lipped, even towards the Wonderbolt.”

“Nah. I mean, I can’t complain,” I shrugged, “I’m not expecting a free ride for what I do. I’m not fighting very hard to stop ponies from thanking me, mind you,” we both shared a mirthful chuckle, “but I’ll pay a fair price if somepony asks me. Even if I’ve just finished saving their flank from a raider attack thirty seconds ago. I’m not doing this to get rich.”

“Care to tell our listeners why you are doing this then?” she prompted, “I’m sure there are ponies out there who are suspicious of anypony who comes off as being a little ‘too’ altruistic. They’ll think there’s a hidden angle.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but stopped myself short. I’d been about to give my usual ‘I’m doing this because it’s the right thing’ shpiel, but then thought better of it. Because that would have been a lie. At least, according to Jackboot, it would have been. He might have been a cynical old stallion, but he’d known ponies better than I did. There wasn’t any such thing as genuine altruism, after all, was there?

So, I instead took a moment to compose my thoughts, and then gave a more ‘Jackboot’ answer to the question, “I’m doing this for me,” I shrugged, “I care about other ponies too, of course, but at the end of the day, I keep thinking about one thing: what my life would have been like if the White Hooves hadn’t raided our farm. And I know that it would have been a happier life. I’d have grown up surrounded by ponies who loved me, my hooves wouldn’t be stained with blood, and I wouldn’t be covered head to hoof in scars.

“I shouldn’t have had to grow up knowing what the inside of a disemboweled stallion smells like, but I did,” Homily grimaced, but allowed me to keep talking, “assuming I live long enough, I’m going to have foals of my own one day. I don’t want them to have to know what that smells like either. So, here I am, trying to help turn the valley into a place where ponies don’t have to grow up learning how to kill more ponies than they can count just to get by, because I don’t want my own foals to have to do that.

“Am I’m being naive in thinking that can even happen at all? Maybe,” I shrugged, “but it definitely won’t happen if I don’t even try. So here I am, trying.”

Homily was nodding now, a smile stretched across her features, “I think our listeners would find it hard to disagree with that. Any immediate plans in that regard?”

I blinked at the mare, “uh...you mean about foals?”

“Ha! Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about any potential ‘Mister Wonderbolts’ out there,” she laughed, eyeing me with a knowing look that made me do a quick mental check of how probable it was that Homily knew about my romp with Arginine in the barracks during my last visit, “but I’m sure a lot of our listeners who have seen your cute little flank in the flesh would rather not have their own personal fantasies dashed on the rocks of reality, so we can keep it to your plans regarding making the valley a safer place. For now, at least,” she finished, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

...Was she coming onto me? And what was that about my flank being cute?

I regarded the mare for a long moment, slightly more convinced that she, in fact, did know more about my personal life than I felt she should have. However, I took the out that she was gracious enough to offer, “well, small time raiders and such aren’t my biggest concern right now. Like you’ve mentioned to your listeners, there’s a new threat to the valley coming from the west―”

“That group of crazy stable ponies who want to ‘purify the Wasteland’, you mean,” Homily elaborated for the benefit of our invisible audience.

“Exactly. Them. Well, I finally figured out where they are,” I tapped my pipbuck, and the Steel Ranger data that it contained, “which means I can take the fight to them. Hopefully before they’re ready to move in force.”

“You’re not thinking about trying to take them on on your own?” the other mare said with a note of genuine concern.

I shook my head, “hardly. Please, Miss Neighvada, I know my limits,” mostly, “I have friends in New Reino right now working on recruiting ponies to help with the fight. Meanwhile, I’m actually going to be going out to secure the caps to pay anypony who’s willing to fight with us,” I shrugged, “I may not be doing this for the money, but I’m not going to ask anypony else to put their lives on the line for nothing.”

Homily’s eyes widened, “that sounds pretty ambitious,” then a thought seemed to occur to her and she leaned closer into the microphone, “I bet having some NLR soldiers there to help you protect the valley would have been really nice. It’s a shame that Phony Song up there in Seaddle is too conceited to want to do anything that might actually help the Republic’s citizens,” she winked at me and I stifled a laugh. It sounded like somepony was trying to sow the seeds of a revolution or something.

Maybe I could even help her out a little in that regard, “well, that was why I was even in Seaddle a week ago: I went to negotiate with who I thought was ‘Princess Luna’ to get the Republic’s help doing just that. That was when I found out about the scam that Ebony Song was running and put a stop to it. I tried to get the Rangers to help too, but it turns out they’re not much better,” I shrugged, “not that much of a surprise, I guess, given their history.

“Still, I felt like giving them a chance to do the right thing. Not every Steel Ranger is an irredeemable asshole, surprisingly,” then a thought occurred to me too, and I leaned into the mic, flashing Homily a knowing look, “just like I know that there are a lot of NLR soldiers who care more about keeping the people of Seaddle safe from danger than following somepony like that liar, Ebony Song,” I received a very approving smile and mimed clap from the yellow mare.

Homily was back up close to the mic again, “hey, Wonderbolt, hypothetically, if there were NLR soldiers out there who thought saving the valley was a more worthwhile endeavor than propping up a tyrant, where could they go to join up with you?”

That was a good question, actually; and this was an angle I hadn’t really considered. I’d honestly written off the entirety of the Republican Guard in the wake of what had happened in Seaddle. Obviously, Homily felt that there might still be some ponies among them who’d be willing to help. In hindsight, that wasn’t all that hard to imagine, seeing as how Ramparts was still helping me. I might not get the forces that I’d been hoping for, but if there was even a chance that as few as a dozen or so guardsponies would sign on…

“We’ll be staging in Shady Saddles,” I said into the microphone. It gave us a good ‘jumping off’ point for Stable 126, “anypony who wants to sign on should meet us there,” I did some quick math in my head, tallying up travel times for what I still had yet to do, “we’ll be moving out in about four weeks.”

“There you go, my lovelies: meet up with the Wonderbolt in Shady Saddles in a month if you feel like making a difference in the valley; or if you just want to earn some easy caps getting rid of murderous trash,” she added with a grin. Then she look past the mic at me, “I wish you the best possible luck, Wonderbolt. We all do.

“And I hope you’ll come back here once you’ve cleared out that stable for another interview. Until then, I again thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me, mine, and the valley at large. I know my audience does too,” she held my gaze for a moment longer before turning her full attention to her equipment, “I’m sure you’re anxious to get in a good night’s sleep before going out to fight the good fight, and I know I could use a little shut-eye myself. So, goodnight, Wonderbolt, and good night my little ponies; see you again in the morning,” she flipped a few switches on a nearby panel and I heard the faint melody of a Songbird Serenade song wafting from her headset as she removed it and set it aside.

Homily took a deep, cleansing breath, and leaned away from the mic, a contented smile on her face, “I think that went pretty well.”

I narrowed my gaze at the mare, “yeah. What was that about my flank? Also, why are we encouraging ponies to fantasize about me?”

“Huh?” Homily blinked. Then she burst out laughing, “oh, that, ha! Sorry, it just sort of slipped out,” she spread her lips in a broad grin, “it’s a compliment! I mean, it’s not cuter than Foxy’s, but I’d definitely rate it in the top five I’ve seen in my lifetime,” she offered by way of what I was sure she thought sounded like an apology, “top three if we’re only including McMaren,” she added with a wink, “and top one if we exclude stallions.”

“Wait...there are two stallions here with cuter butts than mine?” Why was I suddenly upset by this revelation? I didn’t want to be higher on Homily’s list of cute flanks! I didn’t even want her to have me on her list at all! I mean, I guess I was kind of flattered, but―ugh! Stop it!

Homily offered a helpless shrug, “what can I say? I’m partial to earth ponies. They just have so much more back there to...HMMPH!” she finished with a gutteral sound that came out as a cross between a grunt and a sigh, leaving me regarding her with a confused expression. The mare recomposed herself and smiled, saying no more on the matter.

Thankfully.

I took the opportunity that the lull offered to redirect the conversation away from my ass―which was a thought that I’d never imagined having to form―and back towards more substantial matters. I winced at the flank-related pun my mind spit out and powered through, “thanks for doing this. The interview, I mean,” I said, “and for helping out with the recruiting.”

The other mare gave a dismissive little wave of her hoof, “this doesn’t even put a dent in what I owe you,” she insisted, “until McMaren’s ponies have saved your life a few times, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask us for any kind of help; whatever it is,” then she frowned, “heck, I’m just sorry we don’t have any ponies we can spare to help you fight,” her expression was genuinely regretful on that point, “I’ll keep putting the word out though. If we find ourselves with any extra caps, I’ll send them along to add to your warchest, at least.”

It was my turn to lean back and sigh this time, “if you told me a year ago that I’d be trying to build my own personal army, I’d have told you to stop spiking your Wild Pegasus with Albronco Cleaner. I’m fifteen! Generals can’t be fifteen!”

“Elephander of Mastodon started leading armies at sixteen,” Homily offered, “besides, if ponies are willing to follow you, what does it matter how old you are?”

“Who?”

“General from way back, long before the war. Heh, long before Equestria, even,” at my quirked eyebrow, the mare shrugged, “whoever used to run this place on the surface had a bunch of books about old generals. Before we found that bunker I didn’t have much to do between news broadcasts, so…”

“And you’re saying everything worked out fine for this...Ella-whoever?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, then almost immediately cringed and added, “well...I mean, he died pretty young, but he basically never lost a battle, so there’s that.”

“Great,” not that I knew a lot of ponies in my life who’d been fortunate to die of anything as mundane as old age anyway. Still, “I don’t want to be some great warlord,” I insisted, “I don’t want to be a leader of ponies. I just...I don’t know,” I finally said, defeated, “I want ponies to be safe and happy.”

“So do I, Windfall,” Homily reached over and patted my shoulder. I looked up and saw her sympathetic smirk, “and who knows: maybe it’ll even happen in our lifetimes!”

“Maybe,” I agreed, a little disappointed in myself for how half-hearted the word had sounded even to my own ears. The radio pony had been right about one thing though, I thought as I stifled a yawn, it was about time for me to go off to bed, “I better get some sleep. I have a long few weeks ahead of me.”

“Sounds good,” Homily slipped out of her seat and began to tidy up the broadcast room, “I’m going to finish up some things here and do the same. Oh, and stop by the mess tent and grab a bite on your way. I haven’t seen you eat since you got here!”

She had a point. One that it seemed my own stomach had only just become aware of as well, as it responded with a curiously timed grumble, prompting a snicker from the other mare and a blush from myself. So, I excused myself and swung by the base’s dining area to grab a bite to eat.

It was a much larger and livelier place than I remembered it being during my last visit to McMaren. That likely owed to the merchant population that had seen fit to take up residence in order to take advantage of the base’s newfound riches, and servicing the ponies exploiting them. A tailoring stall had popped up, as well a couple of arms and barding dealers too. There were even signs of a few ambitious ponies who seemed determined to find out if they could make something grow on the abundance of open land. I was pretty skeptical about that, myself. Unless you had access to a lot of water and fertilizer, getting anything worthwhile to sprout in the valley was an uphill battle.

Yet, despite the abundance of new faces, there was still more than enough of the ‘old guard’ McMarens yet left on the base who seemed more than willing to make something of a to-do about my presence. It wasn’t quite to the levels that I’d experienced after repelling the Ranger attack during my previous visit, but I still received more than a few cheers and was the subject of a toast or two. I didn’t find myself lacking for drinks, that was for sure! I barely had time to finish the one in my hooves before two more would get shoved in front of me. This was when I discovered that I wasn’t nearly the drinker that I’d been only a year ago.

Ammunition and grenades seemed to trickle into my saddlebags too as I ate. Because of course the ponies here had been listening in to Miss Neighvada’s latest broadcast. There was also the odd promise from ponies that they’d find a way to be in Shady Saddles in four weeks, which I was quick to express my appreciation for.

If anypony there thought that it was the slightest bit odd to be offering to follow a teenager into battle, they weren’t voicing those concerns anywhere I could hear them. Which was just fine with me, as I was just starting to enjoy having something go right for a change! After back-to-back setbacks in the ‘army building’ department like I’d had, I really needed a win to help balance things out. Hopefully, Foxglove and the others were experiencing similar good fortune.

In fact, now that I thought about it, it couldn’t hurt to call in and get an update on their progress. Maybe I was pushing my luck by doing so, but my curiosity wouldn’t stand to go unsated once the thought entered my head. So I dialed in Ramparts’ pipbuck tag and contacted him.

“Hey, Windfall,” came the stallion’s staticy voice in response, “heard the interview you gave. Glad to hear you all made it to McMaren safe. We’re still about a day out of New Reino.”

I frowned, “I thought you’d have been there by now. Did something happen?”

“Nothing serious,” the courser assured me, “stopped to help a caravan that got hit.”

“Was it bad?”

“Could have been worse. According to the caravan master, it was just a few bandits. That does remind me though; he told me he saw something very strange the other day: White Hooves.”

I felt my blood run cold at the mere mention of their name, “I guess you’re far enough West for that,” I reasoned, “and the NLR isn’t patrolling anymore,” not that they’d been doing all that much of it while they’d been actively fighting with the Steel Rangers. I still didn’t like hearing that the tribe was active so near New Reino. Apparently they’d managed to get themselves organized again after Jackboot had killed off their chief, “it’s a miracle they didn’t hit the caravan. If they were close enough to see the White Hooves, then its certain the White Hooves saw them too.”

“That’s what was strange,” Ramparts said, “According to the caravan master, the White Hooves did see them. They just kept right on heading east,” both of us were quiet for several long moments. I was trying to wrap my head around the idea that a raiding party of White Hooves could have laid eyes on a plump and juicy caravan loaded down with valuables and chosen to not attack them. Then Ramparts hit with with an even more astonishing revelation, “and they had foals with them. Young ones, he said.”

“Captives?”

“He didn’t think so.”

“White Hooves don’t bring their foals on raids,” I heard myself saying out loud, not that the Republican Guard stallion needed to be told this fact. White Hooves did, of course, bring young warriors along with them to gain experience and let them start building their reputations within the tribe, but they didn’t bring ponies young enough to be described as ‘foals’. They kept their young safe and sound back in their camps until they’d been sufficiently trained and prepared to handle themselves in a fight.

So, if those White Hooves weren’t on their way to launch an attack on something, then what were they doing this far east? They had to know that the valley proper wasn’t safe for a White Hoof. Anypony who found them and saw their brands would kill them without a second thought. Which suggested that whatever had driven them this far was something they felt it was worth that risk to avoid.

I decided that I’d voice my most hopeful theory first, “maybe some ponies that the new chief doesn’t like very much?” I offered. Jackboot had found himself exiled after all when his own half-sister came to power. It was possible that the disorder caused by Whiplash’s death was finally over with, and the new chief was purging their enemies. That could have prompted a family or two of White Hooves to leave for more distant lands. Jackboot had fled all the way to Manehattan.

“Maybe that’s all it is,” I could have wished that Ramparts sounded a little more certain that was indeed the case. I got the impression that he, too, had not missed the other, less desirable, possibility: that those were White Hooves fleeing from an external threat. Like, say, a certain group of stable ponies who were advancing on White Hoof territory. Stable 126 was a lot closer to White Hoof lands than the major Neighvada settlements. If Arginine’s stable was going to start their campaign of extermination somewhere, the tribals made sense.

If they were already mobilized and on the move…

“I’ll let you know if I hear about more White Hoof groups being spotted,” he told me.

“I’d appreciate that. I’ll make sure Homily knows to keep her ears open too. You guys take care of yourselves.”

“Will do. Good night, Windf―huh? Oh. Foxglove wants me to tell you that she thinks your flank is very cute too,” I could hear the slightly exasperated tone of the stallion as he was compelled to pass on the message.

I buried my face in my hooves and sighed, “thank you, Foxy,” I replied.

“Oh, for...and Arginine says that he agrees that...‘it has visually pleasing contours...that are inviting of prolonged viewing...and vigorous...I am not saying that,” I could actually hear a mare cackling herself into hyperventilation in the background, “because it’s Windfall and I’m not saying that! No, I’m not going to let you say it either! Because then those words will have been sent through this broadcaster and I won’t be able to talk to Windfall over this pipbuck again without feeling dirty, that’s why! Fine, ‘vigorous touching’, whatever,” there was a brief pause for an exasperated sigh, “are we done now?” he was clearly addressing the pair of ponies with him.

“What, no opinion from you?” I prompted in a monotone voice, wishing that I could somehow dig a hole in the hardscrabble surface and stuff my head into it.

“I’m a married stallion,” he reminded me, “I’m not allowed to voice my opinions about other mares and the cuteness of their flanks.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But,” oh, sweet Celestia, no, “if I wasn’t married―and about ten years younger,” he added with a cough, “I suppose I’d say that it’s―”

“G’night!” I snapped, turning off the transmitter. I sat there shaking my head. There was at least that tiny little feeling of appreciation at my friends’ attempt to end our conversation on a note of levity. However, I couldn’t avoid pondering the implications of the news that they’d passed on forever. I was really hoping that those White Hooves were just running from an internal tribal purge. Because if it was the other most likely alternative…

“...we might not have four weeks.”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 45: ALL FOR ME

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It's... a thing. A science thing. It hurts robots. Don't worry about it.

“Pull!”

A moment later, a rock roughly the size of a young foal’s head was launched high into the air. I narrowed my gaze at the offending stone and engaged my pipbuck’s Sparkle Assisted Targeting System. Time slowed, and I queued up a trio of strikes, only sparing a passing moment to note the less-than-encouraging numbers that the device on my fetlock was displaying as my chances of scoring a hit. I engaged the spell and promptly launched three quick jabs at the flying rock.

It still felt a little weird to be ‘punching’ at something that was the better part of fifty yards away. Yet, as each of my little rabbit-punches reached their full extension, I felt the slide on my bracers kick forward and discharge. A brilliant bolt of orange fire shot forward at about the speed of an energy bolt that one might expect to see expelled by one of the boxy weapons that the Steel Rangers favored. The first of the trio of lethal shots went wide by what I felt was an insulting margin, but the second struck true, obliterating the stone into a fine mist. The third shot merely punched a harmless little hole through the rapidly dissipating cloud.

I stalled in the air, hovering as I mentally evaluated my latest round of trials with the new weapon that I’d recovered from the secret compartment in my family home. It was like no weapon that I’d ever used before, so it had taken the better part of a week for me to perform reliably well with it. At least at range. The devices discharged whenever my forelegs came to an suitably abrupt halt, which meant that they also fired if I punched something hard enough. They operated much like a power hoof in that regard which, while not a weapon I used, was one that I was at least familiar with.

Given what I had seen these things do to targets so far, I had some pretty serious reservations about using them against flesh and blood ponies at ranges close enough for me to make physical contact. Such a fight would very quickly get quite...messy. Killing dangerous ponies was one thing, but having their heads explode with a good right cross a foot away from my own face? I had vivid enough nightmares as it was, thank you very much!

I looked back down at the pink unicorn and robopony walking along on the ground below me. Starlight Glimmer’s horn was already glowing, holding another rock about the size of my last target in her telekinetic field, “pull!”

On cue, the mare hurled the stone into the air. This time I forewent the magical assistance of my pipbuck and tried to eyeball the shot in real-time. I lashed out with a half dozen punches, tracking the arcing projectile. My first two went wide. The third clipped a piece of it, diverting the stone sharply upward and sending it spinning wildly in the air. The sudden change in direction cost me my fourth and fifth shots as well, but its new nearly perfectly vertical course set it up to very briefly come to a complete stop just before it began to descend to the ground. This was when my sixth and final bolt obliterated it.

Considering I was preparing to fight a stable full of ponies who were the better part of twice the size of the average stallion and I was scoring hits on rocks half the size of bloatsprites at two hundred feet, I didn’t feel that this was a particularly bad performance. I wasn’t the only pony who was demonstrating a marked improvement either. While my initial predictions for her competence with a firearm had left a lot to be desired, Starlight Glimmer was finally hitting targets at a decent range with what even I considered to be respectable level of reliability. She wasn’t going to be winning any marksmareship competitions any time soon, but she was at least at the point where I felt I could rely on her to provide adequate fire support if the need arose.

Her accuracy with her own innate magical strikes far outclassed her ability to hit even a stationary target with her little shotgun of course; and Starlight never missed a moment to remind me of how much more effective those cyan beams of hers were than buckshot. I freely acknowledged that fact too. However, I was also not shy about reminding her of how high the ratio of her time spent with her horn burned out was to the total time we’d known her, and how far into an hour-long firefight she could maintain a nearly constant rate of fire with those magical beams of hers. The response was always some sort of eyeroll and a grumble as she returned to practicing with the shotgun.

The pink mare was holding another rock to throw into the air, but I shook my head and began circling lazily back towards the ground, “that’s enough for today,” I informed the unicorn, “I don’t want to burn through too many of our spark-packs. Not when we’re this close to...well, wherever it is we’re going.”

That was one of the questions burning in my mind during this trip. The flight tracking information that I’d gathered from the Ministry of Awesome installation beneath McMaren before it had been shut down had provided me with the coordinates of our destination, but it hadn’t helped me to understand exactly what it was that we were going to find. Another secret military base? A sealed bunker? An abandoned amusement park? There was no telling with this ministry, honestly; not after everything I’d seen up to this point.

Starlight tossed away the unused stone and let out a long sigh, “how much longer is it going to be, anyway?”

“That depends,” I shrugged, earning a frown from the other mare, “I mean, we can probably be there tonight if we feel like making this a long day. Or we can stop and camp for the night so we reach it while it’s light out.

“Considering we don’t know what we’ll find when we get there, I’m not a fan of doing this in the dark.”

My concerns were seconded by Moonbeam, “agreed.”

“Stopping soon and getting a good night’s rest? No argument here! How much longer then?”

I glanced up at the cloudy sky, noting that it was starting to darken already, “another hour. Maybe a little less,” my wings flitted out once more and I lifted into the air, “I’ll fly ahead and find a good spot to bed down.”

Starlight was getting a little better about dealing with these lengthy desert treks, as well as improving her proficiency with a gun, but her couple months of endurance building still didn’t put her anywhere near my level; or that of a mechanical mare, for that matter. While our pace was certainly vastly improved from what it had been immediately after we’d recovered her, the pink unicorn mare was still the pony in our group dictating the pace we maintained.

On the bright side, things had not been as awkwardly silent as our trip to McMaren had been. Their little emotional breakthrough at the old military base seemed to have been sufficient to tear down whatever barriers had previously existed between them and the two were chatting much more freely. Given that this was still a rather new development between them, I wasn’t too eager to interject myself very often, settling instead for simply listening to them talk about...well, themselves, I guess.

Most of their conversation heavily favored Starlight Glimmer’s own history, as Moonbeam made an effort to learn more details about her parent’s life before being placed into stasis. She was especially interested in hearing about her father as well. While not the most pressing mysteries in my life that I wanted answers to, I did still listen in to what they talked about in the spirit of learning more personal details about my newest traveling companions. The bulk of the revelations happened while we ate dinner around our nightly campfires, just before going to sleep.

Tonight’s first story continued Starlight’s account of how she had come to be part of the Ministry of Arcane Science, “like I said yesterday: I didn’t hear about the war until it had already been going on for several months. The village I was leading was pretty far off the beaten path, which had been the point. We’d heard about the Wonderbolt intervention, and the coal embargo, but none of us imagined that it’d escalate into a war!

“Then, one day, a flight of pegasi showed up and told us we had to evacuate. They said that the zebras had bypassed the Mareginot Line to the east by going through griffon territory, and that our town was now vulnerable. I tried to keep us all together, but we weren’t the only ponies that had to be evacuated. There were too many refugees to send to just one place, so we ended up getting split up,” the pink unicorn sighed, shaking her head, “and, with that, my dream of creating a utopian society died a quiet little death.

“Back in central Equestria, it didn’t take long to get caught up on everything that had happened, and just how dire the situation was. Equestria had been at peace since the Nightmare Rebellion. Other than dealing with the occasional bugbear intrusion or a pack of diamond dogs that was denning a little too close, we’d never had to actually fight a real enemy before. Meanwhile, the zebras were the next best thing to a society of warriors! They had several tribes who were completely dedicated to mastering fighting and warfare.”

Her features grew a little darker, “we learned quickly though. Defeat is a very harsh proctor; and we suffered defeats. A lot of them. Early on, at least. Trotterdam, The Haygue, Geldeberg, the zebras blitzed right through Equestria’s frontier regions in a matter of weeks before finally being stopped at Hoofington. Even that city came close to falling early on, but it managed to hold on just long enough for forces armed with the new ‘firearms’ that had just been developed to get there and finally repel the zebras.

“After that, it all seemed to turn into a game of who could come up with the deadliest weapons first. Celestia had stepped down by then, replaced by Princess Luna and her new ministries. The call went out for all skilled unicorns to apply to the Ministry of Arcane Science and so me, being the most skilled unicorn that I knew,” the pink mare managed a smirk as she said that with no small amount of bravado, “submitted an application.

“I got the impression that some of the unicorns in charge of personnel recognized my name from the papers on the nature of cutie marks that I’d submitted to several of Equestria’s universities early in my career; because I wasn’t given the initial posting that my skill deserved,” she very nearly scowled at the memory, “I got assigned as a research assistant at first. Fortunately, the stallion I worked for was an idiot, and it didn’t take long for my own efforts to completely eclipse his. Within the first year of being hired, I was finally heading my own team.

“Another couple of years after that, I found myself as the acting director for the MAS’s R.A.M.S. division: Research into Artifacts of Magical Significance. Essentially, looking for sources of ancient power that had either been forgotten about or lost. It was that job that eventually got me assigned to the Crystal Empire, since their library contained the most intact editions of the oldest know tomes in the region.

“Being lost in time for a thousand years is a good way to preserve books, it turns out,” the unicorn gave a rueful little wink. Then her expression softened, “it turned out that somepony from the town of my birth had actually been placed in charge of the Empire’s library, which had been rebranded by then as the Imperial Institute of Arcana, a magical academy of sorts. Crystal ponies couldn’t use unicorn magic, but Princess Cadence was determined to try and help Equestria as best she could; especially since their military commitment had been pretty minimal by then.”

My face scrunched up now and I voiced a clarifying question, “why? Did they not have a big army or something?”

“On the contrary,” Starlight corrected, “the Crystal Empire had a pretty extensive military tradition; and, unlike the rest of Equestria, from their point of view they’d fought a pretty big war quite recently. In fact, it was their military advisers that helped to whip the Equestrian military back into shape after their initial defeats.

“And that was also the problem too,” she went on, “the crystal ponies had just come out of a very costly war quite recently. Their armies were still in the process of re-organizing―not to mention upgrading their millenia-old equipment. They were in no condition to fight, and the civilian population really didn’t want to either.

“You have to understand that the Crystal Empire was still only a very loosely integrated part of Equestria at this point,” the unicorn explain patiently. For her this had been common knowledge where she’d come from―er, when she’d come from?―but I didn’t know hardly anything about what was ancient history for me, “there wasn’t much of a unified identity between the two nations. For much of the Empire, the war was between the zebras and Equestria, since none of the events leading up to it had involved the crystal ponies at all. The last thing they wanted was to be dragged into another war, so soon after barely managing to survive their last one.

“Princess Cadance knew this, and so she committed as few line forces as possible, sending mostly advisors and training cadre; and capitalizing on the Empire’s wealth of preserved knowledge to help with Equestria’s research programs. Programs that, as the war became more desperate, weren’t moving along as fast as the MAS wanted.

“So, I got tapped to go there and give everypony at the IIA a swift kick in their collective posteriors.”

“And that’s when you fell in love with Daddy,” Moonbeam interjected, beaming at her mother.

Starlight waggled her hoof in the air noncommittally, “ehh...eventually. He didn’t even remember who I was at first,” she said in a sour tone, “but he soon caught on. And, when he learned that the pony who’d been sent by Ministry Mare Twilight Sparkle herself to find out why he was so far behind on his development quotas wasn’t, in fact, there to give him the boot and take over everything for herself, he warmed up to me pretty quick.

“Over the months, one thing led to another…” she shrugged, and I could see the first signs I’d seen in a while of a genuinely warm smile appearing on her lips, “Sunburst was almost the one to finally propose, but he couldn’t quite get it out,” she snorted with laughter at the memory. But I saw that she also had to wipe the corner of her eye with the back of her hoof as she followed up the amused outburst with a sniff, “he was stuttering so much and he could barely get his levitation magic to work at all. I started laughing at him.

“I already knew exactly what he’d planned for the night,” she admitted, “the adorable little idiot had used our joint account to make the preparations,” she laughed again, “when you see back-to-back charges appear on your bank statement from Rings and Strings, Crystal Rose Florist, and Chard on the Shard―the undisputed most romantic cafe in the Empire―then it’s pretty obvious that something is going to happen.

“But, oh Celestia! When I laughed he just looked so crestfallen! He thought I found it ridiculous that he even thought that I’d marry him. He actually ran out of the restaurant!”

“I assume this story has a happy ending,” I surmised, nodding my head towards her daughter.

“Obviously. I chased him down, froze him with a simple arresto spell and gave him a kiss that made it pretty obvious I had no intention of turning him down,” that warm smile was now broader than ever, “then we went back to the cafe to collect the bottle of champagne that we hadn’t gotten to yet and took it home to finish, erm...celebrating our engagement.

“I don’t think we came out of our bedroom that whole weekend,” she added, a pensive hoof on her chin, “I mean, except for bathroom and water breaks, of course,” she flashed the pair of us a satisfied grin.

Moonbeam’s pink eyes flickered, “wow, Mom. Thanks for that lovely visual.”

Starlight gave her metallic daughter a mischievous look, “oh? That makes you uncomfortable? How about this little tid-bit: backtracking from the day you were born, it’s about a ninety-nine percent chance that you were my birthday present. I’d just gotten back from a three month long string of MAS conferences and briefs and Mama needed some serious lovin’ to unwind. That’s when I found out that Sunburst had apparently picked up a copy of the Pony Sutra while I was gone to ‘surprise’ me.

“Your father is a very studious reader by the way.”

“Oh, Celestia, I can’t know this!” the robopony wailed, burying her face in the ground and covering her ears with her hooves.

I looked briefly at the distraught robopony and then back at Starlight, shrugging, “I could sit here a little longer. So, like, a whole two days, really?”

“It was still pretty early on Friday when we went home, and we may have come into work late that Monday. So, somewhere closer to a full seventy-hours really,” she amended, heedless of the groan coming from her daughter’s buried muzzle.

“How does that even work?”

“Oh,” the unicorn mare chuckled, “it worked very well, trust me. You just need to make sure to stay hydrated, have the stallion pop a healing potion every twelve hours or so to keep him from passing out―oh!―and plenty of lubricant. I think we went through two whole bottles of Hay-Y the night of our engagement…”

“That’s it!” Moonbeam interrupted, “I’m cutting my audio feed. If anything happens, knock on my casing!”

The pair of us glanced briefly at our metallic companion, the pink mare rolling with laughter, “no,” I went on, trying to clarify my earlier question as I also remembered to ask her how motor oil played a role in any of this, “I mean, it’s all over so quick. How can you stretch it out for days? I guess you can make the kissing and stuff go on for a while, but the sex is just over so fast!”

“Wait, what?” Starlight stopped laughing, looking at me dubiously.

“Yeah,” I was feeling a little uneasier talking about this now, seeing the unicorn’s genuinely surprised expression, “the thing goes in, it gets sticky, and then it comes out. It’s like, ten seconds or something.”

“Ten sec―” the mare’d jaw went slack for a moment before she brought up both of her hooves to cover her mouth. At first, I thought she was in shock at the idea that a mare as young as me had been having sex, but then I noticed that her blue eyes were sparkling with barely contained mirth. When she spoke, I could similarly hear the strain as she held back her laughter―though not completely successfully, “oh, honey...that is...I am so sorry for you.

“Who did you―” she began to ask, but then she stopped short and her eyes grew wide, “wait. McMaren! Mister ‘Fuck or kill’! Arginine?!” she was laughing audibly again, much to my own unreserved chagrin, “that studly glass of tall, dark, and handsome, only went ten seconds? That is...tragic,” the unicorn even looked genuinely mournful, “I guess looks really aren’t everything. A shame.”

“So...I take it that wasn’t a normal amount of time for ponies to have sex?”

“Well…” Starlight said, her lips scrunched up off to the side, “I mean, I’m not going to say it never happens. But, no, I wouldn’t put that up there as being ‘normal’. Even if you take out the foreplay.”

“What-play?”

That mournful look was back again, but her eyes maintained that twinkle of amusement, “oh, honey...we need to have a long talk…”

Last night’s conversation with Starlight had certainly proved to be...illuminating; and I spent even most of the next morning thinking about it. I wasn’t going to go so far as to say that it had answered all my questions about the topic, but I also wasn’t sure that I’d be able to handle any further details. Not yet, at least. I wasn’t sure, either, how I was going to have that same sort of talk with Arginine when I next saw him. Still, I suppose that it was information that I was glad to have. Even if it did further reinforce just how little I knew about a whole lot of things.

We had a light meal just before daybreak, and then packed up our things in order to continue with the last little leg of our trip to...wherever it was we were going. I flew as far ahead as I was comfortable with, given that we were a long way off the ‘beaten path’. This meant that I was, ultimately, a little less concerned about our running into a bandit ambush or camp, since those groups tended to operate closer to where other ponies lived. On the other hoof, that same lack of regular pony trafic meant that there was a much higher chance of coming across a den of some sort of monster.

Goliath hell hounds, manticor swarms, and radroach nests were all things that we most definitely did not want to stumble into unawares.

When I finally caught sight of our destination, I found myself unable to believe what it was. At least, at first. The more that I thought about it, the more sense it made though. To a point. I couldn’t see how it really made our current quest any easier though. If anything, it probably made it a whole lot harder. I perch myself atop a large roadside sign that served to pretty clearly announce this place for what it was. Again, not something that was super surprising for the Ministry of Awesome after everything I’d seen from them thus far.

“Seaddle Municipal Landfill.”

I double and triple checked my pipbuck’s map to be sure that this place really was where we’d been heading. There was no doubt that this was the right place. But I was once again feeling a few doubts about whether or not this really was the ‘right’ place after all.

My rationale had been that this location had been the destination of an absurd amount of air traffic from the MoA. To me, that had implied that it had to be some sort of important facility, specifically the place where they were either stashing or even building a massive stockpile of weapons for use in the war. Now, sitting here and looking out over the expansive mountains of trash and debris, I found myself doubting that conclusion just a little. After all, there certainly was another reason why the ministry would have been sending a lot of traffic to this place: disposing of their actual garbage.

I mean, if you had a bunch of secret bases, I suppose that you couldn’t just place your bins out on the street corner for regular pick-up, could you?

If this had all turned out to be a waste of time…

No. No, I refused to accept that, and not just because it meant that our truly last chance to be able to put up a good fight against Arginine’s stable was a bust. That secret McMaren bunker had been tracking every shipment going here. I refused to believe that they’d put so much effort into simple trash. Plus, this was also in the area that we’d learned a lot of the shipments from Wind Ryder’s was going too. You’re not about to tell me that a fake shipping company was disposing of a lot of trash!

No. Something was here. Probably hidden underground somewhere. How and where we were going to find the entrance in all of that, I couldn’t begin to predict. We had to try though. Maybe Starlight knew a spell that would help us out?

“Oh, wow,” I heard the pink unicorn announce drolly from the nearby road as she and her daughter finally caught up with me, “Windfall, you take me to such wonderful places. You’re not going to tell me that tetanus stopped being a thing in the Wasteland too, are you?”

“Whatever we’re looking for has to be here,” was I trying to convince them, or me?

“If so,” Moonbeam said, looking around, “that’s pretty smart, really,” despite my own hopes, I found myself looking at the robopony with a dubious expression, “think about it: where can you deliver a lot of parts, while bringing nothing back, and nopony thinks twice about it?”

That...actually did make sense. Wagons loaded down with equipment could have rolled into this place, ‘dumped’ their cargos, and left completely empty and nothing would have looked odd about it. If this had been a real factory, or even just a factory being used as a front, somepony―or, more likely, a zebra spy―would have eventually started wondering why a ‘factory’ wasn’t shipping out any product. Since landfills were expected to never ship anything back out, then this made a perfect destination.

Though, that still didn’t address the issue of, “where do we start looking?”

“Well, on the bright side, I think that this is a real dump,” Starlight began, gesturing at the nearest towering pile of garbage and the mountain of broken consumer goods and trash that it was composed of. The she point at a small building located near the entrance, “so maybe there are records of some sort?”

“Records? At a dump?”

“If there isn’t a need for records, then why have an office?” the unicorn pointed out. Then she added, “its a government operation, Windfall. Government operations keep records about everything.”

It couldn’t hurt to at least look, I supposed, so I glided back to the ground and the three of us made our way to the little brick building that sat by the landfill’s entrance. There was indeed a terminal located on a desk inside, and Moonbeam immediately made her way to it and began typing. Meanwhile, I started looking around for clues. I wasn’t completely convinced, after all, that this whole place really was a ‘real’ dump. If the Ministry of Awesome built a ‘fake’ military base to hide one of their installations, then why not a landfill?

By the time Moonbeam gained complete access to the records here, I hadn’t found anything that looked to be out of the ordinary though. Granted, if this building was supposed to be the most visible part of their ‘front’, then I suppose that it would have been designed to look as mundane as possible. The surface features of Wind Ryder’s had looked normal enough at first glance, after all. This place was a lot bigger than Wind Ryder’s though. According to the large map hanging on the wall, it had to cover the better part of ten square miles of land!

“I’m in,” the robopony informed us. Then she added, “and if anypony is interested: according to Selene, the encryption being used isn’t typical of a civilian system.”

“Really?” Okay, I was a little less anxious now.

“Really,” she continued, but then added, “however, there doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary either. Not at first glance,” she gestured at the terminal’s screen as she began to navigate the system, “intake tonnages. Lists of private and corporate dumping permit holders, billing and accounting. It all looks pretty standard.”

“Well, I wasn’t really expecting a file called, ‘super secret stuff. Don’t open!’,” I said, a frown worming its way across my lips. Then a thought occurred to me, “you said that there was a list of companies that dumped here?”

“Yes.”

“Is Wind Ryder one of them?”

The robopony tapped at the console for a few brief seconds before shaking her head, “nope. Nothing listed for them.”

“What? That can’t be right,” I knew for a fact that their wagons had come here. The flight times Foxglove had recovered and the tracking data from McMaren confirmed that, “I know they sent wagons here. They have to be on the list.”

“They’re not,” Moonbeam assured me, sounding just a little irritated that I was doubting her competence with a simple computer terminal, “there is no record of any wagons from ‘Wind Ryder’ ever coming here.”

Then it hit me and I pinched the bridge of my nose, “of course there isn’t,” I sighed, “because there are already records of those wagons going to other places,” I realized, “the last thing that the Ministry of Awesome would want is conflicting records about where their own wagons are. Even if the zebras didn’t notice it, somepony was going to find it weird and start asking a lot of questions,” just like Foxglove and I had when we looked over the flight times that had been recorded for those same wagons.

There was still one other problem though, “but those wagons did come here. There might not be records here,” I quickly added, heading off another comment from Moonbeam, “but there are in McMaren, and I can’t think of a reason why their big underground base would be the place with fake records,” I pointed out. A fact that the other two with me had to agree with, “but I bet they really wouldn’t have logged them coming in here, since I’m betting that somepony in a part of the government that wasn’t the MoA would need these records?” I glanced at Starlight Glimmer, who nodded.

I turned away from the terminal, my gaze shifting to the map of the sprawling landfill that was hanging on the wall, “Then Wind Ryder wagons being seen dumping ‘trash’ off here would have been something that the Ministry of Awesome would want to avoid too. Especially if there were also real garbage ponies working here dumping off trash. If somepony said something they weren’t supposed to, it would bring up a lot of questions.

“Plus,” I added, “if we’re thinking that there’s some big underground place here, then there’s a way into that place, right? I really doubt they’d want ponies dumping trash all over their front door, wherever it is,” I turned back to Moonbeam, “I don’t suppose the ponies here also tracked where the garbage that came in got dumped?”

She tabbed back over to another set of records, “they did,” she confirmed.

“Is there any area that specifically didn’t get used?” I asked, “maybe one that’s really far from all the places that were used regularly?”

The mare began tapping at the console once more as she filtered through the data. After several more seconds, she sat up a little straighter in front of the computer and turned back to look at me, her glowing pink eyes wide with surprise, “there is. Section M-6 hasn’t received any garbage going back at least two years, and no wagon on record has been within two sectors of it.”

A smile spread across my muzzle, “I think that sounds like a good place to start. What about you two?”

The three of us left the small office behind and started making our way deeper into the landfill’s interior, heading towards the section that Moonbeam had identified. We made it just a couple hundred yards, just rounding the first of the massive piles of refuse, before we came to an abrupt halt, gaping at what we saw. For none of us had expected to encounter anything like this.

It was a town.

Emphasis on ‘was’.

A large wooden sign mounted into the side of a mountain of trash proclaimed that this place had once been christened, Junk Town. While I certainly had to grant that it was probably the most fitting name for a settlement that I’d ever encountered, the fact remained that it was probably the last thing that I had expected to see in this place. For a lot of reasons. Chief among them being that I’d never even heard about it. At all.

I would be the first to admit that I wasn’t exactly the most geographically knowledgeable mare in the Wasteland, even when it came to the Neighvada valley of my birth. Indeed, it wasn’t super uncommon for little settlements to spring up in out of the way places that nopony had ever heard of. Notel sprang to mind as exactly one such place. A tiny little village built into a few buildings off the main roads where nopony would bother them. Those places existed, and it wasn’t super surprising to think that they could vanish just as quickly in some sort of tragic catastrophe.

Junk Town didn’t look like it fit into that ‘small town’ demographic though. I flitted up into the air and very quickly figured out that it was big. Really big. Hundreds of ponies would have lived in this place. Maybe as many as a thousand. It was easily bigger than Shady Saddles. This place would have been known about. More importantly, its disappearance wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Somepony would have said something.

I started having flashbacks to Old Reino.

“I can’t believe that ponies would have set up a town in a landfill,” I heard Starlight say from below as she and Moonbeam slowly advanced through the front gates of the deserted community.

“Plenty of resources―rubber, steel, plastic, wood―all in one place. Far from any war targets during the balefire strikes, which meant little radiation and taint,” her daughter pointed out, “I suspect that this was actually a pretty appealing location for a settlement immediately after the war.”

I suppose that could explain why this place hadn’t been advertised: it was old. Really old. If it had been one of the first places set up in the aftermath of the war, and then disappeared not too long after, that would explain why nopony was talking about it now. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel any better about what this place implied though. Junk Town looked too big and important to have simply just...vanished. Not without a good reason.

“So then why abandon it?” the pink mare asked.

“I don’t think they did,” I said, pointing a hoof at a nearby structure. It was located pretty close to the gates of the town, and had probably served as some sort of guard post or customs office for incoming traders. Most of its walls looked like they were built out of repurposed freight wagon parts, consisting mostly of steel and aluminum. A pretty significant piece of which looked like it had been melted away by...something. Whatever it was, it had to have been pretty big, and powerful too. A typical magical energy weapon would have blackened material like that pretty good. Sustained blasts would even have penetrated it and left some molten bits of slag behind.

But I could fit my head through the hole that had been bored into that thing.

“It looks like they were evicted.”

“Then why didn’t the victors move in?” Starlight asked.

To that, I didn’t have a very good answer, “no idea. This obviously wasn’t the White Hooves. Arginine’s stable wouldn’t have been a problem as long ago as this must have happened. A plague maybe? I don’t see how that could have wiped out everypony though. If this really was one of the first towns set up after the war, then they’d have had a bunch of fresh medicine and doctors who’d gone to real medical schools, right?”

Then I recalled what had happened to the ponies in Old Reino and glanced at my pipbuck. No significantly strong sources of radiation were showing up though.

I pointed out a few more buildings that prominently displayed signs of having been the targets of more massively destructive weaponry, “what if all of this had been, like, right after the bombs fell? Close enough that the war wasn’t even really ‘over’? Could this have been zebras?”

Starlight frowned now, “doubtful,” she said, stepping closer to one of the buildings to get a good look at the damage, “this was obviously done by magical energy weapons. The whole cause of the war was that the zebras didn’t have enough gems to power their more advanced devices. That remained true for most of the war. Most of their heavy weapons relied on conventional munitions.

“Ponies were the only ones who’d have used weapons like this.”

“Nobody said this had to be a pony settlement,” Moonbeam pointed out.

Her mother gave a shrug acknowledging the point, and I also had to admit that I’d sort of assumed that the inhabitants of this place had been ponies. I didn’t think it had been an unfair assumption, given that the Neighvada Valley had been part of Equestria. I suppose that didn’t mean that a community of zebras couldn’t have come up here after the war, fleeing from whatever destruction had ravaged their own lands. That might have even explained why no knowledge of it existed among the local pony populations.

That theory didn’t quite clear up why it had been destroyed and yet never resettled. Moonbeam had been correct in pointing out why this place might have been chosen by ponies to set up a town in the first place. A landfill like this would be a prospector’s wet dream. Valuable salvage and materials as far as the eye could see in just about every direction. Whether pony or zebra, whoever had wiped out the local population should have set up shop here themselves immediately after.

Unless they weren’t interested in settling at all. I glanced upwards, at the thick layer of clouds that completely blanketed the whole valley. Ponies with access to powerful weaponry who didn’t see to have any inclination to set up shop on the surface. That sure sounded an awful lot like what I’d heard about the Grand Pegasus Enclave to me!

On the other hoof, while it was true that the reclusive fliers weren’t what ever could have been described as ‘friendly’ towards ponies living on the surface, I hadn’t heard of them ever doing something like this. They had their spats with the Steel Rangers, I supposed, but I had never encountered a story about the Enclave erasing a whole city.

We kept walking, but found ourselves once more drawing up short as we rounded another massive mound. There was another gate, and a panel of corrugated steel next to it with the word: ‘Junkburg’ written across it. The three of us exchanged confused looks with one another. A town within a town? I hadn’t noticed that from the air earlier. While Starlight and Moonbeam began making a closer examination of the newly discovered suburb, I leaped back up into the air and took the time to make a more detailed assessment of the buildings I’d seen.

I was subtle―and it explained why I hadn’t noticed it at first―but I could now trace out vague ‘lines’ in the sprawling settlement where there were clear divides in style and building techniques. It actually wasn’t one single massive city, as I’d first thought; but rather the next best thing to at least five distinct areas, each built onto the bones of the last.

It was as though ponies had come here, found the destruction of a settlement, moved on past it, and then built their own little town. My mind boggled at the mindset that must have existed by the time the fourth and fifth group of settlers moved in, apparently not thinking that it was worth considering why so many other villages in this place had failed before them. Then again, there was a lot of wealth that could be scrounged from this place. Ponies were willing to overlook a lot of implied risk if the payoff was big enough.

What made me a little uneasy was the discovery that Starlight and Moonbeam made during their examination of Junkburg: it had been destroyed by the same weapons as Junk Town. There was also one other finding that they’d made. Or, rather, it concerned what they specifically weren’t finding: bodies.

“The next groups that came here probably cleared them out,” I reasoned.

“Possible,” Moonbeam agreed, “we’ll have to see if we find any bodies when we get to the ‘last’ settlement that was set up in this place.”

It was an odd sensation to be actively hoping that I’d stumble upon a mass grave or a section of this mega-town that was littered with corpses. I could certainly think of a few reasons what there wouldn’t have been any, but none of those reasons felt any more uplifting than the idea that some mysterious force kept wiping out anypony who tried to make a living here.

My unease only grew as we made our way through the rest of Junkburg, and through the gates of Junkville, Junktopia, and finally Trashton. Presumably because by that point the ponies who settled here had concluded that it was the ‘Junk’ naming theme which had been ultimately responsible for the previous residents’ untimely ends. And though this was evidently the last of the attempts at a town that was made before the ponies of Neighvada had finally taken the not-too-subtle hint, there was just as little sign of actual carnage here as there had been anywhere else.

The cause of the destruction was the same though: massive energy beam weaponry.

“If I could feel my actual spine, there’d be a shiver running down it,” Moonbeam mumbled as we emerged on the far side of Trashton and out into the unsettled landfill beyond, “this has been...disturbing.”

“You’re telling me,” her mother added in low tones.

Fifty years. We had concluded that the destruction of those towns had happened over the course of about fifty years, starting from just after the balefire bombs had fallen. Records and notes had been hard to come by, but we’d found a few examples of dates and such in the various sections of the settlements, either written on the backs of photos, or in journals and ledgers; things like that.

A town would spring up, last a few years, get wiped out, another group would move in; rinse, repeat. Until about a century and a half ago when ponies simply stopped coming back. Either because by then the word had gotten out that the landfill was cursed or something, or places like Seaddle and New Reino had become established enough that there wasn’t as much of a motivation to come all the way out to a place like this. The White Hooves would have become a serious threat by that point, and this was pretty close to their territory. It had probably simply become too risky to be worth the trouble.

None of those revelations had brought us any closer to an answer as to the culprit of these repeated exterminations though. The knowledge that the last such incident had happened well over a hundred years ago wasn’t as comforting as it could have been. Whoever―or whatever―had been responsible for those attacks had been conducting them for decades, after all. It was entirely possible that the threat remaned. Somewhere.

“Here we are: M-6,” Moonbeam finally announced, extending a hoof towards the mound of garbage directly ahead of us.

I examined the massive trash pile, cocking my head to the side. A tiny pink pony perched herself on my shoulder, wearing a deerstalker cap and smoking a wooden pipe―wait, scratch that: she was blowing bubbles out of it, for whatever reason. She seemed to agree that, yes, there was indeed something...off. Neither of us knew what it was though. Tentatively, I crept closer, narrowing my eyes at the mound, as though my accusatory gaze alone would compel it to give up its secrets. The other two ponies were watching me with some amusement.

“You good there, Windfall? You look constipated,” Starlight observed with an amused note in her voice.

My eyes were too intent to appropriately roll in response, “there’s something wrong with this pile,” I informed her.

“It looks like a pretty normal pile of garbage to me.”

“Agreed,” Moonbeam said, her own gaze shifting around us, “perhaps not as tall as the others, but it hasn’t been added to in years, so that’s understandable.”

It wasn’t just the height that made it different from the others though, I thought. It was, “...too neat,” I said under my breath. The pink pony’s own eyes widened and she began to prance around in agreement, “it’s too neat,” I repeated loud enough for the others to hear. I flared out my wings and took to the air, whipping my head around to look at the other nearby piles.

“The whole reason for all those settlements was because ponies wanted to search through all this garbage and find useful salvage,” I reminded them, “that means ponies actually had to search,” I zipped between other nearby piles and pointed out various indentations and furrows that existed upon each of the mountains of trash where prospectors had very clearly been rifling through the refuse in their quest for discarded treasures, “that means divots,” I glided to the ground around those piles and gestured at the scattered debris that hugged the bases of the trash heaps, “that means messes where they threw all the useless junk they had to pick through.”

Then I returned to M-6 and began to circle around it, scrutinizing the mound, “no divots. No mess. Just a neat pile of bags of trash and appliances and…” my words died away as I flew. The pink earth pony was gaping at the pile with me, and then she started to prance around my helmet―It Was Under ‘E’!

It wasn’t just ‘bags of trash and appliances’ I realized. It was the same ‘bags of trash and appliances’! All around the base of the mound; I could see it: three bags of trash, a dishwasher, another four bags, a refrigerator, a wagon wheel, and repeat! The second layer was another pattern, and the third layer. Everything repeated!

“It’s fake!” I exclaimed, “it’s a fake pile!” I arced my wings and soared up into the air to get an overhead view. Knowing what I was looking for, I could make out faint lines that divided all of the repeating segments. There were a dozen of them, all growing narrower as they reached the peak of the ‘pile’. Very neat and very symmetrical segments. This had been constructed, there was no doubt about it. It was the entrance to the Ministry of Awesome facility.

Alright, I thought, we found it; now how do we get in it?

It wasn’t like there was any obvious door or anything…

I circled back down and alit upon the top of the mound. I tied to pry away some of the bags of trash, only to find that they clearly weren’t simply placed there. They’d been secured to...whatever it was that was beneath them. They didn’t even seem to be full of actual trash, but where instead formed from solid pieces of plastic or rubber. I frowned as I considered what the three of us had at hoof to get past them. It would have been rather convenient to have Foxglove and her eldritch lance here with us. Maybe Starlight could zap her way through with her beam spell?

My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of several unexpected text prompts that scrolled by on my helmet’s HUD. I scanned over them and felt my stomach knot up.

>>HANGER PERIMETER BREACH DETECTED

>>SECURITY PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED

>>ACCESS CODE REQUIRED TO OVERRIDE SECURITY SYSTEM DEPLOYMENT

>>30 SECOND COUNTDOWN INITIATED

And then it started counting down.

Oh, horseapples…

“Uh...guys?” I called out, not taking my eyes off of the disguised pile of garbage, even though the nature of the message meant that I could have seen it no matter where I was looking. That being said, the trio of red blips that had appeared directly below me simultaneously with that message was something that I found quite captivating in its own right.

“I see it,” Moonbeam responded in a tone that I did not appreciate hearing filled with as much nervousness as my own, “I’m trying every passcode that Selene and I know and they’re not working!”

“What do you mean they’re not working?” I hadn’t meant to sound as accusatory as I realized that I sounded. The stress of fearing that we were about to discover what had managed to wipe out multiple settlements wasn’t doing a lot for my nerves, “you got into that room in McMaren!”

“I was supposed to be able to get into that room,” the robopony shot back reproachfully, “apparently I’m not supposed to be able to get in here!”

“Well that...sucks!” I didn’t know why I was still yelling. The structure beneath my hooves gave a sudden jerk, startling me into the air, where I proceeded to hover as I watched the mound of ‘trash’ start to break apart along those seams that I’d noticed earlier. The tips near the top folded in on themselves while the bases of the dozen slices began to slowly hinge outward, opening up like the petals of a flower. The contents that were revealed momentarily paralyzed me with fear.

What emerged into the light of day were three of the largest roboponies that I’d ever seen. They were massive, hulking equine behemoths of steel and weaponry. I immediately spotted multiple blisters of machine gun turrets upon the shoulders and haunches of each of them, and there was a double-barreled energy turret mounted on their backs. The calibers of those barrels matched up depressingly well with the sizes of the holes that had been melted into the walls of the settlements that we’d just walked through.

Most disturbing of all though, had to be what lay in between them: it was a pile of pony corpses. Hundreds of corpses, rotted away to little more than bones, barding, and equipment. Well, on the bright side, we’d managed to discover that had become of the inhabitants here. On the downside…

...we had ten seconds to run away.

Granted, I was pretty sure that the past residents of this landfill had also tried to flee when they’d made the repeated mistake of trying to get into this faux garbage pile. Those giant roboponies didn’t appear to have any means of flight―not that I’d have believed such bulky monstrosities could get airborne anyway―so I could probably get out of harm’s way easily enough, even without the Gale Force. Starlight and Moonbeam however…

“Starlight, can you teleport yourselves away from here?”

“Not far,” the unicorn replied, her eyes riveted on the newly appeared threats, “what kind of target tracking ability do they have?” she asked her daughter.

The robopony flashed her an incredulous glare, “how should I know?!”

“Uh...fuck it; preemptive strike!”

Okay, so it wasn’t the most brilliant strategy that had ever been devised and, in hindsight, the three of us hadn’t brought along much in the way of heavy ordinance. In our defense, we hadn’t expected to be fighting the equivalent of giant metal equine tanks. I unclipped and flung every blue-banded spark grenade that I had on me at the trio of targets, and one of them was enveloped completely in a crackling field of magical lightning. It must have done something helpful, because a second later when the countdown on my helmet display reached ‘zero’, the one that I’d bombed didn’t come to life with its fellows.

Not that ‘just’ having to fight two of these things was going to prove itself to be any simply task.

My grenades hadn’t been the only assault launched either. Multiple rapid-fire lances of brilliant cyan energy struck the second mega-robopony, carving deep furrows into its left foreleg and shoulder. She must have hit something vital too, because a moment later there was an audible whine of metal and something could be heard shearing off within. The machine slumped awkwardly to the side, though it was far from toppling completely, at about the same moment it’s eyes flared bright crimson and it powered on.

“Eep!” I involuntarily exclaimed as I saw the turrets upon the backs of the two operational war machines swivel around a lot more quickly than I would have expected out of such high-caliber weaponry and point their barrels directly at me. I kicked the Gale Force into operation and darted off to the side as a quartet of scarlet lances sliced through the air where I’d just been. Starlight and Moonbeam had also scattered as several machine gun barrels oriented themselves towards the grounded mares and unleashed a torrent of lead and tracers. The two mares only just managed to slip around behind one of the mountains of garbage in time to avoid being cut down.

Those large automatons weren’t going to give up easily though, it seemed. The remaining unscathed death machine lurched ahead upon its thick steel legs, lumbering along the ground in an effort to reacquire the fleeing ponies on the ground. Meanwhile, its injured companion continued to try and tag me with the potent beams from its main cannons. I grit my teeth and continued to dodge around, not going in any one direction for too long, while tailing the mobile unit. If I could cripple it as well, then the three of us could make our escape and come back later with a concrete plan to beat these things. I pulled back my foreleg and pumped it forward repeatedly, unleashing a cascade of crimson bolts, targeting the robot’s hind leg in an effort to lame it.

I had a considerably harder time landing a hit on this thing’s moving limb than Starlight had while engaging a stationary target, but I eventually managed to score a couple of solid impacts, sending out eruptions of slagged steel. Nothing particularly vital seemed to get hit and slow it down, but I did at least manage to gain its undivided attention as those intimidating machine gun barrels swiveled skyward.

A powerful stroke of my wings shot me straight upwards as my Gale Force enhanced speed allowed me to climb at a faster rate than those weapons could seem to track effectively. I smacked at my pipbuck, keying in a communication channel, and then banked hard to my right as I arced back around to engage them again, “Moonbeam, I don’t suppose you can do something about these things?”

“What? Me? What am I supposed to do about those?!”

“They’re machines, right? Hack them!”

“That’s not how that works!” the robopony protested.

I flared my wings and strafed hard to the left as another set of quadruple energy beams attempted to incinerate me. My forelegs lashed out in quick succession, peppering the still mobile hulk with shots in an effort to keep its attention off of my more vulnerable companions, “it worked with the Steel Rangers,” I pointed out.

“I had a backdoor into their system,” Moonbeam countered defensively, adding as an aside, “don’t ask me what an MoA AI was doing with backdoor codes designed to sabotage MWT equipment…”

I felt an orange earth pony flash an accusatory glare at a little cyan pegasus who was doing her best to keep her gaze averted as she whistled nonchalantly. I rolled out of the path of a some tracer fire from the stationary behemoth and tossed a couple of passing jabs at the turret on its back. Was it just me, or did it not look as lopsided as it had a minute ago? “well, these are MoA robots! Are you telling me that Selene doesn’t have codes for them?”

“I mean, she might,” the young mare admitted, “but we don’t have a way around their firewalls to imput them,” she protested, “not without a hardline connection to their systems anyway!”

“You mean you need to physically connect with these things?” that sounded like a less than ideal way to deal with these things. If it were easy to get near them, then they wouldn’t exactly represent all that much of a threat, now would they?

“Pretty much,” she confirmed.

I folded my wings and dropped beneath another sweep from their beam cannons and slipped beneath the robopony that I’d disabled initially. I came out the other side swinging, splashing the lamed hulk with a hail of ranged strikes. Then my eyes went suddenly wide as the not-so-lamed goliath of a robopony wheeled around and swung at me with one of its massive steel limbs. I managed to bring the Gale Forece’s alloyed wing covers around in time to shield my body from the blow, but the force of the impact knocked me aside like a pinball. I hit the first pile of garbage at an oblique angle and bounced off, spinning wildly in the air before finally landing in the midsts of some centuries old cabinetry.

“Oww…” I wheezed, my eyes taking a few seconds to once again start seeing only one of something.

“Windfall! Are you alright?!”

I made an effort to pry myself out of the cupboard that I’d landed in, a process that was helped by the fact that it was half rotted away already, “I’m alive,” I groaned in response. Whether I was ‘alright’ remained to be seen, “what about you two?”

“Mom’s looking through her books for useful spells,” Moonbeam replied, “she’s doing a lot of cursing, so I don’t think it’s going well…” there was a moment’s pause, then, “huh? I’m talking to Windfall...built in comm channel...well you never asked!”

I heard the robopony sigh in exasperation, “Mom wants to know if you have a plan.”

“Yup: to get out of this alive,” I snagged a healing potion from my saddlebag and downed it, relishing the feeling of relief as the pain ebbed away.

“Mom says that’s a bad plan...ugh, fine; she says it’s a ‘fusking retarded plan’. Happy now? Well that’s as close as you’re getting out of me. What you really said is just...vile!”

I rolled my eyes and glanced at my HUD to check the status of the Gale Force. It was still operational, but it was already half-depleted. Bucky and Kicks were in desperate need of a reload too. I fished out fresh spark-packs for my weapons, casting an eye in the direction of the pair of crimson blips that were both moving around now, though it was hard to tell if they were coming for me or the other two.

“We don’t have the firepower to take those things down. All I’m doing is scratching the paint, and I think they can repair themselves anyway,” I glanced once more at the blips and confirmed for myself that there were just the two of them. It was obvious that the robot that Starlight had crippled was moving around just fine again, but it looked like the one that had been hit by all of my spark grenades was still down for the count. I found myself wishing that I’d brought along a lot more of the blue-banded orbs.

I winced as I heard the sound of their cannons firing again, accompanied by a roar that sounded a lot like an avalanche of garbage rumbling down the side of one of those piles, “we’d need heavy guns like that, honestly; and they’re all currently being used against us!”

With a grunt, I leaped back up into the air and zipped back towards the lumbering automatons tearing up the landfill. Both of them were currently circling around one particular trash mound, and my Eyes Forward Sparkle’s display informed me that it was one which was currently shielding two amber blips. Merely inflicting damage wasn’t going to be enough to stop them, I realized. If they were going to be stopped, they had to be hit hard.

“I might have a plan,” Moonbeam came back over the comm channel, “but it’ll mean that you and Mom need to get shot at for a bit...no, Mom, I said: shot at...well, if you feel like letting yourself get straight up shot, that’s your call. Though I recommend against it.”

I was forced to veer off before I could get to close. It seemed that even though neither of the giant roboponies stalking my friends were currently looking at me, the machine gun blisters on their flanks were perfectly capable of engaging me, “that plan please,” I stressed through clenched teeth as I swerved around to avoid the lines of tracers that were trying to connect with me.

“Right! I have an idea, but I need them to not shoot at me for a bit to see if it’ll work.”

“Oh, is that all―” I grunted as a few of the high-caliber rounds from the heavy automatic weapons glanced off my wing coverings before I could avoid them. It didn’t knock me completely out of the air, but I could feel something putting pressure on my wing now. I quick glance confirmed that the alloy had been dented by the impact, “I thought it was going to be something dangerous.

“Whatever, fine,” it wasn’t like we had a lot of worthwhile options at our disposal anyway, “big, irresistible, distraction coming up!” I darted back in towards one of the massive roboponies, coxing a little more speed out of the Gale Force in an effort to stay ahead of the dotted orange lines of tracer fire. At the last moment, I flared my wings and pulled a hard horizontal loop, arcing around until I was oriented directly at the jaw of my target.

I hit them with as much momentum as I dared, fully aware that the Gale Force rig on my back could have given me enough velocity to effectively liquify myself against the thick steel casing of the hulking machine. Of course, it wasn’t simple physical force that hit the robopony either. The weaponized bracers on my forelegs discharged upon contact, and I felt the thing’s mandible cave in beneath me, leaving behind a Windfall-sized dent. My strike was enough to actually stagger the towering mechanical equine.

The affair didn’t leave me completely unscathed either though. I had to shake away some mild dizziness as my brain settled back down from its own sudden experience of the rapid shift in velocity. I blinked away the faint red haze that was clouding my vision and peered up, finding myself peering directly into one of its glowing red eyes that was about the size of my head.

“Hi there,” I managed to say, giving it a shaky little wave with my hoof, “I don’t suppose a ‘sorry for disturbing you’ would mean anything at this point, would it?” my ear twitched as I heard the sound of whirling gear just below me. I glance back and found myself staring into one of the tri-barreled machine guns mounted in its shoulder, “guess not…”

I pushed myself away just as the weapon’s barrels whined to life and began spinning furiously. A short burst of hot lead round splashed the side of the robopony’s face where I had just been. I saw shredded pieces of armor and circuitry fly off as those heavy rounds tore into its own body. For the briefest of moments, I allowed myself a satisfied grin and a short celebratory pump of my hoof. Then, before my eyes, I could see the area around the self-inflicted wound begin to glow with white light as the metal began to warp and stretch as it slowly started knitting itself back together.

My grin melted instantly into a scowl. I threw a few more punches at the air, directed at the nearby weapon mount, and allowed myself another brief snort of satisfaction as the weapon burst into an explosion of smoke and debris. Just beyond the behemoth that I was fighting, I caught sight of a brilliant cyan flash of light. Suddenly, Starlight Glimmer’s pink form was standing upon the muzzle of the other giant war machine. Her shotgun was floating at the ready, and it instantly began to unload one shell of the twelve-gage buckshot into its vulnerable eyes, wiping them away in a shower of sparks.

Beneath me, out of the corner of my eye, I could also see the silvery form of Moonbeam as she galloped away from the hiding place that she had shared with her mother. Her course took her directly towards the still-offline Ministry of Awesome robopony. I now had an inkling of what she was likely up to. If she could manage to get it operational and under her control, then she could use its own heavy cannons to make short work of the other two.

All that she needed was a little time, “alright, tall, dark, and deadly,” I shouted at the one-eyed hulk in front of me, noting with annoyance that the recently destroyed optic was already starting to struggle back to life with faint red flickers of light, “what say that you and me fight it out, eh? Mare-to-mare. Put ‘em up!”

The energy cannons on its back swiveled in my direction.

Oh, horseapples!

I dipped and swirled around in the air, throwing out the occasionally bolt in response from Bucky and Kicks. Those harried shots were more to satisfy my own sensibilities than because I thought that they were actually going to do any good. I’d come to grudgingly accept that none of the munitions that I had at my disposal were going to be able to inflict a truly devastating blow to these things. Starlight seemed to be coming to the same conclusion as she blinked around the surface of her own opponent, alternating between zapping its armored backside with a blast from her horn or her shotgun.

Every divot that either of us made, or system that we destroyed, were repaired in short order as the self-contained repair systems sought to undo all of the damage that we were trying to inflict. I didn’t have the vocabulary to properly express the frustration that I was feeling about that. These two giant roboponies weren’t making any effort to avoid our blows at all, because they simply didn’t care about what we were trying to do to them.

Unfortunately, that invulnerability wasn’t mutual.

I wasn’t sure if she’d miscalculated one of her teleports, or if it was the result of magical fatigue from having popped in and out a few dozen times in the last minute. In either event, my own attention was diverted by the sound of Starlight Glimmer screaming in pain. By the time I looked, she was tumbling towards the ground. I didn’t think, I just reacted, and surged towards her. It wasn’t the most graceful catch I’d ever made in my life, and the pair of us ended up cartwheeling in a definitively unceremonious fashion into a pile of two century old garbage bags that I guessed must have come from some place that saw the use of a lot of glass bottles in their daily operation.

My hoof was already reaching back into my saddlebag to fish out a healing potion before I’d even started to try and extricate myself from the mountain of filth that we’d crashed into. It was more of an instinctive reaction than something borne out of a conscious thought. A good thing too, since my brain still hadn’t recovered enough from that tumultuous little crash to even let my vision focus onto anything concrete. I was mostly vaguely aware that things were around me in a very general sense.

The vial’s wax stopper proved to be a very worthy opponent as my hooves fought to line it up with my teeth for extraction. My limbs were an interesting combination of firey pain and numbness, which did little to help things along. I finally managed to achieve success and open the bottle at the same moment that my vision coalesced into a singular, sharp, image. Two pairs of large, menacing, barrels were pointed at where I was laying.

A lifetime of reflexes took over, and I vaulted aside. Somehow, a little part of my mind had kept track of Starlight, and I snagged her limp body as my wings and what little energy the Gale Force had left moved the pair of us out of harm’s way. Then the rig went dead, and my tired wings weren’t up to the task of keeping two grown ponies aloft on their own. Once more we went to the ground, bouncing off of an old oven with a resounding ‘clang!’.

Heat blasted the two of us as four thick beams of deadly light blasted the spot that we’d just vacated. We were covered by a rain of powdered glass and debris. Desperately, I reached out and hauled the pink unicorn’s body towards me and rolled us up against a nearby carcass of an old iron wagon. I spared a moment to place my ear to her chest, and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the sound of a heart that was still beating. Starlight was alive, but unconscious.

How long that would last was anypony’s guess…

“Windfall, I need some help,” I heard Moonbeam saying over my helmet’s headset, “I think I found an access point, but I can’t open it. It’s locked up tight!”

Having lost the last healing potion I’d tried to drink in my rush to avoid being vaporized a few seconds ago, I was reaching for another, “aren’t you a robot? Why can’t you pry it open?”

“Um, I was a foal when they put me in this body?” she responded a little more testily than I’d have preferred, “would you give a toddler a body that can rip apart bulkheads? This thing’s more plastic than metal!”

“Then zap it open!” I snapped before ripping the stopper off the healing potion and gulping it down. Most of the dozens of fresh cuts that I’d just incurred from my run-in with the bags of now-broken bottles sealed up, but not all. My coat was more red than white at the moment.

“Yeah, they didn’t seem to want to give a small child weapons either, funny enough. Get over here and help me!”

I looked over at the mare laying next to me and got another potion ready. She’d taken a bad hit to her gut, and that had been before her unconscious acrobatics into the trash heap. I poured the purple contents over the more serious sources of bleeding and hoped that would be enough. It wasn’t like I could afford to spend a whole lot of time treating either of us, not with those two threats still looming close by. Nothing they’d done up to this point made me think that they were the type of war robots to sit idly by while their targets got up to any mischief, after all―

It was under ‘E’!
Wait a minute, “Moonbeam, where are those things looking?”

“They’re almost right on top of you and Mom. You should get out of there right now,” then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “and come help me before they notice what I’m doing!”

Why hadn’t they noticed what she was up to? They were roboponies, not flesh and blood. Those turrets of theirs could clearly track threats without them needing to be looking right at where they were shooting with their ‘eyes’. I wasn’t going to pretend I was any sort of expert on how automatons worked, but it didn’t take somepony like Foxglove to figure they had to be equipped with something that must at least function a little like a pipbuck’s Eyes Forward Sparkle, that alerted them to threats.

They should be perfectly aware of Moonbeam, and that she was just about right at the door of the facility that they were guarding. Nothing that Starlight or I had done clearly represented any sort of genuine tactical threat to these two, so then why be so focused on us when there was an intruder right on their doorstep?

“Windfall, move now!”

I put my thoughts aside and threw my hooves around the unconscious pink mare beside me. Without the Gale Force to give me a boost, inertia reintroduced herself as a particularly cruel and collouse mistress. We cleared the blast zone, but only in the sense that neither of us were outright killed by the beams that split the very ground we’d been laying out. Even through my thick, reinforced, barding, I felt that intense heat from their weaponry as it melted the garbage pile sheltering us, and took about three quarters of my tail along with it.

Starlight wasn’t particularly light either, and she was just a bit bigger than I was volume-wise as well. I was forced to roll early on in order to place the alloyed flight rig between us and the ground as I bounced along the surface in my highly strained efforts to get us up to speed and into the air. The buzzing of machine guns and the accompanying high-pitched whines of ricochets testified to our continued peril as I tried desperately to keep us the barest wingbeat ahead of death.

Shelter. We needed shelter, and there was none to be had. The three of us had just finished wandering through several failed communities whose ravaged hovels assured us that nothing would keep those things from tracking us down and adding our corpses to that grotesque little pile that they’d amassed. If I couldn’t come up with something rather amazing soon, we’d no doubt be added to it!

Actually, now that I thought about it, that might not be such a bad idea.

Not the dying horribly and having out corpses added to a stack of rotting bodies thing. That was a decidedly undesirable outcome. But that macabre pyre did give me an idea though.

I beat my wings as quickly and as forcefully as I could, feeling my joints burning beneath the added weight of my limp passenger and veered towards the inert metal goliath that Moonbeam was trying to commandeer. I could see her now, fussing with something at the nape of its neck. Her head darted to the side, locking on our rapidly approaching forms, and then she looked anxiously behind us. Clearly, this was the last direction that she could have hoped we’d bring the attention of our attackers in. There was no helping it though. This was the only real shelter available and, hopefully, a source of something more.

As I neared the corpse pile, I engaged SATS. The world slowed to a crawl, and I locked my eyes onto the collection of gathered forms below me. It wasn’t just their flesh that had been gathered after all, but their weapons and supplies as well. Not that I was much interested in guns. Whatever they had hadn’t been much help to them, after all.

No, not weapons. But those had been communities out there in the landfill. Vibrant and lively towns with all that entailed. Specifically they’d been towns built around the idea of collecting salvage, and that meant that, somepony, somewhere, would have had an―

“There you are!”

My wings folded in and I dove for my target. I was glad that Starlight Glimmer wasn’t going to be conscious for this bit, because I suspected that she wouldn’t have been as thankful as I deserved for my efforts. Just above my target, I flared my wings, slowing the two of us rather abruptly such that the unaware unicorn barely moved at all as I released her among the dead. Then a roll to the side brought me past my target. I was winging away again with all the speed I could muster a heartbeat later, clutching a long, slender, pole to my chest where Starlight Glimmer had once been.

My course took me just beneath the belly of the disabled hulk Moonbeam was working on and I looped up sharply, relishing the lull in fire as my pursuers declined to light up their inactive fellow unnecessarily. It was only a brief respite though, as I arced up and over only a second later, passing directly overhead of the frantic robopny mare trying to gain access to the armored behemoth, “catch!” I called out.

Moonbeam glance up in response and her horn flared as her magic reached out and caught the silver staff twirling down towards her. Recognition dawned on her rather quickly, and I saw her ignite the business end of the eldritch lance. She nodded at me in satisfaction before turning her attention back to continuing with her plan.

As for me? Well, I was pretty committed to my own course of action at this point, as I was once more flying head-on at the pair of lumbering war machines. My mouth was set in grim lines as I noted the all-too-numerous barrels of various weapons that were oriented at me. In mere moments, the air around me would be filled with bullets, tracers, and high-energy lasers seeking to cut me to ribbons and cinders respectively.

Not for the first time, either. Well, I suppose that massive she-hound hadn’t been bristling with gun turrets, but she’d certainly been at least as large as these things were, and a single good connection from them would prove as―if not more―crippling when my luck finally ran out.

I certainly hadn’t changed all that much from fillyhood, had I? Memories of my earliest encounters with danger swirled around in the back of my head, stirred by what lay before me today. Delving into the ruins around Seaddle in search of treasures to turn in for the afixed reward, and ending up being confronted by rampaging roboponies intent on vaporizing us. While those had been run-of-the-mill pony-sized robots that one might encounter an any given day of the week while walking where sane ponies knew better, they’d been no less intimidating to a little filly fresh to the wider Wasteland beyond her family’s ranch.

It’d been the single most terrifying experience in my life up to that point; and that included when the White Hooves had come to call on my family. I’d been scared, of course, but there hadn’t been that overwhelming sense of imminent doom that there had been as I found myself pinned down by energy fire while the world was literally melted away around me. The only reason that I’d even survived was because Jackboot had bravely risked his own life to save me.

Now I was doing that for somepony else. If I fell here and now, Starlight would surely die. These gargantuan roboponies might even then decide that Moonbeam was finally worth their attention. It wasn’t just my life on the line today. Heck, our deaths might end up dooming the whole Wasteland. I trusted Ramparts and Foxglove to keep trying to rally forces to oppose Arginine’s stable, but they’d be doing so without the financial backing I was here to secure, and that wouldn’t bode well. Whether Arginine would continue to support them after my death was unclear.

No, too much was riding on me surviving this. I couldn’t afford to die. Not here, and not now. Ponies needed me.

I felt the lips in the back of my mouth curl up ever so slightly. A little cyan pegasus mare puffed up her chest and jabbed at the air with a succession of quick rabbit punches. My own blue eyes narrowed at the looming machines.

It was time to Be Awesome!

Bullets filled the air once more, like pissed-off insects intent on getting a bite of my hide. But tracers worked both ways, and it wasn’t hard to roll out of the way of the lead streams now that I was looking right at them. That wasn’t to say that it was an easy achievement with so many of them arcing through the air around me, but I’d been dodging gunfire while flying for about as long as I had been flying. It was almost an instinct at this point. I juked and rolled and even pirouetted a few times until I was right on top of one them.

I dove at the top of its head and landed soundly with a solid ‘clang!’ from both of my forehooves. My bracers discharged, vaulting me back the way I’d come, and I used my wings to turn the maneuver into a simple front flip. In what must have looked to an observer as a dizzying sequence of rolls and loops, I danced along the backside of the robopony, slinging destructive bolts at whatever looked like it might have been protecting something vital. Steel plates buckled and split left and right, briefly exposing the vulnerable internal components before the automated repair systems sealed them back up again. They were never exposed long enough for me to slip a truly debilitating shot through those fleeting chinks in the armor, which was tremendously aggravating.

I was just a gnat, trying to take down a brahmin, and having about the expected amount of success.

On the bright side, my proximity did seem to preclude the use of the massive energy cannons by either of the large death machines. They didn’t feel the same sense of hesitancy where the tri-barreled, high-caliber, automatic weapons were concerned, but I suspected that was because those rounds didn’t seem to do much more than smear lead on each other when they scored friendly hits. Honestly, it was the misses like that that bothered me more than the shots that sailed harmlessly through the air. Those dense lead balls invariably shattered upon impacted with their alloyed steel armor, more than once striking me with the shrapnel remains in blows that―while far from mortal―were agonizingly painful.

Too much more of this, and I was going to jingle when I walked!

My focus soon migrated to their leg joints. Starlight’s own initial attack had demonstrated that it was indeed possible to lame this monsters, of only briefly. I darted beneath one of them and proceeded to pinball between their articulated knees and fetlocks, lashing out at them with both my weaponized bracers and the razor-sharp blades of my unpowered Gale Force. The effort was only marginally more effective than trying to pierce the plating on their backs and sides. Once or twice, I got one of them to lurch slightly as it was forced to shift the weight off of a compromised limb, but I couldn’t keep still long enough to do a truly thorough job on any one limb before I was inevitably chased away by more machine gun fire from their compatriot.

I rounded the outside of the rear leg of one of them, and landed what I had intended to be a solid strike on its hock. However, this time there was no thunderous discharge from my bracer; just the dull echo of metal on metal. My eye darted to the display on my helmet, and I noticed that the power packs of both weapons were completely drained.

In that brief moment of distraction, I hadn’t noticed that the leg that I had just punched was moving. By the time that I was aware, I could see that it was now moving in my direction at a very high rate of speed not possible for a flesh and blood pony. Hydraulic presses in leg form had no such limitations, after all.

Before I could fully register what was about to happen, I was moving again; but not of my own volition. That was about as far as my thoughts went at that point: noting that I was moving, even though I hadn’t chosen to, and that I felt a lot of pain. Then, just as suddenly, I wasn’t moving anymore. This was because my backside had been rather rudely introduced to a porcelain bathtub, which dutifully shattered upon impact.

It was a full five seconds, by my reckoning, before I could breathe again, in the form of a beleaguered gasp as I tried to take in sips of air that my lungs were proving uncharacteristically reluctant to accept. I suspected that I’d broken several ribs. In fact, I suspected that it would be much easier to tally up the unbroken ones, considering that I’d just been bucked by a robopony the size of a large house. Making any sort of movement that involved even the most tangental use of the muscles along my chest proved excruciatingly agonizing, and no amount of mental willpower seemed able to overcome their reluctance.

I was effectively paralyzed.

Even so, I refuse to give up completely. I stretched out a wing, hoping that its dominating use of my scapular muscles would help make it easier to move it. If it did, it was hard to tell. Tears streamed down my face as wave after wave of pain washed over me for every inch that my pinions moved. My feathers fumbled with the clasp on my saddlebag and the healing potions contained within. Through my bleary vision, I could make out to looming gray forms of the giant roboponies turning towards me.

I had to move. I had to get back in the air and get moving, and quickly. Now that I wasn’t figuratively hugging their hides, they wouldn’t hesitate to use those energy turrets mounted to their spines.

Those thoughts didn’t seem to be enough to compel my wing to move more quickly, or with lessened pain. I could feel my pinions wrapping around one of the slender vials of a healing potion, but I could already tell that I wasn’t going to be fast enough. They were going to reduce me to ash, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

“Don’t move!”

I opened my mouth to respond to the nervous voice coming in over my headset, but nothing audible came out. Instead, I had to simply content myself with thinking it to myself: Oh, well if you insist…

There was a flash of red light from somewhere behind one of the large automatons. A moment later, it summarily exploded into a cloud of metal and fire, some of the smaller bits plocking down around me. Something that looked vaguely like a gun barrel bounced off the visor of my helmet. It might have been an actuator though. It was pretty badly melted.

“Fuck me! Why do weapons like this exist?! Oh shit―!”

Having noted the sudden and violent demise of its cohort, the other hulking war machine had turned its attention to the source of the new threat: the previously dormant third member of its entourage come back to life. Only, now it was under new management. It didn’t get any time to respond though. It’s main weapons had been focused upon the little pegasus laying imobile on a trash heap, in the exact opposite direction of this new enemy. While it would have been unfair to describe the turning rate of those turrets as anything approaching ‘slow’, there was still no comparison between the time it would take for one of them to completely reverse direction, and one that had only but to pivot slightly to its left.

“Fire in the hole!”

A pair of crimson lances bisected the head of the second large robopony, vaporizing it completely and leaving behind a smoldering crater of a neck that billowed black smoke, “Boom; headshot!” For several long seconds, the rest of the body hung there, and I found myself wondering if a robot losing its head carried along with it the same certainty of death as it would for a living pony. Then, much to my relief, the tall metal frame appeared to lose power and crumpled to the ground in a dead heap of fresh scrap.

I breathed a paradoxically painful sigh of relief as my wing managed to finish getting out the healing potion, and even got it all the way to my mouth without dropping it. I shivered at the unsettling sensation of my ribs and sternum crawling just below my skin as the bones sought to knit themselves back together into an intact ribcage once more. Breathing immediately became a much less arduous endeavour, to the relief of my own lungs. Movement was still a bit of an ordeal though. However, I was reluctant to down another potion. I’d burned through a significant portion of our inventory in the last few minutes, and Starlight still needed some tending to.

“Good work, Moonbeam,” I croaked out, trying to right myself back onto unsteady hooves on a surface that was less than accommodating to sure footing, “how’s Starlight doing? Can you see her?” I winced as one of my legs gave out from beneath me. It didn’t feel broken, but it had definitely been pinched awkwardly when I landed after being bucked by that giant robot. The potion had obviously spent the entirety of it magic on my chest and done nothing for that injury. Again I had to fight the urge to use another potion until I’d taken full stock of the unicorn mare’s injuries. In the interim, I could simply fly in order to avoid putting weight on the afflicted leg.

My ear twitched. I looked out past the two wrecked roboponies to stare at the third, standing tall and menacing beyond their smoldering forms, “Moonbeam? Can you hear me?” I reached up and knocked at my helmet. Had the landing been rougher on my gear than I’d thought? I had clearly been able to hear her transmissions, but I suppose it was possible that the microphone wasn’t working anymore.

Moonbeam’s new ride was staring directly at me. I gave her a wave to let her know that I was okay, and then pointed at the pile of dead bodies next to her, where I’d deposited her mother, “check on Starlight!” I yelled as loud as I could manage with my still-recovering lungs. She still didn’t move. Or rather, the large robopony didn’t move. For all I knew, Moonbeam had already dismounted it and was on the ground.

I’d have felt more confident about that hypothesis if those massive eyes weren’t glowing bright red like its siblings’ had…

...Shouldn’t my EFS be showing her as an amber blip, and not a red one?

A small blurb of text appeared in the upper-left corner of of my helmet’s display. It was a single, short, word. Yet it was the most terrifying word that I could ever remember reading in my life:

>>run

Pinpricks of red light took form at the tips of magical energy weapons mounted to the remaining robopony’s back. Barrels that were aimed directly at me.

“Oh...horseapples.”

I heaved myself down the sloping face of the mountain of garbage I’d been kicked into. It wasn’t the most graceful descent that I’d ever made in my life, as my muscles seemed to have decided that now was the proper time to go on strike and demand better treatment. I assured them that I wholehearted agreed that I was subjecting them to a completely unfair amount of work and pain, but that the matters were far outside my control. If I’d had unilateral say in the matter, I’d be spending the next month or three relaxing in New Reino’s best hotel with twice-daily massages, and an indulgent hooficure/manestyling double-feature!

However, I reminded my obstinate body, that was not what we were going to be doing any time soon if we managed to get vaporized by our own damn friend! Never mind why she was shooting at us a whopping five seconds after she just got done saving our flanks. That was a conversation to have in the future. Right now, the goal was to live long enough to see that future.

Be Unwavering!

Then adrenaline interjected itself into the debate and forced all parties to agree to table the discussion vis-a-vis: pain and discomfort, and I found myself able to once again move with a little more alacrity. Not a huge amount, mind you, but enough to keep myself from outright falling down this tower of trash in my effort to avoid getting blasted.

“The fuck, Moonbeam?! What’s going on?” I screamed over the com line, on the off chance that it was really working just fine. I leaped to the side, my wings helping to swerve out of the way of another torrent of energy fire that sliced a deep furrow where I’d very nearly been. I noted that her accuracy felt like it was a good bit better than the others’ had been, “stop shooting!”

The response that I received was less than inspiring. It came in the form of another blast from her main guns, “that’s the opposite of what I said to do!” I screamed as I pulled a barrel roll around the pair of scarlet beams as they swept through the air after me.

“Alright, somepony needs a serious time-out!” I sneered, glaring balefully at the looming giant robopony that had only a minute ago saved my life. I didn’t know what could have possibly gone wrong, but it was more than sufficiently obvious that something had. Now I just had to figure out what I was going to do about it. Moonbeam wasn’t going to be any easier to take down than the other two had, after all. She was doubtlessly going to have the same tough armor and self-repair capabilities.

Unless I was going to somehow come across a fourth massive robopony with big guns around here that I could commandeer, I was pretty soundly screwed.

I zipped past the giant robopony as close as I dared to get, hoping that my proximity would help me to outpace the rate of rotation for the massive energy turret that was tracking me. For some reason, up until this point, none of the machine guns mounted in the automaton’s hips and shoulders were showing any signs of movement. Not that I was complaining, mind you! I was just exceedingly wary of them, lest this be some sort of ploy to get me to forget they were there in order to catch me by surprise.

The bristling weapons mounts weren’t the only thing that my eye was noting either. After all, this particular massive death-bot had one particular feature that set it apart from its two fallen comrades: a second―smaller―robopony nestled at the nape of its neck. I veered sharply to the side and angled down to do a closer flyby of Moonbeam’s location, juking as another pair of brilliant red lances tried to cut me down.

What I saw confused me at first: the little robopony’s two forelegs looked like they had somehow merged with the back of the larger automaton beneath her. Then I caught sight of the nearby cutting tool and square plate of armor that had been cut away, even though there was no sign of where it had actually been taken from. Those self-repair systems were indeed quite operational, and must have sealed up the breech that she’d cut in the armor around her efforts to gain access to its systems. She wouldn’t be able to detach herself even if she wanted to.

Not that I had any firm notion of where I planned to take any of us, or how I was going to manage to haul two full-sized ponies any sort of meaningful distance without any assistance from my Gale Force, but I knew that the first thing that I had to do was free Moonbeam. After that…? Well, honestly, we’d probably all be immediately killed. But, at least we’d die together!

A quick immelmann allowed me to keep from being tagged by yet another blast and set me diving for Moonbeam. I kept track of the swiveling energy turret out of the corner of my eye as I darted for my friend’s inert body. My wings flared just before I would have tackled her and I wrapped my limbs around her chest. There was only the briefest moment of hesitation as I grimace and whispered in her ear, “sorry about this.”

Moonbeam had been right earlier: her mechanical body really wasn’t all that sturdy. I mean, I knew that those razor-sharp wing-blades built into the Gale Force could eventually slice their way through even Steel Ranger powered barding, so they were nothing to sneer at; but I felt hardly any resistance at all as my wings swept around either side of Moonbeam and deftly severed her limbs just above the elbow. There were brief hisses as hydraulic fluid still under pressure found itself suddenly freed from the confines of the hoses that fed her actuators as her body lifted away from them. I wasted no time and back-winged off the massive robopony, clutching Moonbeam to me tightly, fully expecting to have to begin the arduous task of evading additional attacks while hefting my newly acquired burden.

However, that didn’t seem to be the case after all. The remaining metal behemoth remained completely still. Not even its turret was moving. I listed to the side a little, craning my head to peer hesitantly at its eyes. They were as dark and as dead now as they had been when I’d first hit it with the spark grenades. My gaze darted to my EFS.

No blip of any kind was being associated with the robopony by my pipbuck. As far as my fetlock-mounted computer was concerned: it was out of operation.

The sense of relief that washed over me very nearly made me lose my grip on Moonbeam. As quickly as I could, I rushed us to the ground and laid the dismembered synthetic mare down on the floor next to the pile of desiccated corpses. Not an ideal location, I knew, but I needed to check on Starlight. Honestly, they both needed attention, but I didn’t know enough about roboponies to figure out what was wrong with Moonbeam. The pink unicorn’s wounds were physical and mundane. I knew what needed to be done to treat them.

I’d only managed to just reach Starlight’s side and begin to carefully extract her from among the tangled mound of dead ponies when my attention was drawn upward by the loud rumbling of heavy machinery coming to life. For a fleeting moment, I was terrified that the remaining war machine had come back to life once more to finish us all off, but a quick glance confirmed it was completely still. What was moving was all of the sections of the faux trash mound that had been concealing this place. They were once more raising themselves up and sliding back into their original configuration.

My first instinct was to grab my friends and run. After all, if those three things were what had greeted us here, I didn’t want to think about what dangers could be lurking deeper within. However, there was no way that I’d be able to carry them both out of here at the same time, and the roof was reassembling itself too quickly for me to be certain I could perform multiple trips without the aid of the Gale Force.

Somepony would get left behind, with no guarantee that I’d be able to get back inside in time to help them.

So, I just stood there, glaring up at the ceiling high overhead as the pointed sections maneuvered back into their original locations and locked together, sealing the three of us away in darkness. Then, much to my surprise, that darkness was lifted as an array of fluorescent lights flickered to life all around us, bathing the domed chamber in light. A high-pitched trill sounded from the far end, causing my head to snap around to see what the source could be, and what new threat was sure to spring out at us.

A section of the floor was indeed opening up. I felt my heart sink. Both of my companions were down for the count, and all of my weapons were out of power. Frantically, I lunged for the pile of bodies and grabbed up the nearest gun that I could get my hooves on. It was some form of semi-automatic carbine, and my pipbuck’s HUD assured me that there were still a few rounds left in its magazine. Whether it would fire or not remained to be seen.

The massive segments of flooring swung aside, revealing a black pit beyond. I braced the weapon against my body, trying desperately to get a good hold of the unfamiliar weapon and keep it trained on the opening and whatever was able to come spilling out of it and finish us off.

But nothing did.

All that appeared was a platform with a small terminal mounted upon it. An elevator, leading down into the heart of the hidden facility. I kept the weapon leveled in the direction of the lift, but let out the anxious breath that I’d been holding. My mind raced to try and make sense of why it had appeared so unexpectedly. For that matter, I was trying to figure out why the roof had closed over top of us again.

“Is she going to be okay?”

I jumped instantly into the air and whirled around with the weapon before I even processed that the voice which had spoken belonged to Moonbeam. Silently cursing my frayed nerves, and opting to toss away the weapon before I let my stress levels take things too far as the result of another unexpected surprise, I took a deep breath and shifted my gaze from the now responsive robopony to the still unconscious form of Starlight Glimmer. My EFS was still mercifully associating her body with an amber blip, so she was at least alive. Beyond that…

“I don’t know,” I admitted, stepping closer to the pink unicorn mare and slipping off my saddlebags. I took a quick stock of what medical supplies remained between the two of us. There wasn’t all that much left really. Nor was there any telling how truly bad off Starlight was. I wasn’t a medical pony. Arginine would have known what to do though. I should have brought him along.

Glancing at the exposed internals of Moonbeam’s severed limbs, it probably wouldn’t have been a bad idea to have Foxglove here with us either. I let out an annoyed snort. This wasn’t this first time that I’d found myself in way over my head and woefully unprepared for what I was up against as a result of being separated from the rest of my friends. Only, this time it had been completely voluntary.

I hadn’t been drugged and abducted. I hadn’t left in a huff after taking out an entire barroom’s worth of patrons. I hadn’t simply jumped the wrong way while escaping a massive explosion and a collapsing building. I’d made a conscious and―what I’d thought―well-reasoned decision to split our forces in the interests of time. Of course, shaving a week or two off of this grand campaign we were on wasn’t going to mean a whole lot if one of the teams got themselves wiped out, now did it?

Foxglove and Ramparts would have been able to help with those giant roboponies, and Arginine would have been able to get any of us that were seriously injured back on our hooves. Instead, I’d decided that myself, a newcomer to the Wasteland who was only barely competent with firearms, and a foal inside of an unarmed, underpowered, mechanical body, was the team most ideally suited to braving a location with a previously undiscovered Ministry of Awesome base. A base which any marginally intelligent pony would have guessed might have been a lot like the last one of those that I’d found only a month ago!

Remember, Windfall? The secret underground base that had defenses that overpowered a team of armed and armored Steel Rangers?! Are Starlight and Moonbeam on the level of Steel Rangers? No!

This was stupid, Windfall. Stupid, reckless, and very nearly lethal for all three of you. In fact, there was every reason to believe that it could still prove lethal. Starlight was alive now, sure, but she might not be an hour from now. Or maybe in two hours. Who knew? I sure didn’t!

“Windfall?”

I jerked with a start, only now realizing that I’d been letting out a low growl of frustration at my own monumental levels of incompetence. I was a child who had let her recent successes get to her head. I had no business trying to lead ponies to a place like this, “I’m alright,” I assured the robopony, in spite of my very real doubts to the contrary. What mattered now was surviving long enough to get Starlight the help that she needed, “I’m just trying to figure out what we need to do next,” I glanced up at the vaulted ceiling, “and how to get out of here again.”

“We’ll have to get to the command center,” the robopony informed me, “I reset the system, but I don’t have viable network access anymore. This place has very tough encryption. I can’t get past it without an access point.”

“You did this?” I asked in surprise, gesturing to the ceiling above us.

“Apparently,” the metal mare said, “after I’d used that Übersentinel to destroy the others, I tried to use its access codes to open the facility,” she grew silent for a moment, averting her eyes, “she’s never done anything like this before.”

“Who?”

“Selene. She’s never just taken over like that and refused to deactivate,” Moonbeam sounded genuinely shaken by the experience as she spoke, absently kneading the stumps of her legs against one another, “she shut me out completely. I didn’t even know she could do that…

“I barely had time to try and get a warning out before I lost all control,” she shook her head, “I almost killed you!” the mare seethed, “I’ve never felt so helpless before.”

“It’s alright,” I said, stepping over and stretching a wing across the metal mare’s back. Could she even feel like real ponies? Whether she could or not, Moonbeam responded to the gesture and leaned into my side all the same, “I know what it’s like to feel helpless. To watch ponies you care about get hurt, and not be able to do anything about it. To know that you were partly responsible,” I fought back the visions of both my mother’s decapitation, and Jackboot’s vaporization, “dwelling on it...it doesn’t help. We just have to move on and try to do better.

“We were lucky this time though,” I assured her, “nothing that you did got anypony hurt, and you did save my life,” I hugged her to me a little more tightly, not sure if she could actually tell through her chassis, “thanks for that, by the way.

“And sorry about your legs,” I added, mustering an apologetic smile for the mare.

“It’s fine,” she sighed, “it doesn’t hurt or anything. I should still be able to get around,” her gaze went to her mother, “she’s the one that needs attention, not me.”

“Maybe there’s an infirmary in this place,” I offered, trying my best to sound positive, “I bet I can reach Ramparts and have him get Arginine to guide us through treating her,” it was a plan, at least.

Moonbeam was shaking her head though, “not with your pipbuck, no,” she glanced up at the curved ceiling, “this place is shielded against unauthorized transmissions.”

“How do you know?”

“Turn on your radio.”

I did so, tuning it to the frequency of Homily’s broadcasts. My speakers emitted nothing but soft static. I tried DJ Pon3’s frequency and got the same result. Even the channel for Ebony Song’s Seaddle broadcasts wasn’t sending out a clear signal. If nothing was getting in, then it made sense that nothing would get out either, I supposed. I still tried to raise Ramparts all the same.

“Secret base, remember?” Moonbeam said, “nopony here wanted to risk the enemy picking up stray signals. Everything has to come in through the comm arrays.”

“We really need to find that control room, don’t we?”

“The sooner, the better,” she confirmed. I removed my wing and stepped away as the metal mare began to try and right herself. I offered her some help, but she waved away my efforts, “I’m good. Just need to find the right drivers. Give me a second,” she briefly closed her eyes. A moment later, they were open again, and I heard the sound of straining motors coming from her hips as the robopony suddenly shifted from her quasi-prone position on the floor, to a fully upright one.

And I meant fully upright, balanced soundly on only her rear hooves. Her mangled forelegs hung awkwardly across her chest, and it was the most peculiar manner that I’d ever seen a pony stand in my life, but she didn’t seem to be teetering in the slightest.

“Wow,” I heard myself saying in surprise, adding in a skeptical tone, “and you’re sure you can get around like that?”

Moonbeam nodded and demonstrated her mobility by taking several careful steps towards the lift, “I’ll be alright for a little while. My gyros have to be red-lined just to keep me balanced though, so I’m not going to be able to move very fast like this,” she frowned, “this body’s also two hundred years past its last scheduled maintenance overhaul, so there’s no telling how long it’ll be before a bearing seizes up and I fall flat on my face…”

“In that case, we should get moving,” I looked back to Starlight and frowned. It was going to be quite the ordeal to haul her around everywhere. She wasn’t particularly light, after all. Even with the help of the Gale Force, it’d be awkward trying to move her around―

Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea!

I promptly began to shuck my barding and the flight assist system that Foxglove had been kind enough to integrate into it. Fitting it onto the pink unicorn mare took some doing, but eventually I was able to get most of the buckles secured. Once I was confident that she wouldn’t simply slip out of my barding, I replaced the spent spark batteries with the freshest ones that I had and turned the system on. Levitation talismans built into the metal wing covers hummed to life and lifted the unconscious mare just off the ground.

After all, this system had been designed by a mare who’d been missing a wing. It was intended not simply to augment flight, but also to grant it, when needed. I flashed Moonbeam a triumphant smile and gently prodded her mother’s floating body, watching it list slowly above the floor, “heh...her first day as an alicorn, and she’s going to sleep through it.”

Moonbeam managed to roll her glowing eyes somehow as the three of us made out way to the waiting platform. A pegasus walking along, pushing a flying unicorn, while a robot walked behind on two legs. Never could the Wasteland possibly have seen an odder looking group of ponies. The robopony seemed to have noticed this as well as she reached over with a severed limb and tapped a button on the console that controlled the lift.

“I’m a two-hundred year old foal with a computer grafted into her brain, suspended in a jar of saline, and sealed in a robopony body,” she let the comment hang in the air for several seconds, prompting me to look up at her questioningly, “I also occasionally lose control of my body from time to time because that computer takes over and tries to kill my friends.”

“...and?”

“Just reminding myself of the baseline that I’m working off of when it comes to ‘weirdness’ so that I’m not shocked by whatever we end up finding down here.”

“Oh,” that actually seemed to make a little sense. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

The lift jerked and began to slowly descend into the underground facility’s interior. What surprised me the most was how open our surrounding were, even now that we were clearly going below ground. After about ten or so feet, the sides of the elevator shaft fell away, leaving us surrounded by blackness that stretched out in every direction. It was a little disconcerting, I had to admit. The solid void of darkness surrounding us made it hard to get a clear idea of how far down we were really going, or what we’d find when we got there.

I turned on my pipbuck light and shined it around, but either it was far weaker than I’d thought, or this cavern that we were in was stupendously large, because nothing was revealed by the device’s integrated light source. I certainly wasn’t going to risk trying to fly out either, lest I either collide with something or become lost.

With a sharp jerk and a resounding banging of metal, the platform that we were riding came to an abrupt halt. Moonbeam let out a terrified yelp and began to flail, prompting me to reach out and help to steady the robopony as the sudden change in motion overwhelmed her body’s ability to remain upright.

“Thanks,” she said, trying to calm herself, “now where the fuck are...we…”

Even as the mare was speaking, lights began to snap to life, just as they had above in the doomed area. Massive banks of dozens of powerful lamps mounted into the ceiling a hundred feet or more above our heads burst to life one row at a time. They didn’t provide much light at first, as their filaments struggled to warm themselves after so much time spend dormant. Those faint glows brightened quickly though, and in a little less than a minute, the illumination that they provided finally managed to penetrate the darkness all the way to the ground of the facility.

That was when we saw them, and I heard Moonbeam mutter under her breath, “didn’t work; still shocked.”

Nor was she the only one, because my brain was still trying to process what it was seeing too.

The sheer scope and scale of the operation wasn’t helping much either. Seeing even one of those things had been shocking enough the first time. Now I was being confronted by dozens, hundreds―no, thousands―of them, for all I knew. Additional banks of lights were still coming to life, revealing heavily shadowed forms that were almost completely obstructed from view by the horde’s worth that stood in front of them.

“That’s...a lot of Lunas…” I heard myself whisper.

For that’s what they were: a legion of robot Princess Lunas, not all that dissimilar from the one that Moonbeam had been controlling in Seaddle. Yet, to say that these examples were identical to what Ebony Song had been using to prop up his own power in the Republic would have been doing a disserving. If anything, I got the impression that the robotic alicorn in the capital must have been some sort of early prototype, or even just a proof of the basic concept.

It clearly hadn’t been one of the production models that we were seeing here.

Each example that stood before us, dormant and unmoving―thankfully―was at least half again as large as the drone that Moonbeam had piloted. The metal casings were smooth and elegant, the parts that hadn’t been covered by an inch of dust glimmered, showing that they’d been polished to a mirror black shine. Each of them sported a suped-up adaptation of the Gale Force rig that I owned, leaving me to ponder what sorts of speeds they could achieve with the massive turbines that were bolted to their backs.

“They were building an army,” I finally managed to say at a more audible volume, “that’s what the Ministry of Awesome wanted to keep a secret from everypony. They must not have wanted the zebras to know that this was going to be coming at them.”

Though, I had to admit that didn’t quite explain everything. I could understand wanting to move all of the pieces to build these things using a fake ‘shipping company’, and to want to hide the factory that was housing―and probably building―them. Those all made perfect sense to me for anypony to do while fighting a desperate war for the very survival of an entire species.

It didn’t explain why it had been kept a secret from the other ministries though. Had the MoA been so obsessively paranoid about this getting out that they felt that they could even trust the very ponies that they had to work the most closely with? The Ministry of Peace had known nothing about their apparent plans to use foals-powered computers in their facilities. I could only assume that more of them would have been used to control these things too, since Moonbeam had been using one to pretend to be the real Princess Luna.

They’d also lied to the Ministry of Arcane Science about the locations of their bases in the valley. Who knew how many other ponies high up in the Equestrian government they were keeping out of the loop! Did they really think that they couldn’t trust anypony outside of their own ministry with any of this?

...unless that had been the point.

Could Rainbow Dash have been planning a coup?

“I’m not even sure what ‘this’ is,” Moonbeam said, “I mean...why? What was any of this supposed to achieve? It’s not like Equestria didn’t already use roboponies,” she frowned at the army arrayed before us, “what made these things so special?”

“I mean, they do look pretty impressive,” I pointed out.

“So did the three giant ones we just had to fight above us,” the mare pointed out, “it just seems like a lot of effort to go through to make yet another version of roboponies,” she scowled at the sight, “I swear, if this is the whole reason they were fucking with me brain…” she let the threat hang unfinished. After all, it wasn’t like there was anypony left for her to take vengeance on.

I cast my gaze back over my shoulder, in the opposite direction of the derelict robot alicorn army. There was a massive wall with doors of various shapes and sizes built into it. A couple of them looked like they were designed for regular-sized ponies. Presumably that was where the heart of this facility was located, “we should start looking for the infirmary and the control center,” I suggested.

“Yeah,” Moonbeam agreed, letting out one finally snort of disgust at the Luna-bots before following me through the nearest personnel door.

My guess about the nature of this place proved correct: it wasn’t merely a storage facility, it was where things things were built as well. Most of the interior was composed of fabrication equipment and assembly bays. Which worked out in our favor considerably. After all, where there was an abundance of heavy machinery, there was the high likelihood of somepony suffering a serious injury. Since the ministry running this operation was so intent on keeping what was going on here a secret even from their companion ministries, the last thing that they wanted was to try and explain to the staff at nearby MoP hospitals how so many Awesome members were getting seriously injured.

That meant designing this place with a completely decked out clinic of its own that was capable of managing just about any kind of injury, even the very serious ones. It was just a shame that neither me or Moonbeam knew enough about medicine to be able to make full use of it. Somepony like Doctor Lancet probably could have brought a patient back from the dead if he had access to the equipment and supplies here though. All that we could manage was to get Starlight out of my barding and into one of the beds.

Moonbeam found a terminal that let her download a manual on how to operate some of the diagnostic stuff. Technically, she could have learned how to use all of the sophisticated equipment in this place; but she was very quick to point out that knowing how something worked, and actually being able to use it with any degree of skill were not remotely the same thing. Besides, it turned out that there really wasn’t all that much more that could be done for Starlight anyway.

“She’s stable,” Moonbeam confirmed, looking over the display, “she just lost a lot of blood is all. The healing potion you already used on her plugged up the holes, so she’s not bleeding anymore. But her body is going to need time to recover.

“All we can do is wait,” she said. I could hear the relief in her voice, and it matched up with my own.

“That’s good to hear. I think all of us could do with a good night’s rest,” I remarked, knowing that I was certainly looking forward to sleeping somewhere that wasn’t the open Wasteland, “or three…”

“Even if I did sleep, it wouldn’t do me any good,” Moonbeam lifted her damaged limbs and waved their stubs around.

“There’s all that heavy machinery out there,” I pointed out, “and this was a place where they built robots. We might be able to find some parts that’ll fit,” I tried to sound optimistic, even though I did seriously doubt that this place specifically would stock anything that was compatible with her current body. On the other hoof, “or maybe we can put you inside one of those Luna-bots?”

The robopony didn’t look nearly as convinced of that as I was, “the part of this body that’s actually keeping me alive is technically designed to be able to be swapped into other bodies, yeah; but I can’t just be put into any old robopony. The power requirements and connections for the sensors are very specific. We’re better off trying to find replacement parts. Finding new legs in this place will be pretty easy. Finding new legs that’ll fit, on the other hoof…”

I nodded my understanding. I’d been afraid that it wouldn’t be that easy. I looked briefly at the monitors that were tracking Starlight’s condition, “well, if she’d going to be fine, and there’s nothing else that we can do for her, we might as well get something productive accomplished,” I reasoned, “why don’t you go see about tracking down suitable parts while I look for this place’s command center and get word out to Ramparts and the others.”

“Alright,” she nodded, “but be careful though. I reset the security system, and that let us inside, but I don’t know what might set it off again, or what kinds of defenses it has in here.”

“Noted,” I didn’t feel particularly inclined to find out, honestly, “I know we can’t call anypony outside, but will we be able to talk to each other using my broadcaster while we’re both inside?”

“That should work just fine,” I heard Moonlight say through my pipbuck’s speakers, though the robopony’s mouth remained completely motionless.

“Good to know. We’ll call each other at the first sign of trouble, alright?”

“Agreed.”

It didn’t take me long to appreciate the scale of this place, even more so than what the Ministry of Awesome had seen fit to hide beneath McMaren. Steps had been taken to keep this facility as low profile that it probably would never have occurred to me to consider, but that seemed rather obvious in hindsight. The clinic covered only some of the bases where not drawing undo attention to the MoA was concerned, after all. It was one thing to manage personnel issues, but what about material ones?

I had already known a few of the details on that end, from what I’d learned at places like Arc Lightning and Wind Ryders. Rainbow Dash’s ministry had been buying components from otherwise discontinued projects undertaken by private companies; and their use of their own in-house shipping contractor meant that few outsiders would catch on to anything, if it even occurred to them to look. But that would only be part of the assembly process for that army of robot alicorns. They’d also have required a lot of raw materials as well. Steel, aluminum, copper, plastics.

The sorts of things that a landfill had lying around by the ton, that nopony would ever miss, or even notice was gone. If the ponies here simply went to the surface and recycled the raw material being hauled in daily by the wagon loads, then they didn’t have to worry about anypony wondering where so much processed metal was being diverted to, with no obvious result. For all I knew, they’d used those same means to build this whole place over time.

This place was more than an assembly line. I saw massive crucibles and forges that had been used to melt down and reforge the salvaged metal taken from the dump. There were even wings of dormitories to house the workforce that labored here so nopony would wonder why so many ponies were commuting every day to a landfill. It actually took me a while to finally find what would have been considered the administrative section of this place. I still had yet to find a true ‘command center’ where I could hope to get out a clear signal, but I decided that I’d start looking through some of the offices anyway, in case it turned out that I’d need some sort of access card or password to get into it when I finally did find the place.

“OPERATIONS DIRECTOR NIGHTJAR” sounded like a pretty good place to start, I thought.

The sight that greeted me when I opened the door had me wondering if I’d be leaving with more questions than answers though. Up to this point, everything had appeared to be completely deserted, but nothing that gave the impression that the exodus had been done in haste or panic. Tools had been put away, doors had been closed―a few of them locked―even chairs had been neatly pushed into their desks. When the ponies had left here, they done so in a very calm and deliberate fashion.

Director Nightjar had not been so lucky, it seemed.

At least, I assumed that the desiccated corpse of a winged pony still sitting at the chair behind the desk had been the owner of the office. The tattered remnants of a suit that still clung to what was left of the body looked like the sort of thing that a pony in a position of authority might have worn anyway. Whoever they were though, they had very clearly not been privy to the same deliberate departure that everypony else who’d worked here had been a part of.

Which left me wondering: “why?”

What had set this pony apart from the others, other than his position either at or very near the top of the local pecking order? Surely it couldn’t have been as simple as an employee with a personal grudge taking care of things on what they saw as their last opportunity to do so. This didn’t strike me as being nearly that random.

I approached the body, and very quickly deduced what had killed him, as evidenced by the charred hole that had been drilled through his head, and the scorch mark on the wall behind him. High-energy discharge from a magical beam weapon of some sort. He’d been facing the door when it happened it looked like. Nothing else about the office looked out of sorts though. There was a bit of a mess on the top of the desk, but nothing that didn’t look like it hadn’t just been typical clutter created by a pony who’d been hard at work when they’d been interrupted. None of the drawers were left open, and nothing was scattered on the ground, implying that nothing had been taken after the director was murdered.

Unless, of course, he hadn’t been murdered. I noticed that the small calendar on his desk marked the likely date of his death as one that any seasoned veteran of the Wasteland eventually became quite familiar with: the day that the balefire bombs had fallen. Another common sight were the bodies of ponies who had chosen to take their own lives in the immediate aftermath. It was possible that was what had happened here. Though, if that were the case, then there should be a gun somewhere around here.

I dipped my head down and began to search the floor immediately around and beneath the desk. That was when I spied something that I doubted very much was a standard feature among office equipment. Well, two things, actually. The first feature which caught my eye was indeed a gun, a small compact pistol, that had been tucked into a holster mounted to the underside of the desk’s surface. However, as it was still very cosily nestled in its sheath, and since it was a slug-thrower, I highly doubted that it had been the one used for this deed. Though I did find myself wondering why Director Nightjar had felt the need for that kind of protection. While a great many pains had obviously been taken to hide this place, I refused to believe that it didn’t have security staff on site to deal with any problems.

The second anomaly did give me a clue about what this pony had felt the need to have the weapon close by though. It was a small open cubby that had been set into the drawers of the desk, hidden from view. In fact, if it hadn’t been open when I’d begun my casual search, I probably wouldn’t ever have known that it was there. Fortunately, it had been open, and its contents promised to provide me with quite a few interesting tidbits of information.

There was a small audio recorder, and several additional holodisks, all marked with dates and a brief description of their contents. I pulled everything out, noting that there was still a disk in the recorder, and that the ‘record’ button was even still depressed. The tape had obviously long ago run out of space, and the device’s battery was completely dead, but I felt that my questions about the exact nature of this pony’s death would be succinctly answered by its contents. I popped out the recording and loaded it into my pipbuck.

A stallion’s voice began to play over the speakers, “Operative Nightjar, final report. Construction of the last of the drones has been completed. Ministry Mare Rainbow Dash has been notified and is making preparations for their first demonstration. However, by now our teams are already either moving in on the other Neighvada facilities, or are preparing to do so. It won’t be long before she learns that something is wrong and takes action. Suggest that a team be dispatched to arrest the Ministry Mare herself as quickly as possible.

“I’ve dismissed the workforce at the facility as a ‘reward’ for finishing the project. I will deactivate the entrance defenses upon receiving confirmation that a team is on the way to retrieve the drones. With this recording is the additional evidence to be used when the Ministry Mare is charged with treason against the Crown. I will also be―” the voice stopped abruptly at the sound of door opening. This was immediately followed by some loud banging as the stallion frantically shoved the recorder into the hidden recess of his desk.

“Who in the―! Rainbow?!” in his surprise, the stallion seemed to have forgotten all of the decorum that he’d been keeping throughout his earlier monologue. The next voice that spoke had a raspy quality, but clearly belonged to a mare.

“How’s your night, Night? Heh…” the brief laugh sounded anemic and empty. There was no joy in this mare’s voice, “the MoA has a policy against moonlighting, you know. We don’t want ponies getting distracted from the important work they’re doing here.”

“I’m...sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ministry Mare,” the stallion cleared his throat, having recovered from his earlier shock, “I thought you were in Cloudsdale?”

“That is what my schedule says,” the mare agreed, then her tone hardened, “my personal schedule. The one that’s one my personal network. That only I’m supposed to have access to,” if this was the pony that had shot the director, I was surprised that she’d even bothered with an energy weapon. Whatever look that she must have been giving him to go with that unadulterated rage dripping over every word she spoke should have been more than sufficient to kill him, “my official schedule―the one that I send out to my department heads―made it pretty clear I was coming here today.

“But I’m guessing that you haven’t bothered to check between the two in a long time, have you, Night?”

“I...um…”

“You’re not going to find her, by the way,” Rainbow Dash continued, cutting off the stallion’s sputtering response, “Selene. I had her moved months ago. When the authorities arrive, they’ll just find the same decoy that her mother’s been talking to this whole time.”

When he was finally able to speak again, it was with a cold voice that was devoid of all pretence of ignorance. The stallion recognized when he’d been caught, “how long have you known?”

“Not as long as I’d have liked,” the mare admitted bitterly, “you’re a damn good spy, I’ll give you that. I didn’t suspect a thing.”

“That’s obviously not entirely true,” the stallion countered, “or you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Fair enough. Funny thing is, it wasn’t actually anything you said. It was what you weren’t saying. You know more than anypony what the control requirements for those drones are. You’re also in a position to know that the MASEBS can’t handle them. In fact, there’s no known command and control system that could work with the drones. You knew that from day one.

“Well, that’s obviously what the McMaren base is for―”

“Even McMaren doesn’t know what they’re for!” Rainbow Dash snapped, nearly snarling at the other pony, “the official specks they have for their generator outputs are wrong; and they don’t know about the relays. They think their tower is just a tower, and that Selene is going to be a replacement for their current Poseidon Core. Every official piece of correspondence I’ve sent them has made it perfectly clear that Selene is just nothing more than an ‘upgrade’ for their existing system.

I could hear the mare take a deep breath, “every project lead I have involved in this has…‘expressed concerns’, let’s say, about one thing or another. Egghead wants to know why the AIs for their patients are ‘over-engineered’. McMaren wants to know why, if Selene is just going to be an ‘upgrade’, she needs her own station, instead of just being swapped out with their current core. Ryder’s wants to know why I’m using them to ship ‘toys’ here.

“Do you think that I don’t know what my own reputation is? I’ll be the first pony to admit that I can’t complete with Twilight’s eggheadedness. Heck, after seeing some of what MWT puts out, I’ve occasionally wondered if AJ has me beat in the brainpower department! I’ve learned to accept that not everypony is willing to take it for granted that I know what I’m talking about every time I come up with a new ‘hairbrained scheme’. I’ve learned to accept that ponies will question them. That it’s not because they think I’m an idiot, but because they want to make sure that I didn’t accidentally overlook something important by acting too impulsively.

“With something like Selene? Oh, you better believe that ponies have been asking me a lot of questions.

“Everypony has questions. Everypony...except you. You haven’t questioned why the drones are being built without even the most basic local control nodes that get put into every other robopony in Equestria so that they could operate on their own. You haven’t questioned why we’re building so many of them when there is no known transmitter array that can handle the bandwidth they’d need to all be working.

“Only somepony who had all of the pieces wouldn’t be asking those questions. Since I’m supposed to be the only pony who does have all those pieces...well...it makes a mare wonder.

“I just want to know why, Nightjar? I thought you believed in what we were doing? You know what’s at stake!”

“Her Majesty made it clear that she did not approve of this project of yours. She found it...in poor taste.”

“Pony-feathers! If that was true, then why let me finish it? She obviously knows everything about it, what with you apparently having hacked my personal network! Why didn’t she and the Night Guard swoop in here the moment you told her and―” Rainbow Dash’s voice died off for several brief moments, “Princess Luna doesn’t know about this, does she? You’re not one of her agents, are you? Then who…

“Goldenblood…” it sounded like even the act of uttering that name had made the mare physically ill, “you’re one of his! That’s why you let me finish; he wants them! How is that even possible? He’s fucking dead! He was executed this morning!”

“I have my instructions,” the stallion said in a tone that at least sounded pretty calm, granted the circumstances, “and they do not end simply because the issuing party is dead. I will carry them out, as I have been ordered,” then the director continued in a much more condescending tone, “which will include submitting all the evidence Her Majesty will need to order your own arrest, by the way. You will want to find yourself a very competent attorney, Miss Dash. With any luck, your death penalty will be waived in favor of exile―”

The stallion’s words died suddenly on the whine of an energy blast. The recording was silent for several long seconds, “fuck you, fuck the OIA, and fuck Goldenblood. Selene’s going to save all of us in spite of that damned unicorn. Charge me with treason? Treason?! I’m the literal embodiment of Loyalty itself! If that stallion wasn’t already dead I’d take him by the neck and strangle out every little last raspy breath he had with my bare―” a series of brief chirps interrupted the mare, who let out an exasperated snarl at having her tirade cut short, “RD. What’s going on? What? When? How many? All of them?! Scramble every interception team we’ve got! I want every pegasus with two wings and gun in the air five minutes ago! I’m on my way to The Tower right now…” the voice of Rainbow Dash died off as she must have left the office. Presumably on her way to whatever it was ‘the tower’ happened to be. A few more seconds after that, I heard a siren start up on the recording, ringing throughout the facility.

An annoyingly calm mare’s voice made an announcement along with the klaxon’s clamoring, “MISSILE LAUNCHES DETECTED. ALL MINISTRY OF AWESOME PERSONNEL ARE ADVISED TO CONTACT THEIR IMMEDIATE SUPERVISORS FOR ASSIGNMENT DETAILS OR EVACUATION INSTRUCTIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. MISSILE LAUNCHES DETECTED…”

I ended the recording after it became clear that the remainder of the disk would have been the continuing blare of that siren. It seemed that there had been trouble in paradise. My eye wandered back to the pegasus stallion with the hole that had been burned through his head. Why a pony would have been trying to do anything to undermine a ministry project was a more complicated question than I was prepared to answer. In fact, even more confounding than that was the implication that Princess Luna herself had apparently been against what was going on here.

Or, maybe not. Starlight Glimmer had been adamant that the princess would not have approved of what was being done with the foals that the MoA was using. Maybe that was what the stallion had been talking about? No, that couldn’t be it. Maybe that pegasus spy had known what was going on with the foals, but he’d admitted that he wasn’t working for the princess, so there wasn’t any reason for him to have passed the information off to her; and I got the feeling that this whole project was something that Luna had killed long before anything had actually been done to get it going. If Rainbow Dash was reluctant to clue even the ponies working the most closely with her in on what the whole plan was, would she have told Luna about it?

She was the leader of Equestria, so maybe…

Had it been only the use of the foals that she’d objected to though? I felt confident that she’d have let a plan that sounded as important as Rainbow Dash made it sound go on ahead, if only with some alterations. Surely it hadn’t been the whole concept that had been vetoed, right?

I let out a frustrated growl. Two hundred year old questions weren’t very easy to answer. Besides, the who’s and the why’s of the events before the end of the war weren’t material to my own reason for being here. What truly mattered to me was what was contained in this bunker. Or, rather, what I’d desperately hoped had been contained here: weapons.

It was starting to look like I’d only been half right. There were certainly war materials of some sort here. Just not the kind that would have proven easy to turn directly into hard currency in order to fund the mercenary army I was trying to build. Guns and ammo could have been sold to just about any merchant in the valley for a tidy sum. That army of Princess Luna drones was undeniably valuable, sure; but locating buyers who’d be interested, and have the financial backing to to able to pay out what I’d need was another matter.

Maybe if I had time to let word spread to Manehattan, or Hoofington, or even places further away than that who’d have need of an army of flying combat roboponies, then everything would be fine. However, that could take months; maybe even as long as a year or more. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure of the timetable that I was working with where Arginine’s stable was concerned, but I highly doubted that we’d have anywhere near that amount of time.

I needed to find that command center or wherever and get word to Ramparts so that he’d know our financial situation wasn’t going to be quite as sound as we’d hoped.

Director Nightjar, it turned out, did have an ID card clipped to his jacket that looked like it was used for more than just letting ponies know who he was, so I appropriated it and left the office. It took me another fifteen minutes of navigating the hallways and a few double-backs before I finally located a suitably impressive steel door that simply screamed, ‘this is where important stuff happens!’. The ID card proved itself to have been a worthwhile acquisition, as I held it up to a small black box mounted into the wall next to the door. There was an acknowledging ‘beep!’, and then the door slid open.

Beyond was a large room than left me with a strong sense of deja vu from my experience beneath McMaren. Rows of computer terminals, walls that were hardly anything more than massive display screens, and a central island that was built of the same cloud material as the one in the underground tracking station. Most of the terminals were either off or in a stand-by mode. Everything still seemed to at least have power running to it though, so I set about locating the station that would let me transmit to the outside world.

Again, Nightjar’s badge proved quite the boon and allowed me to access the communication’s terminal once I’d managed to locate it. After that, it was a simple matter of inputting Ramparts’ pipbuck tag number and connecting, “hey, Ramps; can you hear me?”

There was a long pause, then, “Windfall, is that you? I don’t recognize this frequency.”

“Sorry about that. Apparently that MoA cache we were after is shielded or something. That’s what Moonbeam said anyway. Only the local comm terminal can transmit.”

“So you found it then? The weapon cache?”

I bit my lip, wincing, “kind of...we found the place, for sure. Only…” I let out a defeated sigh, “no weapons. Not really. Apparently this was some sort of factory, but not for guns. They were building an army of those Luna roboponies. Like the kind Ebony Song had. Only more badass, it looks like.”

“Really? Wow,” then I heard the earth pony stallion come to the same conclusion that I had earlier, “that’s going to make things harder, money-wise, isn’t it?”

“Probably.”

There was another lengthy pause, “that alicorn robopony was pretty tough, even on its own. How many exactly is in this ‘army’ you’re talking about?”

I snorted, “thousands, easily,” then I caught onto what the former Republic courser was getting at, “that would certainly give us quite an advantage if we could get them working for us,” I found myself musing. Though I certainly had reservations, “assuming that they didn’t just immediately turn on the whole valley the moment we turned them on,” I pointed out. Wasteland roboponies had a frustrating tendency to shoot at absolutely anypony they encountered on sight, after all. Unleashing a swarm of flying versions of those things upon the local population wouldn’t exactly be very ‘helpful’.

“Moonbeam was able to control the one in the palace,” Ramparts pointed out, “maybe we can find a way for her to do that with those too.”

“Maybe,” I said, rubbing my chin in thought. In Seaddle, Moonbeam had been hooked up to a tiny local radio relay by a wire while she sat curled up beneath the palace. I had to wonder now if that hadn’t been part of the reason that ‘Princess Luna’ had never strayed far from Seaddle, or even left the palace propper all that much that I could recall. How exactly we’d be able to make it so that Moonbeam could control so many of those drones at a range long enough to matter―

That’s obviously what the McMaren base is for…

The room in the underground facility bearing Selene’s name. That had been built as the control node for all of these drones! Which meant…

“This is the hangar!” I blurted out, overwhelmed by my own realization.

“The what now?” Ramparts said over the comm channel, not having been privy to either my internal mental processes, or the readouts on the computer terminal display when Moonbeam had been trying to access the alcove that had apparently been designated for her use. So I related to him the relevant information and events, “I see...so you’re saying that it could work?”

“It might,” I offered, though I kept a cautionary note in my response, “I only know that this was how the Ministry of Awesome intended things to work. Honestly, I can’t even be sure that everything was actually finished. I mean, this sounds like something that they’d have wanted to use during the war, doesn’t it? If it was all ready and working, then why wouldn’t they have used it?”

“That’s a fair point,” Ramparts admitted, “but it certainly sounds like they were at least really close to getting it all put together. The radio tower in McMaren works. Moonbeam is up and about, and can obviously control the drones. Even if we assume that they didn’t manage to build enough of the drones to protect the entirety of Equestria, it sounds like there’s more than enough for Neighvada, at least,” the stallion pointed out, “maybe we can find the resources to finish up the last few details.

“I’ll have Foxglove coordinate with Homily’s ponies on making sure the broadcast tower can do the job,” there was a brief pause, “maybe we should even head back to McMaren, if we’re not going to have the money for mercenaries after all…”

“No,” I insisted, “keep recruiting. I’ll figure out something to do about the money,” not that I had even the faintest clue what that was going to be, “I don’t want us to bet everything on getting those two-hundred year old drones off the ground,” after all, even if the MoA had been confident that everything was in working order then, didn’t mean that held true now.

“Alright,” Ramparts said, “we’ll keep at it. It’s not going to be cheap though,” he warned me, “we’ve gotten a few quotes already. We’re talking almost a thousand caps a head, Windfall.”

“A thousand caps a―!” I blurted, my eye nearly popping out of my head in surprise. Raising an army would cost millions at those rates! I wasn’t even sure there were that many caps in the whole valley. Heck, if I gathered up every cap and bit, I might not even have enough for a viable force.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. Maybe we could find a way to sweeten the deal in order to get the mercenaries to come down on their asking price, “why don’t you try reminding them that we’re going after a stable. Offer them a cut of the salvage. Weapons, equipment, drugs, there’ll be all sorts of valuables in there. And see if they’ll go for half of the cash fee up front, and half when it’s over,” if we survived, I could always find a way to come up with the money later. If we all died anyway...well, then the problem kind of solved itself, didn’t it?

“I’ll let them know our counter-offer tomorrow,” I could have hoped that Ramparts might have sounded a little more hopeful about the prospect of our success, “I just want you to understand that it’s kind of a seller’s market for mercs these days. When Ebony Song recalled the whole Guard to Seaddle, that left a lot of the outlying towns pretty SOL where defenders were concerned. Those towns are buying up mercenary contracts left and right. It’s almost a bidding war.”

Because of course Ebony Song would have to be able to find a way to fuck me over on getting Republic soldiers and freelance mercenaries, I thought with a bitter growl. One break, Celestia; for the love of what was once Equestria, could you just please give me one, fucking, break! “I understand,” I finally said in an exasperated sigh, “maybe you can remind them that if this doesn’t work there won’t be any towns left for them to guard?”

“Noted.

“I take it you’ll be coming to New Reino earlier than you intended?”

“We’ll most likely be leaving in the morning,” I assured him, “Starlight needs some time to recover but, yeah, there’s not much point in hanging around here. Give my regards to Foxglove and RG. I’ll call you again when we’re close to New Reino.”

“Sounds good,” the stallion acknowledged, “Safe travels,” then the line went dead.

I sat back and rubbed my temples with my hooves. A thousand caps per mercenary? How was I going to be able to afford that? Even if we had found a cache of weapons down here, would that have been nearly enough to cover that kind of expense? As it stood, the closest thing we had would be whatever weapons we could scavenge off the corpses above ground. There would be a lot of weapons, sure, but nothing of the kind of quality that I’d been anticipating finding down here. We’d be lucky enough to get ten thousand caps for that haul. Which meant that we’d have the ability to hire fewer than a dozen mercenaries.

My mounting exasperation prompted me to lash out at a nearby console with a frustrated buck, denting the computer and eliciting a small cloud of acrid blue smoke. Hopefully that hadn’t been anything important…

After taking a minute to calm myself, I left the control center and headed out to see how Moonbeam was doing with her repairs. Maybe she could think of a few ways for us to raise some capital. Barring that, she could at least offer some insights into how likely it was we could use the drones housed here, because that was suddenly looking like our best hope after all.

“Moonbeam?” I started calling out once I’d gotten back to the clinic where I’d left her. There was no response. This was a big place, there was no telling where she’d gotten off to. So I brought up my pipbuck and keyed in her personal tag, “Moonbeam, where are you? I managed to contact Ramparts. We need to talk.”

There was no response. I repeated my request. Still nothing. Frowning, I checked to make sure the problem wasn’t on my end. Everything with my pipbuck looked like it was functioning properly. This actually made me worry more, of course. Why wasn’t she answering?

I shifted away from the broadcaster function and instead studied my Eyes Forward Sparkle. I spotted Starlight’s amber blib first, still located in the clinic and resting on the bed. That meant that the remaining amber hash mark had to be Moonbeam. I used it as a guide as I navigated through what appeared to be the heart of the facility’s manufacturing sector. Large pieces of machinery that were used to forge material and fabricate parts lay about. A surprisingly bitter odor caught my attention: burning metal. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that some of the machinery looked like it had been put to use recently. Very recently.

“Moonbeam?” I tried once more. She had to be somewhere close by. I kept my eye on the amber blip as I bypassed the machinery and continued making my way towards it.

A few yards further on, my ear twitched as I started to pick up the sounds of whirring servos and welding metal. From behind a partition, I spied bright flickering light and the occasional gout of sparks, “Moonbeam?” I called again, more tentatively. My approach slowed, cautioned by the continued lack of a response from an individual who was clearly close enough to have heard me.

Mindful that some potentially hazardous work was going on, I very carefully peeked my head around the vertical partition to see what was going on. My eye widened in surprise at what I saw. It seemed that Moonbeam had opted for more than a simple repair job.

In fact, it looked like hardly any part of her hadn’t been subjected to an overhaul. Her body kept most of its previously delicate looking contours, but there was clear evidence that much of her casing had been thickened and reinforced with denser alloys than what she’d been built out of before. Her forelimbs had been completely replaced but a new pair which were quite obviously designed to be able to exert more force than she’d initially been designed with.

The most drastic alteration had to be the wings though. Moonbeam had decided to have herself fitted with a modified version of my Gale Force rig, not unlike those possessed by the drones in the nearby hangar. Even her head hadn’t been left unaltered. Aesthetically, her features were more severe and angular looking; taking the place of the rounded and foal-like plastic face that her original body had been built with. Her new face barely even qualified as one, if I was being honest. It was only the barest approximation of one, lacking any definitive mouth or nose. Even her horn had been changed, now longer with a reinforced base connecting it with her skull.

It seemed that I’d caught her in the final moments of her transformation. My mind had barely had time enough to take in all of the robopony’s many changes before the articulating robotic arms tipped with various tools that was whirling around her suspended body came to an abrupt halt and pulled away from her body. A final lifting arm that was attached to her spine whirred to life and extracted the now much larger mare from the midst of the retracted limbs and gently deposited Moonbeam a few yards away from me.

As though awaking from a nap, the mare’s pink eyes flickered and then glowed back to life. However, I noticed that as they got brighter, their normally pink tint got progressively more washed out by a pale blue light. By the time they’d reached their full brightness, they were a baby blue color. Her head gave a brief jerk, and then her slender neck craned smoothly to peer down at me. Reflexively, I took a step back from the blank, angular, face that was glaring at me.

“Moon...be―um...Selene?”

A pair of diamonds mounted into her cheeks began to glow, and I was suddenly looking into a genuine face; one that possessed elegant features, but still retained a coolness about them that I had not come to associate with Starlight’s daughter. It was at least a lot less off-putting to find that a mouth was moving with the words that the robopony spoke. I did find myself wondering why the holographic rendering of her face was midnight black though...

“Have you come to request an audience with your Princess?”

That voice hadn’t been the voice that Moonbeam had ever used while speaking with us. In fact, it sounded an awful lot like the voice that that I’d heard used in Seaddle by―

“Speak,” the robopony who was feeling progressively less and less like Moonbeam said as she straightened back up, regarding me with those menacing blue. Eyes, which possessed the vertically slit pupils that I’d only ever seen ringed by powder blue once before, “and pray that you make this worth Our attention.”

“Oh, horseapples…”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 46: PAPER DOLL

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The difference between robots and synths? Well... we're prettier, to start with.

“Gotcha!”

I blinked in confusion at the tall, silvery, mare. Her eyes immediately reverted to their familiar pink color and both pupils rounded out. The holographically projected face and mouth lightened, matching the color of the rest of the robopony’s polished gray chassis. Her grim expression was gone too, replaced by a grin so wide that it seemed to be pushing the horizontal limits of the range that her emitters could form their illusions, “the look on your face makes me so glad I can go back and review my memories any time I want,” the mare said in a gleeful tone.

For my part, I felt my limbs grow weak as my body recognized that there was no longer any danger, and thus abruptly emptied itself of all of the adrenaline that it had flooded through me only seconds ago. Much to my own consternation, I found that I couldn’t bring myself to flash the mare as scathing a glare as I might have liked to. After all, it had been a little funny I supposed. A pink earth pony and a rainbow-maned pegasus seemed to be underwhelmed by my own estimation of what they obviously felt was a very well executed prank.

“You are a bad pony,” I sighed, setting about smoothing out my pinions, which had not quite yet gotten the message that the threat had passed, “and you should feel bad.”

“Iiiii don’t though!” Moonbeam snickered. She began to strut around the workshop now, seemingly both to impress upon me the extent of her alterations, and to assess her own satisfaction with them, “so, what do you think of Moonbeam 2.0? Now with the ability to actually do things when there’s danger,” she added in a droll tone.

“You did plenty against the Steel Rangers,” I pointed out as I took a few moments to finish making sure that all of my feathers were back in their proper place before indulging Moonbeam by taking in her changes for myself.

“Only because of some old MoA virus that Selene had lying around,” the mare countered bitterly, “I was absolutely useless helping the two of you fight the Übersentinels up there. Heck, I wouldn’t have been able to do much to help fight off even just regular old raiders,” her frown then shifted into a wicked grin, “but now I’ve got real firepower! Watch!”

Before I could say anything, Moonbeam whipped her head around and leveled her recently enhanced horn at the bay full of tool-tipped arms that had just finished altering her. A cyan beam of light pierced through the air and struck one of them full on, melting it down into a puddle of glowing orange goo that began to rapidly cool into useless slag.

“Let’s see those Rangers try and take me back to their bunker now,” I heard her growl.

I stared at the mound of congealed steel and tried very hard not to picture what that attack would have done to a pony encased in steel power armor. Or what that attack of hers could have done to mere pony flesh with a direct hit. There was dying, and then there was...whatever something like that did to a pony. I peered down at my own weaponized bracers. They had yet to be used on a living creature too, but after seeing what destruction they could inflict on those giant metal behemoths today...

“If it’s all the same, I’d like you to try that virus thing again if Rangers do show up,” I said, still trying not to think too hard about melted down ponies, “not all of them are bad ponies,” maybe it was silly to think that in light of our last encounter―or really any of my prior encounters―with their organization. However much of a benefit of the doubt that I’d like to give them, I couldn’t deny that Hoplite was in the minority. Whether it was because she was a ghoul who’d been around long enough to remember a world before the Wasteland, or because she wasn’t even a pony, or something else that I wasn’t even aware of, the former Star Paladin wasn’t anything like her comrades. Apparently, those differences had also caught up with her, and cost her her title and position within their order.

It was entirely possible that Hoplite might not even feel nearly as favorably towards me during our next encounter precisely because of that. I might be wasting my efforts trying to curb Moonbeam’s hostility towards the Steel Rangers in order to preserve a glimmer of nobility and restraint that didn’t even exist anymore. Yet, even if it turned out that Hoplite had indeed fallen ‘in line’ with her fellows the next time we met, I still didn’t want to kill her if I didn’t have to.

She’d proven that she could be a good pony―er, horse―once. I had to believe that she would be capable of it again.

Those pink eyes flashed brilliantly at me, “easy for you to say,” the mechanical mare countered, her projected lips curling back in a snarl, “they don’t think of you as just some piece of tech to be kept on a shelf for all eternity.

“I’m not a pony to them. I’m just a machine. No more entitled to rights and respect than a toaster,” she raised up one of her newly reinforced hooves and curled it menacingly, as though flexing a muscle, “well, this ‘toaster’ can fight back, and you’d better bet that I will. I already warned them once what would happen if they didn’t give up.

“If they do come back,” the mare lowered her hoof and shrugged, “then that’s on them. They chose to die.”

I wanted to respond, but nothing came out; not when I saw the intensity in her glowing pink eyes, which had acquired a slightly crimson tint around their outer edges. She was mad. Beyond merely ‘mad’, in fact. It was the same variety of raw, unadulterated, hatred that I held for the likes of the White Hooves. It was a visceral animosity that refused to be ameliorated by anything that could be said to her right now. The freshness of it wouldn’t allow it.

A part of me was even reluctant to try and dissuade her. After all, what she had been put through by them...I couldn’t imagine. It had to have been something akin to long term imprisonment, and all for the simple ‘crime’ of being what she was: an Old World ministry experiment. The Steel Rangers didn’t even have the benefit of being able to claim ignorance. Star Paladin Achilles had known exactly what Moonbeam was when he’d brought that team to collect her at my family’s ranch.

In the end, all I could manage to do was give a somber little nod of acknowledgement. I was disappointed, sure, but I also knew that I couldn’t do anything about it. Not now. Maybe later I’d be able to talk her down, but her emotional scars would need time to start healing before that could happen. Though, I had to wonder if Moonbeam wouldn’t be ready to forgive the Steel Rangers until around the same time that I could bring myself to forgive the White Hooves.

The real Princess Luna might return to Equestria before that happened…

I looked over the metal mare, my gaze focused on her new wings, “are you going to need to practice with those things?” I asked, “it took me years to learn how to fly.”

“No, I’m good,” Moonbeam assured me. Then I saw her expression flicker for a brief moment before it reformed, looking more somber than it had before, “Selene had all the drivers ready to go. That’s all it took, you know? To learn how to pull off maneuvers that I didn’t even know were maneuvers an hour ago: just a quick little download of some software from a database that Selene had built into her directories.

“It was like flipping a switch, and then I suddenly knew everything there was to know about flying. Now...it feels like I’ve been flying my whole life…” the levitation talismans in her wings activated, lifting the robopony slowly into the air where she then proceeded to drift and roll around leisurely, like gravity was no longer any sort of consideration for her. Even I couldn’t have done the things that she was doing as slowly and smoothly as she was doing them.

Moonbeam turned to look at me with her glowing pink eyes, “I can’t even remember what it felt like to not know how to fly. It’s like...the change was retroactive somehow. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was a different pony than I used to be,” she looked over herself, noting the alterations that she’d had made, “although...I guess that’s fairly accurate,” she looked right at me now, “can I ask you something?”

“Um...sure?” it was hard to not feel a little put off by her words, and the calm stare that she’d leveled against me.

“How do you know that you’re really you?”

“I―wait, what?”

“Your memories,” she clarified, “your personality. How do you know it’s who you really are?”

“I mean, whose else’s would they be?” I couldn’t keep from letting out an uneasy laugh at the question. After all, it seemed quite absurd to question whether my memories were my own. How could they not be?

“Right…” the mare said, nodding to herself, as though only now realizing how absurd the question had sounded, “you get everything that makes you, well, you from what you experience first-hoof,” Moonlight wasn’t even looking at me, seeming to be talking to herself, “nothing’s feeding you information from the inside…

“Nothing’s...created by an AI…”

“Let’s go check on your mother,” I suggested, not liking what Moonbeam seemed to be dwelling on. I knew that Selene was a bit of a sore subject for her. This at least seemed to sooth the metal mare slightly, in that it got her mind off of thinking about whatever was currently nagging at her. Of course, her mother’s current condition was still another topic of some sensitivity, given her injuries. She was alive though, and on the road to recovery. However, it looked like not a whole lot had changed in the last hour since putting her up in the infirmary.

The two of us didn’t have anywhere else to be though. I’d made my report to the others in New Reino. Moonbeam had gotten herself fixed up―and then some. All that was left was to wait for Starlight to regain consciousness and get strong enough to travel again.

Our trip here might have been a little underwhelming in the end―I still needed to figure out what to do about the money situation―but I couldn’t categorically say that it had been a wasted effort. If nothing else, I’d learned a few things. Which reminded me, “I found something you might want to hear,” I offered, passing the robopony the holotape that I’d listened to in Nightjar’s office, “it might explain a few things about why the MoA did all of this to you.”

The robopony took the offered disk into her magical grasp and floated it up to eye level to look at it more closely. A moment later, she physically touched it to the tip of her horn. Her eyes started flickering for several long seconds, then she returned the record to me. I took it back and regarded the mare curiously.

“A weapon,” Moonbeam finally said after a lengthy pause, staring out at nothing in particular, “they were making me into a weapon,” I saw her holographic lips pulling back into a thin line, “I was a child,” she seethed, “but to them…” my gaze was drawn suddenly to the floor where one of her reinforced hooves was currently gouging a furrow into the hard steel surface beneath us. I felt myself taking an involuntary step back from her as a result.

“Didn’t I have little enough,” she went on, her voice sounding strained, acquiring a progressively rising quaiver, “born without a working brain. A deformed body. Never to grow up. Never to have a normal life. I’ll never even get a cutie mark!” her lips curled back, revealing a set of projected clenched teeth. There were even tears glistening off of her illusionary cheeks, “but that wasn’t enough for them.

“No. They had to take everything that I did have, and turn me into a weapon!”

I didn’t know if she’d intended it or not. It was hard to tell from her expression whether she’d even been aware that she’d done it. A brilliant stream of sky blue light burst from her horn on that last word and erased the better part of a square yard of the clinic’s wall. I stared blankly at the hole that had been melted through the thick alloyed construction, watching as a few droplets of molten metal congealed and fell before everything cooled and solidified once more.

To her credit, Moonbeam did look briefly shocked by what she’d done. But it was only a brief look. An instant later, her expression flickered and then was once more impassive and blank. It was as though she hadn’t been even the least bit upset at all, “I need a moment to think about this,” the robopony said, again in a surprisingly nonplussed tone. She turned to look at me, “would you mind giving us some privacy?”

There was a moment of hesitation, I had to admit. After all, I’d just watched this mare destroy part of the room seemingly by accident. Plus there was this sudden change in her mood...I mean, I didn’t know how everything worked with her being half-computer and all. Not an hour ago she’d been about to kill me while in control of that giant robopony. For all I knew, she was going to murder us all in the next ten minutes!

Starlight Glimmer was her mother, sure, but did that really matter to a mare who was this unstable?

The bigger question was: what would happen if I refused? I very nearly did too, “Moonbeam, I know this is upsetting, and I’m sure I can’t even begin to understand how―”

“No,” the mare agreed, cutting me off in that same calm tone that was even more eerie than Arginine’s own unperturbed demeanor, “you can’t,” she glanced over at the portion of wall that she’d just melted before looking back at me, “I just need some time to sort my thoughts. That’s all. To center myself.

“I’ll be fine,” she nodded towards the still sleeping unicorn, “and so will she. I promise.”

That glimmer of doubt remained, but the last thing I wanted was to push her back towards another outburst. I wasn’t a therapist; I didn’t know what the right move to make here was. The only decision that I could make was a tactical one: I no longer knew what kind of threat that I was dealing with. That meant that the best course of action was to withdraw, reevaluate, and make a new plan.

So that was what I did. I nodded at the mare and very carefully extracted myself from the clinic. I didn’t go far. Just down to a nearby office that let me keep their blips in range on my Eyes Forward Sparkle. If something changed, I’d be able to catch it. Hopefully, I’d even be able to respond in time to keep Starlight from being killed.

I didn’t know how long I was expected to wait to let Moonbeam collect her thoughts and deal with what she’d just learned, or what to do with myself while I waited. I didn’t want to explore any more of this place and risk being too far away to intervene. I also wasn’t sure I’d be able to take simply sitting and staring. Then I recalled that I had other holotapes from the director’s office that I hadn’t listened to.

There was a chance that one of them had additional information that might help Moonbeam out. Of course, they might also push her further over the edge too. It was best that I listened to them before letting her know that I had them. I looked through by bags and found the tape with the earliest date on it. Perhaps I’d spoiled the ending of Nightjar’s story by listening to the last disk first, but I still didn’t know how all of that had gotten started.

I slipped the holotape into my pipbuck and started the recording. The first few seconds were what sounded quite clearly like a pony fumbling with the recording device and shoving it into a pocket. I could hear the grating static of the mic being rubbed up against fabric before finally settling down and clearing up. Then a door opened and a young mare’s voice could be heard in the distance, “Mister Nightjar? The Ministry Mare will see you now.”

“Thank you,” I recognized the pegasus stallion’s voice from the other recording. The sound quality took another dive as he stood up and began walking. I could hear a second door open, and then close again, “Ministry Mare Rainbow Dash. Thank you for seeing me.”

“Well, I did kind of invite you here,” the scratchy voice of the cyan pegasus responded, “it’d be pretty uncool of me to not see you after doing that. Take a seat.

“I don’t suppose you know why I’ve called you here?” the mare posed.

“I have a few suspicions,” the stallion responded in a guarded tone, “there have been a few whispers here and there about a new project in the works that needs staffing?”

I heard the mare give an anemic little chuckle, “I don’t know if I should be impressed by your resourcefulness, or concerned about the looseness of my staff’s lips...but, yeah. That’s the broad strokes.”

Then it sounded like Rainbow Dash was changing tacks, “tell me, Mister Smarty-Pants: if you know so much, then tell me why Equestria is going to lose the war in...oh, I think it’s about four years now?”

There was palpably stunned silence that could be detected even through the two century old recording, “I beg your pardon, Ministry Mare?” the stallion was clearly shocked to have heard the statement. Admittedly, so was I. Not that I considered myself to be any sort of expert on the war that led to the creation of the Wasteland that I now lived in, but I hadn’t gotten the impression that any one side had been in imminent danger of outright losing. I supposed that it sort of made some sense that one of the sides must have felt that way though, as it would have explained why they’d seen destroying the whole world as a viable option, but I certainly hadn’t ever thought that it had been Equestria who’d been on the brink of defeat!

“Ministry Mare,” the male pegasus said as he began to recover from his shock, though he was still audibly nervous, “I don’t know what you may have heard about me, but I swear that I’ve never once―in my life―had that sort of defeatist attitude! If anypony has been telling you otherwise they are lying to you, and I―”

The mare was laughing now, though it wasn’t a very mirthful one, “oh ho! I guess that it really is possible to keep a secret after all! Though, I guess I really owe it to Rarity on this one. Nopony knows how to dress up a report like she does.

“Calm your feathers, Nighty,” the ministry mare chided her guest, “nopony’s saying anything about you. Well, not to me anyway. No, I’m being dead serious,” and, indeed, her somber tone certainly suggested that she was, “Equestria will be forced to surrender in four more year. Even if we win every major battle during that time,” she paused and snorted derisively, “honestly, depending on how well we win those battles, we’ll be forced to surrender even sooner!”

“I―but...how?”

Rainbow Dash didn’t immediately answer. She let the question hang in the air for several long seconds before responding with what sounded like a completely unrelated answer, “what I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room, do you understand? There are fewer than a dozen ponies in all of Equestria that know this, and about half of them are going to be visited by Ministry of Image agents by this time tomorrow and have their memories...adjusted to reduce that number to just the Princess and us Ministry Mares.

“Depending on how this meeting goes, you might get a visit tonight too.

“Three years after the war began,” Rainbow Dash began, seemingly diverting onto yet another tangent for some reason, “Equestria’s crop yields suffered their first decline in over a thousand years. There’s always been a huge surplus every year, so it wasn’t a big deal. Hardly anypony even noticed it except for the ponies whose job it was to track that sort of things for the sake of tracking it. Egghead stuff.

“The thing is, those yields kept declining, more and more, with every passing year,” the pegasus mare continued, “five years ago, in an event that hasn’t happened since before there was even an Equestria: we had a shortfall. There wasn’t enough food grown to feed everypony.”

“That’s…” the stallion said in an awed tone, disbelieving, “I’ve heard nothing of this.”

“Nopony has,” the mare replied simply, “like I said: Rarity’s ministry has been working very hard to make sure nopony who knows about it keeps knowing about it. But the fact is that Equestria has been very quietly buying food from our neighbors to make up the difference so that nopony would notice.

“We’re already rationing some things under the guise of making sure there’s enough to feed our fighting troops and the refugees ‘fleeing zebra tyranny’; and that’s partly true,” she added, “but it’s also to make sure that nopony notices how little there actually is to go around. We should have been doing that right from the start, but nopony thought this war would go on for as long as it has,” she added under her breath so quietly that it was barely picked up by the stallion’s recording device.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’, or you wouldn’t be telling me any of this.”

“Give the stallion a prize!” Rainbow Dash quipped then, in a more serious tone added with a mirthful note, “indeed. ‘But’...those neighbors of ours just ran out of their own surpluses. They don’t have anything more to sell us. They can barely feed their own populations. So, in two years the shortfall will be so bad that there will be a famine, the onset of starvation in three for most of the population and, in four…”

“Surrender,” Nightjar finished, sounding almost breathless. There was still that persistent note of denial though, “but, how? Is this something the zebras are doing to us? Can we fight it?” then another thought occurred to him, “surely the zebras are suffering the same setbacks as we are! If we can find some way to outlast them―”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Rainbow Dash interrupted, “because those aren’t questions that a lot of ponies with much more egg-shaped heads than you haven’t thought about already―no offense,” to who? Him or the ‘eggheads’?

“To answer your first question: no. This isn’t some weird zebra attack. It’s just numbers,” Rainbow Dash now entered into a mode that I hadn’t heard from her before in any recordings: lecture mode, and began to break things down in a tone that suggested that she actually had a rather firm grasp of the material, “for as long as there have been ponies, there have been pegasi controlling the weather. We plan the sunshine, the rains, and the snow. With the right management, a team of weather ponies can turn even the driest of deserts into lush apple orchards either by bringing in rainfall from tropical regions, or just creating our own rain clouds from nearby water reservoirs.

“Pegasi have, quite literally, transformed this continent into the next best thing to a pony paradise over the last few millennia.

“However,” the mare stressed, “us pegasi have a second time-honored tradition that dates back to the mythical days of Pegasopolis: military service. When Princess Celestia put out the call, we answered. We answered in numbers that blotted out her sun! When Princess Luna took over, we continued to answer. We flocked―literally―to the front lines and did everything we could to help out. Because we’re pegasi! Because, pound-for-pound, we’re the fastest, toughest, and most agile, fliers in the skies,” I could hear the note of pride in her voice as she said this. Heck, I even felt my own chest swell just a tad!

“Our skies,” she emphasized with a possessive twinge, “pegasi dropped everything they were doing to go and help…

“...including the weather service,” that reserved tone was back now, and I could hear her resignation, “and, honestly, we couldn’t afford to tell anypony ‘no’. The zebras had both the dragons and the griffons working for them. Without us there to stop them, our ground forces would have been wiped out without a second thought,” she admitted ruefully, “as it is, our numbers are only enough to keep things at a standstill. Every day there are more casualties. Which means that every day we need to draft more pegasi. Which means,” she sighed, “that every year there are fewer and fewer weather ponies.

“Fewer weather ponies means less rain―especially in the areas that need it the most. Less rain leads to smaller crop yields, and less food.”

“Sweet Celestia…” I heard Nightjar whisper, having just realized how dire the situation truly was.

“So, that’s the answer to your first question,” the mare said, “next, I’ll answer your third one: no, the zebras don’t have the same problem we do. I don’t understand all of the specifics about how they do their weird zebra voodoo stuff, but I know that they do use something like magic to affect their climate like we do, in order to boost their crop yields. The difference is that it seems to take a lot fewer of them to do it. I saw one report that said only a single zebra was needed to affect a whole town’s farmland,” she grumbled in irritation, seemingly upset that their enemy had found some way around what should have been a mutually significant problem.

“The Ministry of Awesome does have a project in the works to accomplish the same thing―using fewer pegasi to maintain the weather we need―but it’s going to take a bit longer to have it ready. If it even works at all,” she added with a sour tone, “technically we’re waiting on some technology that still needs to actually be invented, but I’ve heard some whispers that the Ministry of Arcane Science is getting closer on that front,” Rainbow Dash cleared her throat and readdressed the stallion, “which brings me, finally, to your second question:

“Yes, we’re doing something about it. But, what’s being done will only affect Equestria, and that’s not quite enough.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Equestria isn’t alone in this fight,” the ministry mare reminded him, “the Crystal Empire, the yaks, the Saddle Arabians, we have a lot of allies that are either having the same problem that we are, or soon will be having it. What’s currently in the works won’t help them, and they will need help. If our allies fall, it doesn’t matter how much food we have, Equestria will fall soon after they do.

“The truth is that we need our weather service back. Which means that we need something to replace them with right here at home,” I heard the sound of rustling papers as something was slid across a desk, “I want you to look over this proposal for me. They’re schematics for a new type of robopony. A flying combat drone designed to hold the line right here in Equestria so that pegasi can be transferred back into the weather service and sent to help our allies improve their own food situation.”

There was the sound of somepony flipping through pages. When Nightjar spoke again, it was with a reserved tone, “this is...ambitious, Ministry Mare. However, I don’t think that these design parameters are actually possible―”

“They’re not,” Rainbow Dash acknowledged, “an engine small enough with that kind of thrust doesn’t exist. There’s no spark reactors with the output required for the size they’d have to be...yet,” she stressed, “most of those hurdles won’t be hurdles for long though. For the purposes of this review, I want you to assume that the designs in there will work as-is.”

I heard the stallion grumble low in his throat as he continued to flip through pages, “even if I assume these things will work mechanically, the kind of software they’d need to be able to coordinate as a coherent flying unit...Ministry Mare, our squadrons train for months to do what they do. No robopony―not even the dedicated combat models―are capable of doing what our fliers do. They’re not capable of little more than figuring out the direction the enemy is in and shooting!

“A unit intended to operate as part of a squadron would need to be able to process more variables in less time than anything our current computer technology is capable of,” his tone shifted suddenly, as though to counter what he assumed the Ministry Mare’s response to be, “and don’t tell me such a leap is right around the corner! I have a sufficient clearance to have heard about anything even close to those capabilities coming out of MAS or MWT any time soon. I don’t doubt that one of these drones equipped with our usual software would be very formidable one-on-one; but you’re talking about a flight of these things potentially going up against a flight of dragons!

“It can’t be done,” he concluded simply.

Rainbow Dash was quiet for several seconds, “you are a smart pony, Nighty,” I could hear her smile in her words, “and you’re thinking in the right direction. That’s good,” she paused once again, “so, you’re saying that the only problem you can see is the C&C issue? That if, somehow, a way could be found to coordinate these drones effectively, then they’d prove to be a viable defense for Equestria?”

“I―um, I suppose, yes,” the stallion faultered, “if what you’ve said about some of the technologies involved is true, then I don’t see why these drones couldn’t be built; and their specifications would certainly make them formidable.”

“Good. You start on Monday,” Rainbow Dash said in a cheerful tone, “somepony will be by your place to pick you up that morning. Pack for a long trip. Don’t mind the ‘Wind Ryder’ logo on the side, the wagon’ll be equipped for passengers. Your file says you’re not married; what about a marefriend?”

“Uh, no, I―”

“Coltfriend?”

“No. Why―?”

“Good! No loose ends. There’ll be an operational security blackout on all your correspondence until further notice,” her cheerful tone endured, even as the stallion became progressively more flustered as his attempts to get clarification were continuously rebuffed, “once you’re settled in, I’ll send you your marching orders. Thanks for coming by. I’ll need that file back, by the way.”

“I’m sorry,” the stallion stammered, still sounding a little confused about what was going on, “what’s going on?”

“You’re hired,” Rainbow Dash said simply, “you applied for a job, I’ve just finished interviewing you for the job, and now I’ve hired you for the job. Congratulations!” there was a brief pause where nopony said anything, “you might want to go home and get your affairs in order. Like I said: you won’t be able to talk with anypony for a while.”

“But I don’t even know what the job is!” he protested.

“Sure you do,” the mare insisted, “you just saw the file.”

“I’m going to be building those things?”

“Yup. A lot of them. The first production run will need to be a thousand units,” she informed him, “I’ll want a prototype finished in six months.”

“But―six months?! Ministry Mare, I told you: the technology doesn’t exist!”

“And I told you that we’re working on it. You’ll have what you need when you need it. That’s all that I’m going to tell you, and I don’t want to hear that you’ve been asking anypony questions either. If the zebras find out what’s going on, they’ll try and stop us. That’s one of the reasons we’re working so hard to suppress the crop reports. If the zebras find out how bad things are getting, they’ll know that all they need to do is hold what they’ve got and wait us out.

“And, make no mistake, Nightjar, that is all they have to do to win this war, as things stand. We can’t let them know that, and we can’t let them delay this project. If either of those things happen, Equestria loses. Princess Luna loses.

“Is that understood?”

“...Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. Dismissed. And welcome aboard.”

That was the end of the dialogue. All that could be heard after that was the sound of Nightjar standing up and leaving the Ministry Mare’s office. He apparently stopped recording once he was a fair way down the hall and somewhere that he felt that he wouldn’t be observed.

I sat in silence for several long moments as I fully processed the contents of the recording. Notes of it struck a chord in the back of my mind. I’d come across some very similar talking points during my visit to the Arc Lightning facility. The mare who’d been running that place seemed to have managed to fall under the radar of the Ministry of Image’s information purge where those food reports were concerned. Though, from what I remembered of her own entry on the subject, she hadn’t been in the official distribution loop for the information anyway. She’d come to the same conclusion that Rainbow Dash did though: that disaster for Equestria was right around the corner. That knowledge had been what spurred her to create the Gale Force…

...which also happened to be one of the key components for the drones in this place. Suddenly, I wasn’t so certain that the mare responsible for developing them had ‘slipped through the cracks’ after all.

The entire population of the Wasteland could spend the next two hundred years debating the ethics of mutilating and conscripting a foal into serving as the control software for an army of drones designed to free up the ponypower necessary to manipulate weather patterns and keep populations from starving to death. The morality of all of that, for me, was a moot point. All of it had happened in another time, and another place entirely from the Wasteland that we lived in today; and there was no way to change it. Nor, I felt confident in saying, was it likely that something like this would happen again any time soon.

No, for me, the only real pertinent question was how I should use this information. Or, if I even should use this information.

The drones were built. McMaren’s broadcast tower was operational and the signal it transmitted could be heard all across the Neighvada Valley. The interface designed to connect with Moonbeam was working too―we’d seen that first-hoof. It would be foal’s-play for either Homily or Foxglove to get those systems and this hangar to work together like they were supposed to. All of the hardware was in place and presumably functional―though I’d want Foxglove to sign off on that front.

Here I was, with an army that was designed to take on the whole zebra military and their allies right at my hoof-tips. Everything that I needed to turn back Arginine’s stable. Crush it into a fine paste and be rid of their threat forever more. In fact, there was no reason that I’d have to stop with Arginine’s stable. The White Hooves, slavers, raiders, these things could end the threats that they all posed. I could save the whole valley―maybe even the entire Wasteland!

...I’d just need Moonbeam to do it. I’d need her to become the focal point of the weapon that the Ministry of Awesome designed and built around her.

I’d just need to turn her into Trellis.

I could come to her with what our options were, I supposed. Let her choose. If she agreed, then that burden would no longer be mine to bear. If she refused...then we’d find another way. Somehow. Of course, I’d pretty much already exhausted every other option that I’d ever come up with. We’d blown past Plan’s A, B, C, and now even Plan D was looking to be a bust. There was still quite a bit of the alphabet left, sure, but I wasn’t certain how much more time we could afford to spend going through more letter. As it stood right now, if she did refuse...we were all probably going to die before something else could be devised.

Saving the valley might come down to not even giving her a choice. Could I do that? Trade one life for thousands? I mean, I’d trade my own life like that many times over without a second thought. That was different than putting somepony else’s life on the chopping block though. Yet, that was kind of what real military leaders did in a war, right? They sacrificed a few of their own to achieve victory over the enemy? I was trying to build an army to fight these engineered ponies. That made me some kind of general, right? If generals were supposed to make those kinds of decisions…

If I did that, and it turned out that I couldn’t live with making that choice...even then it’d be alright, wouldn’t it? I’d have saved the valley. Sacrificing my own personal scruples was worth that. I mean, if I was ready to lay down my life, then why not my integrity?

All I had to do was not give her a choice.

Not that I could think of a lot of ways to actually make Moonbeam do anything, especially not after her recent ‘upgrades’. If she decided that she really didn’t want to become the weapon she’d been designed to be, then there probably wasn’t anything that could be done about it. I let out a defeated sigh and picked out the next holotape. I swapped it for the current one in my pipbuck and loaded up the file.

Only, this disk didn’t contain an audio log. It didn’t seem to contain a record of any kind. Instead, I started to see a wave of symbols falling down my helmet’s heads-up-display. It was moving along pretty fast, but what I could see of it looked like partial words, random numbers, and various punctuation that didn’t look to be anywhere near the right place to form a coherent sentence. This went on long enough for me to worry that I might have broken something and eject the disk. Hopefully Foxglove would be able to do something if I had managed to break anything…

>> GOODNIGHT_MOON.EXE DOWNLOAD COMPLETE

I stared up at the message, not sure what to make of it. Then, a moment later, I saw another pop up beneath it:

>> POSEIDON NODE DETECTED WITHIN RANGE

>> INITIATE REMOTE OVERRIDE? Y/N?

I froze in place, my brain working overtime. Then I recalled Nightjar’s last recording, and his mention of their plan to abduct Moonbeam. They couldn’t have known whether they’d be going up against the AI or not. Which meant that they’d have wanted a way to make sure that it wouldn’t resist, and that it could be made to obey its new masters in whatever organization it was that wanted her―the OIL or whoever.

So, it looked like they’d mitigated that particular risk and created some sort of program meant to make Selene obedient to them. In theory, I could use this program to subdue Moonbeam and force her to take control of the roboponies here.

I could have my army. I could save the valley…

All I’d have to do was sacrifice one pony. One life―barely a life, if I wanted to think of it that way―to save thousands. A pony who’d really already been ‘sacrificed’ two hundred years before I was even born by the Ministry of Awesome for this exact purpose. She wouldn’t even be dying or anything. She’d told me that Selene being in control was like dreaming.

I could put a pony to sleep to save the world, right? Anypony would be willing to do that to save everypony that they cared about.

Right?

My mouth opened. I could feel the air there, sitting in my throat, just waiting to be formed into the word. The single word that would save the citizens of Neighvada. Just the one, simple, word. All of our problems would be solved if I just said it, “Y―”

“Hey! Windfall! Mom’s coming around!”

My mouth slammed closed with an audible click. My eyes remained on the patiently waiting message hanging in front of my eye. I swallowed hard and ejected the disk. Just like that, the message went away entirely. My wing moved to slip the holotape back into my saddlebags with the others, but then I hesitated. Instead, I placed it into one of the pockets sewn into my barding so that it would be right at hoof when it was needed.

“Windfall?”

I jerked with a start as the robopony poked her head into the room, her pinks eyes regarding me intently, “you okay? You heard me, right?”

My head was nodding before I managed to form words again, “yeah, yeah. Sorry, I was looking over my equipment,” I took a deep breath and managed to wrangle up a reasonably happy looking smile for the metal mare, “let’s go see your mom.”

Moonbeam’s holographically formed features returned a wide grin of their own. Apparently her parent’s recovery had swept away her lingering despondency, which was good. It was good that she was happy again.

...it was good.

I trotted out after her and we made our way back to the clinic where I was greeted by the sight of a only barely conscious Starlight Glimmer. Upon catching sight of me her pale blue eyes lit up, a smile making a valiant attempt to appear on her tired lips, “hey there! So, I heard we won. Yay us…”

“Yeah,” I felt myself nodding, consciously aware of how hard I was working not to look in Moonbeam’s direction, “yeah...we won. How are you feeling?”

The mare shrugged, “not great,” she admitted, “but I’m guessing that it’s good that I’m ‘feeling’ at all, right?”

That much, at least, was true enough. Nopony here was a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but I had to believe that her becoming conscious was a good sign. Besides, while I didn’t know what most of the numbers on all the monitoring equipment meant, they were all very reassuring colors, so, that was encouraging.

“Did we find what we needed?” the pink unicorn asked.

I took a deep breath and shook my head, “not really, no. They were building robots here, not guns. We might be able to make something work, but…” I could only shrug. The unicorn nodded her understanding, her own meager smile fading slightly, “your daughter got an upgrade though,” I offered in an effort to keep her spirits lifted, “so...that’s something,” my eye still couldn’t look at the robopony though. Not yet. Not after those thoughts that I’d just had.

Not after what I’d been about to do…

“I see that,” Starlight said, looking to the towering Moonbeam, “they really do grow up so fast.”

Those glowing pink eyes rolled, her holographic lips curling in a wry smirk, “it’s been two hundred years,” she pointed out, “I don’t know if I’d say that was ‘fast’.”

“I guess…” her mother admitted.

“But, at least I can kick some real flank now!” the metal mare made a show of flaring her new wings and displaying her reinforced casing for her mother to see. I could see, however, that Starlight didn’t seem to be particularly enthralled by the revelation. A part of me could sympathize. The unicorn had lived in a very different time. Presumably, she hadn’t desired for her daughter to grow up to be some sort of hardened fighter. I knew that my own mother hadn’t wanted this kind of life for me.

The Wasteland didn’t particularly care for the desires of mere ponies though. It took a perverse sort of pleasure in dashing those kinds of hopes every chance that it got.

“...I bet you could,” was all that Starlight Glimmer managed to say on the subject. There was very little pride to be heard in her words though. Moonbeam didn’t seem to catch it; or, if she did, she hadn’t visibly reacted.

“I’ve contacted the others,” I told her, changing the subject, “we’ll figure out the money thing later. They’ll keep recruiting and we’ll join them once you’re well enough to travel.”

“Sounds good,” the mare nodded weakly.

Silence enveloped the room, building upon my discomfort, “I’m going to comb the place,” I finally announced, “a lot of ponies used to live and work here. They had to have valuables, and we need the money,” without another word, I excused myself from the infirmary and trotted deeper into the facility.

When I was out of earshot, and confident that I wouldn’t be stumbled upon in the next few minutes, I let out a breath that I hadn’t known I was holding and collapsed against a wall. My hoof was resting against the pocket into which I had placed the holotape with the control program on it.

I could feel, in the depths of my mind, the disapproving glares of several tiny ponies who seemed to be party to my thoughts. Right now, they didn’t seem to care very much for what I was still considering. It wasn’t like it was something that I wanted to do to Moonbeam. But, if sacrificing her was what it took to save everypony...then it would be worth it, right?

...Right?

“So...I’ve been thinking about it,” I heard the voice of the pink unicorn mare saying from off to my left. I canted my head slightly so that I could see her from out of the corner of my working eye, “like, I’ve given this whole thing a lot of thought. I’ve weighed the advantages and the risks. I’ve tried to be as objective about it as possible. I really have.

“However, I have nevertheless come to a conclusion that I think you will both find very inconvenient,” my brow raised slightly as I noted her distinctly calm and even tone. It wasn’t that I found it strange that Starlight Glimmer was capable of speaking in that way. Far from it. Rather, I found it very interesting that she could maintain such a conversational tone while looking outright terrified!

“I hate flying!” the unicorn’s composure finally broke down as she screamed out the admission and proceeded to bury her face into the back of her daughter’s neck.

Moonbeam and I exchanged looks, both of us trying to stifle our amusement as we witnessed her freak-out. For my part, I found it patently hilarious that anypony could actually hate flying. It was literally the most awesome thing in the world that existed―and a little blue pegasus with a chromatic mane agreed with me wholeheartedly on that point.

“Relax, Mom,” the robopony said, “you’re not going to fall or anything; we’ve got you strapped down pretty good,” and we did. We’d all agreed before leaving that Starlight was recovered enough to travel, but we also all recognized that none of us were bona fide experts on pony health. So we’d taken some precautions just in case it turned out that we were all idiots and put together a harness of sorts to keep the unicorn in place in the event that she passed out mid-flight.

“‘Pretty good’ isn’t the same thing as ‘very good’,” she pointed out anxiously, her eyes squeezed shut so that she didn’t have to look down, “or ‘perfect’, for that matter!”

“You’re fine,” I insisted, trying my best not to sound a little annoyed at her unfounded concerns, “and even if you do fall off, I’ll catch you!”

“If I’m strapped in so well, then how come you think I might need you to catch me!”

“I don’t think that―but you just―!” I let out an exasperated growl, “you’re fine!” I said once again, “besides, we’ll be in New Reino in, like, three more hours at this rate.”

By electing to fly the whole way back to join up with the others, we’d shaved a week off of the trip. Even as close as we were right now, going the rest of the way by foot could end up taking the better part of two days. And that was assuming that Starlight was even well enough to withstand that kind of demanding physical activity so soon after recovering from her injury. Keeping her on top of Moonbeam, and jostling her around with all of the walking might even prove too much for her body to handle.

She was just going to have to deal with being scared for the rest of the trip, because there wasn’t anything that she could say to change my mind about flying the entire way back to New Reino.

“Vertibuck; East!”

I blinked in surprise at Moonbeam’s shouted words before I noticed that she was looking to her left. I turned my attention to follow hers and, sure enough, I could make out a tiny black dot in the distance. At this great distance, I couldn’t tell exactly what the dot was, but I had no reason to doubt that the metal mare’s own mechanically enhanced vision wouldn’t have been able to positively identify it as one of the flying contraptions that the Steel Rangers were known to possess.

Though, I had to admit, I could think of only a few times that I’d even heard about the Rangers actually taking one of them out into the valley in the last decade. As I understood it, they didn’t have all that many of them in the area, and were loath to risk them where the Republic was likely to ambush them and shoot them down. Of course, the New Lunar Republic had recently undergone a pretty drastic redeployment of their forces, hadn’t they? The Steel Rangers probably didn’t feel very concerned about coming across an armed patrol these days.

I could also only think of a few reasons that these technophiles would have for being out in the middle of nowhere...conveniently close to where we just happened to be. Or rather: where Moonbeam happened to be. On a hunch, I looked the other way. As I’d feared: I spied another black dot to our west that was getting rapidly larger on the horizon, “another one to the West,” I advised the robopony.

“And a third one to the South, right in our path,” she warned, “they’ve got us surrounded.”

She was right, I realized. There was now no longer a doubt in my mind about what had brought three of the rare craft out to this remote part of the Neighvada Valley at precisely the right moment to trap us.

“How is that possible!” Starlight demanded, her eyes still shut firmly, “all of this sky and they somehow found us like this?!”

“It actually wouldn’t have been very hard for them to do,” I was forced to admit, even though my own initial mental reaction had been very similar to hers. However, all it took was a moment’s thought to see how we’d been caught so easily, “they would have been able to hear the interview that I did with Homily, just like everypony else in the valley. Plus, they were who I got the location of the hangar from. They couldn’t have known we were going there specifically, but it wouldn’t have been hard to guess that we’d eventually be going to at least one of the places I got from them.

“All they had to do was get a lookout near those places and wait for us to show up,” Achilles had vowed that the Steel Rangers would come after me again, and while I hadn’t believed that it was an entirely idle threat, I hadn’t expected them to act quite this soon. Not after being so thoroughly beaten during our last encounter. How many times did those ponies need to be stopped cold before they got the hint anyway?

“If we let them drive us to the ground, we’re dead,” Moonbeam said, though she wasn’t sounding particularly optimistic about being able to avoid having that happen.

“They can chase us all the way to New Reino too,” I pointed up, sounding just as unhappy about our options as she was. We weren’t likely to find a lot of protection within the valley’s gambling hub. The Rangers didn’t necessarily have to confront us directly once we were there. All they had to do was threaten the casino barons that ran the place, and demand that the locals produce us for the Steel Rangers. I didn’t have anywhere near the goodwill built up with New Reino that I did with McMaren. Nopony there was going to stick their necks out on my account, let alone Moonbeam’s.

We could either resolve ourselves to fighting the Rangers here and now, which I wasn’t looking forward to doing against the kind of firepower that they’d brought to bear, or…

I was frowning even as I tuned my pipbuck to the frequency that the Steel Rangers used, “well, good afternoon, fellas. What brings you all the way out here?” Maybe feigning ignorance was being a little more antagonistic towards these ponies than was likely smart, but all I was really interested in was getting them to talk to me. As long as they did that―

“We’re here for the AI, Wonderbolt,” I blinked in stunned surprise as I recognized the voice of the mare who was responding to me. As much of a surprise as it had been that any Rangers had come after us like this, it was far more of one that she’d be here to do it, given what I’d been led to believe by Achilles, “give it to us, and you can go free.”

“Star Paladin Hoplite? What are you doing? I thought we had an under―”

“It’s Initiate Hoplite,” the mare cut me off, bitterly, causing me to wince at the habitual reference I’d made to her former rank, “and I’m telling you for the last time: turn over the AI to us and you can leave,” there was a pregnant pause, then, “otherwise...we’ll open fire. You have thirty seconds,” I heard a brief burst of static as the frequency was closed off. There would be no more talking.

I glanced to my left, “I take it you heard that?”

The robopony nodded, “I heard. I’m not going back with them,” she said emphatically.

“No, you’re not,” I assured her, and I meant it. Running wasn’t an option, but I really didn’t want to fight if I didn’t have to. The fact that it was Hoplite leading this group, and not a pony like Achilles, let me think that there was a possibility of talking our way to a solution. Admittedly, I wasn’t sure what that solution would be, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t one somewhere that we couldn’t both accept. Hoplite had proven herself to be a reasonable pony―er, horse, rather...I really needed to stop doing that―in the past. Hopefully that meant that I could work something out with her again.

“But I don’t want to kill anypony if we don’t have to.”

“They’re Rangers, Windfall,” her voice dripped with obvious loathing for the technophilic order, “and they were warned.”

“I know this Ranger,” I assured the robopony, “I’ve worked with her in the past.”

“And, yet, here we are in the present, surrounded by Rangers, which includes her,” she retorted, “I’m left wondering how well those talks worked out?”

“Just give me a chance, Moonbeam. That’s all I’m asking for.”

The metal mare was quiet for several seconds, then, “fine. You get your chance. One chance,” she emphasized, before she began descending towards the ground. I cast my eye at the vertibuck in front of us, mentally urging those ponies not to make me regret this, before following her and Starlight down.

We’d only just finished unstrapping the pink unicorn mare from her daughter’s back when one of the vertibucks landed a few dozen yards away. I noticed that the other two continued to drift around us. I could see Steel Rangers perched in the open sides of the massive flying machines. However, even from here, I noticed that there was something very different about these Rangers from any other that I could remember seeing: they weren’t wearing their usual powered barding. Instead, they were dressed in some sort of orange jumpsuits.

Given the results of our last encounter, I suppose that it made some sense that they wouldn’t want to get too close to Moonbeam with their armor on. On the other hoof, that also meant that we were without our prior advantage. It was highly doubtful that Moonbeam had a virus at hoof that could infect simple fabric garments…

It was hard to miss the lanky ghoul who was the first to disembark from the grounded vertibuck. This was the first time that I’d seen Hoplite all the way out of her armor, and the lack of the bulky steel barding only served to further emphasize her trim and tall figure, especially compared with her squat pony peers. I waved at the mare and began to trot over, trusting that our past relationship would be enough of an assurance that I wasn’t interested in starting things off with any violence.

However, I drew to a hard stop before reaching her, my intended greeting shriveling away unspoken as I noticed the pony that had exited directly behind her. I’d seen his face just a couple weeks ago. Back then, it had been scowling in rage and loathing. But now...Achilles was grinning.

I put the pieces together in my head in probably only a few seconds after seeing the Star Paladin. There’d be no talking our way out of this, I realized. That had never been the plan from the Steel Rangers’ perspective. Frankly, I highly doubted that there had ever been the intent to let any of us leave unharmed either, even if we had chosen to comply―which Achilles had to have known wouldn’t happen anyway. He’d known that The Wonderbolt would jump at the chance to talk though. Hoplite’s reports would have been all the proof the stallion would have needed of that.

Although, he’d also have to have known that I probably wouldn’t have agreed to negotiate with him. Not after what had happened at my family’s ranch. Hoplite was another matter. I’d talked with her in the past. I trusted her. He knew that. He knew that Hoplite was a good mare...and that that quality could be exploited where I was concerned.

To her credit, Hoplite even gave me the last clue that I needed. It had been almost imperceptible. Anypony not looking directly at her probably wouldn’t have noticed it. Of course, since my attention had been locked almost exclusively on the mare, that meant that I did notice when she gave the subtle shake of her head, her milky eyes warning me away.

This was a trap!

I stopped in my tracks, and turned around to warn the others.

Though the recognition had taken only a few short seconds, and my attempt at a warning a fraction more, the cold reality was that we’d been doomed from the moment we’d touched down. The Rangers on board those still airborne vertibucks had us in what amounted to a killing field. Each of the vertibucks launched two missiles right at Moonbeam and Starlight, and I was powerless to help them. They’d at least seen my reaction, and my effort to return to them. That alone had triggered something within the pink mare. Too quickly to have seen the incoming rockets, she erected a shimmering faceted dome of protective magic around the two of them.

I suspected that, against a conventional explosive, that barrier would have been sufficient to shield the two of them from harm. However, it appeared that the Rangers had not fitted those particular warheads with their typical shaped charges. Indeed, the vibrant eruptions of blue lightning suggested that those weapons had been intended specifically for Moonbeam.

They also had a devastating effect on Starlight’s barrier. It would be explained to me later, in much more detail than I was capable of retaining, that there was a very close relationship between the magical energy that powered nearly all pony machines, and the innate magic that was used in the casting of unicorn spells. Thus, weapons that were designed to disrupt machines―like blue-banded grenades―could also dispel some magicks. So it was that the expanding spheres of electrical energy seemed to unravel the unicorn’s shield spell, and continue right on through to ravage Moonbeam.

The robopony didn’t even seem to react. There was no scream of pain, or even a look of shock. Her pink eyes simply winked out the moment the first tendrils of lightning touched her. The holographic face that she had been maintaining dissolved away. A second later she just...fell over. Like an empty suit of power armor.

“Moonbeam!”

I barely heard Starlight’s anguished cry. Her mind was likely racing with all sorts of paralyzing thoughts about what that attack might have done to the very magical talismans that were keeping her daughter’s organic body alive. For all that she knew, she’d just watched her child die. I wasn’t thinking about any of that though. There wasn’t time to. The Rangers had thought to use their moment of surprise to make a preemptive strike on the pony who represented the most significant threat to them, in an effort to cripple our ability to retaliate before we could respond.

Unfortunately for them, they’d targeted the wrong pony.

The world slowed down to a crawl as I engaged my pipbuck’s Sparkle Assisted Targeting System. The drifting pair of vertibucks hung nearly motionless in the air, the Rangers in the doorways reloading their launchers with what looked to be standard warheads now. They’d wanted Moonbeam intact. Starlight and I, not so much. I locked to one vertibuck, queuing a single attack, and then I shifted the system to target the other craft with another single strike. I spread my wings and planted my hooves.

Then I executed the sequence.

For the majority of this trip, I had been operating with my Gale Force in one of the low-power flight assist modes that Foxglove had wired into it. It was enough to nearly double my typical flight speed, while simultaneously using only a small trickle of power. I’d swapped out for a fresh spark battery when we’d stopped for lunch a couple of hours ago, meaning that I still had a little over half a charge left. At the rig’s maximum thrust settings, that was about five seconds of powered flight. Which would be more than enough for me to clear the skies right now.

I transformed into a teal and white streak as I bolted for the first vertibuck. My target was admittedly a rather small one, and would have been difficult to hit under most circumstances. If the pilots of those machines had been moving at any great speed, I probably wouldn’t have been able to manage this. However, moving quickly would have meant sacrificing the aim of their gunners, and they’d wanted to be very precise with those opening shots in order to avoid missing and completely ruining their efforts. So right at this moment they were hardly moving at all.

That made it a very simple prospect to buzz through the narrow gap that existed between the metal fuselage, and the whirling rotors spinning overhead. The alloyed blade running along the front of my wing met hardly any resistance at all as it passed through the rapidly rotating column of metal and hydraulics that served to connect the vertibuck to its means of flight. Then my wings flared, the levitation talismans embedded into the rig working overtime to first stop, and then reverse, my flight path, sending me streaking to the second airborne vertibuck.

The first one had barely even begun to fall when its companion was rendered similarly flightless. I didn’t spare the time to admire my work though. After all, that was only two of the three threats dealt with. My Gale Force rig was effectively depleted by this point, but that hardly mattered. Now I was the one attacking a grounded target from the air, and the Ranger flying machines weren’t well equipped to deal with threats from above, it turned out.

I dove for my grounded quarry, throwing my forelimbs forward in rapid succession. My bracers belched bolts in a nearly steady stream, saturating their landing zone and eviscerating the engine of the grounded vertibuck that Hoplite and Achilles had been riding on. The pair of Rangers scrambled to get away from the clear focus of my ire. Even the pilot who had been inside of it was doing his level best to be somewhere else as his craft was picked apart around him.

The final vertibuck now out of action, I directed my attentions at a new target: the one pony who could end all of this once and for all. Star Paladin Achilles was moving rather stiffly even after almost two weeks since Moonbeam had laimed. Apparently whatever Moonbeam had done to his leg was still in the process of healing. Not that he’d have been able to escape me with four perfectly working limbs anyway. I descended upon the earth pony stallion, tackling him to the ground without much regard for how badly he might get hurt in the process.

He went down with a rather satisfying scream of anguish, and I was pretty sure I managed to break his shoulder when I landed on him. I stretched out my wing and placed the Gale Force’s keen razor none-to-lightly against the side of his neck as a rather pointed―heh―indication that he really didn’t want to do anything that I might find disagreeable. Achilles proved to be a lot smarter than he looked and declined to make any further effort to evade me. However, he did still regard me with a rather baleful look that I didn’t very much appreciate.

Their leader subdued and at my mercy, I finally spared a few moments to survey the aftermath of my retribution. The two vertibucks that I’d downed looked to be mostly intact―save for the bits that let them fly―having apparently been designed with the idea that battle damage might render it necessary to make less than ideal landings. I did, however, doubt that any of them were at all salvagable. It didn’t look like there was any part of them that wasn’t bent or broken. That included their occupants, most of whom were literally making attempts to crawl out of their savaged vehicles while nursing one or two broken limbs. A few looked like they’d been lucky enough to have only been rattled by the impacts, and were focused on aiding their more seriously injured companions.

Nopony looked particularly willing to continue fighting. I took that to be a good sign.

Hoplite was back on her hooves now too, also surveying the damage that I’d wrought on their little task group. I noted that there was an oddly satisfied glint in her eyes. Something that struck me as being along the lines of an ‘I told you so’. She soon found me standing over their superior officer and her withered lips spread into a cruel little smile as she walked closer.

“Why, Star Paladin Achilles...I do not envy the report you’ll be making to the Elder about how badly you fucked this up,” oh yeah, she seemed to be enjoying this, “I suspect that she’ll need to invent a rank below initiate to demote you to in order to properly punish you for this.”

“Don’t talk to me, abomination!” the stallion seethed from beneath me. Not caring for his tone, I flexed my wing to remind him of his predicament. He got the message and clamped his mouth shut. Though his features were still heavily creased in a deep scowl.

“You should go check on your Rangers,” I urged the ghoul, “the Star Paladin and I have surrender terms to discuss,” oh, he didn’t like that choice of wording!

Hoplite looked torn between her desire to further taunt the stallion and carrying out what she knew should be her priority at a time like this. Duty won out in the end though. She turned to leave, but hesitated for a moment, looking over at me, “for what it’s worth: I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I sighed. The Saddle Arabian Ranger left to go and care for her comrades, leaving me alone with the Star Paladin to have our little chat. For his sake, I hoped that it proved productive, “personally, I don’t care what the Rangers do to you when you get back home,” I informed the stallion, “they can promote you, for all the fucks I give.

“What I care about is your ability to learn a lesson,” I knocked Achilles over the head with my hoof for emphasis, “now, I know you Rangers are a thick bunch. Dealing with Hoplite taught me that much! Of course, if you had any sense in your head either, we wouldn’t be talking like this right now. So I’m going to spell out a few things for you as simply as I can in the vain hope you’re capable of actually learning something:

“You Rangers think you’re tough shit, and I get that. I’ll even admit that you’ve earned that reputation, for the most part. You’re big, well armed, well armored, and have all sorts of fancy toys,” I waved the wing that wasn’t currently pressed up against his throat at the nearby smoldering vertibuck that he’d rode in on, “y’all do have a lot going for you. You really do.

“But you guys came out here seeming to have forgotten one thing,” I leaned in close to the Star Paladin’s ear so that there was no chance that he wouldn’t hear what I said next, “you Rangers have never been able to beat me. This right here marks the fifth fight I’ve been involved in with you assholes, and you Rangers haven’t come out on top once!

“Is it because I haven’t been killing enough of you, is that it?!” I seethed in the stallion’s ear, urging his head further back as my wing pressed even more firmly against his throat, “is it not enough to just beat you? Do I have to execute each and every Steel Ranger I come across to really hammer this point home?”

He didn’t answer.

“Tell me!” I screamed at the earth pony, drawing a wince from him as I was still bent down next to his ear. I took a deep breath and straightened myself up. In a more civil volume, though it came out as more of a growl, I continued, “it was one thing when we just happened to run into each other in the Wasteland. I could live with just having to pay attention to where you ponies were and make an effort to not be there. But now you’re actively following me around.

“You’re going after me. Even worse? You’re going after my friends,” I looked over to where Starlight was still bent over her daughter’s inert body. A lump built up in my throat as I noted that my Eyes Forward Sparkle wasn’t showing a blip associated with the robopony’s body. That usually meant that whoever I was looking at was dead, but...I also knew that robots that were simply turned off didn’t register either. Was that how it worked with Moonbeam?

“It stops now,” I heard myself saying, “this is the last time, do you understand me?” I looked down at the stallion to be certain that he was paying attention, “because the next time, I will personally come for you, and I will dismantle your entire order and cast its remains to the winds.

“The Steel Rangers, an organization that has endured in the Wasteland for two hundred years, will end,” I informed the stallion, without the slightest hint of doubt or levity, “and it will all be because you couldn’t leave a little pegasus and her friends alone.

“Do. You. Understand?”

Achilles met my gaze with a defiance that I did not appreciate as he responded, “we will not abandon our sworn duty. Not on your word, little filly. Make all the threats you want. Kill me if you must. The Steel Rangers swore an oath, and we will uphold it!”

I let out a defeated sigh, dropping my wing away from his throat. That seemed to have come as a great surprise to the Steel Ranger, who apparently had been quite certain that I’d kill him for saying that, “I guess it’s true: you can teach a pony a lesson, but you can’t make them learn it,” I shrugged and turned away, heading back to Starlight and her daughter to see if there was anything that I could do to help, “if you want the Steel Rangers to end with the current generation...well, that’s on you now, Achilles.”

The pink unicorn turned to look at me, her mouth open as if about to say something. From the expression on her face, I assumed that it was going to be some sort of plea for me to do something―anything―to help her daughter, who still didn’t seem to be responding. However, before she could speak, her expression shifted very suddenly, from one of anguish, to a look of terror. Her blue eyes were locked onto something behind me. At that same moment, my ear twitched as I heard the high-pitched whine of an energy weapon’s capacitors charging to fire.

Reacting on instinct, I spun around, cloaking myself with my wings. Apparently I had moved not a moment too soon. I didn’t see it, but I heard the magical energy pistol discharge, and I felt the searing heat as the crimson bolt struck the alloyed wing coverings of the Gale Force. Two more shots followed closely on the heels of the first, splashing off the protective shielding of my flight rig and leaving behind blackened scorch marks and the smell of burning flesh and feathers.

I quickly rolled away, leaping into the air in a flurry of wings as I drew my compact pistol and brought it to bear on the cretenous stallion who’d tried to shoot me in the back after I’d just spared his life. However, before I could get off a shot, there was another flash of scarlet light. This time it didn’t come from the Star Paladin though. It emanated from somewhere behind me and, in fact, struck the earth pony. Well, more accurately, it passed clean through him. The stream of brilliant red light lasted for a solid second, and appeared to quiver from side to side.

When it ended, Achilles simply...fell apart.

Everypony seemed to be frozen in shock. First, having been taken aback by the Star Paladin’s sudden assault from behind, and then by his swift and unexpected dismantlement. Even my own gaze was stuck lingering on the steaming hunks of limbs and flesh that had once been a living pony only seconds ago. It was only with a conscious effort that I was able to tear my attention away and seek out the source of his macabre death. What I found somehow only served to fill me with an even greater sense of dread.

Moonbeam was back on her hooves, it seemed. Only, the synthetic mare looked even less like Moonbeam than I could remember. Including when I’d come across her immediately after her recent upgrade. Her pink eyes were blood red, and it seemed that no attempt was being made by the robopony to project any sort of holographic face across her head any longer. Her attention was focused on Hoplite’s remains.

However, that didn’t last for very long.

“Moonbeam, you’re alright―!” Starlight’s relief at seeing her daughter up and moving again was short-lived. The robopony’s horn began to glow for only a second or two before a burst of energy erupted outward from around the metal mare, throwing away any ponies or debris that were in her immediate proximity. This included the pink unicorn, who went tumbling end-over-end, having been the closest to Moonbeam when the spell went off.

I dove for the pink pony to make certain that she was alright, “what―?” she was disoriented, certainly, but not seriously injured, it seemed. Then the mare’s eyes went wide, “Moonbeam! No!”

Expecting to be on the receiving end of another attack, I threw up my wings to shield the both of us, but the effort proved to be a futile one: it wasn’t the two of us that the robopony seemed interested in. Peering over my armored appendages, I saw Moonbeam’s horn lash out with another sustained ray of crimson energy. It licked at one of the injured Steel Rangers, weaving through her body and very deftly carving the poor mare into about a half dozen portions of varying sizes.

She was going to kill them all, I realized. Already, I could see the tip of her horn glowing as it charged up for another burst of lethal light. The Steel Rangers were at a loss. Their vertibucks were in tatters, and their heaviest ordinance along with them. They very clearly knew that what sidearms they had would be less than useless in stopping the robopony alicorn that was ravaging them. Most of them were too injured to even try and run away, not that any of them thought for a moment that they could have without the aid of their flying machines.

I could see the acceptance clearly on Hoplite’s face. She recognized their doom, and realized that there was no escaping from it.

Only a moment ago, I had vowed to the now-dead Achilles that I would tear down the Steel Rangers...but not like this. I wanted their organization gone―the manic technophile mentality that spurred ponies to imprison Moonbeam, and to wage a decade-long war on ponies simply to reclaim a single robopony. I wanted their doctrine to die…

...not helpless, injured, ponies.

I threw out my hoof.

The bolt of energy caught the metal alicorn in the head, diverting her beam at the last moment, and sparing the life of the Steel Ranger that she’d been targeting. The robopony hesitated, and then turned to look directly at me. Even from where I was, I could see that the damage that I’d inflicted had been minimal...and it was slowly starting to repair itself.

I had her attention though, that was the important part, “stop it, Selene!” I yelled at her, for I knew now that was who it had to be in control at the moment. Moonbeam was certainly not a fan of the Rangers, by any stretch, but I refused to believe that Starlight’s daughter would be slaughtering helpless ponies like this. The artificial intelligence that had been designed to control war-machines, on the other hoof? Yeah, I would believe that she would be doing this.

“The fight’s over, Selene! They’re beaten. You don’t have to kill them,” as I spoke, I began slowly edging closer to the Rangers, interposing myself between them and the alicorn. I entertained no illusions that the protective armored shell covering my wings would be able to stop that beam of hers. It had barely been up to the task of rebuffing Achilles’ little energy pistol. Mostly, I was just operating under the notion that I wasn’t somepony that Selene would shoot at.

There wasn’t any particular reason that should be the case, granted; but if Moonbeam was still in there somewhere, I was confident that she’d intervene before I ended up as Windfall giblets. If it turned out that I was wrong…

...well, hopefully I’d at least be killed instantly...

“All hostiles must be eliminated.”

That most definitely wasn’t Moonbeam’s voice. The level of distortion in the words was such that it almost sounded like several ponies speaking at once, honestly.

“They don’t look very hostile anymore to me,” I pointed out, gesturing at the injured collection of defeated ponies who seemed to be too scared to move, lest they risk being the next pony to be diced by the robopony, “I’d say you accomplished the mission. Now stand down, Selene.”

The metal alicorn peered down at me with those brilliant red eyes, contemplating me for several agonizingly long seconds. Then, “you are unauthorized to give orders to this network.”

“Yeah, well, who is exactly?” I rebuked the artificial intelligence, “you have to know that the Equestria you knew is gone. The Ministry of Awesome doesn’t exist anymore. Everypony that worked on making your died centuries ago.

“So, tell me: whose orders do you obey now, exactly?”

“This network will operate using standing rules of engagement until a recognized authority presents itself,” it responded simply.

“Well, the zebras aren’t here, so that means you have no enemies to engage,” I pointed out, “so stand down!”

The robopony cocked her head slightly before responding, “Royal Equestrian Declaration of Hostilities, Article Three: Designation of Lawful Combatants: any sovereign nation, or paramilitary organization, or individual, or collection of unorganized individuals, that takes hostile action against elements of the Royal Equestrian Military shall be considered a de facto ‘enemy force’ until such time as a formal resolution can be drafted to clarify the aforementioned group’s diplomatic status with Equestria and its allies,” Selene’s head straightened once more, her scarlet eyes flashing briefly at me, “the standing orders of this network are clear. These ‘Steel Rangers’ must be eliminated.

“And so must you.”

Oh, horseapples…

I was moving before I was even thinking about where I was going to go. After all, it hardly mattered, so long as I wasn’t in any one spot for longer than a moment. Selene’s crimson beam traced after me as I made my frantic flight to ‘anywhere else’. My nose tingled with the fresh scent of burned hair, and I suspected that my tail had not been as fortunate in avoiding injury as the rest of me was for the moment.

Gunshots and the high-pitched whine of energy weapon fire rang out from below. It was now that I spared a glance, though I felt my gut knot at having already reasoned out the source of the weapons fire, and the inevitable consequences. A few of the healthier Steel Rangers had taken up their weapons in a bid to catch Selene while she was distracted. However, it seemed that the robopony’s recent upgrades had been expertly applied. None of the solid rounds seemed to have the power behind them to actually penetrate the reinforced chassis, and the paltry output of the energy pistols left only the same minor scoring that they did on my own alloyed wing armor.

Selene’s response was much more potent. With what seemed like an afterthought, two more Rangers were butchered by her horn’s blood red beam. I couldn’t tell who I was angrier at: Selene for slaughtering ponies who were clearly no threat to her, or the Rangers who seemed to be downright intent on getting themselves killed in a fight they had to know they couldn’t win! In either event, I couldn’t allow it to go on. As ridiculous as it seemed even to myself: I was the only pony present who could hope to stand a chance against Selene.

My hoof moved to the pocket holding the holotape containing Nightjar’s program, “hey! I thought you were supposed to be some sort of super sophisticated combat computer or something?” I yelled at the robopony, throwing out a couple more blasts from my fetlock-mounted energy weapons, “so then why are you taking your eyes off the real threat here: me?”

The alicorn android threw up one of her own allowed wings, deftly deflecting my shots. However, I managed to accomplish my primary mission and now had Selene’s undivided attention, “your mother was desk fan, and your father smelled like a ghoul’s backside!” I zipped down, buzzing past the glaring robopony and popping off another quick jab that was just as ineffectual as all the others before it. As I flitted past Hoplite, I offered an abrupt, “nooffense!”

As I leveled out into a steep climb away from the ground, my ear twitched as it detected the sound of something rumbling behind me. I spared a glance over my left shoulder and immediately blanched. Selene had engaged her own Gale Force, and was very quickly closing the gap between us, her horn already charging up for another strike, “holyhorseapples!”

I rolled and flipped around, cringing as I felt the tendons in my wing joints protesting the sudden shifts in my momentum. However, I gladly accepted the mild joint pain in lieu of the violent death by dicing that I narrowly avoided as a result. Selene didn’t seem to have nearly the aversion to spontaneous shifts in g-forces that my flesh and blood body did though. With a stilting abruptness that made her look otherworldly, the metal mare veritably paused in mid air and spun in place, lashing out at me with both hind hooves.

The full brunt of the fierce double-kick caught me square in the gut. I felt the ceramic plates of my armored barding, designed to absorb even the strikes of high-powered rifle rounds, pulverize in an instant beneath the force of Selene’s buck―along with a rib or two, if the intense pain was any indication. Most of the air was expelled from my lungs as my body was flung backwards. The disorientation was such that I must have blacked out for a moment. That was the only way that my brain was able to explain taking a second hard hit from behind a second later.

That time, I knew that I didn’t lose consciousness. Yet, I was still at a loss to explain how Selene was suddenly in front of me once more. I cringed, attempting a last minute flip to avoid being close-lined by the spinning buck that the metal mare was building up to deliver. The reinforced alloyed limb sailed just over my jaw, missing by less than an inch. Then Selene’s Gale Force talismans burst to life and immediately changed the axis of the alicorn’s rotation from a spin into a roll. Her now downward angled chopping slice landed across my chest and I felt something that wasn’t my barding give way.

Breathing was suddenly next to impossible and I was falling towards the ground, tumbling languidly as my wings managed only half-hearted flutters through my shock and pain. The alloyed alicorn hovered high above, watching me fall with an air of indifference, as though she had just swatted away an annoying little insect.

“Windfall!” I was faintly aware of Starlight screaming my name, and then I felt weighless. My world acquired a gentle azure haze to it. It was hard to keep track of everything that was happening right about now. The lack of oxygen was beginning to have an affect on my brain, and things were getting muddled.

There was a pink blur, some ponies were yelling things, but they sounded far away. Something bitter was touching my lips and spilling onto my tongue. A lifetime of danger and injuries allowed some instinctive part of me to instantly recognize it as a healing potion being poured into my mouth and I swallowed it on reflex. Just as the last of the concoction was emptied, I could feel the pain in my chest start to lessen and it became―slightly―easier to breathe again. Each inhalation felt like I was breathing in fire, but it was at least enough to get my brain focusing again.

Starlight Glimmer’s distant words cleared up rather suddenly halfway through what she was trying to tell me “―have to get away from here! I don’t know what’s wrong with her; it’s like, like she’s not herself!” the pink unicorn’s features were contorted with anguish as her teary eyes beheld her rampaging daughter. The Steel Rangers were trying to form what they could of a defensive perimeter as they evacuated their wounded, with Hoplite organizing things. She might no longer have the rank, but in the midsts of the current madness, she very clearly retained the respect and ingrained obedience of her peers.

“No,” I managed to cough out, along with some bloody spittle that the healing potion had brought up from my recently punctured lungs. My fetlock smeared the crimson dribble and I struggled to get back up onto my hooves, ignoring the pink mare’s protests, “she’s not.”

I reached into the pocket of my barding where I’d stashed the holotape and withdrew it, sliding it into my pipbuck, “I’ll get her back,” or we’d all die, I very distinctly declined to add out loud.

“Windfall―!”

“Stay down,” I instructed the mare, “but be ready to help when we need it.”

“Help? How?! I’m not going to kill my own daughter!”

“You won’t have to,” I assured her. At the moment, I didn’t know if that was because I was going to find some way to bring Moonbeam back to us, or if it was because I’d be the one to do that in her place. We’d all learn the answer in the next minute or two.

If I had wanted to be able to explain things to Starlight in greater detail, Selene seemed inclined to rob me of the opportunity. She’d deigned to return to the ground once more. The members of the Steel Rangers’ defensive line were engaging her now, but it was clear that they lacked the firepower to do anything more than annoy the metal mare. I saw her horn building up another lethal charge. Time was up, “be ready!” I yelled at the unicorn before launching myself back into the fray.

“Moonbeam!” I screamed out at the top of my lungs, drawing a collection of confused and nervous looks from among the gathered Rangers; and, in an instant, the shooting stopped. The word also evoked the slightest of twitches from the alicorn facing them down as well. I landed right in the middle of what could, at any moment, become a very deadly crossfire, glaring at the robopony, “I know you’re in there, Moonbeam!”

For the time being, at least, guns were no longer blazing, and even the alicorn’s horn wasn’t lashing out. Though the crimson glow of its prepared charge remained. In the corner of my vision, I noted the familiar scrolling characters of the GOODNIGHT_MOON.EXE program as it loaded into my pipbuck’s buffer. It ended in the prompt from earlier, and that was where I left it, primed and ready at a moment’s notice. It was the closest thing that I had to an ace in this fight, but I didn’t want to use it if I didn’t have to. Selene wasn’t stopping me from talking, so I was going to do that for as long as she’d let me.

“Shut her down, Moonbeam,” I continued, standing my ground between the towering steel mare and the nervous Rangers. I waved my forelimb at the latter, not taking my eyes off of the alicorn, “they’re not a threat anymore. They can’t hurt you, and they won’t try anymore,” I was extremely grateful to hear Hoplite picking up on what I was saying and very sternly instructing the other Rangers to lower their weapons and slowly back away.

“The fight’s over,” I reiterated, “so it’s time to put Selene away and come back to us, Moonbeam. Come back to your mom, Moonbeam.”

Starlight wasn’t quite as quick to interject herself as the ghoul had been, but after a pointed glare and wave of my hoof she eventually ventured closer and started speaking as well, “yes―yes! Please, Moonbeam, stop what you’re doing,” she pleaded, “I know you’re angry at them, and nopony can blame you. But this…” she looked around the battlefield and the smoldering vertibuck wrecks and the chunks of diced Rangers before returning her glistening eyes to her daughter, “this is too much. Please...let it stop here.”

“Enemies of Equestria must be destroyed,” the metal mare responded.

“Hey!” I snarled back at her, “butt out! We’re talking to Moonbeam, not you!”

“There is no distinction.”

Starlight began to shake her head in disbelief, but no words came out. So I spoke instead, “I don’t believe that―I don’t believe that, Moonbeam! Now you come back out here and prove me right,” I took a deep breath and started taking slow, deliberate steps towards the mare.

“This network does not recognize―”

“Shut up!” I snarled, “Moonbeam, I know you’re in there! You know how? Because I know you’re scared! I remember our talk this morning, Moonbeam. Right after you got your upgrade. I remember you talking about how you felt different.

“I didn’t really understand what you meant then, but I think I do now. You weren’t sure if you were a real pony, were you? I’m right, aren’t I?” there was no answer, but I pressed on anyway, “I mean, Starlight―your own mother―got tricked for months by a fake, right? If those ministry ponies could make program good enough to fool your own mother, then why couldn’t they make, well...you?

“Why couldn’t they make ‘Moonbeam’?”

“Well, I know they didn’t! You know how? Because you’re scared that they might have! How stupid would that be, to make a fake program that was afraid it might be a fake program? I mean, yeah, those ponies were stupid enough to blow up Equestria, but what we’re talking about here is a whole new level of dumb!

“That’s why I know you’re real, Moonbeam; and that’s why I know you’re in there. Now it’s time for you to come out and put this bitch that’s driving your body in her place!”

Those crimson eyes flashed brighter, but I held my ground, “your last words have been logged,” Selene said in what wasn’t quite the same dispassionate voice that she’d used up to this point. The glow at the base of her horn pulsed, and I’ll admit that I flinched, fully expecting to die right then and there. Indeed, that final utterance of ‘yes’ to execute the program and shut Selene down was halfway up my throat when the both of us were surprised to see that pulse of light come to naught.

The light in her horn died away completely, and I breathed a sigh of relief. However, it turned out to be a very misleading reprieve, as that sigh was not sooner across my lips than I found myself tackled to the ground by about half a ton of steel alloyed mare. I bounced and rolled along the ground, finally coming to a pained stop a dozen feet from where I just been standing. When I looked up, Selene was standing above me, her glowing eyes twitching.

I coughed and began to once more slowly stumble back up to a standing position, “that’s it, Moonbeam; put that bitch in her place,” I groaned, “you’re in control, not it…”

That last comment earned me another solid punt further afield. Still I refused to be silenced, even if my words were starting to slur a bit by now, “that thing...it’s just a stupid computer program…” I hoped that I was speaking loud enough to be heard by somepony besides myself. It was hard to tell. That last hit had my ears ringing a good bit, “doing what dead ponies told it to do…

“It’s not a real pony...because it can only obey its programing,” I tried to stand up again, but Selene didn’t let me get all the way up before swatting me aside once more. It was hard to tell if her hits were getting weaker, or if my body was just so saturated with pain that I couldn’t feel new injuries anymore.

My mouth was still working at least, “...but a real mare...can choose for herself…”

This time I was kicked while still laying on the ground, “silence!”

“Programs obey…” I murmured, sputtering out a glob of blood that was pooling in my mouth. I managed to turn my head towards the alicorn and smirk up at her in smug satisfaction, “but I’m a mare. So: fuck...you. Fuck her, Moonbeam!”

A solid metal hoof grabbed me by the collar of my barding and hauled me off the ground. Every part of me hurt to much to even attempt to move, so I simple dangled from her grasp like a limp sack; but I didn’t stay quiet, “A mare chooses; a program obeys,” I slurred, “so make Selene obey your choices, Moonbe―”

My jaw caught a heavy metal hoof for my trouble, but still I pressed on, “a mare chooses; a program obe―” another hit, “a mare chooses; a―” my head lolled back, and my half-lidded eyes beheld the flickering red eyes of the robopony with pink highlights trying to peek around them. Selene was starting to lose out on whatever internal struggle was going on, I realized. Of course, it’s hoof was cocked back, ready to drive straight into my face. The blow would probably kill me, but I didn’t care. I’d won, and I’d done it without sacrificing Moonbeam.

“...I chose…”

The hoof drove forward. My world went dark.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Toughness - You can take a Lickin', and keep on tickin'! Gain +10% damage resistance.

CHAPTER 47: WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES

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"Karma's a real bitch. You'd be wise to remember that."

Waking up in unfamiliar surroundings with no recollection of how I’d arrived there or how much time had passed was becoming such a staple of my life that it didn’t even bother me anymore. And that really bothered me.

The rafters above me were indicative of the haphazard ‘new’ construction undertaken by ponies after the war, with no concern being given to what structural engineers of old might have insisted be done to ensure buildings adhered to the safety codes of the day. The wood bore holes and remnants of rusted nails and screws that suggested this was the second, or maybe even the third or fourth, building that they’d been a part of. The panels of the corrugated steel roofing each retained their own unique saturation of rust, suggesting that they’d been subjected to very different amounts of exposure to the elements during their respective lifetimes before being brought together in this structure in the recent past.

Beneath me, I felt some sort of mattress. I slowly moved my right foreleg, and felt it bump into something soft and slightly damp. Looking over, I realized that I was actually laying upon an old couch. A bundle of rags had been balled up to provide support for my head. The faint smell of grease and oil testified to what their former purpose had been. I was still too tired and groggy to object to the grime though.

The shed was dimly lit. A single bulb hung precariously in the center of the room, dangling from a crossbeam. This wasn’t the only source of light though. Out of the corner of my vision, I spied a second glowing source and carefully turned my head to the left. I spied a large table that had its own lamp mounted above it. A pony seated in front of it was just turning around to look at me, brushing a few errant strands of brown mane out from in front of her green eyes.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Foxglove greeted, a look of relief on her tired face. Just beyond her, laying on the table, I spied a partially dismantled Gale Force, along with a sea of other scrap, parts, and tangles of odd wiring. It wasn’t just the table, but a generous portion of the floor around the violet unicorn’s workstation that contained such materials too. The mare appeared to have made herself quite at home in the short time that she’d been here.

“Foxy…” I managed to mumble, though the single name sounded rather weak even to my own ears. My lips tightened into a grimace, “how long was I out?”

The mare rose from her seat and stepped closer, squatting down at the side of the couch, “you’ve been here for two days.”

My eyes widened and I instinctively jerked up in an effort to get myself up, “two days―?!” and immediately regretted what I’d done as I slumped right back against the mound of oil rags when my hooves gave out from under me, “...ugh.”

“Easy now,” Foxglove shook her head and chuckled to herself, “you’re over the worst of it, but Arginine suggested you take it easy for another few days,” that brief glimmer of amusement faded from her features now, “you took quite a beating out there, you know.”

Memories of the fight began to filter back to the front of my mind, “...Moonbeam. Is she―,” Foxglove bit her lip, her eyes briefly darting towards the only door leading out of the small shed. The unicorn mare hadn’t said a word, but just seeing the look in her eyes...I knew it wasn’t good, “what happened?”

“...Starlight hasn’t told us much,” she began, her words sounding hollow, “she’s been pretty broken up. The Rangers brought all of you here.”

That was unexpected, “the Rangers?”

Foxglove nodded her confirmation, “about four of them, led by that ghoul mare from Arc Lightning. She said that she owed you, and that this was just the down payment. Whatever that meant,” she was silent for several long seconds, her gaze looking to the other room again, “they did what they could, but…”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” I felt my stomach knotting in anticipation of the answers that I might receive. There was a lot about the fight that was just a black hole in my head. Had I done something to really hurt Moonbeam?

...Had I used that program to dominate her?

It was then that I realized that I’d been subconsciously rubbing my pipbuck. Foxglove didn’t seem to have noticed though, “she’s...I don’t know,” the mare offered mekely, “the ghoul said that, in the middle of the fight, Moonbeam experienced some sort of ‘shut down event’. Everything stopped working,” another brief pause as Foxglove fixed me with a knowing expression, “and I mean everything.”

My words caught briefly in my throat. I was sitting up again, “is she...dead?”

The fact that Foxglove didn’t immediately offer up a counter to my worst-case assumption had to have been one of the least reassuring moments of my life, “I genuinely don’t know, the engineer admitted, “her body is ‘alive’, technically―the talismans that sustain it are magical, so they’ll keep going even without a constant source of power. But her brain’s controlled by a computer, and that’s...well, it’s not working. At all.”

I swallowed, my gaze once more briefly darting to my pipbuck. Foxglove noticed the move this time at least, “no, we don’t think it was a result of that virus of yours,” I jerked and looked up at the unicorn mare. My hoof moved to shield the pipbuck from view, like I was a foal who’d been caught with something she wasn’t supposed to have, “but I would like to know where you got it from, Windy.”

“I found it. In the office of the pony who ran that hangar we found,” as guilty as I felt, hiding anything from anypony at a time like this was certainly out of the question; not when Moonbeam’s life was at stake. At least, I hoped that there still was a life to even be ‘at stake’, “there were some holotapes too…” I reached for my saddlebags, but they weren’t on me, of course. Then I caught sight of a collection of disks wrapped in an emerald glow next to me.

“I know, I’ve already listened to them. I thought they might give me a clue as to how to help Moonbeam,” her lips were quirked in a slight frown, “and they kind of did. They made me take a closer look at that virus you had, at least.”

“And? Have you figured out a way to fix her?”

Foxglove took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Windy, I’m just an engineer. I could build a computer terminal from scratch, sure, but I’d be really hard pressed to program it without a lot of manuals on how to do so. Unfortunately, there aren’t any manuals for something like Moonbeam,” I felt my already faint hopes dwindling even further, “just trying to figure out what that program would have done is pushing the limits of what both me and Homily know about computer programming.

“And what we are learning, well...it’s not pretty,” she fixed her gaze on me now, “it’s a really good thing that you didn’t use that program, Windy. That little worm wasn’t just a way to hijack Moonbeam. It would have effectively erased her.”

“What?!” I felt myself grow even paler beneath my ivory coat. I’d almost...oh, sweet Celestia!

Foxglove nodded, “Homily and I aren’t sure about every detail of how it works, but when we looked over the code we noticed quite a few interesting things about it. Neither of us are master hackers, you understand, but we know enough to recognize what programs will generally do.

“That ‘Goodnight Moon’ virus is a brutal one,” the mare went on, “it would have reset the computer in Moonbeam’s brain so that it gave Selene full and complete access to every part of it; which included the parts that make Moonbeam...well, Moonbeam. Her brain would have become nothing more than hardware for the MoA’s AI. With nothing left to house her personality or memories.”

My hoof went to my mouth to stifle the gasp. I really had almost killed her! It didn’t matter that I hadn’t known that’s what the program would do, I had come so close to ending the life of Starlight’s daughter―twice!

“I’ve honestly been wondering about how the MoA was intending to use Moonbeam and the AI in her head to control the drones,” Foxglove continued, “it seemed weird to me that they’d let the AI take a backseat this whole time, when it’s clearly what they were most interested in. I asked Arginine about it, to see if he could think of a reason for letting Moonbeam have full control most of her life if all they wanted to do was override her later.”

She rolled her eyes, her lip curling into a tiny smirk, “his response was a whole lot of ‘Arginine-speak’ that used a lot of medical words, but I got the gist of it. He thinks that Moonbeam might have been ‘laying the foundation’, in a way. Young minds have to grow and develop before they’re capable of complex thoughts. He thinks that the AI might not have been able to do that on its own, and so the Ministry decided to let her brain grow using normal means. If they’d used her brain for the AI right from the get-go, the neurons wouldn’t have been arranged complexly enough to let it become as powerful as they needed it to be to control all those drones.

“It’s pretty disgusting,” she shook her head, “and it’s times like this, learning what our ancestors were capable of, that I’m wondering if it wasn’t actually a good thing that the world was destroyed. Could you imagine what life would be like if the ponies who were ready to do that to foals had actually won the war, and the Equestria that they’d built to do so was still around?”

Not that I had a high opinion of the morality of a lot of the ponies who lived in the world today either, but I found it hard to counter Foxglove’s point. Most of the records that endured from before the Wasteland certainly tended to suggest that Equestria might not have been such a great place after all. Certainly not the Equestria that had developed megaspells, disintegration beams, and equicidal roboponies. It kind of made me start to wonder if it was even worth bringing the old world back at all, “So, you’re saying that that program was supposed to be used on her eventually?”

“Well, one very much like it, anyway,” the violet unicorn said, “the core of it has a lot of the hallmarks of high-end Ministry of Awesome software; but there are signs of significant edits that were made to it later. Most of the changes are centered around rewriting the security protocols and access credentials. Somepony wanted Selene to answer to ponies who weren’t the MoA.”

“I see,” in the furthest reaches of my mind, I recalled the sight of the secret basement that lay beneath Wind Ryder’s. The signs of a fight that had broken out between the ponies working secretly for the Ministry of Awesome, and some unknown attacker. Nightjar had also very clearly been some sort of mole as well. Not for the zebras though, I was pretty sure.

Not that two century old spy games did a lot to help our situation right now, “so what can we do?”

“At the moment? Not much,” Foxglove admitted, “Homily has her ponies looking over the code right now. It’s a longshot, but that program gives us a look at what makes Moonbeam’s operating software tick and how to alter it. There’s a chance―a small one―that maybe we can find out how to restart Moonbeam’s brain again.”

“Will that make her all better? I mean, I’m no doctor or anything, but can somepony really be okay after you turn their brain off and turn it back on again?”

The mare shrugged, “with any normal pony, I’d say that it was a stupid idea; but Moonbeam is so far from ‘normal’...I don’t want to just do nothing,” she looked back towards the door again, “I don’t think Starlight will be able to survive us trying nothing…”

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s probably lost her only real family for good after only just getting them back,” the violet unicorn mechanic sighed, “how’d you do?”

I’d descended into a drunken, murderous rage, that culminated in a suicide attempt, “I should talk to her.”

“Good luck.”

Foxglove receded from the edge of the couch and returned to her workstation, lifting several tools with her magic and resuming the repairs that she had been doing when I’d awoken. I, very gingerly and carefully, eased myself off of the couch, noting the slew of minor aches and pains that still lingered. None of them were particularly acute, but I certainly was of a mind to keep from exerting myself for the foreseeable future. Given that I’d emerged from a fight with a purpose built war machine, I suspected that I was extremely lucky to have gotten off as light as I had.

As I approached the door leading out of the corrugated shed, my ears twitched. At first, I thought that I heard somepony talking from inside. I immediately recognized the voice as being Starlight Glimmer’s, but it took me a little longer to realize that she wasn’t actually talking to anypony; she was singing. It had been difficult to tell, because there wasn’t much of a melody in the way that she was reciting the lyrics. Her quivering words made it sound like she was only just barely managing to get them out at all.

...Nevermore will the storms come,

To destroy your little world…

I hesitated with my hoof upon the door, wondering if it really was wise of me to intrude at a time like this. Not that I could envision anything improving much in the near future. According to Foxglove, we’d all been in New Reino for two days. If she was still singing lullabies after all that time, I couldn’t imagine that she’d be stopping any time soon. I felt it was important that I at least try to be there for my friends, especially when they were going through hard times. So I softly eased the door open.

Nevermore will the waters rise,

'Til the mountains no longer touch the skies...

Moonbeam’s bulky alloy steel form lay inert upon the ground of the garage that lay beyond the shed behind me. Unlike where I’d woken up, this room was a clear remnant of pre-Wasteland construction. In here, like in the smaller room, a sea of parts and tools covered most of the floor, though a clear spot appeared to have been hastily created for the alicorn robopony. A larger set of double-doors suggested how the steel mare had even been moved into here in the first place.

A panel on her backside had been removed, and a tangle of wires was spilling out of it, meeting up with a small bank of spark batteries and a computer terminal. The pink form of Starlight Glimmer sat, awkwardly cradling the angular metallic head in her lap. Her hoof was gently stroking the contours of her head and neck. The unicorn’s cheeks were noticeably damp with tears.

Stars and moons and air balloons,

Fluffy clouds to the horizon…

I let the door close behind me while keeping myself as close to it as possible so as not to further intrude upon the scene. The singing mare’s eyes didn’t so much as twitch from the robopony alicorn’s features at my entry. Which, honestly, only served to make the tense situation all the more awkward. There was no doubt in my mind that Starlight was fully aware of my presence, but she wasn’t sparing me even a cursory glance of acknowledgement. For my part, I kept as silent and still as I could, simply watching events play out until their eventual conclusion.

I'll wrap you in rainbows

And rock you to sleep again...

Starlight paused, swallowing hard as a silent sob wracked her body. Her lips then strained in an effort to continue to form words. Eventually, she let out a small resigned gasp, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her head was held high now, her lids closed and no longer looking at her daughter. After one final deep breath, she managed to find the strength to finish the lullaby.

I'll wrap you in rainbows

And...rock you to sleep...again.

The last word finally out, the pink mare seemed to deflate, her body bending low of the alloyed head cradled in her embrace. I could see her shoulders quivering, even though I couldn’t pick up any audible sounds of crying. My own gaze passed over the robopony. It looked like a completely lifeless automoton, save for the faint glow that was coming from the opened panel on its backside. My pipbuck’s Eyes Forward Sparkle didn’t see fit to assign a marker to Moonbeam’s body.

Finally, I couldn’t stand the silence that persisted after the end of Starlight’s song. I cleared my throat, “hey, Starlight,” I began, meekly, “I, um...I just came to find out how you were holding up―” I visibly cringed even as the words came out of my mouth. I wanted to actually punch myself hard enough in the face to break my own jaw, just to keep myself from saying anything that inane ever again. ‘How she was holding up?’ Her daughter might be dead, you useless moron!

How do you think she’s ‘holding up’?!

“I mean, I―” I cupped my face with my hooves and grit my teeth, letting out a low, exasperated, groan, “...is there anything I can do to help?” Even that sounded hollow and vapid, but it was at least a much better opening than asking how a grieving mother was ‘holding up’. This might all indeed have been a huge mistake after all…

Starlight didn’t offer an immediate reply. In fact, she didn’t even look up from where she was continuing to stroke her daughter’s neck. Then, finally, in a whisper so low that I wasn’t even sure that I’d heard it at first, she said, “...take her place.”

She slowly raised her head, and in my cowardice, I averted my gaze, staring at the ground, “why couldn’t it have been you that died out there?” she breathed, her blue eyes streaming with tears. Then, as though she was only just hearing her own words, she shook her head and looked back at where her daughter’s holographically projected face would be, “I’m sorry. This...this wasn’t your fault. Not really. It’s just…”

“I know,” I nodded, “it’s okay,” I took a chance and slowly edged myself closer to the pair, “and, believe me, Starlight; if I thought it would work, I’d switch places with Moonbeam in a heartbeat. I really would,” again I looked down at the vacant steel facade, “I didn’t want this to happen.”

Starlight sniffled loudly, “it happened so suddenly,” she said in a gentle whisper, “one moment, she was kicking you, and hitting you, and...then she just...stopped. She stopped fighting, she stopped moving, she stopped standing, and she just...fell. Like a puppet whose strings were all cut.

“They think―Foxglove and her radio friend―they think that Moonbeam found a way to shut her AI down. Only it―” her body was wracked by another sob, this one much more audible than all of those before it, “she shut everything down, Windfall! Selene, her body...her brain.

“And I don’t know if maybe she did it on accident because she didn’t know how dangerous shutting Selene down would be…” she swallowed, “or if she knew exactly what would happen by doing what she did.”

It was a like somepony had sent a lightning bolt down my spine. The thought that Moonbeam had made a conscious choice to end her own life in order to save mine hadn’t been one that I’d even considered. I didn’t know exactly how much of Moonbeam’s mind and consciousness was wrapped up in the AI that helped her to operate her body―anypony who did know had been dead for two hundred years. If I had known what the cost of Moonbeam stopping Selene from within would have been...would I have done things the same way, I wondered?

“I didn’t want her to trade her life for mine,” I assured the pink unicorn, “but Selene had to be stopped. She was dangerous. Who knows how many more ponies she would have killed if Moonbeam hadn’t...if anypony hadn’t...stopped her.”

Starlight nodded, sniffling some more, “I keep trying to remind myself of that,” she said weakly, “but, in the end...seeing her like this...I don’t think I care. Because she’s gone, Windfall. My little baby girl is gone, and…” she let out a shuddering sigh, “and now I just...don’t care.

“Every piece of the world I knew is gone now. My home, my friends, my family...everything, it’s all gone.”

I closed my eye and took a deep breath, nodding slowly, “I know how you feel,” I heard Starlight issue a derisive snort and shake her head. She opened her lips, about to issue what I was sure would be a scathing rebuke of my sympathies, but I cut her off before she could, “no, I know exactly how you feel, Starlight, believe me.

“I lost both my actual, and my adoptive family―I lost the first stallion I ever loved―within five minutes of each other. My whole world came crashing down around me in a single moment,” even after all this time, I felt my eye start to burn with threatening tears at the memory, “you feel like you just want to give up, because what’s even the point anymore?

“The point is that it’s not always just about you,” I shrugged, “we do a lot of things because we love somepony else. I loved Jackboot. So, when he gave his life to save mine, I had to figure out if I loved him enough to not waste the second chance he gave me.”

I looked at the pink unicorn, “now, you need to decide if you love Moonbeam enough to help the world and the ponies that she sacrificed all of this to protect. She didn’t have to stop Selene. She chose to, because she didn’t want to hurt the ponies of the Wasteland.

“I won’t tell you what to do with your whole life. Nopony has the right,” I acknowledged, “but I will ask you to at least help us stop the stable ponies threatening the valley. I know that this isn’t ‘your’ world, and that this isn’t your fight as much as it is ours, but we still need your help.

“Foxglove and Homily are working on a way to see if we can still help your daughter; and no matter what you choose to do, they still will,” I assured her. Yeah, I was getting pretty desperate for help right about now, but I wasn’t quite at the point of using a mare’s daughter as leverage to get that help, “but it’d mean a lot to us if you said ‘yes’.”

“No.”

There hadn’t been even a moment’s hesitation in the mare’s response, which actually threw me a little. I mean, I’d been open to the possibility that Starlight might not continue to aid our efforts, but I thought that she’d at least have pretended to consider it! It even took me a second or two to manage to stammer out a response, I’d been so caught off guard, “I-I mean, you don’t have to give me an answer now. You’re still upset, I get it, but maybe if you took a day or two to think things over―”

“Do you think that I’ll be over Moonbeam’s death in ‘a day or two’?” the pink mare growled at me, prompting me to take a reflexive half-step back, my ears flattening in shame. Okay, when she put it like that, it sounded pretty lame, I’ll admit, but― “Why should I even try to save any of you monsters anyway?! Ever since you woke me up, all I’ve seen is ponies killing other ponies, ponies enslaving other ponies, and levels of hate and animosity towards one another that make griffons look damn-near altruistic!

“Arginine’s stable might have the right idea after all,” she seethed, “because I sure haven’t seen a lot lately that makes the ponies of this valley worth keeping around,” the mare held her glare on me, and despite myself, I cowed away and backed off. I was just so surprised by her words. Part of my mind wanted to insist that she hadn’t meant them, and that she was a distraught mother speaking entirely from grief rather than a genuine belief in what she was saying.

Then I thought about what she’d experienced since being revived. She’d been pretty upset with me when I’d killed the two raider that she’d paralyzed in the Seaddle Ruins outside of the city after we’d first met. I couldn’t imagine that she was particularly thrilled with the Steel Rangers or the leadership of Seaddle itself with regards to how they’d treated her daughter all these years. Recalling her haunted expression when she’d seen the mass grave at Santa Mara…

Maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe that she’d finally given up hope. I don’t suppose that it’d taken so much more than that to push me to the brink a time or two either. One of those times had even nearly resulted in my taking my own life. It’d been largely chance that I’d found something to keep me going and, unlike Starlight, I had a lot of emotional investment in the valley of my birth. I’d spent a lifetime getting to know the ponies here, and seeing that―despite its occasional violent detractions―there was a lot to learn to appreciate about Naighvada.

It was home for me, and I was going to do everything that I could to preserve it and make it better. None of that was the case for Starlight though and, at the end of the day, I couldn’t hold that against her. Nor should I entertain the hope that I might be able to make her ‘come around’ and change her mind. Now, so soon after losing her daughter―perhaps for good, I had to admit―was not the time to even try. If that time even ever did come, it would likely be too late to do our fight against Arginine’s stable any good.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I swallowed, nodding somberly. I turned around again to return to the room where Starlight was, pausing for a moment as I reached the door, “if you need anything, just ask,” the mare didn’t respond. I sighed, and returned to the shed.

Foxglove looked up from her workbench. I guess my expression told her most of what she’d have asked about how my talk with her went, “that bad, huh?”

I shrugged and walked back over to the couch, slumping back down onto the worn cushions, “she’s hurting. I can’t blame her for that,” I was silent for a moment, then, “she’ll probably be leaving us soon. She said she’s not going to help us out anymore, anyway. I don’t think she’s going to change her mind about that any time soon either.”

The violet unicorn frowned and sighed, “I was afraid of that,” which meant that we were now down two members of hour group in just a few days.

Hopefully some of our other efforts offered some encouraging news, “How’s the recruiting going?”

I couldn’t say that Foxglove’s grimace was particularly encouraging, “not well,” wonderful, “without the money we were hoping to get from selling what we hoped you’d find in that ‘weapons cache’, we can’t hope to approach any of the larger mercenary groups. There are still plenty of ponies around New Reino with guns who aren’t affiliated with professional groups who are looking to earn some drinking money though, so Ramparts is trying to at least recruit some of them.

“But it’s much slower going, because he’s having to vet ponies one or two at a time, as opposed to hiring dozens of seasoned pros in a go,” she paused, “he thinks it could take months to get the numbers we need.”

“We don’t have months,” I reminded her, to which she nodded her agreement. I buried my face in the cushion and stifled an aggravated groan. So much had been riding on our hope that the hangar had actually been a cash of valuable weapons. Yeah, true, what had actually been there was surely worth hundreds of thousands of caps in the long term if the right buyers could be found; but that was another one of those things that could take months to arrange. High-end mechanical parts and electronics were worth a lot of caps if they were in good condition, but only certain ponies bought that kind of stuff, and almost never in bulk.

Weapons, on the other hoof, were a fast-moving item, and were in high demand by everypony, everywhere! We could had turned a cache of good condition weapons into caps in days. Heck, we probably could have just traded them directly to the mercenary companies for trained ponies! As it was, that hangar was the next best thing to useless to us. In fact, with Moonbeam down for the count, it was now completely useless because we no longer even had a way to even use those combat drones to help us fight!

I stifled a second, louder, groan with the couch cushion. Then I took a deep breath and peeked my head up, “how bad is our money situation, anyway?”

“Bad enough that we couldn’t waste anything on an actual hotel to stay in,” the unicorn informed me. She gestured around at our surroundings, “this is Homily’s old place from when she used to live here. Since she’s made McMaren her new home, she’s letting us use it,” it was only then that I noticed the collection of pillows and cushions piled in a corner of the shed which had clearly been built up as a bed. One other that looked like a more recent construction was arranged nearby.

“I’m trying to help out by doing odd jobs for ponies that need things fixed up,” Foxglove pointed out several objects that were in various stages of reassembly, in addition to my Gale Force rig, “but it’s honestly barely enough to pay for food and stuff. Honestly, it’s Arginine who’s managing to really pull in the caps while we’re here.”

Okay, that caught me by surprise, “really? What, is he working as a doctor or something?” the stallion knew enough about ponies to make a pretty good one, in my opinion; and that was certainly a job that frequently carried a high cost for services, so he might be able to make a good living doing it. He’d certainly been a big help in McMaren, as I recalled.

“Something like that, I think. He said that he’s helping a group of ponies make instructional documentation.”

“Like books or something?”

“I guess,” the mare offered with a shrug, “he’s Arginine, so it’s hard to hold a real conversation with that stallion, but whatever he’s doing, it pays a couple hundred caps a night, and it’s not anything dangerous or illegal, so I don’t really care. We need money, and he’s a big help with that.”

It was hard to argue that point. I’d try and get some more details out of him later on, but it wasn’t hard to believe that Arginine had a lot to offer when it came to information. A stable pony with a proper education like him? There were probably all sorts of ponies who were willing to cough up a lot of caps to learn what he knew about a wide range of topics, even aside from his detailed knowledge of anatomy and such.

“Well, at least something’s going right,” I mumbled. Though, it was certainly only a small help. We were going to need a lot more than a couple hundred caps a day in order to get everything we needed for the fight that lay ahead of us. A fight that was fast approaching, if what Ramparts had told us before was any indication, “any additional word on what Arginine’s stable is up to?”

“Nothing concrete,” Foxglove said, “Homily keeps hearing about the increase in White Hoof sightings, but nopony is going into a lot of detail about whether they’re raiding groups or refugee groups. Ponies either turn and run at the first sight of them, or wipe them out without hesitation.

“We’re pretty sure that the group that we saw couldn’t have been a raiding party though,” she paused, “and, yeah, given what happened when we rescued you, I can think of a reason or two why groups with foals might be fleeing the area, but…”

It was too bad that we didn’t still have Jackboot around to ask about that. He’d have known better than anypony what exactly was likely to happen in the aftermath of a change in leadership. His sister had run him out of the tribe, sure, but nothing that he’d ever said about it―granted that wasn’t ever much―had suggested that he’d been just one of many who’d been expunged while the new chieftess consolidated her power base.

On the other hoof, his sister had still at least been a legitimate contender, having had the same father that he did. However, in Whiplash’s case, both she and her son had died; meaning that there hadn’t been any obvious heir. Unless the White Hooves were uncharacteristically more civil in their political discourse than they were regarding every other aspect of their lives was concerned, there had to have been some sort of struggle for power among the more powerful members of the tribe. If that struggle hadn’t been a violent one, I’d eat my Gale Force rig.

So, yeah, there was a lot to suggest that all we were seeing where the increase in sightings was concerned was the result of that struggle being resolved, and a lot of losers having to leave for their own good…

...but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that we couldn’t overlook the other reason the White Hooves might be moving out of the valley.

“Yeah. What does Arginine think about that theory?” He knew his stable better than any of us, after all.

“He acknowledges that the White Hooves were near the top of their list of targets when they started making moves on the surface,” she said, “but he was also pretty dismissive about the idea that they’d have let so many survivors escape.”

That was true. One of the hallmarks of the ponies from his stable up to this point had been that they tended to be terrifyingly thorough about wiping out their targets, and leaving nopony behind to tell the tale. They were well-organized, well equipped, and frighteningly well trained in what they did. The video feed of their assault on that other stable testified to those facts. My only saving grace had arguably been the fact that my flight presented them with a set of tactics that they didn’t have the training or experience to effectively counter upon an initial meeting.

Of course, this had also been back when they were trying to keep their existence a secret to avoid having the surface organize against them. I’d let that secret out of the bag by announcing it to the whole Wasteland during my interview with Homily. Maybe they weren’t as concerned with leaving no survivors as a result?

No, I frowned, shaking my head at the thought. Their goal was the complete and utter extermination of every pony that dwelled in the Wasteland. Whether they cared about ponies knowing they existed or not, they had a vested interest in leaving nopony alive after an attack anyway. Unless this was part of some sort of psychological tactic or something? Letting them spread fear, and getting us all to hold up in a few isolated places for safety so they could wipe us out with just a couple of attacks?

It was an idea, I suppose, but I wasn’t any sort of expert on large-scale campaign tactics, let alone whatever sort that his stable might choose to use, “I need to talk with Arginine. Any idea where he’d be at right now?”

“He went out to get a bite to eat before work just a little while ago. You can probably still catch him. He usually stops at a sandwich shop on the corner by Flash in the Pan.”

My gaze darted to a small gap between the walls of the shed and its ceiling, noting the darkness outside, “is it super early or something?”

“Actually, it’s a little past eight at night,” the unicorn smirked, “he works nights.”

“Huh. Alright,” I crawled off the couch and looked around for my stuff. Foxglove was kind enough to point out my saddlebags and help me strap them on, along with my compact .45 and its concealed holster. New Reino wasn’t a super dangerous place, not any more than Seaddle at least, but it still had its less-than-savory types, especially at night. I headed back towards the door leading out to the garage, which was the only way out of the building entirely, and paused to look back over at Foxglove, “want me to pick you up anything while I’m out?”

“Nah, Ramparts should be back in a couple hours. He usually brings by dinner before heading over to Yatima’s.”

That’s right, I’d sent the former Republic soldier’s...wife? Marefriend? Foal-mama? Whatever, I’d sent her here from Seaddle along with access to my personal savings that I had stashed away to help her get established. In hindsight, I guess it would have been a much better idea to hold onto those thirty-thousand caps so we’d have them to hire mercenaries. Of course, there was no way that she’d spent all of it, so I could certainly take back most of it.

That was something to talk to Ramparts about later, “alright. See you later then,” and with that, I slipped out into the garage, and made very awkward and quiet progress the rest of the way out of the building, pretending that I didn’t see Starlight singing another lullaby to her daughter’s mechanical body.

Once outside, I stood still and silent for several long seconds, taking in a deep, relaxing breath, as I looked out over the brightly illuminated jewel of fun and frivolity that was New Reino. Just from looking at the ponies milling around, even at this late hour, and listening to the sounds of activity, you’d never guess that there were any dangers on the horizon that threatened everything here. You’d never suspect that, just a few days travel north, an entire nation was imploding. For better or worse, ponies were going about their lives, and just enjoying themselves as much as the surrounding gaming establishments, bars, whore-houses―and their pocketbooks―would allow.

There was something refreshing about it. It was a reminder that life still yet existed in the valley; life that was full of enjoyment. I even felt a smile spread across my face as I trotted towards it all.

It’d been a long time―it honestly felt like years―since I’d been in this city; and my last visit had left more than a little bit to be desired, consisting of a barroom brawl, and impromptu assassination, and a suicide attempt. And despite the dark cloud of an invasion that may or may not have currently been underway, and our stymied efforts to combat it, this visit didn’t currently have anything in it that I could see lending itself to a repeat of those events.

My planned events for the evening were to have a chat with Arginine―my stomach’s timely rumble suggested I also make it a point to join him for a meal―and then maybe talk with Ramparts too so I could get a better idea of exactly how our recruitment efforts were going. After that, maybe I could even check in with a few of Jackboot’s old contacts to see what they might have that could help us out.

Crowded though the city might be, and as lively as it was even at this hour, Arginine’s signature coloration and bulk was a hard sight to miss as he sat at the roadside food stand, munching at what looked to be a Cram sandwich clutched in the golden glow of his telekinesis. I smiled and sauntered up, slipping onto the seat beside him, “howdy, stranger. Buy a girl a drink?”

The stallion paused in his chewing and glanced at me in silence. He then swallowed down the bite in his mouth and nodded his head, “your required time to recover from serious wounds is significantly above average. I have a theory that pegasi may have much higher metabolisms, which help to facilitate quicker healing. As you have deprived me of the opportunity to conduct a thorough physiological analysis, a definitive answer will never be reached.

“Though, you have consistently proven to be a singularly unique individual in other aspects as well.”

“You know, sometimes I think you’re only interested in me for my body,” I sighed, while languidly stretching out my wings, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I have a great body; but sometimes a mare wants to know her stallion cares about what she thinks too,” I smirked, poking my tongue out at him.

“I have not been conservative with my praise of you tenacity and dedication in the past.”

I rolled my eyes, “good enough, I suppose,” then I leaned up and gave him a peck on the lips, “this time,” I warned. I made myself more comfortable on the seat and nudged him in his side with my elbow, “now buy me dinner. I’m hungry.”

“After two days of unconsciousness, I have little doubt of that. Mister Ham Hock,” he waved at the owner, “a serving of the day’s special and a Sparkle Cola, if you please; on my tab will be fine.”

“You have a tab?” I raised my brow at the stallion, genuinely intrigued.

“Mister Ham Hock’s establishment is conveniently situated on my route between Miss Homily’s former residence and where I have found employment,” the stallion said by way of an answer, “as the entirety my earnings are deposited with Mister Ramparts every morning for use in our recruitment efforts, I am left to purchase my evening meal on credit. I cover the debt in the morning with the pay I receive for my performance at work while stopping for my meal before retiring to bed.”

“Foxglove mentioned you found a job pulling in the caps,” I remarked. The proprietor already had my meal ready and served up―which I supposed didn’t take long when the ‘special’ was the contents of a can of Cram slapped between two pieces of barley bread―and I reached over to open up my drink, “something about making instructional stuff?”

“Indeed,” Arginine confirmed with a nod, “I was approached soon after our arrival with a proposition to participate in the creation of sensory media for general distribution.”

“‘Sensory media’?” I quirked a brow at the stallion.

He frowned, “I admit that I am largely unfamiliar with the devices―they were not present in our stable―but they are a product of unicorn magic that allows for the retention and viewing of memories and experiences?”

“Memory orbs? You’re making memory orbs?”

“That was the name ascribed to them, yes,” the stallion said, “a typical evening consists of a group of us performing various tasks, then our recollections of the activities are siphoned and placed in the memory orbs, which are then distributed to ponies who wish to learn to perform those tasks.”

“Huh. That...actually sounds like a really incredible idea,” while never having delved into a memory orb myself, I did know as much as any Wasteland denizen about how they worked in a general. The little glass spheres contained something like distilled memories of a pony, and they could essentially be ‘relived’ by another pony later. I’d never heard of them being used for academia, but the notion sounded like it had merit. Seeing a pony do something, or listening to a description of something was one thing, but to actually live through an activity? I figured that had to be the quickest way to learn any new skill, didn’t it?

“And they pay you that well for it?”

“I am still forming a comprehensive grasp of the economics of the Wasteland, so I will reserve an opinion on the objective quality of the pay that I receive for the investment of time and effort I am putting into my work,” he said, “but I am to understand that I am earning significantly more than Miss Foxglove for an equivalent number of hours invested.”

“Wow. Maybe we should see if they have some openings,” I suggested, now quite intrigued, “if all three of us worked there, maybe we could really solve our money troubles.”

Arginine paused to consider what I’d said, “I suppose that I can make an inquiry with my employer. Some of our material does involve group performances. If you would like, I can procure a sample for you or Miss Foxglove to view so that you can get a more accurate idea of what is typically involved. I have been informed that it isn’t for everypony.”

“That’s fair,” I nodded, before finally turning my attention to my sandwich. Yeah, it was just Cram and stale bread; but after two days without a meal, it was some of the best tasting Cram that I could remember eating. Much to even my own surprise, I found myself desiring a second helping when the first vanished far too quickly.

Determined to make the second portion last for a respectable amount of time, I resumed conversing with Arginine, “so, I also wanted to bounce some ideas off you about your stable,” I began, “if they were to make a move on the surface, how likely is it that they’d hit the White Hooves before anypony else in the valley?”

“I am obligated to remind you that I was not a part of my stable’s military component. As a result, I was not privy towards any specific information regarding their strategies and planning meetings. Anything that I would tell you in regards to answering this question would be purely speculative.”

“Yeah, well you still know your stable better than any of us, so speculate away.”

“Very well,” Arginine said, giving me a slight nod of his head, “in that case, given the intelligence about the White Hoof organization as being highly competent surface warriors, yes, they do represent what would be considered a 'high-priority target'. While their technical proficiency is rather low when compared to groups like the New Lunar Republic or the Steel Rangers, there is no denying their much higher aggression quotient.

“If it were my place to plan the invasion, I would elect to exterminate them first, before turning to the rest of the valley,” he finished.

I nodded my understanding even as I took a single bite of my sandwich and considered what he had said, “okay. So now let’s talk numbers. There are a lot of White Hooves,” not that anything like a genuine census had ever been done to get an exact count, but they were certainly one of the larger groups around. Even if you didn’t count their slave population, “how realistic would it be for your stable to be able to completely surround every White Hoof camp and get them all without any of them getting away?”

Arginine didn’t immediately answer this time. I glance aside at him, and saw that his features were drawn in genuine thought about my question. Finally, “I do not know our exact force count. However, my duties on the surface did require me to be aware of population sizes and locations for sites designated for sample collection.

“I am also familiar with my stable’s production capacity. If the extermination is indeed underway at this time, then I will admit that it is unlikely sufficient forces could be fielded to effectively surround and isolate every White Hoof population center that we knew about,” he admitted, “and there is also the possibility that a few elements existed that had not been known to our initial scouts; or whose positions had changed. Our findings were that some White Hoof groups were migratory.”

“Their raiding parties and warbands, yeah,” I agreed, “They’d move around a bit to keep the NLR from being able to organize against them while they were raiding settlements,” I took another bite and thought over what he’d just told me, “so, it is possible that some White Hooves could be escaping your stable’s attacks?”

“If they have accelerated their timetables as they were laid out when I was informed about them,” Arginine acknowledged, “then it is possible that they do not have the numbers required by the established invasion plans.”

“Alright. What would their next target be? I assume it’s Seaddle?”

“They were the next highest threat, yes. The New Lunar Republic was a much more significant threat than New Reino, as I understood it,” he thought for a moment, “I suspect that that reality has changed as the result of recent events, but I do not know if that will be accounted for in regards to the priority of targets. In order to maintain ignorance of our existence, our scouting missions have been small and infrequent. It is possible that my stable is largely unaware of the recent changes.”

“How long?”

“That I am unwilling to speculate on,” he said, shaking his head, “there are far too many variables to consider that I have no knowledge of. The best answer I can reasonably give you is: ‘when they have run out of White Hooves’.”

“Great,” I sighed, “so some time between tomorrow and next year,” I finished off my sandwich.

“I am skeptical that an entire year would be required to deal with the White Hooves, but I will agree that there is no way to construct a reliable timetable that would be of use to us. All that we can do is move as efficiently and effectively as possible and hope for the best.”

“Hope, huh?” I flashed the stallion a wan smile, “I don’t know if you’ve been paying a lot of attention recently, but we’re running pretty short on hope, RG.”

I pushed the empty plate away, and slumped forward, leaning my head upon my crossed forelimbs, “even if we had a whole year to prepare, we’ve run fresh out of options to fight your stable off with. The NLR imploded, the Rangers are all but wiped out thanks to yours truly, we don’t have anywhere near enough caps to hire the local mercenaries, and a thousand super-duper Old World Ministry of Awesome combat drones designed to win the Great War were just rendered useless because the one pony that could work them might have just died―also mostly my fault, by the way,” I buried my face in my hooves now, letting out an exasperated sigh, “I’ve run out of options, RG. There’s nothing left to do.”

Arginine was silent for a moment, then, “are you giving up?”

I let out a mirthless chuckle, “oh, you have no idea how much I want to, RG,” I admitted to the stallion. I couldn’t say whether or not I’d have said as much to any of the other ponies in our group―even Foxglove―but Arginine was different, “I mean, could you really blame me? You didn’t think we had a good chance of winning this fight even when we thought we could unite the whole valley against your stable.

“Well, it turns out that we can’t. As of two days ago, we officially lost every single option we had as a retaliatory force. We’re now down to the six of us―er, five, no, four―and whatever ponies actually bother to show up to Shady Saddles because of Homily’s broadcast.

“Care to be straight with me and give me your opinion on the odds of us actually beating you guys?”

The stallion was silent, not even looking in my direction.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” I stared glumly at my empty plate and the bottle of Sparkle Cola sitting next to it. Things were looking rather bleak right about now. We were genuinely out of options, and our doom was fast approaching. Did that mean that I was going to ‘give up’ though? Well, I suppose that the answer to that was a little more nuanced, “am I going to tuck tail and run? No. I can’t say that’s really my style, after all,” another deep, resigned, breath, then, “but, I am still kind of giving up on the idea of us having a chance.

“I’m going to Shady Saddles. I’m going to see how many ponies actually show up. Then...I’m going to march us all right to your stable…” I snorted, “and ‘hope’,” my lips spread in a wry grin, “if we’ve got any luck left, all of your ponies will be out slaughtering White Hooves, leaving the stable largely unguarded. Otherwise…”

I shrugged helplessly. Then I looked from the Sparkle Cola to the pony running the food stand, “hey, Ham Hokey! You serve anything stronger than Sparkle Cola here? I recently rediscovered a reason to drink again, and I’ve got a lot of sobriety to make up for!”

“That won’t necessary, Mister Ham Hock,” Arginine interjected, “we are done for the evening, and will be taking our leave. Thank you for the meals; I shall return in the morning for my usual, and to settle my account,” and with that, the much larger stallion began to not-so-subtly push me out of my seat and onto the road, earning an annoyed glare for his efforts.

“Hey, what gives?”

“Drunkenness ill-becomes you,” he said, gesturing for me to walk with him of my own accord, which I grudgingly did, despite still feeling like having that drink, “and it routinely leads to a marked drop in performance. I will acknowledge that circumstance have fallen short of expectations recently, but that is all the more reason for you to be operating at your best.

“So, I am going to make an effort to ‘lift your spirits’, but without the use of actual spirits.”

I sighed, “Arginine, I appreciate the thought, but what exactly do you think you could say or do to make me feel any bet―!”

My words were interrupted quite suddenly by the application of the large unicorn’s lips to my own. Though initially shocked by the unexpected kiss, I very quickly recovered and leaned into the embrace. When we finally parted, I glanced wryly up at the stallion, “...okay, I’ll admit that helped. A little. It doesn’t fix any of the stuff that’s gone wrong though.”

“That is not my intent. However, I would like to point out that a pony in a despondent state is less likely to come up with effective solutions to difficult problems.”

“So, what, we’re going to make out until I finally come up with a better plan?”

“That is a crude oversimplification, but not entirely inaccurate.”

I rubbed my chin, feigning a pensive expression, “I don’t know, it could take hours for me to come up with a new plan. Maybe even all night.”

“The quantity of the investment of time is not a factor that concerns me,” the stallion replied. I almost even missed the slight twitch at the corner of his lip that on any normal pony would have been an actual smile, “and I am dubious that you could have seen fit to make plans since waking up.”

“Don’t you have work tonight?”

“My employer will simply have to understand that I had other obligations which superseded my duties with him,” he stepped on ahead and looked back over his shoulder, “unless you would rather not?”

I grinned at the stallion and pranced up along side of him, “oh, I’m not complaining; lead on!”

So, yeah, spending a few hours making out with Arginine wasn’t going to have any great effect on our situation. But he was right that it was certainly going to make me feel a lot better! I couldn’t conceive of myself coming up with any amazing plans while lounging in the afterglow of a makeout session, given what I knew we had to work with, but I certainly wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity.

“Where are you taking us anyw―”

“Hey, big guy,” I found myself interrupted by a golden earth pony mare with an orange mane, who had slipped into view from somewhere off to the side. She wasn’t alone either, it seemed, as I also spied two other mares―a white unicorn and an chestnut earth pony―nearby who were also making eyes at the tall stallion next to me, “so...my friends and I were wondering if you were free tonight?”

There was a tiny little part in my brain that entertained a scenario where I drew the pistol tucked under my wing and put a new hole in all three of their collective heads, but I refrained from making that fantasy a reality.

...barely.

Fortunately, these three clearly had no idea who they were propositioning. Yeah, I had to―only under pain of death, and even then only grudgingly―admit that these three mares were a good looking bunch. I was sure that most other stallions would have jumped at their proposition, the risk of waking up with a missing organ be damned! However, my RG was not ‘most stallions’, so I simply stood back and tried not to look too smug as he responded.

“My apologies, madams, but I will be occupied this evening,” he inclined his head in my direction, and it appeared that the three other mares only now seemed to have even noticed my presence at all.

However, goldie there seemed to not be one who was so easily deterred. She covered her initial disappointment almost immediately and sidled up even closer to Arginine, very pointedly and none-too-gently nudging me out of the way, much to my rather vocal protest, “a stud like you doesn’t need to settle for one little filly when he can have three grown mares now, does he?” she leaned in and nuzzled him on the neck, whispering in his ear, “I bet she can’t even take what a stallion like you has got; but we can…”

Well darn. I was really looking forward to visiting New Reino without murdering anypony, but oh well!

Arginine responded as expected, however, before I even needed to lift my wing, “I am not ‘settling’, nor does the prospect of obtaining quantitative superiority particularly intrigue me at the moment. Now, as I have already stated: I will be occupied. Please stand aside, ladies,” he said, looking coolly between the three of them.

Looking properly dejected, the golden earth pony frowned and retreated back to her friends. Meanwhile, I extended my wings and daintily fluttered up to alight upon Arginine’s backside, making myself comfortable. I stuck out my tongue at the mares, while flicking them a particular pinion from one of my wings, “you heard the stallion: suck it, skanks! RG? Onward!” I used my hind hoof to deliver two playful taps to Arginine’s flank. The stallion nodded once more in deference to the mares and began walking away.

Though I did hear them whispering amongst themselves for a few more seconds before we left earshot, “I can’t believe he turned us down!” “Never meet your heroes, I guess…” “I don’t remember any of the mares being that young…”

I wasn’t paying them much attention though. Honestly, I was still kind of basking in the notion that Arginine, even when being so brazenly propositioned by three gorgeous mares, chose to stay with me! I mean, yeah, it wasn’t like he was as driven by his libido as most young stallions, but still. Then a thought occurred to me, “hey, um, RG?”

“Yes, Windfall?”

“You know that those three were offering to have sex with you, right?”

“That was my interpretations of their allusions, yes. Though it is reassuring to know that you drew the same conclusion from their circumspect propositioning as I had. I find myself frequently frustrated by how indirectly most ponies address certain topics.”

“Uh...yeah,” I nibbled on my lower lip for a few seconds as I thought about how I wanted to word my next question, “so...like, does that sort of thing happen a lot? Mares approaching you out of the blue, I mean.”

“I assume you are referring specifically to mares with which I am unfamiliar broaching conversation with me spontaneously for the purposes of casual intercourse?” he asked, craning his head around to look at me. I blinked in return, a dull ‘uhhh…’ escaping my slack jaw as I tried to parse out what he’d said. Arginine rolled his eyes, “no. Events like the one which just transpired are infrequent,” then he thought for a moment, “though they have begun to occur with narrower intervals over the past few days.

“My working theory is that it is a result of my habitual routine. I follow a nearly identical route and schedule from day to day. As a result, any mares who also have routines which take them into proximity with me are more likely to encounter me on a frequent basis. My understanding of social dynamics is that the anxiety of introducing oneself to a stranger is lessened with each subsequent encounter of that stranger over a period of time. Thus, it is only natural that, after having presumably seen me every evening for the last two weeks, mares who felt an instinctual attraction upon first sight of me have felt more emboldened to initiate contact upon realizing that they will be presented with numerous opportunities to engage with me in the future.

“Does that make sense?”

I uncrossed my eye and forced myself to nod, “...I assume so. And you’re never...tempted?”

“As I have stated to you in the past: I do not form romantic attachments to other ponies, nor do I possess what could be described as a ‘sex drive’. Sexual stimulation is physically gratifying, yes, but in much the same way that a soft mattress is. And the latter talks less about their former coital partners.

“In truth, those mares would have enjoyed a much greater chance of success in ‘tempting’ me by offering a hot shower with water that didn’t reek of lead and rust.”

That last comment managed to earn a genuine laugh from me, as well as put those lingering concerns of mine to rest. I mean, I was at least fairly confident about what Arginine’s answer would be, but...well, it was nice to have confirmation. After all, he was a good looking stallion who’d been in a city that was home to a lot of good looking mares―many of whom were professionally great at pleasing other ponies. I...couldn’t compete with them like that, and I knew it.

Perhaps it said some things about me that the only stallions that I could keep to myself were apparently an older stallion who would have risked being executed on the spot if he’d shone his bare back to another mare, and a stallion who had the carnal desires of a cabbage. I couldn’t honestly say that realization was doing a lot for my self confidence right about now. After all, one of my ambitions in life was to have a family someday. That wasn’t a fantasy that would become reality if I didn’t know how to keep a stallion’s interest.

Not unless I wanted to settle for tall, dark, and verbose over here, at least. But, thus far, he hadn’t shown himself to be the ‘family stallion’ sort; and not just because he had that whole notion of ‘all ponies on the surface are genetically inferior trash’ mentality going on.

“Fair enough,” I finally said aloud, pushing that train of thought from my mind. Ideal romantic partner or not, Arginine was honest enough that I at least didn’t have to worry about him feeding me a bunch of lines in order to dupe me into going to bed with him. There was something to be said for that, “so, where are we actually going?”

“Here,” he replied, coming to a stop.

I looked over in surprise, “the Flash in the Pan?” I said dumbly, looking up at the casino’s sign, “why here?”

“My employer saw fit to set me up with a room here so that I could conduct my work in peace.”

“Wait, you get paid a lot of money and you get a free room at one of the better casino-hotels in town? Seriously, you really need to hook the rest of us up with this gig of yours,” I dismounted and padded along at his side as the two of us strode in through the main doors. I’d been to this place quite a few times before in my life. It had been one of Jackboot’s preferred recreation spots, and was where I kept my savings―until I’d effectively bequeathed it to Yatima, anyway.

We wound our way around the gallivanting patrons and past the reception desk in the lobby, “Good evening, Mister Arginine, back for another―” I glanced over and spotted the casino’s main greeter, and part owner, Double Down, waving over at us. She jerked to a stop when she seemed to notice me at his side, her eyes growing wide with surprise, “Windfall?”

I suppose that it had been a while since she’d seen me. In all honesty, given that I’d sent a zebra mare running here about a month ago with the passphrase to get to my lockbox, she could be forgiven for assuming that I’d even died and had passed on my modest wealth to somepony in need. So, I flashed the mare a broad smile and gave her a friendly wave in return, “hey, Double-D! Long time, no see! We’ll catch up later, okay?” I then bolted up the stairs after Arginine.

“Wow, did she look surprised to see me,” I chuckled, “I wonder how many other ponies in the town will react like that to hearing I’m back?” It was then that I took notice of the fact that we’d actually ascended all of the way to the fourth floor of the casino’s hotel. The floor that maintained the more prestigious suites, and which had a price-tag to match. Arginine was standing in front of one of the doors, pulling out a key from his saddlebags with his telekinesis, “you’re joking.”

Arginine unlocked the door and then paused, looking over at me with a questioning expression, “I beg your pardon?”

“A High-Roller Suite? You’re put up in a High-Roller Suite?!”

“...yes?”

I blinked and shook my head, pushing my way into the room ahead of the stallion, “I have got to watch one of these spheres you’re making; sweet Celestia!”

I’d never―ever―set hoof in one of these suites before in my life. Yeah, sure, technically, I could have afforded to stay in one for a few nights every once in a while while I’d been working with Jackboot, but it would have cost me about every cap and bit I’d managed to squirrel away for that whole year! I’d never been brave enough to spend that much money all at once before.

Though, now seeing what I’d been missing out on, I started to understand why some ponies did. This place was less a hotel room, and more like a well-furnished apartment. There was a living room, dining room―with a full kitchen!―and a bedroom that was larger than the ‘apartment’ that Jackboot and I had shared in Seaddle for all those years. There was even―oh, Celestia, was it? Yes!―a bathroom―with a tub large enough to comfortably fit a hellhound!

“...I think I’m in love,” I said, slumping against the doorframe as I peered longingly at the porcelain swimming pool.

Arginine stepped past me and approached the tub. He stood before it, looked back at me, and I saw his lips quirk in that ‘smile’ of his, “the hot water talisman works, by the way,” then, by way of demonstration, his horn began to glow and one of the spigots began flowing with steaming water.

My rump dropped to the floor, “I’mma marry it.”

The stallion actually snorted at my comment, and then proceeded to turn on the spigot for the cold water and even the collective temperature to a level that was enticingly warm. I could hardly wait to get in when it was finally full enough, and just let the magically heated water soak into my coat, leaching away both the Wasteland grime, and the tension in my body. I let out a long, contented, sigh, and lay down upon my belly, nestling my head on my folded forelegs on the tub’s edge. My wings hung out to either side of my body, floating calmly upon the warm surface, “I live here now…”

I heard the water splish and splash as Arginine somehow gracefully slipped his own bulky body into the bath along with me. Something cool dribbled along my shoulders, eliciting an initial annoyed flinch, but then a pair of strong hooves began to work the shampoo into my fur, and my brief annoyance ebbed quickly away beneath the ministrations of the unicorn stallion in the form of moans of pleasure, “oof...I’mma marry you if you keep that up for much longer,” I said amidst a few grunts as his hooves encountered my knotted muscles and expertly ground them away in surprisingly tender fashion.

“That sounds suspiciously like a long-term commitment,” he noted in a detached tone as he continued to thoroughly work his way down my spine, “one which requires you to live through what could otherwise be considered a noble heroic sacrifice. Shall I assume, then, that you are in the midst of devising a battle plan which does not rely on you charging heedlessly into a stable full of genocidal ponies bred for the purpose of exterminating you?”

“Less talky; more rubby,” I sighed, waving my hoof at him dismissively. Though, in fairness, I was taking his words to heart. Yes, taking out the stable was the surest way we had of stopping their plans that I could see. It was the repository of all of the equipment that they needed to breed their ‘better’ race of ponies, and presumably where they also kept all of the knowledge that they’d gathered on how to go about doing that. One way or another, it had to be destroyed.

Leading a blind charge in there just to be able to say that I’d made an attempt before I died wasn’t going to cut it though. I needed to make that attempt really count. So what if a lot of ponies like the Steel Rangers and Ebony Song were selfish asshats who didn’t want to considered the ‘greater good’ that was everypony in the Wasteland? If I let myself fail without making a genuine effort, then I was dooming ponies like Summer Glade, Homily, and anypony else who was a good, decent, sort to death out of spite, in an effort to prove that I wasn’t an asshat.

I wasn’t that kind of mare. Or, at least, I didn’t want to be that kind of mare.

I was certainly the kind of mare who liked back rubs though, wow…

Arginine’s hooves ran slow, concentric, circles along my ribs and withers, to either side of my spine, and I felt myself audibly purr in response. Something tickled me behind my left ear just before I felt a burst of warm breath wash over the side of my neck. Before I could react, Arginine was nibbling gently along my nape. I sighed, craning my head to the right reflexively, giving the stallion greater access as he made his way down to my shoulder. My wings weren’t touching the water any longer, rivulets of water dripping down upon the surface.

My breathing was coming more heavily now, my mind racing to process everything that was happening, between the teeth gently nipping at my clavicle, and the fetlock rubbing along my inner thigh. This was starting to move a little bit beyond ‘making out’...

...and I was okay with that.

I tucked my wings and rolled suddenly beneath the stallion, bringing us muzzle-to-muzzle. There was a second or two of hesitation as I locked my eye with his. Arginine could be generously described as ‘dispassionate’ by most of the ponies who encountered him. His features were severe and stoic, his voice was low and a little gravely, and he sort of felt like he was looking through you when he spoke. However, I recognized him to be quite the opposite of dispassionate. In truth, he was a very passionate stallion. Just, in his own, Arginine way.

Most ponies didn’t put a lot of thought into what they did from moment to moment. Yeah, most ponies did things with a purpose, sure, but those reasons were very rarely critically reasoned out. Arginine was the kind of pony who thoroughly analyzed everything that he said and did, to ensure that it was the absolute ‘best’ course of action. He couldn’t not do that, because that was how he was raised from birth. His whole purpose in his stable had been to carefully examine and select the objectively ‘best’ parts of the subjects that were brought to him, no matter how minute the improvement.

He brought that same approach with him everywhere that he went, and put it into everything that he did. Arginine put more care and attention into every word he spoke, and every step that he made, than most ponies put into even the most important things in their lives!

If that wasn’t ‘passion’, then I didn’t know what was.

I saw that in his eyes right now: those synapses firing at the speed of sound, as he thought of all of the best possible ways to make me feel better, and to pull me out of the slump that the last few days had put me in. Because he wanted me to be the best pony that I could be too. Arginine was doing his best...for me.

My muzzle darted up, landing a kiss on his, and holding it there, as I drank in the taste of this stallion who was putting so much effort into trying to make me feel good. I knew that he felt physical pleasure, even if he didn’t have the energy left to waste outwardly showing it; and I felt him responding now, responding like I’d never known him to before.

It caught me off guard at first, when I felt his tongue brush up against my teeth, but that new sensation sent a tingle running through me that I needed to feel more of. I let my jaw slacken, and allowed him into my mouth. It was a warmth, a dampness, and a taste, that sparked something deep inside. I slipped my forelegs around the bag of the stallion’s neck and hugged him close. We were forced to part, with great reluctance, for brief gasps of air before once more reattaching ourselves to one another.

I gasped suddenly, breaking out latest embrace, as I felt his hoof brush up against my thigh once more, gently massaging itself between my nipples and nethers. Then it began to linger along my backside…

My whole body spasmed as he touched up against something the was startlingly sensitive. Startling in that he’d managed to find it himself. I’d known about it for a few years now. Water splashed over the edges of the tubs and spilled onto the floor as a result of my sudden jerk. The second time he found it, I was a bit more prepared, and merely chirped.

I put my fetlock in my mouth and bit down on it to keep myself from repeating the embarrassing sound aloud. The other option would have been to tell Arginine to stop doing what he was doing; but I didn’t want that, so I was left with alternating between gnawing on my hoof and gasping for breath. Then Arginine sent my brain into an overload by leaning in and resuming kissing me down the side of my neck again.

Before I knew what I was doing, my wings were wrapped around him, my face was buried into his shoulder, and I was panting heavily, mewling like a newborn brahmin calf. Finally, I managed to wrestle some amount of control away from my hormones and begin to process thoughts again, “wait!” I gasped. Much to the utter chagrin of most of my more base desires, the stallion I was latched onto complied and stopped what he was doing. I took a few more deep breaths, organizing my words, and said, “not here. Bedroom.”

“As you wish,” Arginine replied. He waited for a bit, then, “...are you going to let me go, or…?”

“Once my body stops shaking,” I murmured in response. Admittedly, it took long enough for me to finally bring myself to release the unicorn from my grasp that I was feeling a little embarrassed about it. I mean, he was a good looking stallion. In fact, he was literally the best looking stallion that was genetically possible; and that little primal part of my biology that was designed to get mares like me to seek out the healthiest stallions possible and make with the healthy foals was not subtle about pointing that out.

It had been really easy to overlook those aspects of him when he’d just been some mass-murdering bastard that I couldn’t wait to pass on to the proper authorities―if such a thing really existed in the Wasteland. However, that line had blurred a fair amount over the months. I guess that I hadn’t truly quite ‘forgiven’ him for what he’d been a part of for so long; but the fact that he was doing so much to help us put a stop to it certainly counted for a lot. Besides, if a White Hoof like Jackboot could change, then why not Arginine?

...I wonder if our foals would have blue or amber eyes?

I winced and shook my head, throwing the thought out. Easy, girl; stress relief is one thing, but let’s not let ourselves get carried away here! That at least managed to cool me off enough to let go of the stallion and slip out of the tub.

Arginine’s magic procured a pair of towels from a nearby shelf and they danced around us, gripped in his telekinetic field as they dried us off. His damp, slate gray, coat glistened in the light, highlighting his genetically perfectly toned physique; and I was suddenly once more batting away those thoughts of amber-eyed pegasus foals. A process which became a lot harder to continue doing as the stallion stepped nearer and began to nuzzle my cheek and neck. My eye closed as I leaned into him, feeling his silky-soft fur against mine.

“Oop!” I gasped as my hooves unexpectedly lost contact with the floor. Opening my eye again, I immediately noticed that I was wrapped in the golden glow of his magic, being cradled in front of him as we left the spacious bathroom and headed for the master bedroom and its waiting mattress.

Of all the ways that I’d ever woken up before, none of them had ever quite been like this! For one thing: I had apparently been smiling the whole while that I’d been asleep, and my lips were actually a little sore from it. Other parts of me were sore too, come to think of it, and I found myself not wanting to immediately move upon regaining consciousness. Though, it was really weird to be both stiff, and yet feel so incredibly good all over at the same time.

And sweaty. I also felt really sweaty. Indeed, most the the mattress and the sheets all felt damp with sweat and reeked of mine and Arginine’s musk. Not that I particularly minded, especially when I played back in my head everything that the two of us had been doing to get that lathered up in the first place. I chuckled to myself and let out a contented sigh at the memories. It had been like Arginine took the events of our first night together, and had found a way to extend them on for nearly two hours…

To include the sex part. I wasn’t sure how or when he’d figured out the trick there, but he’d managed to make that last a lot longer too; and this time it had felt amazing! I was no longer wondering what ponies found so great about it anymore; I’d figured it out. Or, rather, Arginine had figured it out.

“Good, stallion…” I murmured, smiling broadly. My hoof reached out across the bed to search him out, but when I couldn’t find any sign of his massive bulk where it should have been, I finally opened my eye and looked around. Much to my frustration, I was alone in the wide bed. Though I could still see the gnarled spot on the sheets where the unicorn had clearly been laying some time ago.

Then my ear twitched as I heard somepony stepping into the room. Arginine was rubbing himself down with a towel, his dripping mane and glistening coat testifying to the shower that he’d apparently just finished taking, “ah, good, you are awake,” he nodded at me as he stepped over to the bedside, “I apologize if this comes off as abrupt or rude, but I received a message from my employer earlier,” I perked up now, looking a little concerned, but the stallion waved off my trepidation, “he was understanding of my need to forgo my usual workload, but he has asked that I come in briefly this morning to review future projects.

“I agreed to his request. I trust that you do not have an objection?”

Truth be told, I was a little disappointed that the two of us wouldn’t be getting in a second go this morning―and maybe a third...but I could understand. As much fun as it had been, and as much I might have been tempted to, we all had bigger concerns than getting in another rut. Arginine’s job was what was keeping our recruiting efforts afloat. Our shenanigans last night had already cost us a few hundred caps in earnings; I couldn’t ask all of us to give up any more just because I wanted to get laid.

“Yeah,” I said with a resigned sigh, leaning up for a kiss, which Arginine seemed willing to oblige me with, “I suppose I can give you a pass this time,” I then flashed him a wry smile, “but we’re doing this again soon, understand?”

“As you wish,” he inclined his head slightly in agreement. Then he passed me his towel, “I left the bath full for your use. I will see you in a few hours,” and with that, he took his leave.

I let out a relaxed breath and lay back down on the mattress, rolling onto my backside. It was then that I cringed slightly as I felt the stiff and matted fur of my back rub against the sheets stiffly. While Arginine’s offered solution as to how we could have sex without risking a pregnancy had seemed like a good idea at the time, it had certainly come with a few drawbacks. I groaned and returned to my belly as I reluctantly extracted myself from the bed. My hind legs legs moved a little awkwardly at first as I adjusted to the sensation of muscles that had never ached before, and eventually I just settled for fluttering all the way to the bathroom.

True to his word, the tub was still filled with pleasantly warm water and a collection of soaps, shampoos, and even a few perfumes had been laid out for my use. My brow quirked as I wondered why a stallion would have had so many products whose packaging suggested that they were intended for use by mares, but I quickly dismissed the thought. A pony like Arginine was hardly the type to be concerned with what others thought of his preferences regarding soap scents; and besides, this was the Wasteland after all. I doubted that the casino had a wide selection to offer its guests anyway.

Not that I was complaining, mind you. It felt like it had been forever since I’d been able to pamper myself like this! It almost made me wish that I was in Shady Saddles with the money to spare for a day with French Tips. I let out a laugh as I thought about the veritable conniption fit that the mare would suffer if she saw me now. The little filly who’d used to visit her every few weeks for a mane styling and a hoof polish had certainly been through the ringer since my last visit.

Although, I should still see somepony about getting my mane trimmed anyway. It was starting to brush against my shoulders again. In not much longer, it’d start feeling uncomfortable under my helmet and whipping my ears while I flew.

Once I’d bathed and rinsed all of the sweat and, uh, stallion...stuff...out of my coat, I took my time exploring the suite. I didn’t have anywhere pressing to be, although I figured that I should eventually at least check in my Starlight to let her know I was still doing alright. I still needed to speak to Ramparts too, come to think of it. All of that could wait for at least a little while longer though. In the meantime, I’d never been in one of these sorts of rooms before; and I figured I’d get my fill while I was here.

It certainly had a lot to recommend it. The refrigerator worked, and was pretty well stocked with food and Sparkle Colas, of which I took one and popped the cap. The absurdly large quantity of chocolate syrup and whipped cream had been a little puzzling, but then again, these rooms were geared towards wealthy ponies and those sorts were known for being weird and eccentric anyway.

I continued to look around the suite, noting that most of what was in here didn’t really stand apart from what anypony tended to find in the wider Wasteland, if only in slightly better condition. The sofa and comfortable chairs of the living room all looked faded and well-used. There wasn’t as much water damage as one tended to see, but I spotted more than a few pretty serious stains where it looked like somepony had spilled something sticky on the leather cushions and not gotten around to cleaning it up.

The same went for the table and chairs in the dining room. Though those weren’t so much stained as they were badly scuffed up. Again, nothing that was highly unusual in itself. A couple of centuries of moving things onto and off of a wooden table was bound to leave a little wear and tear. Granted, a lot of those scuff marks made it look like somepony had been repeatedly grinding their hooves into the wood, which did seema little odd. What, did everypony who’d rented this room lean on that table with their forelegs or something?

I frowned upon entering the bedroom that we hadn’t used last night, noting the wide assortment of candles present. I suppose that it made sense to have a few around in case the casino’s generators went dead for some reason, but that was a lot of candles; and most of them looked like they were regularly used too. There was no way that the lights stopped working often enough to justify lighting them this frequently. Whoever it had been was also pretty messy about it too; I saw dribblers of wax all over the floor and most of the bed. When was the last time that a maid service had been through here anyway?

Arginine’s and my musky scent still hung heavy in the master bedroom, faintly rekindling a few thoughts and memories from last night. Aside from the twisted sweaty sheets and a pillow or two that had been knocked to the floor, this room actually looked pretty well taken care of. Though those sheets could certainly do with a wash now. Out of curiosity, I set about looking for any spare changes of linen that might have been left in the room. At any other hotel in the Wasteland, I wouldn’t have wasted my time; but this was the sort of suite used by the rich and fastidious, so I suspected that there was a possibility.

My search of the closet did, in fact, reveal the presence of a couple of additional sheets that looked remarkably serviceable. Although, my attention was quickly drawn away from them to something that was a little more noteworthy: the clothing. At least, I mean, it was nominally ‘clothing’. Most of it wasn’t anything that I’d have chosen to wear in public, but there was no accounting for the taste of some ponies. I had my doubts about some of it though.

The yellow and pink uniform of an Old World nurse was of particular note. And not just because it looked like it was missing quite a lot of material that I was sure those uniforms had. Admittedly, I’d never given the uniforms a particularly thorough examination when I came across them in Wasteland ruins, so maybe I was mistaken. In any case, I thought it was a little weird to find one hanging here. Then again, I guess that yellow and pink were perfectly fine colors for a mare to wear if she wanted to have something stylish. I wasn’t sure about the black and white maid outfit though. There was no way that was meant for casual attire, was there?

My gaze fell onto the next article, which was a saddle and bridle composed of satin and sheer lace. Okay, yeah, I at least had a good idea of what that was used for, I thought, feeling myself blush slightly as I briefly pictured myself wearing the ensemble. It’s not like that sort of thing would have gotten a rise out of Arginine anway―

...Wait, was that barding? I drew out the last set of garments, which looked to be made out of supple black leather and steel studs. I frowned as I felt how malleable and thin most of the outfit was, leaving me a little dubious about the amount of protection that it could have offered. The leggings at least seemed sturdy enough though. With a little shrug, I figured that there was little harm in trying the barding on just to get an idea for how it fit. I certainly didn’t have any plans on swapping out my current barding for this thing, but it might give me an idea or two for alterations to recommend to Foxglove.

I’d certainly never worn legwear that went this high up, that’s for sure! The fit was snug enough around my legs that I was pretty sure their height was not merely a consequence of my small stature, they were just generally pretty tall, brushing up against my flanks and armpits. Still, I had to admit that I was enjoying the support that they offered to my fetlocks and joints.

The torso protection was certainly marginal, at best. The black leather conformed to my torso snugly enough―maybe even a little too snug, as it was pushing my teets down and fluffing them up a bit―that it wouldn’t interfere with my wing strokes while flying. The chest ‘protector’ wasn’t much to look at though: a steel ring joining four studded leather straps together. And the less said about the headgear, the better. It was just a black leather cap that reminded me of the old hats I saw in Old World police stations, just without the badge, and with a lot more steel studs which I was positive at this point were just a fashion statement and not meant to augment protection.

I wasn’t sure why it included a riding crop either. All hitting anypony with that was going to do was sting their rump a little bit. What was the point of that? So, yeah, aside from the boots, it seemed like a pretty dumb get-up to me. Although, I had to admit while admiring myself in a mirror, I wasn’t entirely hating the look of me in black leather…

Ah, well, it was time to stop exploring and start actually working. I’d track down Ramparts, find out where our recruiting efforts stood, and then discuss the best ways that I could help the others out; be it scouting out promising recruits, or get a job working with Arginine to bring in more caps. So I replaced the ‘barding’ and left the room.

Early morning―or extremely late at night, depending on how you viewed three o’clock―was when the casinos of New Reino began to finally quiet down again after a rowdy night. Most of the patrons were sleeping off their fun from the previous night, or freshening themselves up so that they could head into work and earn more of the money that they’d need to blow at the gaming tables that night. As I stepped out into the Flash in the Pan’s lobby, I noticed Double Down wiping off her desk as she awaited her relief so that she could retire to her own bed. Remembering how I’d intended to touch base with her, I floated over to the mare and grinned, “g’morning, Double-D! It’s been a while. How’ve things been?”

The mare look over in surprise, but her expression soon melted into a pleasant smile as she recognized me, “Windfall! It has been a long time, I suppose. I trust that you enjoyed your evening with Mister Arginine?”

I felt my cheeks warm a little as I sheepishly rubbed the back of my head, “uh, yeah, you could say that.”

The mare favored me with a wry expression, “I’ll admit, I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type to go for a stallion like that.”

“I know he can be a bit...rough at first; but you get used to it.”

Double Down cleared her throat, “so I’ve heard. I guess we all like what we like; not my place to judge. Just...surprised is all,” I frowned at the mare, but before I could ask what she meant by that, she changed the subject, “anyway, when you see your father, can you let him know that I have something to discuss with him?”

I blinked at the mare in confusion for several long seconds, my earlier questions vanishing from my mind, “who?”

“Uh, your father? Jackboot? I assume he came to town with you.”

“Oh. Right. He…” I swallowed. Even after all this time, that wound apparently hadn’t quite healed up as much as I’d have liked, “he died. Saving me from the White Hooves.”

“Oh. I’m sorry; I didn’t know,” the receptionist said. She even looked genuinely concerned for me, which I appreciated. By the nature of his past, and the risks that it brought when interacting with the residents of the Neighvada Valley, it made sense to me now why Jackboot had tended to keep all of our contacts at hoof-length. I’m not sure that it was even fair to say that he had any genuine ‘friends’ among the ponies that we worked with. I’d never felt quite so reserved, true, but I couldn’t say that I felt particularly close to anypony that I’d met before Foxglove either.

Even Double Down fell into the ‘business associate’ category in my head. Even if we weren’t close though, it was nice to hear somepony expressing real sympathy on Jackboot’s behalf.

“It’s fine―I mean, it’s not, but...you know what I mean,” I offered a meek shrug, “so, what did you need to talk with him about?”

The mare bit her lip, “well, if he’s dead, then what I was going to talk about doesn’t really matter anymore. Although...since he is dead…” she hesitated, rubbing the back of her head in uncertainty, “I mean, I don’t want to come off as callous or anything, but you and I do need to talk about his...account.”

I blinked at the mare for another second or to. Then a mirthless little snort escaped my nose. Unbelievable, “he left an unpaid tab? Really?”

“What?” the mare balked in surprise, “oh, no! Actually, it’s kind of the opposite. He’s had a lockbox reserved here for years,” Double Down stepped away from the counter briefly and returned with a few sheets of paper that I recognized as lockbox lease agreements and invoices. As I maintained one with The Flash in the Pan too, I was familiar with them. The mare examined one of the sheets more closely for a brief moment before pushing it towards me, “with his death, all of the contents revert to you,” she cleared her throat, “I know this is probably the shittiest way you’d want to get it, but…”

“No, I understand,” I said, not really looking at anything that was written on the sheet of paper. It wasn’t a surprise to me that Jackboot would have made me his beneficiary. I’d made him mine, after all. It occurred to me right now that I’d have to change that though. I’d probably set it up so that everything went to Foxglove if anything happened to me now. Or maybe Homily, so that she could try and do some good with McMaren, “I guess...just fold everything into mine?”

“Um, sure, I can do that,” the mare nodded, “do you want me to continue with the investments?”

“The what?”

“The investments,” the earth pony repeated, drawing my attention to another sheet of paper, “your father left standing orders on how to handle the funds he left in there,” apparently she finally saw the look of incomprehension on my face and smiled politely, “I guess you were pretty young when he set all of it up.

“We don’t just look after the money and stuff you give us for safekeeping here. Most of the casinos are willing to invest your funds for you in merchant enterprises, shops, and in loans. In exchange for letting us do this, we waive the lockbox fee, and you keep ninety percent of the earnings.

“Jackboot has had us investing his caps according to his instructions for almost a decade. Here’s the earnings reports and balance sheets,” she slid more papers towards me, “like I said: we can keep doing things his way if you want. Or you can change things around―”

“Two hundred thousand?!” I blurted. My eyes scanned the balance once more, in case I’d missed a decimal point or three. However, it became clear that I’d read the amount correctly, “he has two hundred thousand caps here? How’d he manage that?!”

Double Down pointedly cleared her throat again, drawing my attention to the few passing patrons yet remaining in the casino who’d had their attention drawn in our direction by my outburst. I flushed and made it a point to lower my voice from here on out, “if you’ll look over the records, you’ll see that he’d been making regular deposits; and his investments have been paying some modest dividends. Jackboot is a part owner in three casinos in New Reino―a small part, to be sure, but all the stakeholders receive a proportional share of the profits.

“Over time, those shares build up,” she finished.

Looking over the balance sheets she’d passed me, I could see what she meant now. The deposits made by Jackboot himself amounted to somewhere between five hundred and a thousand caps every month―the earnings from our trips around Neighvada after we’d paid for food and ammunition and such. But, in between those deposits were additional weekly payments from this casino and two others that I recognized. Those amounts started out pretty small―a couple dozen caps. But the more recent entries were in the hundreds, every week.

It left me speechless. An income like this...most ponies could live a pretty comfortable life on what was being deposited into Jackboot’s account on a regular basis. What was even more surprising was that it apparently didn’t even require him around to be doing anything. His account here had grown by almost two thousand caps since he’d died! If he’d lived another decade, making the deposits he had been, I estimated that he’d have nearly half a million caps, with weekly payouts in the thousands. He’d have been living like one of New Reino’s casino barons!

...And now it was all mine.

Just over two hundred thousand caps had just become mine.

“...I can have my army,” I muttered as the thought finally clicked in my head. My lips spread into a grin and I looked up at Double Down, “I can hire my army!”

“Um, sure?” the mare offered in an uncertain tone, “I mean, those caps aren’t physically in the lockbox right this moment, just so you know. They’re invested with the casinos, but if you want me to I can have them bought out in the next couple of days...if you’re sure you want to do that…”

I opened my mouth to reply, but then shut it almost immediately. The conversation with Foxglove was still pretty fresh in my mind: the casino barons were already hiring most of the mercenary bands in the valley. Nearly a quarter of a million caps was a lot of money, sure, but it was a couple zeros shy of what those ponies could bring to the table. Having this cash might not solve all of our problems like I hoped. It was certainly going to be a huge help though. I’d want to talk with Ramparts about how we could best use it to get our hooves on decent fighters.

“How many caps are in there right now?” I asked, glancing over the invoice to try to find the number myself.

“Jackboot insisted that twenty thousand be kept as liquid capital for quick access,” the earth pony informed me.

“Give me half of that,” I’d bring the money to Ramparts and let him see how far he could make that amount go, then we’d have an idea of how much the rest of it would get us. I’d also have him or Foxglove get in contact with Homily to see if she knew any ways to make good use of some of the money. I had a feeling that setting up an expedition to get the drone hangar and McMaren’s control room working together again was going to take at least some financial backing. She might even have the contacts to make sure a shipment of weapons could meet us in Shady Saddles, “then keep doing whatever it was that Jackboot was having you do with the rest.”

“Okay,” the mare shrugged. She collected the papers and headed into the back, where the entrance to the casino’s basement―and its secure vault―was located. She returned a couple of minutes later with ten tightly wrapped logs of caps, “if it’s no trouble, try to lose it all at our casino, alright?” Double Down chuckled, flashing a wink at me.

“No promises, but it’ll all be going to a good cause, trust me!” I said just before I darted outside. This was outstanding! First I get to have the best sex of my life, and then Jackboot turns out to maybe have accidentally saved the whole Wasteland for me! I brought up my pipbuck and cued in Ramparts’ tag. Even if I was going to be waking him up, he’d have to admit that the news I had was worth spreading immediately.

“Hey, Ramps! Where you at? I’ve got some good news!”

“...Windfall?” the stallion’s response came back after a couple of seconds. So, at least he was awake, “Foxglove mentioned you were up and about again. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better than I was a day ago,” I hovered in the air just above the bustle of the town’s sparse early morning pedestrian traffic, “we need to talk. Where can I meet you?”

“I’ve got a booth at Moonshiner’s Bar and Grill. I’ve been using it as a sort of ‘office’. I’ve pretty much finished all the interviews I’m likely to have tonight, so we can talk there. Or I can come back to the garage if it’s something that needs privacy…”

“No, the bar’s fine. I know where it is,” a lot of years of drinking had familiarized me with most of the better known establishments in the settlement; and drinking with Jackboot had introduced me to the lower-key ones as well. The place that Ramparts had picked was seedy enough that it left me with a good idea of the sorts of ‘applicants’ we’d been reduced to recruiting. Frankly, those ponies were probably just one notch about outright raiders. Hopefully, our newfound affluence would allow us to raise our standards a good bit.

I twirled around and started winging my way in the direction of the place that Ramparts had named, “be there in a sec. Windfall, out!”

A few ponies cast curious glances skyward, just missing the white and teal blur that buzzed overhead. In only a handful of breaths, I found myself touching down just outside Moonshiner’s. Just as my hoof was about to open the door though, I hesitated. Visions of how my last visit to a bar in New Reino had ended flashed through my mind, souring my previously optimistic mood. That had been a different me though. There wouldn’t be any bar fights today.

With a deep breath, I entered, and was immediately pummeled with a hundred different memories and impulses, all triggered by the atmosphere within. Alcohol, cigar smoke, rancid food, and the stench of unwashed ponies all assailed my senses. My first impulse, even now, was to walk right up to the bar and request a bottle of Wild Pegasus. I fought that impulse though. Drinking wasn’t what had brought me here today. Maybe there’d be time for a few celebratory rounds with the others later, but for right now, it’d have to wait.

Instead, I scanned the walls around the edge of the main room. The brown earth pony stallion waiving in my direction was easy to spot and I trotted over to him. Ramparts looked me over as I took my seat and smiled approvingly, “you must be part rubber, the way you keep managing to bounce back like this.”

I flashed a smile at my friend, “nope; just your typical stubborn bitch who doesn’t like to be told what to do. And that includes staying in bed to get her rest.”

“Fair enough. So, what’d you need to talk about so urgently?”

“I wanted to get an idea of how the recruitment’s going. Foxglove gave me the short version earlier, but I wanted to get the whole picture from you too.”

Ramparts was already nodding his understanding, “well, you must already know our money situation, and I’m sure Foxy told you about how the hiring binge that the casino barons have been on recently isn’t making things any easier for us,” he noticed my slight frown, “so, yeah, things are going pretty slow,” the stallion pulled out a slip of paper and slid it across the table towards me, “here’s a list of what I’ve gotten us so far, and how much it’ll end up costing.

“Just so you know: I can’t say I have a lot of optimism,” he continued as I took the paper and gave it a look over, “none of the ponies who’ve signed on are genuine ‘veterans’ or anything like that. Most of them are little more than thugs who are looking for a reason to get out of New Reino now that a lot of mercenaries are showing up. They think it’s the barons doing some huge crackdown on crime or something.

“I’m also having to sell this whole thing to them as a ‘prospecting mission’ to a recently discovered stable near White Hoof territory in order to get them signing on. None of these ponies are very interested in ‘fighting to defend the valley’ and all that. With a stable raid, I can promise them the chance that there’ll be valuable salvage for everypony to split.”

“How’s that?” I looked up at the stallion, frowning more deeply now, “hasn’t Homily been blasting the situation across the valley with her radio tower? These ponies have to at least be smart enough to know that it’s not going to help them if we’re all slaughtered to to a mare. I’m not expecting everypony to join up and fight for free, I guess; but I at least figured they’d have gotten enough of an idea from broadcasts that it’s in their best interests to help out even a little.”

Ramparts nodded, but his own features were drawn in tight lines as well, “yeah, but that only matters if ponies are actually listening to those broadcasts; and the truth is that most aren’t. Not really.

“Ponies in the Neighvada Valley have been living under the ‘imminent threat’ of White Hoof raids all their lives. As far as they’re concerned, Arginine’s stable is another group just like the tribals: they’ll attack ponies who get too close, but merc groups hired by the barons and Republic soldiers will keep anything really bad from actually happening anywhere important,” he grunted, “which is mostly true, since it’s not looking like the casino barons are planning to actually do anything with the ponies they’re hiring. They’re just bolstering New Reino’s defenses ‘in case’ those stable ponies come here after all.”

“That’s stupid,” I growled, “those stable ponies are nothing like the White Hooves!”

“I know that, and you know that; because we’ve seen it. But, short of that, how is anypony else supposed to understand what’s at stake? Because, the fact is, most ponies don’t understand. What Arginine’s stable is trying to do...it’s not something that ponies know how to handle.

“The White Hooves and raider groups attack ponies because they want supplies, weapons, and slaves. Ponies can understand that, because that’s just a very extreme version of: ‘ponies wanting things’. Everypony wants things. Food, booze, a comfortable place to sleep; things. Ponies like that are even easy to stop, because you can either bribe them with different things, or kill enough of them that they stop thinking the cost is worth what they’ll loot.

“But Arginine’s stable just wants to kill everypony. They don’t care about loot, and I get the impression they’re not too concerned with how many of their own will die in the process either. There’s no way to negotiate with that, and it’s not enough to just put on an intimidating display to make them back down either. It’s less like they’re a group of ponies, and more like they’re some sort of force of nature; like a sandstorm or something.

Of course, you can’t fight a sandstorm with guns and bullets, and everypony knows that too. All you can do is hunker down and wait for it to blow over.

“That’s what most ponies seem to want to do about that stable: if they can’t be bought off like normal raiders, then they’ll just wait for it to blow over.”

“Everypony will be dead if we let that happen!”

Ramparts waived his hoof uselessly at the rest of the bar, sighing, “hey, if you want to try to convince everypony that―even though ponies survived the literal end of the world―and have endured centuries of near-constant raiding and plundering, that one little stable is finally going to be what does them in, then be my guest,” I grunted, but slumped back into my seat. The stallion had a point, which was honestly what made it all the more frustrating.

Seeing that I wasn’t going to take him up on his offer, the former courser sighed, “look, I get why you’re frustrated. I feel the same way. But, the fact is that most ponies don’t believe how big the threat is because they’ve never imagined a threat like it before. So, until those stable ponies actually show up in the valley and exterminate a town or two, we have to settle for them thinking they’re not a huge deal, and finding ways to motivate ponies to help us out.”

That certainly wasn’t an appealing though. I certainly didn’t have to explain to Ramparts that if things got to that point, it was probably too late already, “so what exactly are you telling ponies to get them to sign on?”

“More of the truth than you’d think,” he offered with a shrug, “I’m telling them that there’s a group of stable ponies causing trouble out west. I’m telling them that these ponies are well armed and that there’s a lot of them,” though there were certainly a lot of details missing, I had to admit that his account was a broadly accurate assessment of our target, “I’m assuring them that the expedition won’t head out until we’re confident that we have the firepower to overwhelm them, and that everypony who survives gets a full share of the salvage.”

I looked back at the paper, “and this is all you can get with that sales pitch?” the list only had a couple dozen names on it at the moment. Hardly enough ponies to send up against the likes of Arginine’s stable. Ramparts’ offer of salvage rights on top of their pay should have been a big draw. The stable in question was obviously still operational, which meant that the equipment inside was most likely in good condition, which would give it a much better price on the open market when compared with the inert scrap most prospectors recovered from deserted stables in the valley.

The earth ponies grimaced, “the list of the ponies who even bothered to apply isn’t much longer,” he grumbled, “like I said, most of the ponies looking for work like this are already being snapped up by the casinos. We’re basically just getting their rejects.”

“So, it’s not actually a lack of interest, it’s a pricing issue,” I concluded, rubbing my chin as I looked at the list again. Ramparts had included a brief summary of the gear that the ponies were bringing, and most of it left a lot to be desired. Small caliber pistols and light to no barding more often than not. Nopony with the sort of firepower to be relied upon to go up against the firepower I’d seen Arginine’s stable packing.

“A little of both,” Ramparts shrugged, “but a bigger up front offer would certainly spark more interest. Professional ponies aren’t in the habit of taking gambles for what could turn out to be marginal pay. Knowing that they’ll get enough caps to keep them living as comfortably as they’ve grown accustomed to will persuade them to sign on; with the salvage becoming more of a ‘performance bonus’ than anything else,” he agreed, “but with your last expedition a bust, we’ve been having to make do with whatever Arginine can bring in with that teaching gig of...his…” the stallion’s words began to trail off as I started depositing bags of caps on the table. When all ten thousand were neatly arranged in front of him, Ramparts blinked in stunned surprise, looking up from the small fortune into my broad smile.

“Where’d you get this?”

“It’s my inheritance, apparently,” I replied, “and there’s twenty times more where that came from. Turns out that Jackboot was a very shrewd pony where money was concerned.”

“Twenty times…?” Ramparts looked into one of the bags. He then slipped it into his saddlebag, looking down at his pipbuck as he did so. His jaw went slack and he turned back to look at me. I stared back, bobbing my brow suggestively. I then took out the copy of the ledger that Double Down had provided to me for my new account and passed it to the courser. He looked at the paper and let out a long whistle.

“How many ponies do you think we can get with that?”

Ramparts wasn’t able to give me any hard figures, of course. But, he was optimistic that he could wrangle up somewhere just north of five hundred ponies, if given enough time to reach out. He didn’t know exactly how long ‘enough time’ would be, however, but that only dampened my own optimism just slightly. After having the best sex of my life, and solving our money troubles in just a few hours, I wasn’t about to let this sudden shift in fortune be tarnished by little details like the logistics of finding enough mercenaries to fill the ranks of our soon-to-be army.

I simply left the earth pony stallion to sort out the details as he went out to put a few last minute buzzes into the ears of the right ponies to ensure that he’d have more applicants that evening. In the meantime, I returned to Homily’s former home in order to let Foxglove in on the good news. Wouldn’t she be surprised!

My hooves touched down just outside the double-doors of the garage and I pulled one of them open. A massive steel head turned to face me, a pair of brilliant pink eyes flashing in my direction while a projected face spread wide in a grin.

“Well, look who’s back! Where’ve you been, Windfall?”

“I―bu―ho―” a lot of questions collided into one another in my mouth as both my brain and my jaw worked feverishly to try and organize them into coherent sentences. In the end, however, I was forced to settle for an incredulous, “but you died!” which, admittedly, wasn’t the most dignified of declarations.

The robopony’s grin broadened even further, stretching to impossible proportions with the benefit of her artificially projected features and she shrugged, “I got better.”

My gaze shot immediately to the pair of unicorn mares standing beside the alloyed alicorn. Starlight’s puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks suggested that she’d undergone a renewed boudt of crying―this time presumably out of profound relief and joy―while the violet mechanic was looking the smuggest that I’d ever seen her. Once more articulating my profound conversational acumen, I jabbed a hoof at Moonbeam while glaring at Foxglove, “explain!”

She had herself a good laugh at my expense first, which I suppose had been well earned, but then waived me over and gestured at the terminal that I’d seen hooked up to a previously inactive Moonbeam when I’d left last night, “I can’t take all the credit. Homily and her team helped out a lot, but you had a hoof to play in it as well.”

“Me?” why did I sound like I’d just been accused of committing a heinous crime? Moonbeam was up and moving around again, this was great news! What did it matter how it happened?

I suppose that it mattered to Foxglove a great bit, actually, because she launched into a liberal explanation that I genuinely did do my best to follow―but a lot of it was just me nodding along and thinking very hard about looking like I understood what she was saying, “well, you and that virus you found in the hangar,” the violet unicorn corrected.

“But you said it would have done really bad things to her,” I pointed out. Though, I couldn’t imagine that Moonbeam would have been any worse off than she had been a few hours ago no matter what had been done to her.

“The way that code was written? Oh yeah! She’d have been little more than one of those typical malfunctioning roboponies, killing everything in sight as ‘enemies of Equestria!’ and all that,” somehow, that didn’t help to provide any clarification. Seeming to sense this, Foxglove endeavored to catch me up on what they been up to in the garage while I’d been with Arginine.

“But all of that code provided Homily and I with all sorts of insight into what made Moonbeam’s electronic systems and her AI function. Using it as a base, we went ahead and basically swapped all of the variables around to make it essentially do the opposite of what it was designed to do.”

“Howsat?”

“The original worm was designed to give Selene full run of Moonbeam’s brain. We reversed it so that now, Moonbeam is the one in the driver’s seat,” she beamed at me.

“Selene’s gone?”

“No,” this time it was Moonbeam who spoke up, drawing my gaze to the towering robopony, “but she’s in a pretty major timeout.”

“Unfortunately,” Foxglove cut in again, “Selene also controls the base code that lets the mechanical parts of Moonbeam’s brain do what they need to do in order for her organic parts to function. With enough time and effort, it could hypothetically be possible to reverse-engineer a wholly separate program that will be able to do that job,” however, she didn’t sound super confident about that, “but, until then, this should work just fine.”

“So, like, can Selene take over like she did before, or…?” it was great that Moonbeam was all better, don’t get me wrong; but if she could turn on us again at any given moment…

“Nope, she’s locked up good this time!” the robopony assured me.

Foxglove provide the elaboration, “the AI is partitioned off. It’s like computer ‘jail’, and there’s nothing she can do about it from in there. Selene isn’t even receiving any more input. There’s no chance of her being able to take over again. Like we said,” she glanced over at the alicorn, “Moonbeam is the one in complete control now, from here on out.”

Finally, Starlight glimmer broke her silence and entered into the conversation, “I…” she bit her lip and swallowed, “I know I said some things that weren’t kind earlier―”

“It’s alright,” I insisted, and I meant it too, “you were hurting. I understand,” I favored the mare with a smile to show her that there weren’t any hard feelings between us. I knew better than most how easy it was for somepony to stop thinking clearly when they lost somepony important to them suddenly like that, “and I still wish you guys well, wherever it is you decide to go.”

“Uh, I believe you said we were all rallying in Shady Saddles, right?” the metal mare said. Sensing my surprise, Moonbeam elaborated, “look, I’ve spent most of my conscious life in this valley. Yeah, I’ll admit that I can think of a few unpleasant things that I’d like to see happen to ponies like Ebony Song, but I’ve been watching over the ponies of Seaddle for over a decade.

“They don’t deserve what Arginine’s stable has planned for them,” her pink eyes shifted down to her mother, who was now looking somewhat reluctant to meet her gaze, “and I’m not going anywhere until I know they’re safe.”

I got the impression that there was a lot that had been said during a discussion that I’d not been present for, and I could imagine that there might be a rehashing of parts of it between the mother-daughter pair at various points in the future. For the moment, though, it seemed that Starlight was willing to acquiesce to her daughter’s demands and nodded her own assent, “we’re staying,” she confirmed, “for now,” that last bit earned an eyeroll from the alicron, but no additional comment.

This day was just getting better and better! Finally, everything was falling into place! “Fantastic!” I gushed, “oh, and guess what? I’m rich!” this earned me a few dubious looks, “I mean, Jackboot was rich, but now I am!” I whipped out the balance sheet and passed it to Foxglove, who took it in her emerald telekinesis to review for herself, “two hundred thousand caps!

“We can hire all the mercenaries we need!” Starlight and Moonbeam both craned their heads to glance down at the paper that the mechanic was reading, and all three sets of eyes grew noticeably wider upon confirming my claims, “I’ve already told Ramparts. He’s coming up with our new recruiting strategy for tonight,” we’d be getting our army to fight those stable ponies, Moonbeam was all better, she and Starlight weren’t leaving after all.

Could this day get any better?

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I turned around to see that the stallions had finally returned. Ramparts was looking properly surprised to see that Moonbeam was back up and about. Arginine’s expression was as stoic as ever, appearing as though he was merely acknowledging that the robopony had moved from lying on the ground to now standing erect, “I was looking everywhere for this,” the brown stallion stepped forward and picked up a tiny piece of equipment. Then he glance up and seemed to only then notice Moonbeam, “oh, and you’re all better too. Neat,” then his lips broke out into a smile and he hoof-bumped the robopony, “I guess even the mares in this group made out of metal are part rubber,” he chided, looking over in my direction.

Arginine stepped over to me, where I immediately leaned in for an affectionate nuzzle, “Mister Ramparts informed me of our recent windfall―” he stopped abruptly and blinked, looking almost outwardly flustered at his unintentional pun. He audibly cleared his throat and quickly schooled his features, “er...your endowment,” he cast a glance over at a snickering Foxglove, “so, I imagine that my vocation is no longer necessary; nor was your expressed interest in it?”

I shook my head, “afraid not, RG; but I want to thank you for trying so hard to help. It means a lot to me,” a throat cleared from behind me, “to all of us,” I added.

The unicorn stallion floated out a memory orb with his magic, “not having been informed of the change in our financial situation until just a few moments ago, I had already precured an example of my work for your viewing. Is there still a cursory curiosity, or should I return it along with my letter of resignation?”

“I mean, you brought it all this way, and I’m still curious to see ‘teaching’ Arginine in action,” I said, taking the orb from him, examining it while the cool glass sphere was balanced on my pinions, “but that can wait. I really want to celebrate right now! So much is finally going our way, I feel like we need to celebrate.

“What does everypony say? I know the hour’s not ideal for partying, but this is New Reino; somewhere there’s an open bar serving drinks and good food. Who’s in?”

Unfortunately, most of the crowd wasn’t looking super keen on the notion. Ramparts stifled a yawn, which Foxglove caught from him almost immediately afterwards, “sorry, Windy, but I just got back from spending all night at a bar. I’m going to need to take a rain check on that one.”

“And I just spent the last few hours staring at lines of code,” the violet mechanic offered in an exhausted tone, “I’m still seeing semicolons everywhere I look. I just need to lie down for a bit and collect my thoughts, but I’ll meet you there later?”

“I’m game!” Moonbeam chimed in, immediately receiving a reproachful look from both her mother and Foxglove, “what?”

“Well, for one, you can’t even drink,” Starlight pointed out.

“I can still be there to be supportive!” she protested.

“In another…” Foxglove leaned over to the computer terminal, which I only just now realized was still connected by a tangle of wires to the opening on Moonbeam’s back, “ninety minutes. We just rewrote most of the program that runs your body. This debug scan is important, alright? I don’t want you suddenly conking out because a parenthesis got left out somewhere.”

The robopony let out a frustrated groan, “fineee…”

“Nah, I understand,” I sighed. I glanced around at the rest of my friends, my lips curled in a frown. Unlike all of them, I wasn’t winding down at the end of a long day. I was feeling fresh and awake, and eager for an opportunity to express how relieved and happy I was finally feeling after not being in a position to feel that way for so long.

“But you two should go,” Foxglove informed us. Her horn retrieved the memory orb from my wing and she shooed us towards the door with her hoof, “have a few drinks, talk, live it up a little,” she then considered who she was talking to, “or, Arginine can at least watch while you live it up. We’ll all hang out here, take a nap, and join you later,” she hefted the orb, “but I’m going to go ahead and take a gander at this,” she said, staring in a playfully critical fashion at the larger gray stallion, “because I have been dying to find out what he’s been up to to earn all those caps.”

“Are you guys sure?” Drinking with Arginine was certainly a lot better than drinking alone; but I would still have liked to celebrate with everypony.

“Positive,” Ramparts insisted, “don’t worry, we’ll all go out together later as a group. Just let us recover a bit before we do,” the earth pony then eyed the orb as well, “I’m pretty curious about what’s on there too, to be honest. Those only work with unicorn’s though, don’t they?”

“Technically, no,” Starlight said, drawing a questioning look from the rest of us, “it takes unicorn magic to activate them, true; but it’s possible for the unicorn in question to invite additional viewers, or that can simply act as a bridge to connect the orb to a pegasus or an earth pony without watching it themselves.”

“Really?” the brown stallion remarked, his interest piquing further. He looked at Foxglove, “can I watch it with you?”

I frowned, “I mean, we could all just hang out and watch it at once, I suppose…”

“Personally, I really wouldn’t recommend having more than two ponies interacting with one of those at a time,” the pink mare cautioned, “they’re really designed to only be used one-on-one, after all; group interactions have a chance of causing some ‘spillover’,” she frowned and shook her head, “you don’t want that, trust me.”

Foxglove looked over at Arginine, “how long does this memory last?”

“Approximately two hours,” he said.

“That’s a bit long for everypony to just wait around and watch,” she had a point. The violet mare looked back at me, “you and RG can at least go out and get something to eat. By the time you get back, this should be just wrapping up and we can let you and Starlight have a go,” she glanced over her shoulder at the other unicorn, “if you want to, that is?”

Starlight shrugged, “I may as well, sure.”

“It’s settled then! You all grab a bite and then we’ll swap out who gets to watch Arginine’s teaching debut.”

On cue, my stomach grumbled a bit. I suppose that I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast with Arginine, and that had been hours ago. Plus, I was still recovering from being unconscious for a couple of days. So, I nodded, and turned towards the door, gesturing to the taller stallion as I past him “alright, let’s go, RG,” before I was completely out the door, I looked back at the others, “don’t spoil anything you see in there! I want the full, unadulterated experience when it’s my turn, okay?”

“You got it,” Foxglove smiled, “come on, Ramps, let’s get comfortable and plugged into this thing.”

“Celestia, if you’re listening, please let there be plenty in there to use against Arginine for at least a few months,” the brown stallion muttered with a grin as he and the violet mechanic slipped out of sight into the attached shed. Starlight rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Moonbeam, but I was already out of earshot by the time they started actually talking.

“So,” I began, once we were back outside, “since you just stop by that sandwich shop every day, I’ll pick where we eat. Now that I’m loaded, there’s a place that I’ve always wanted to eat but could never bring myself to pay for.”

“Shouldn’t we be reserving your newfound wealth for the purposes of recruitment?”

“Relax, I’m taking us out for dinner, not going out on a shopping binge,” I reminded the stallion, rolling my eyes, “although…” it probably wouldn’t hurt to have an outfit that wasn’t packed full of kevlar and ceramic plates. Well, that was a discussion for later. Right now, it was time to grab a bite from one of the most renowned restaurants in Neighvada: La Stride.

Although, knowing the reputation of that place, I was betting that they weren’t necessarily going to let the two of us in just because I was waving around a sack of caps. Certainly not while I was still looking like a feathered tumbleweed that had just blown in from the Wasteland. Those two baths hadn’t trimmed my mane and tail, nor buffed out my hooves and evened out the feathering around my fetlocks.

We did have two hours to kill, and there was no way that eating would take up all of that time…

“We need to make a stop first,” I informed the stallion, and instead led us towards a salon that I knew about. Arginine obediently followed in my wake, “both of us could use a good grooming…” I examined the broad shouldered stallion more closely, and only then noticed that he...actually didn’t look bad off at all, it seemed. His coat was actually pretty even and his mane, while long, appeared to have been trimmed with some care not too long ago, “...or, maybe just me then,” I ended up finishing my thought, my brow furrowed and a follow-up question hovering on my lips.

“Welcome back, Gini!” a mare declared from just outside the The Curry and Comb, the salon that I had been guiding us to. I was silently mouthing over the name in confusion as the mare continued on, “and who’s your new friend―oh, Windfall! It’s been a while,” the golden unicorn mare said upon recognizing me.

“Yeah, I’ve been out,” I managed to stumble over the acknowledgement even as my brain was still trying to sort itself out regarding her initial greeting, “you...know Arginine?”

“Gini? Sure! Well, not for very long; but he’s been a regular for the past couple of weeks.”

“Regular?” I looked at the stallion, “you never struck me as the vain type. What gives?”

The stallion’s lip drew thin in his unique display of annoyance, “the performances for my job required frequent attention to maintain a presentable appearance.”

“Oh, right. That makes sense,” I suppose that if he was going to the focus of attention for as long as two hours, he’d have to at least look presentable.

“Ha! Scrubbing down this big lug every day has been the next best thing to a full time job in and of itself!” the mare said in a mirthful tone. Then she finally seemed to get a clear look at me and made what I considered to be an unnecessarily dramatic gasp. I was already quite aware of how rough I looked, thank you very much, “Clouds above, Windfall! You are a sight!” she leaned into the salon and raised her voice, “Sideburn! Code One!” she looked back at me and gingerly started ushering me inside, “he’ll get you all taken care of in no time, don’t you worry. Gini, you go have a seat and I’ll be right with you.”

Normally, I’d have had no trouble at all relaxing in a place like this while a pony cut and styled my mane and tail and then took some clippers to my coat to get it all smoothed out. Getting pampered like this had been one of the pleasures that I’d used to regularly indulge myself in, after all, and I only now realized how much I truly missed it. However, I found myself a little bit distracted by the conversation that the stylist was having with Arginine over in the station across from mine.

“A light day at the office for you last night, eh?” the golden mare giggled as she started brushing out his coat, “or was most of it from your perspective?”

“I did not perform last night,” Arginine responded politely, though I heard the faint uptick in his tone that suggested he would rather not have been having the conversation at all, “I used the evening to entertain Miss Windfall.”

“Ohhh?” the mare cooed far more suggestively than I was comfortable with. I don’t know why she’d immediately drawn that conclusion―even if she happened to be completely right―from what he’d said just now. Maybe he’d been ‘entertaining’ me with an amusing anecdote; she didn’t know!

“And how would some other mare―maybe, moi?―go about arranging for some…private ‘entertainment’ with you, hmm?”

I snorted hotly in her direction before I’d even realized what I was doing, which drew looks from all three of the other ponies in the salon, and caused me to blush and avert my gaze as a result. Fortunately, Arginine was ready to come to my defense, “I am a personal acquaintance of Miss Windfall. I do not engage in any for-profit activities outside of my normal work hours.”

“Oh, so you two know each other?” she glanced between us.

I managed a curt nod in confirmation, “we’re together, yes. As in: we’re a couple,” I said with a bit more confidence, knowing that I’d have the gray unicorn’s support in this. Maybe now she’d stop flirting with him like that.

“My, my! Aren’t we progressive?” the stylist remarked with an air of surprise, “I’m not sure I’d be able to handle a relationship like that,” she seemed to consider the thought for a bit, “though, I guess there’s something to be said for bragging rights if a mare gets to call a stallion like this one ‘hers’,” the unicorn favored me with an appraising expression, “and now I’m wondering what you’ve got going on to keep him…”

My blush was back, masking my mounting confusion. ‘Progressive’? What, because I was a pegasus and he was―mostly―a unicorn? Did she think that he was some sort of mutant because of his size and odd secondary horn? I mean, I suppose that technically he was a ‘mutant’ in the strictest definition of the term. That could be seen as an odd match. It certainly made a lot more sense than any of the other possibilities that I could think of.

Though, if she thought it was weird for a mare to get close to a pony who had been ‘mutated’ in some way, then why had she been flirting with him so aggressively a minute ago? Unless that was just how she was. Admittedly, I’d never seen her around stallions very often. She’d certainly never come on to me; so maybe it was just a thing she did by way of teasing her male clients.

“By the way,” the stylist mare said to Arginine, seeming to change the subject, “when can I expect to see your next piece?”

“I am not privy to the distribution details,” the stallion informed her politely, “but my understanding is that there are four performances as of this morning that have yet to be made available to the public. I have no knowledge of what the timeframe for their release and sale will be. You would be best asking Mister Domino directly. He makes those determinations.”

“Fine, fine! I’ll make do with the few I’ve already got. For now,” the mare said with a dramatic sigh, “but you must at least know who the other ponies in them will be, right? Do any of those four have Remington in them,” she asked plaintively, biting her lower lip expectantly. Interestingly enough, the stallion tending to my own mane had seemed to pause, leaning his own head a little closer to hear the answer. Wow. Apparently I really had to watch one of these orbs…

“I believe I worked with him in one of them, yes,” Arginine nodded, “obviously, I cannot disclose any details. You will have to watch the orb for yourself in order to learn the specific contents.”

“Oh, it’s enough just to know he’s in one,” she said, licking her lips, “I could watch him for hours…”

“Ditto,” Sideburn murmured under his breath before finally getting back to evening out my mane.

Seeming to have been sufficiently satisfied regarding the subject of Arginine’s work, the conversation after that point meandered across the typical gossipy fair that I’d come to expect from this salon in the past. The current rising performers in the various casinos―and which barons they’d felated to get their start. The saucy details on the personal lives of their other clients, who occasionally were even not referred to by their actual names in order to protect their identities. There was even the odd inquiry or two into what I’d been up to since my last visit. My answers to those questions were a lot more reserved than I had tended to be in the past. Mostly because I wasn’t keen to have my currently high spirits curtailed, and a lot of what I’d been through in the past few months was quite depressing.

Today was about feeling good.

A fresh trim and brushing, along with a robust hoof polish had certainly helped with that! Sideburn had opted to take a few ‘artistic liberties’ with my mane while he’d been cutting it down like I asked him too. He’d had to use some styling gel and extensions, but he’d constructed a side fringe that would drape over the scarred over socket of my right eye. It meant not having to wear the eyepatch anymore if I didn’t want to, while still diverting attention from the injury in public.

I was willing to give it a try, if nothing else. Though, I had started getting used to the patch.

“Well, that’s the first step taken care of,” I declared once we were back outside of the salon again.

Arginine looked down at me with a slightly narrowed gaze, “the implication in that statement is that there are additional steps before actually getting to our meal.”

“I mean, we need to be dressed appropriately too, silly,” I sarcastically informed the stallion. Sensing that there was another reminder about avoiding frivolous spending, I headed him off, “relax, I’ve honestly already got a dress that should work. I just need to have it quickly pressed, since it’s been packed away in my saddlebags for ages. You, on the other hoof...you’ll need at least a vest or something...”

The large stallion offered up another token reprimand about spending money that was supposed to be reserved for recruitment, but I waived it away. At most I was robbing us of a single additional recruit. There was no way that one more pony was what was going to turn the tide in this fight.

The red dress that had been bought to help me get the drop on Tommyknocker was still in passable shape; it was just a little sandy and creased like a crumpled piece of paper. However, that was nothing that a little steam and some magical treatment from a seamstress couldn’t fix right up in less than a minute. Suddenly, I had a slim little number that was perfectly satisfactory for wearing to a place like La Stride.

Arginine’s wardrobe took a little bit longer to put together. Mostly because it was a bit of a battle just to find clothing that would fit him without looking outright ridiculous. The tailor let us know that custom clothing could be made and ready in about a week, but I wasn’t even sure we’d still be in New Reino by then. Besides, I wanted to go out tonight. In the end, we had to settle for a smattering of accessories: a collar and bowtie, some fetlock cuffs, and a pair of gaiters for his hind legs. It was sparse, but Arginine’s unflappable stoic demeanor made just those scant accents feel like a complete formal attire on their own.

Once he was fitted with the final piece of his new ensemble, he gave the cuffs a cursory examination before looking over at me with an expression that wasn’t quite annoyance, “is this satisfactory? Or should I assume that you would like to seek out some jewelry next?”

Actually, some earrings or a necklace didn’t sound half bad―oh. He was being sarcastic. I mean, his tone hadn’t sounded sarcastic―his tone always sounded the same to most ponies―but I knew Arginine better than he thought I did. Instead, I simply rolled my eye and smiled at the stallion, “don’t tempt me. I might put you back in a collar again. Something leather and studded with a little heart that says: ‘Property of The Wonderbolt’,” he looked even less amused than usual, but that only enticed a laugh out of me, “we’re good to go, RG,” so I paid the tailor and we―finally―headed for the restaurant.

Of course, even I knew that a place like La Stride wasn’t really the sort of place that took just any walk-in off the street. Usually, you had to make reservations, but there was no guarantee that we’d be able to get in tonight if I went that route. Showing up dressed the part, ready to lay on the charm, and pass a few piles of caps to the doorpony would increase our odds of being able to get a table for two tonight. I had a sales pitch all ready to go in my head by the time we were walking up to the entrance, drawing the attention of a very well-dressed azure stallion who looked properly indifferent to us.

I opened my mouth to begin greasing the wheels when the doorpony’s eyes somehow only just then seemed to register the towering Arginine. His stoic expression vanished in an instant, replaced with bewilderment at the sight of the larger unicorn. Doubtless, he was feeling pretty intimidated by my companion’s size. After all, the doorpony was no lightweight himself. Briefly, I debated the merits of trying to intimidate our way through the situation, but decided that might not be the best way to go about cementing our reputations around town. Flattery and caps should be more than enough to get us through this.

“Oh wow, it’s really you!” the blue stallion said in an awed tone before I could even open my mouth. He swallowed and cleared his throat, “I’m a, uh, fan of your work,” he offered in a low tone, glancing around. Then he noticed me and recomposed himself, casting a cursory glance at a notebook on the dias nearby, “you’re not on our reservation list, obviously,” he informed us rhetorically, but with something about his tone that suggested this might not be the insurmountable obstacle that it should have been, “but I know that the owner would love the chance to meet you too, so I think we can find a table for you and your…”

“Marefriend,” I supplied, hooking a wing around Arginine’s right foreleg.

“Oh! Erm, right. Of course,” he looked around and waived over another member of the staff, “she’ll show you to your table. Enjoy your meal.”

As we were taken to our seats, I cast a curious eye at Arginine. The notoriety of those orbs that he was making were enough on their own to get us into this place, because the owner is a fan of them? Suddenly, I wanted to get through this meal really quickly in order to get back to the garage and watch it for myself!

Judging from some of the looks that I noticed he was getting from a couple of the other patrons, it wasn’t just the staff that recognized him. Although, I could also imagine that Arginine’s physique was enough on its own to garner some of those reactions, especially from the mares. Sorry, ladies, this stallion is very much taken!

“I’ll tell you what, RG, if making those orbs gets you these kinds of connections in just a couple of weeks, I think you really will have to see if you can get me into this gig with you,” I said as an aside to the stallion as we were seated at our table and passed the menus. It was all that I could do not to outwardly flinch upon seeing the prices for just the appetizers. It was hard not for me to see the items on this menu in terms of how much ordinance that same amount of caps would get me.

A five course meal here could have armed a squad of caravan guards―and that was before factoring in the cost of a bottle of their pricier wines. Sheesh!

Of course, this place wasn’t serving up finely seasoned Cram or styled Fancy Buck Cakes. This restaurant enjoyed the highest grade fresh produce that the New Lunar Republic could provide, shipped down here as quickly as possible at the premium cost that represented. Anything you ate here was probably picked from the field within the week, and that was no easy feat!

“I will remember to ask about your employment when I return to work,” Arginine promised me as he peered through his own menu. The crease in his brow deepened ever so slightly, “I am unfamiliar with many of the words contained in this document. Is this some form of surface dialect?”

“It’s Old World Fancy, actually,” a sultry voice said from nearby. Both of us turned to see a lithe silver unicorn mare dressed in a deep blue satin gown. Her deep black mane was done up in long braids, laced with golden thread and diamonds. Amethyst eyes rimmed by flowing lashes were locked onto Arginine as she approached our table. She extended a scrupulously manicured and polished hoof to the stallion. With only the merest of hesitation, Arginine accepted the offered limb and gave it a polite tap with his muzzle.

The mare smiled at the gesture and lowered her hoof, still not looking in my direction, “good evening. My name, is Britannia, and I’m the owner of La Stride,” Arginine nodded and went to open his mouth but the mare didn’t let him speak, “and you, are a stallion who I’ve been meaning to extend an invitation to dine here for some time now. Please forgive me for the oversight,” she bowed her head in a brief show of supplication before raising it again. Only now did she seem to take notice that a second pony was seated at the table with Arginine. I could only assume that it had something to do with my thinly narrowed gaze and bristling pinions.

“...and you are…?”

“Windfall,” I stated tersely, not liking the way that this mare seemed to be throwing herself at my stallion. Okay, yeah, she was pretty, and probably very rich, and everything like that; but, “I’m The Wonderbolt. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

“Really?” the unicorn mare said in a slightly skeptical tone, “I thought you’d be...older. Huh,” she shrugged and looked back at Arginine, “well, I shan’t take up too much of your time entertaining your guest here,” her horn began to glow and she floated out a small folded piece of paper, passing it to the stallion, “but please do come calling on me later. There’s much that I’d like to...discuss with you, in private. In the meantime, I can at least show my appreciation for all that you’ve done by making your meal here complementary,” she chuckled, “and do take advantage of my offer. I’ll find a way for you to compensate me later, I’m sure,” and with that, the mare walked away from our table, though with a swish of her hips and tail that removed any doubts that I might have had about the intent of her proposition.

“Well, that was pretty brazen, flirting with you like that right in front of me,” I groused, taking a few seconds to smooth out my plumage once more.

Arginine blinked and glanced at me, “she was flirting? Fascinating,” he resumed looking after the withdrawing unicorn, though I could tell from here that his expression was more calculating than captivated, “the predilection for you surface ponies to to be so subtle about your desires for sexual copulation with others is something I genuinely may never understand.”

“‘Subtle’? You thought that was subtle?” I drawled at the stallion, “RG, she did everything but just outright invite you back to her room for sex!” I rolled my eyes and looked back at my menu, “what was that paper she gave you anyway?”

I heard the crinkling of the note as Arginine unfolded it and read the contents aloud, “The Gilded Bit, Room three-oh-two, any night after eleven,” he said in his usual, uninterested, monotone, while my own gaze drifted slowly back out of my menu, “I have my own crop and tack, but bring spurs. Zoh-zoh.”

“‘Zho-zho?’” my face scrunched up in confusion. He passed me the paper to look at and I rolled my eyes, “XOXO. Hugs and kisses,” there had also been a heart drawn after the mention of the spurs. That mare had some pretty niche wardrobe preferences. Right up there with whoever had stayed in Arginine’s suite before he got it.

“Ah,” Arginine nodded before withdrawing the paper and folding it away into his cuff. He paused and thought for a moment, “I wonder if I’ll be permitted to borrow a pair of spurs for an evening…?”

I balked at the stallion’s question, “you’re not seriously thinking of going?!”

“...But she said that during the visit she would seek compensation for our meal tonight.”

For several long seconds, I was stunned to silence. Then I proceed to rub my brow in an effort to massage away my incredulity, “you have got to be the dumbest smart pony I’ve ever met, RG. You will not go to her suite, got it? Not tonight, not any night,” I was still trying quite hard not to think about which of them the mare had intended to have wearing the spurs during their intended encounter in her room. My success was quite limited.

“As you wish,” he said in response with a mild shrug of his shoulders. Then he picked his menu back up and resumed looking through the selections.

It was time to steer our topics of conversation to something that didn’t involve him sleeping around with random mares in New Reino, “so, you adapted well to becoming a working pony in the big city. With the kind of caps you’re bringing in, you could even have supported a family here. That’s not easy to do in a big city like this.”

“I will remind you that I was designed to excel at anything that a surface pony can manage to do,” Arginine pointed out, somehow managing to not sound boastful while saying it. To him, he was simply stating an objective fact, like that the sky was cloudy, “earning caps has proven to be a relatively trivial matter. If it were not necessary for the fulfillment of our mission, it wouldn’t be worth my time to accomplish.”

I smiled at the stallion, “and what exactly would be worth your time, if you didn’t have an obligation to us? An ‘obligation’ you’ve ultimately chosen of your own accord, I might add.”

He grunted a reluctant acknowledgment of the point, but still answered my question, “a true challenge of my abilities would be finding means by which to improve the capabilities of the ponies living on the surface,” he paused, “assuming that you are not all exterminated by my stable,” he amended.

“Assuming that, of course,” I rolled my eye, “but do go on.”

“In my stable, our techniques and equipment allow for new generations to be tailored according to the knowledge and information that has been acquired from our studies. The only limitations for what can be accomplished is our own knowledge,” the stallion began, “nothing is particularly challenging about this, honestly. You compare genetic sequences and use the objectively better one, and it produces a better pony,” I had some thoughts on his definition of ‘better’, but I held them back in the interests of hearing where he was going with this thought.

“However, I am finding that it is significantly more taxing on my faculties to determine how far an inferior population can be improved through external stimuli and the application of information. In this, there are two limiting factors that must be considered: the inherent genetic limitations of the population of which nothing can be done about,” that sounded like an insult...or seven. It was hard to tell, “but there is also the second limiting factor: my own ability to apply the stimuli and knowledge effectively. When there is a shortfall, it is not always due to a failure on the part of the subject’s genetics, but in my own ability to transfer the information.”

“You aren’t an easy pony to understand sometimes,” I nodded.

“As I have been informed by several individuals recently,” the stallion grunted with a frown, “but there is more to that as well. There is obviously a...language barrier, for lack of a better term, that I am having difficulty overcoming when trying to communicate. Not merely one of literal language, but also of culture and values. I cannot be expected to be able to effectively communicate until I understand the thought processes of those I am speaking with.

“This is where the true challenge lies, and it is upon myself to overcome it, not others. I am finding the prospect quite...thrilling,” Arginine concluded.

I smiled at the stallion, “are you sure you’re not just trying to find out what makes us tick just so you can go back to your stable and tell them all of our secrets?” I joked.

“Knowing your thought processes will have a negligible effect on my stable’s ability to exterminate the surface population.”

My smile dissolved into a grimace, “remind me to talk to you about humor sometime.”

“Oh! Actually, I have been receiving some instruction on humor from my employer,” The stallion offered, sitting up straighter in his chair. If I hadn’t known him any better, I’d have thought he was excited, “I have even learned a joke, recently. Would you care to hear it?”

Arginine telling a joke? One way or another, this was going to be funny, “hit me.”

The stallion paused for a moment, “an ironic choice of metaphor that may become apparent in a moment,” I quirked an eyebrow as the Arginine cleared his throat, “now for the joke: what instruction is given to a mare who has sustained two periorbital hematomas?”

I blinked, “two what?”

“There is little point in relating the instructions; as she has already received them twice and failed to perform the task acceptably!”

He looked over at me in anticipation, clearly expecting me to burst out into laughter at any moment, and becoming more and more perplexed as to why I wasn’t. Slowly, I ventured, “are...periodical hematoads…black eyes?” the stallion’s face twitched into an Arginine version of a cringe and he nodded, “okay. Alright, now I get it. That’s uh...not funny actually.”

“It’s not? Curious. It is one of my employer’s favorite jokes, and my coworkers always found it amusing.”

“They always laughed at the joke of the pony who gives them money? Fascinating,” I said drolly.

“...Ah. I had not considered that aspect of their reactions,” he bowed his head in consideration, then, “that would certainly explain their contradictory opinion on his appearance when he’s not in proximity. I had believed that they were exhibiting signs of some for of memory disorder.

“I wonder if they make contrary statements about myself when I am absent? I should ask them about that.”

I snorted, “oh, please let me be there when you do,” Arginine’s placid agreement to allow me to be present brought my mirth up to a full on laugh, which I very quickly covered up with a request to have the wait staff come and take our orders. Once I had myself under control again, I looked over at the stallion, “now, let me tell you some real jokes…”

I wasn’t going to lie, part of me wanted to go straight from La Stride back to Arginine’s suite. As it stood, I was quite keen on finishing off the night there anyway after checking back with the others and getting a gander inside that orb for myself. Once that particular itch was satisfied, I was going to drag Arginine back to his suite and scratch a few more while he still had access to the room. He’d doubtlessly lose it once he quit his job. Though, now that I thought about it, there wasn’t any huge reason that he absolutely had to quit doing his current job, even if we were flush with cash.

It wasn’t like there’d be a lot of privacy for us inside the garage or the shed, after all…

The stallion drew up to a sudden stop, blinking. I was about to ask him if something was wrong, and then he blurted, “oh...the bloatsprite was holding the brick! From the previous joke you’d told!” He turned his head to look back over his shoulder at me, “I rescind my prior assessment: those two jokes are indeed quite amusing when considered as a pair, and not judged on their individual merits.”

I was laughing too hard to hear most of what the stallion was saying though, “then you’ll love the one I know about the singing radroach!”

Arginine opened one of the garage’s large front doors and strode inside. It was only then that I decided it was time to finally slide off of his back and touch back down on my own hooves, “hey, Moonbeam. Hey, Starlight. Are they done with the orb yet?” it had been nearly the two hours that the stallion had claimed the stored memory lasted for.

“Not that I know of,” the pink unicorn mare informed us, “but I guess that should be any time now,” she peered up at Arginine, “so...what exactly is on that thing?”

“Yeah, after hearing some of the sounds coming from that room, I’m wondering if I need to find a way to get in on it too,” the robotic mare said. She was no longer connected to the terminal, and all of her panelling had been closed back up again, which I took to be a sign that Moonbeam had been ruled completely fit for duty. I guess super resilient mares sort of ran in the group.

I walked over to the door leading to the attached she and placed my ear to the door. I didn’t hear much of anything at the moment, so I pushed it open and poked my head inside. Ramparts and Foxglove were both curled up on either side of the old couch in the middle of the room, the memory orb glowing between them. My nose curled slightly as I detected a hint of...something, that was mingled in with the stench of grease and solder that otherwise permeated the tiny room.

Shrugging the passing anomaly aside, I stepped in the rest of the way and headed for the pair. Curiously, Foxglove seemed to be breathing a lot more heavily than I would have expected from somepony who was just laying down on a couch. Ramparts too looked like he was trembling. Whatever they were experiencing, it seemed a little more intense than a simple lecture or something. They should be waking up any moment now for me to ask about it...ah, there it was!

On cue, the violet mechanic’s green eyes fluttered open. She then let out a gasp, panting much more overtly, now that her consciousness had been freed from the grip of the little magical orb. It looked like it was taking her some time to process the change from a wholly mental world back into the physical one, but after a few more seconds, I watched as she vehemently recoiled away from the orb and just about fell over the side of the couch for her trouble, “―the FUCK!”

Furiously, the mare started to wipe at her mouth with her hooves and gag, as though she was trying to physically scrape something vile off of her tongue. I wondered if she hadn’t accidentally licked the moldy grease-stained cushion that she’d been laying on. My mouth opened to make exactly that comment, but the mare hadn’t even seemed to notice me yet. She was still glaring balefully at the memory orb, snarling at it, “I’m going to kill that fucking stallion! ‘Gag on it’?! I’ll gag you with your own testicals, you bastard!”

“Huh? What are yo―?” but Foxglove was already charging out of the room. I gaped after her in confusion. Then I noticed that Ramparts was conscious too. His reaction seemed to be quite different from the mechanic’s though. Where she’d been broiling with fire and fury, the stallion by contrast seemed to be almost haunted. He swallowed back a lump in his throat while staring at the inert orb laying in front of him. He reached out and pushed it slightly further away, as though it was somehow dangerous.

He then made to get up, but almost immediately hesitated. He carefully lifted his chest off the cushion, peered beneath him, then slowly lowered himself down. His brown eyes looked in my direction only briefly before locking back straight ahead of him. He cleared his throat, but his words were still gruff when he spoke, “I’m, uh...I could use some privacy, please,” he managed to get out. He glanced back towards the door, where I could hear a garbled mixture of screams and epithets coming from several of the ponies beyond, “you might need to sort that out.

“Good luck.”

I waited, but the stallion said nothing more. Still trying to process everything that had happened, I eventually found myself further drawn to the commotion coming from just outside. I had no idea what I’d missed, but Ramparts was right that it seemed that there was something that I needed to deal with before somepony killed somepony else―for whatever reason!

Just as I turned to leave, I heard Ramparts blurt, “I could use a rag, please. Before you go,” the stallion still wasn’t looking in my direction. Quirking a brow and very tempted to ask a lot of questions, I reached over and passed one of the cleaner swatches of cloth I could find to him. I opened my mouth to ask him the first of my many questions when I heard the sound of something heavy and expensive shattering from beyond the door.

Questions could wait, I guess. So I zipped back out into the garage. There, I found Moonbeam and Starlight looking on, stunned, as Foxglove writhed and snarled explicatives from within a golden globe of magic that kept her suspended in the air. A visibly―even to layponies―confused Arginine was regarding the violent violet mare with trepidation as she struggled against his telekinetic containment.

“You’re dead! You hear me?!” Foxglove was screaming at the stallion, “I’m going to cut off your dick and shove it so far down your throat that it’ll come out your ass! Then you can know how it feels, you bastard!”

Annoyed now, the larger gray stallion regarded the mare, “I am perfectly familiar with the sensation of rectal penetration by a falace.”

“Foxglove,” I blurted, glancing between the two, “what are you doi―” then what Arginine said finally processed and I was staring blankly at the stallion, “wait―what?!”

Even the raging unicorn held in his thrall seemed to have been momentarily taken aback by his comment, but it only seemed to stall her ire, not diminish it, “then I’ll follow it up with a fucking missile and detonate it!”

I shook my head and glared at the pair. This was ridiculous, and getting us nowhere. We were all friends and comrades here, there was no call for this sort of thing. So I darted up between the pair, “alright, time out! Both of you settle down. Arginine, we’re going to talk about the rectal-falace thing later, but for now,” I turned to give Foxglove my full attention, “what’s wrong, Foxy? What happened?”

“He raped me!”

The room became deathly silent for the next several seconds. Now much closer to the violet mare, I could see that her emerald eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks soaked with tears. Her every seething pant was wracked by silent sobs. This was more than mere anger and rage. She’d been hurt. Badly.

I just couldn’t quite figure out how though, “what? How? When? He’s been with me for the last two hours―”

“The orb!” the mare spat, “he’s not ‘teaching’ anything! He’s fucking some mare; and the memory’s from her perspective,” Foxglove wailed. She’d wrapped herself up in her hooves, still floating above the floor in Arginine’s magical grasp, “two hours...he and her―I―went at it for two...hours!” she was shaking her head slowly from side to side, her eyes closed tightly, “and...because she liked it...I liked it…” she gasped as the sobs ceased to be quite so silent any longer, “I couldn’t get out of the memory...I was trapped...I had to do what she did...go through what he,” she spat in Arginine’s direction, “put her through.

“For two hours…”

Oh.

Starlight, Moonbeam, and even Arginine, wouldn’t have known about Foxglove’s history. They didn’t know about her first months in the Wasteland. Lured into the clutches of vile stallions who had offered the desperate former stable pony shelter and food, but instead plied her with alcohol and drugs until she became a tool to avail themselves with in order to satisfy their more base desires. Culminating in her eventual sale into outright sexual slavery. She’d spent years being used and abused by stallions.

Now...it had all happened to her again, inside that orb.

But...that couldn’t have been Arginine in there, could it? He’d said that it was an instructional piece. Besides, how and why would he have extracted memories of himself having sex with some random mare?

I turned around to look at Arginine, so many questions burning in my mind, “Arginine, what’s going on? Is Foxglove telling the truth? Was that a memory of you f―” the word caught in my throat as my chest tightened. I couldn’t bring myself to say it. After all, Arginine―of all ponies―wouldn’t have been with other mares, would he? “With...another mare?” I finally managed.

“Yes,” the stallion replied simply, much to my own stark surprise, “her name is Venus, and she is a frequent partner in the productions that I’m involved in.”

“...productions that you…” I still couldn’t say the word, “are ‘together’ in―in bed?”

“Usually. Though many productions involve other pieces of furniture. Some use none at all.”

“...whyyyy?” I finally blurted, “you said they were instructional pieces!”

“Indeed. They instruct ponies in the various means, methods, and partner arrangements for when engaging in sexual congress.”

“Porn?” Starlight said from the other side of the garage, in stark amazement, “you’re telling me that ponies are using the memory orbs to make porn?” Arginine shrugged curtly. The pink unicorn gaped at him, and then started chortling, “oh...Sweet Celestia. I can’t begin to tell you guys how much I want to be able to go back in time and tell this to Twilight Sparkle to her face. Maybe I can! Does anypony know if Canterlot Castle’s still intact? There’s a wing of the Royal Library I want to visit!”

As amusing as Starlight Glimmer might be finding this, Foxglove most certainly was not; and, frankly, neither was I, “...how many?” I asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“How many mares have you been with?”

“I don’t know,” the stallion said.

I glared at him, “don’t give me that! A stallion like you, who’s all about analyzing stuff? There’s no way you didn’t keep count. How many!”

“Any answer that I was to give would only be a speculative estimate,” the stallion insisted, “most of my memories of the encounters are extracted; I do not retain the ones that are taken for distribution. I have only been permitted to keep a few for reference and educational purposes,” he shrugged, “I was quite naive about copulation techniques and varieties, as it turns out,” he thought for a moment, “to that end, I would like to extend an apology for what was―in hindsight―an appalling performance on my part during our initial copulation. I was ignorant of the existence of a female climax event.”

My cheeks burned, “that’s not the point! Arginine, are you telling me that you’ve―literally―just been fucking around with every mare in New Reino since you got here?! That’s how you’ve been earning caps?”

“There were stallions, as well,” he amended, which drew a raised brow from Starlight and blew a fuse somewhere in my own head, “and I will assume that you are being hyperbolic when you assert that I have engaged with ‘every mare’. While I can’t give you a firm count, I am confident that sufficient time has not passed since my arrival here to actually have engaged in sexual congress with every―”

“Not the point!” I yelled at the stallion, who abruptly shut his mouth, flashing me an annoyed look. I took a deep breath, trying to calm and organize my thoughts. The golden glow from behind me crept into my vision, “and put Foxglove down!” Obediently, Arginine complied. Everypony watched the mare as she was lowered once more to the ground to see if she would lash out at the stallion once more. However, she seemed to have spent most of her fury―for now. Instead of charging Arginine, she made her way back to the sleeping shed, with Starlight’s guidance as the pink mare came to her side.

Ramparts had crept out by now too. He cleared his throat, very pointedly not looking in the direction of the large gray stallion as he slowly made his way to the door, “looks like things are settled here. Good. I’m uh...going to go back to Yatima’s apartment. I, um...need to...erm...reaffirm a few things about myself.

“See you guys in the morning!” and with that, still very obviously looking anywhere in the room that wasn’t Arginine, the brown courser slipped out of the garage.

I blinked after the earth pony and then my mind returned to the matter at hoof. With a heavy sigh, I lowered myself back to the ground. It was only then, with my hooves once more on the ground, that I realized that I was trembling. And why shouldn’t I be? Arginine, the pony that I cared about―and who I thought had cared about me, if in his own little ‘Arginine’ way―had been sleeping around with other mares? Did it make it better or worse that he didn’t even know how many he’d been with? Or that he didn’t even think that I cared?

“Why, RG? Why’d you do it?”

He blinked in mild surprise, as though not understanding how I couldn’t have grasped the obvious answer to such a simple question, “the recruitment of combatants that you directed Mister Ramparts to undertake required liquid capital to progress. Miss Foxglove concluded that, with the local barons already engaging in mercenary contracting of their own, we could not afford to merely sit and wait for your return with the cache that you were searching for. I was encouraged to seek employment, and so I did. A stallion presented himself to me, suggesting that I could earn a prodigious sum of caps by selling memories of sexual encounters for viewing by the public.

“Our company was in need of caps; and I was being offered a generous sum of for what seemed like minimal effort. So I agreed to his offer.”

I buried my face in my hooves. Of course he’d agreed to the offer. What was sex to him, but a little ‘physical stimulation’? “So then why did you tell us they were ‘instructional material’?”

“Are they not?” to his credit, Arginine sounded genuinely surprised by the notion that those orbs hadn’t been educational in nature. His brow furrowed slightly, “why else would anypony wish to view such material if not to learn from it for their own benefit?”

“Why would a pony want to know what it felt like to have great sex with an attractive mare or a handsome stallion?” I deadpanned, “it’s a mystery…”

“...ah. I had not considered matters from that angle,” Arginine paused for a moment, “has anypony considered the prospect of removing the intermediary of the orbs and simply paying for the sexual services of those mares and stallions directly? That seems like it could be a lucrative business strategy as well. Perhaps I should mention that to my employer…”

Oh Sweet Celestia, how dumb could this genius possibly be? Though, that did sort of bring everything home for me. Arginine hadn’t known that this would hurt me―he couldn’t have known―because he didn’t think about sex any differently than I thought about flying. He’d even said just as much to me back in McMaren. He’d warned me about this exact thing. I’d shrugged it all off, because I thought I could handle that.

I’d been wrong, it turned out. It did matter to me. Of course, I couldn’t be mad at Arginine for how I was feeling about something he’d warned me about from the outset. This wasn’t his fault. It was mine.

Which wasn’t to say that realization made it any easy to remain in the same room as him right now, “right. You should go and do that,” I said, sighing heavily, “thanks for coming out to dinner with me, RG. Good night,” I turned away and headed towards the attached shed.

The stallion was silent for a moment, then, “good night, Windfall.”

As the door closed behind me, I heard Moonbeam lean in towards the unicorn for a stage whisper, “dude, you fucked up…”

I wasn’t going to concern myself with Arginine anymore though, not tonight. Instead, I intended to focus my attention on the violet mare who was currently curled up on the bed in the corner of the shed. Starlight was sitting beside her, soothingly brushing her hoof through the mechanic’s auburn mane. She looked towards me with her baby blue eyes and tried to muster up some form of reassuring smile, but it was a paltry effort. I padded over and tried to do my own best to help out the mare. I’d known her longer than Starlight, so there might be something that I could do to bring her back out of this.

“Foxglove…” I began, struggling to find the right words, and faltering myself in the attempt, “Arginine, he’s...he’s an idiot. He didn’t mean to―”

“I’ve been raped more times that anypony could possibly be asked to count,” Foxglove said, cutting me off. My mouth slammed shut at the abrupt statement, not sure if there even was a way to respond to that. Even Starlight he paused her stroking of the unicorn’s mane, gaping in shock, “but that...that was worse than all of them put together.

“I’ve been drugged, tied down, threatened, coerced into sex in every possible way since leaving the stable,” the violet mare murmured, occasionally sniffling and wiping her eyes as they teared up, “but at least all those times, I had my own thoughts. I knew I didn’t want it, and that I hated the ponies doing it to me, and I could curse them and think about all the ways that I’d punish them someday for what they were doing to me.

“They might be taking my body, but I still had the one thing that no amount of rope or knives to my throat could get: My. Own. Damn. Thoughts,” now she turned and glared at me through her anguished emerald eyes, “but not that time!

“While I was in that thing,” she jabbed her hoof towards the couch and the memory orb that still remained there, “I wasn’t having my thoughts. I was thinking what she thought; and she wanted it!” a wave of sobs wracked the mare, overwhelming her ability to speak for several long seconds, while all that Starlight and I could do was sit there, like useless lumps, and watch until she recovered enough to continue, “she liked what Arginine was doing to her, and wanted him to keep doing it! And because she liked it, I liked it! I wanted it―even while a tiny part of me insisted that I didn’t.

“But I couldn’t tell where her thoughts began and mine ended half the time!” she wrapped herself up in her legs and curled into a tight little ball, quivering on the mattress, “...I could feel him inside every part of me...and I didn’t want him to stop…”

“―and I can’t get that feeling out of my head! It’s a part of me. It doesn’t even feel like it was some other mare,” she wailed, clutching at her head as though she were considering trying to physically rip the experience from her brain, “I can still feel my longing for him to do all those things to me that I’ve never wanted anypony to do to me like that!

“He stole the one thing I still had left,” the mare wept now, “...he took my own damn thoughts…” and with that, she stopped speaking further. She simply buried her head beneath her forelimbs and cried.

...and all I could do was sit there and watch. How did I help my friend? If she’d been physically assaulted by some stallion I could have gone out there, given him a sound throttling and brought her back his testicals as a trophy. But that wasn’t the case here. Everything was―literally―all in her head; and the worst part was that none of it had been malicious. I could go and beat the snot out of Arginine, sure; but what would that accomplish? He hadn’t known that what was on there would be a problem for Foxglove, and not just because he hadn’t known about her life in New Reino either.

There were ponies all over the city paying out caps to buy those orbs and experience what was on them. As far as Arginine had been concerned, this had been no different than bringing us home a Cram sandwich. There’d been no malice. He’d just been doing exactly what we asked him to.

But that didn’t change the fact that my friend was hurting, and I still didn’t have a way to make her feel better. I didn’t have a way to make it all go away.

Or did I? I glanced back at the memory orb, and then at Starlight Glimmer beside me. I silently motioned for her to come with me as I took the conversation to the opposite side of the small room. In a hushed tone, I said, “...you’re good with magic, right?”

The pink unicorn mare looked up at me, and her mind almost immediately grasped where I was planning to take this conversation, “you want me to take out her memory of the memory?”

“Can you do that?”

“Short answer? Yes,” my expression brightened but the mare immediately held up a hood and shook her head, “but the long answer is: that that’s a horrible idea, and I really don’t want to do it.”

“Why not? Look at her,” I gestured at the weeping ball of violet mare, “how do you not want to help her?”

“Of course I want to help her! But that’s not going to do it,” she protested, “if anything, it’ll make it worse,” at my dubious expression, the pink unicorn rolled her eyes in exasperation, “I can’t just take out the memory itself. If I do that, then she’ll still have all the memories of her wanting to see what’s inside the orb she’s been asking Arginine to bring by.

“What do you think she’ll do once she ‘forgets’ that she already saw inside the orb she was so super excited to look in? I’d have to track down and find every little memory of when she mentioned the orb, or heard somepony else mention the orb, or mention what Arginine was doing to earn caps here―probably even that Arginine was earning caps here. I might even have to go so far as to remove the memories of her even mentioning getting a job to Arginine, or needing caps.

“By the time I was done digging out everything that could trigger a cognitive relapse event or cause a psychotic break because her brain couldn’t reconcile conflicting thoughts and memories, there’d be so many gaps in her mind, she’d probably start questioning how much of what she did remember was real because she had lost all context for what few memories she had left!

“Memory orbs were designed for the retrieval and storage of specific events a pony wanted to preserve without danger of later forgetting them” Starlight insisted vehemently, “extractions that had little to no danger of creating cognitive conflicts later on. Heck, most ponies immediately went back and relived the stored memories just in case!

“What you’re asking me to do is MoM levels of dangerous here,” I quirked a confused brow, not getting the reference, but she went on, “and so I’m not going to do it. I get that this really sucks for Foxglove right now, but breaking her mind even further isn’t the answer,” she paused and took a deep breath, her expression becoming more sympathetic, “there isn’t a healing potion for the brain, Windfall. I’m sorry.”

“So then what are we supposed to do?” I looked over at Foxglove, flinching every time I saw her body convulse with another suppressed sob. I hated not being able to anything to help my friends. It made me feel the next best thing to useless. If I couldn’t save one pony, how was I supposed to help the whole valley?

Starlight shrugged, “be there for her. I know it sucks, but there really isn’t much else that we can do. Not that’s safe anyway,” I saw her eyes dart to the door leading into the garage, “trust me; when you start looking for easy solutions that you think will make everything better...you forget to look at all the angles.

“There aren’t any miracles, Windfall.”

“In the Wasteland? Tell me about it…” I looked at Foxglove once more and let out a heavy sigh. Somehow, this night had taken a turn. I guess that the Wasteland had figured that everything was just going too well for us, and this world couldn’t abide me being happy.

Of course, it hadn’t counted on me being the stubborn mare that I was, “look after her for me, will you?” I turned and started for the exit.

“Where are you going?”

“Out. The night’s still young,” I noted the mildly disapproving look from the pink unicorn mare, and I could understand it. One of my closest friends was hurting, and I was going ‘out’? Yeah, I’m sure that didn’t seem like the most noble thing that I could have been doing right now. But, as had been made very clear to me, there wasn’t anything that I could accomplish here. So, if I couldn’t make Foxglove feel any better, then the least that I could do was make myself feel better.

...and I was long overdue for a drink.

CHAPTER 48: LET'S CALL THE WHOLE THING OFF

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The thing about happiness is that you only know you had it when it's gone.

If there was one positive to my recently-ended abstention from drinking these past couple of months, it was that I’d become quite the lightweight now. I was barely a quarter of the way through my first bottle of Wild Pegasus, and I was already at that pleasantly comfortable level of drunk that it usually took me a whole bottle to reach, and a second to maintain throughout the night. There was every temptation to see how much more of the bottle it would take to put me on the ground, but I refrained.

For now.

There was still every possibility that I’d reconsider that decision later on this evening.

This night had been pretty rough on me. Which was a ridiculous position to be holding, honestly. No amount of whiskey could chase that reality from my brain. My despondency was selfish and foalish. I knew that; but I was...fifteen? Sixteen? Oh, who was bothering to keep track anymore…

Oh, so much had gone so very right for us as a whole; and I couldn’t even claim to have had the roughest night of any of us. That dubious distinction went to Foxglove for having to live through one of her greatest traumas in the most visceral way imaginable. Ramparts was arguably in a close second, having had to go through it as well. Nothing I knew about his past suggested that he had a history of being violated by ponies, but I got the impression that the perspective he’d had while experiencing the orb wouldn’t have been his preference, if given a choice between the two ponies involved.

Compared to them, I’d gotten off light; especially since―even drunk―I knew that how I was feeling was entirely my own fault. I’d done it all to myself. I’d known that Arginine didn’t have romantic feelings for me; and you just had to listen to him talk about sex once to figure out that being physically intimate with another pony didn’t mean much to him.

Honestly, I hadn’t thought that it would mean all that much to me, but here we were. Goes to show what I know.

“The thing of it ith,” I murmured aloud, slurring only slightly, “I’m not even mad at RG. He didn’t know. I’m the problem,” I took another small sip from the bottle, “I’m jus’ really bad at picking stallions. So far, I’ve slept with a stallion whose stable wants to kill everypony, I almost slept with this White Hoof who was also myyyy,” I fumbled in my head trying to work out Cestus’ relation to me, knowing that he’d been the son of my adoptive father’s estranged half-sister, “...cousin?” that seemed like a safe classification, “I didn’t know that at the time, and it wasn’t a blood relation. He drugged and kidnapped me before we could do anything serious; but he was going to keep me as a sex slave to pop out foals for him.

“So I guess that kind of counts…

“Then there was my pa,” I continued, nodding my head listlessly along, “we only kissed the one time and never got any further, but oh did I want to!” I frowned, glaring straight ahead at the distant lights of New Reino, “he fucked Foxglove though…” I thought for another moment, “I almost had sex with a pony I thought was him. It turned out to be some weird bug monster that could change shapes, so that one probably doesn’t count...”

I glanced over to my left, looking up at the gleaming metal and holographic face of the towering robotic alicorn perched next to me, “what do you think?”

Moonbeam was silent for several long seconds as she processed everything that I’d just said. For a pony who supposedly had a brain that was more hard bits than squishy bits, it felt like she was having to think about what I’d said for a very long time. Eventually, she finally offered up a very tempered, “...you tried to sleep with your father?”

I waved away her trepidation, “ah! He was just my adoptive pa. S’all good.”

“Uh huh,” I sensed judgment from the robopony and glared at her. She held up her hooves in surrender, her illusionary expression offering an apologetic grin, “not judging! I promised I wouldn’t, and so this is me being super not judgy about your choice of stallions!”

I held my glare for another few heartbeats, then took another sip of whiskey and turned back to the city. I’d rather have been doing all this drinking in the comfort and atmosphere of a bar, but Starlight had been very insistent that I not go out for my ‘walk’ alone, and had asked her daughter to go with me. As it turned out, most of the bars in New Reino had an unwritten ‘No Killer Robot Alicorns’ rule regarding who and what they’d let into their establishments, and trying to explain that Moonbeam was not, in fact, a true ‘robopony’ but in actuality a pre-war filly preserved in a life-support tank that just happened to be controlling a giant robot body had not been well-received.

So I’d been forced to settled for buying a couple of bottles of Wild Pegasus and finding someplace where I could drink without getting a lot of ponies gawking at the intimidating Moonbeam sitting beside me. That had apparently taken us completely out of the city, and far enough away from New Reino’s walls that the guards weren’t always looking nervously in our direction.

“He cared about me,” I continued finally, in a subdued tone, “I wanted to show him that I cared about him too. That’s how ponies show that they care about each other, right? They kiss and do things,” I shrugged, “so I wanted to kiss and do things with him.”

“I can understand how you’d see it like that,” Moonbeam acknowledged in a more sympathetic voice, “but adoptive or not, he was family. Family doesn’t need you to show them that you care like that. It’s just sort of...understood. Not that I can claim to know how the ideal family works either, mind you.”

I grunted, “it was more than that. He was exactly the kind of stallion I wanted to find someday―or so I thought. He was strong, smart, careful, and he always had an eye on the future. He reminded me of my real pa. That was the kind of stallion I want to have a family with someday.

“So...it just sort of made sense. Why look for somepony else who was just like Jackboot when I had him right there?” I let out a heavy sigh, “even when I found out he was a White Hoof...he’d been so good to me my entire life…”

Moonbeam’s features flickered into a wan smile, “I can’t say that ‘having a family’ is something I’ve ever seriously thought about―for obvious reasons,” she even managed a little chuckle, “but I’d be lying if I said I’d never wanted somepony who cared about me,” her features fell slightly, “which is something I can say I haven’t had much experience with. Besides Mom, Dad, and Treehugger, everypony else I’ve ever met has just tried to use me like a machine.

“Except for you guys, of course.”

“S’algood,” I hiccupped, raising up a hoof into the air, which the alicorn gently bumped with one of her own.

“From my point of view, you’re already super lucky for having a pony like that for pretty much your whole life,” she rolled her eyes, “even if you didn’t get him to mount you before he died,” I snorted, but Moonbeam carried on, ignoring it, “my point is: you can’t let yourself get wrapped up in this idea that sex is what’s important about a relationship.”

“Pfft,” I sputtered messily, then wiping my mouth with my hoof and debating another sip from the bottle in my hoof, “what would you know about it?” I winced almost immediately, only realizing how mean that had sounded after I’d said it.

Fortunately, Moonbeam seemed to be rather forgiving of my inebriated state, “I know that I have to believe that it’s possible to have somepony care about you without ever being ‘with them’ like that,” she said patiently, “otherwise, what’s a mare like me supposed to hold out for?”

The piece of my brain that had remained defiantly sober somehow clamped my mouth shut. That was a perspective that hadn’t occurred to me. I averted my gaze from the alicorn and made the conscious decision to cap the remainder of the Wild Pegasus, “sorry,” I mumbled.

“It’s alright,” Moonbeam assured me, “I get that sex is a thing for a lot of ponies―I mean, it’s how all of us got here in the first place, right? But I can’t let myself believe that it’s the only thing that brings ponies close and keeps them close. Even ponies that are super important to us.

“It’s not how we know that they care.”

“I guess. It still bothers me though―what RG did. I know it shouldn’t, but it does.”

“If you got over him helping to exterminate the Wasteland, I think you can get over this,” Moonbeam pointed out.

That was fair. In the grand scheme of things, sleeping around with mares for money was, hooves-down, the least aggregious thing that he’d ever done in his life, “yeah, I know; and I’ll be over all of this by morning. I think that he and I are through though. As a couple, I mean.”

“Because he cheated on you?”

I shook my head, “Nah, not really,” then I thought for a beat longer and shrugged, “but also, yes,” at Moonbeam’s questioning look, I endeavored to explain, “it’s like you said: sex shouldn’t be a factor in whether ponies care about us or not, and there’s nopony that’s more true for than Arginine.

“And that’s also the problem: Arginine doesn’t care. About anything.

“He’s not helping us because he believes exterminating the Wasteland is wrong. He’s doing it because he figures that giving the ponies in his stable the strongest resistance possible is the surest way to validate his life’s work and really prove that he’s helped to create the strongest and toughest―and therefore the ‘best’―ponies in Equestria. ‘Better Ponies’.

“But, more than that, he doesn’t care if we win either,” I sighed, “because that’ll either mean that the ‘best ponies’ already control the surface, or that his stable just needs to work even harder to achieve their goal. Either way, he’s perfectly fine with it.

“Arginine doesn’t actually care about me―or anypony, for that matter―he just cares about his life’s work,” I shrugged, “so, yeah...not really coltfriend material. Not the kind of pony to think about settling down with someday.

“Not that those are even the sorts of thoughts I can afford to distract myself with right now anyway, right?” I asked, glancing up at the robopony looming over me, “I’m supposed to be focused on beating RG’s stable. That’s way more important than trying to find a stallion. That can wait until we survive this whole mess.”

“That’s certainly the pragmatic way of looking at it,” Moonbeam agreed

“Yeah…” I nodded, “I should be more worried about building our army and fighting,” I took a deep breath to cleanse my thoughts and let it out slowly. I was still drunk, but that was something that would sort itself out in time, “I should call up Ramparts and ask him when I should meet him to help recruit ponies,” I reached down and started keying in the earth pony stallion’s pipbuck tag to speak with him.

“Uh,” Moonbeam cautioned, “didn’t he say that he was going to―”

My eyes went wide, and my cheeks flushed a deep crimson as sounds began to blast out from my pipbuck’s speakers the moment I opened up the com frequency. I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening at first, because it sounded like some weird combination of gibberish and growling that made me think something was clouding the frequency with noise. Except that the ‘gibberish’ became distinguishable as a series of utterances by a mare who sounded like she was in the midsts of a marathon run speaking in a foreign language of some sort. I presumed Yatima’s native zebra.

The growls, meanwhile, had a familiar sound to them as well, and I quickly identified their source as being Ramparts’ gruff baritone. Though it sounded much gruffer and more guteral than I could recall ever hearing in the past. Unlike Yatima, I couldn’t say that there was any coherent speech mingled anywhere in there, but the stallion was certainly being very loud about something that he was doing. The high-pitched squeaking of metal that was barely audible over the sounds of the two ponies suggested that other things were being loud too. I slapped my hoof onto the control for the device’s radio and closed the communication frequency.

Both of us were silent for what felt like a solid minute. I became very aware that my wings were no longer folded neatly at my sides. Curiously, I felt Moonbeam’s own alloyed wing hovering above my head as well. Then the robopony let out a synthesized cough, “...good for them.”

“...do you think that if I asked Yatima what ‘Ndiyo, ngono na mimi kama kahaba mbaya!’ meant, that she’d tell me?”

Much to my embarrassment, and in a move that I’d not done since my first black-out binger when I was twelve―Jackboot had been a rather...liberal parent―I awoke out in the middle of the Wasteland spooning an empty bottle of Wild Pegasus with my lips resting upon the opening as though I’d been suckling on it like a baby bottle. My self-consciousness was made all the more poignant by the fact that Moonbeam was still very obviously nearby, and wasn’t even making an attempt to pretend not to have noticed. If there was a saving grace, it was that it appeared I’d indeed only imbibed from the one bottle, with the other remaining completely unopened. Which boded well for my head-splitting hangover. It might very well wear off sometime before the end of the week!

“She lives!” the metal mare announced. Though her volume had not really been that loud, I winced all the same and waived my hoof in a gesture indicating for her to speak much more softly. My audible response was little more than a pained grumble that might have been words. Moonbeam smiled and leaned in more closely, as though to whisper in my ear. Then, much to my agony, she said in a much louder tone, “you overslept!”

I recoiled back, my wings fluttering in a most uncoordinated fashion as I tumbled back down to the ground, my hooves planted over my ears, “gahh! Why?!”

“Because you apparently completely shut down your transceiver last night when you accidentally ‘dropped in’ on Ramparts and his wife working on a sibling for their kid; and so I’ve been the one having to take all your messages today,” the look of satisfaction that Moonbeam was wearing on her face suggested that her scolding tone was meant more in jest than it implied she was actually angry with my recently terminated unconsciousness, “I’m not your secretary.

“But here,” the alicorn’s holographic features flickered, and suddenly she bore an uncanny resemblance to Ramparts as she played back what was obviously a recorded message that the stallion had left for me, “what, you mean just start talking and you’ll―okay: uh, Windfall, when you wake up from your ‘nap’, come on down to the Feed Bag. I’ve arranged a meeting with a few merc leaders who say they’ve got ponies they’re willing to hire out, now that we actually have the caps to make it worth their while. I figured this is something you’d like to be there for.

“Sooner’s better than later, just so you know,” there was a brief pause, “so, like, is that it, or do I have to press a button or som―?”

I was rubbing my face with both of my hooves in an effort to wipe away the hangover―which was having minimal effect, as it turned out―and trying very hard to organize my thoughts into something that made sense as I worked up a response. However, Moonbeam was not inclined to give me time to say anything, “but, wait; there’s more!”

Now she looked like her mother, “okay, Honey, when she wakes up let her know that none of us have heard anything from Arginine since he left. I already went by the casino and where he’s been working, and they haven’t seen him either. It’s ‘good riddance’ as far as Foxglove’s concerned, sure; but I just thought that Windfall might like to know. You’ll tell her when she comes around, right? Oh, and make sure she’s on her side just in case she vomits while she’s out. I had this friend in school who got so plastered one night and she passed out and then she nearly choked to death when she―”

Moonbeam shut her illusionary mouth, cutting the recording short, her features having reverted back to ‘hers’, smiling awkwardly, “Mom kind of goes off on a tangent after that, but you get the idea,” she said with a little shrug, “it’s a good thing she mentioned that too,” she added, gesturing to a spot on the ground next to me.

I glanced over and rolled my eyes. Yup, it really was the morning after my first black-out all over again, “I need a healing potion,” I murmured.

“Mom also said that if you don’t suffer the consequences, you won’t learn; so I’m not supposed to give you anything like that,” she paused for a moment, “unless I can find a way to give you a drink made of asparagus, tomato juice, and three raw eggs. I can come close to those first two things, but something tells me she didn’t mean radscorpion eggs; because three of those things are about the size of your body, so…” she shrugged, “maybe just the one then?

“That’s still a lot of egg though…”

“Fine,” I growled as I finally decided to risk getting myself up off the ground. You pass out drunk in the middle of the desert for one night, and suddenly everypony loses all their sympathy for you or something. Didn’t I just have a falling out with my lover or something? Wasn’t I supposed to get a pass on this sort of thing because of that?

I was gratified to find that I was sufficiently sober to maintain my balance while standing, though I didn’t quite want to risk flying just yet. My lips twisted into a wry smirk as I contemplated how out of practice I’d become with my drinking. Just last year I could having polished off two or three bottles of whiskey and still been fit to fly by morning. Heck, that’d been my usual evening routine!

Was this what getting old felt like? I didn’t much care for it.

“Let’s go to the bar,” I said to the alicorn robopony. Arginine still wasn’t a pony that I had much interest in seeing right now, and he was more than capable of taking care of himself. He’d probably just found some mare to fuck or something…

I winced visibly at the thought. Not because I was bothered by the notion of him sleeping around―okay, that bothered me, but not specifically in regards to that thought―but because I very quickly realized how unfair I was still being to him over this. Frankly, Arginine was probably the most asexual pony I’d ever met. If any stallion cared less about staring at flanks and flirting, then they were either a gelding or had been straight up dead for a few decades. Wherever the unicorn was, he wasn’t with another mare, that was for sure.

“Actually, I’m supposed to be getting back to the garage,” Moonbeam amended, “Foxglove wants to run more diagnostics,” the robopony’s glowing pink eyes visibly rolled in a circle, “she says she wants to make routine checks of the new partitions they set up. Make sure that Selene is staying put.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, nodding my head. That did sound like a good idea, as annoying as it probably was for the metal mare to spend who knew how many more hours spent hooked up to the terminal, “the Feed Bag probably has a ‘no roboponies’ policy anyway.”

“You know, this place is a lot more discriminatory than I’d have thought,” Moonbeam noted, “like...ponies can literally buy other ponies in this place, but I can’t buy a drink. That’s fucked up.”

I paused and glanced up at the robopony, “...but you don’t drink...do you?”

“Well, no; but it’d be nice to have the option!” she quipped back at me in a slightly indignant tone. That was fair, I suppose.

I bid Moonbeam a brief goodbye as she split off to return to where most of our group had taken up residence, while I guide myself towards the establishment that Ramparts had indicated to meet him at. It was some time about mid to late morning, judging by how bright the overcast cloud layer was and the volume of ponies milling about the city. New Reino might never ‘sleep’, but it did experience a lull in the earlier part of the day as most of the visitors slept off their own hangovers. This was generally the time that the bona fide residents of the city who lived and worked here full time went out to do their shopping and errands before their employers had real need of them to attend to the tourists that were the life-blood of the local economy.

While my stomach was pretty adamant that it wasn’t going to tolerate anything like food quite yet, I still swung by a stall to pick up a Sparkle Cola to at least get something sloshing around in my belly to help settle things. While I was waiting for the little shop’s owner to fetch it for me, I noticed that a pair of stallions who’d been talking with each other nearby seemed to have paused their conversation a little abruptly.

My ear flicked as I heard their not-quite-whispered comments, “is that her?”

“No way...is it?”

“I mean, how many other white pegasi with blue hair do you think there are around here?”

“Good point...you gonna say anything?”

“...couldn’t hurt, right?”

Through their hushed conversation, my own internal reaction had been gradually shifting around from curious, to surprised, and finally settling onto amusement. It wasn’t like I couldn’t be recognized as being The Wonderbolt even when not wear my signature barding. That one stallion had a point after all: a pony like me was a fairly unique sight around these parts. Nor had I gone out of the way to make it any great secret of who I was―which had even come back to bite me in the flank in the past, I recalled.

“I going in,” the first stallion―a burnt orange unicorn stallion with a golden mane about twice my age―said just before departing his earth pony companion and stepping my way.

I almost managed to suppress a resigned sigh and felt my lips spreading out into a small smile. Though, it was certainly refreshing to find that there were ponies who wanted to thank me for what I was doing for the valley who I hadn’t personally pulled out of harm’s way. However, I didn’t have anything to write with, so if he wanted in autograph he’d better have brought his own pencil or something―

“Hey,” the orange stallion said, grinning down at me as he propped himself up against the side of the little stall, “how you doin’?”

It...was a bit of a flirty way to start off asking for a signature or something, but whatever, “fine. So, what would you like?”

The unicron’s green eyes widened slightly and his grin grew a little broader, “right to the point; I like that!” He leaned in uncomfortably close, “I was thinking we could go back to my place and...take you for a flight?”

Any sign of amusement immediately fell away from my face as I gave the stallion a dead-eyed stare. Seriously? He was trying to pick me up for sex? No attempt to flatter me with compliments or take me out for dinner and drinks at least? I mean, none of that would have worked anyway, but most stallions at least made the attempt; even in a town as shallow as this one, “really?”

Apparently not one to be dissuaded by what I thought was a pretty clear indication of my feelings on the matter, the burnt orange stallion pressed on with his efforts, “I mean, I’m not expecting any free rides here―heh, see what I did there? I can pay you for your time. Would two hundred caps do it?”

...that was certainly a new angle, surprisingly enough. I couldn’t remember a stallion ever just outright offering to pay me for sex. I briefly glanced at my appearance to make sure I hadn’t somehow donned any tack or a bridle while I was sloshed last night. Nope; I wasn’t dressed like most mares-of-the-evening I’d seen, so why this guy thought I was one was beyond me. I guess not every pony waited until after noon to get drunk, “not happening.”

I heard his friend snigger from behind him, drawing a brief glare from the unicorn. He snorted in his companion’s direction before looking back my way with a renewed smirk, “look, I know that’s not a whole lot compared to what you’re probably used to, but I’m not asking for a couple of hours. Fifteen minutes; tops,” I heard another, more muffled, chortle from the other stallion, to which the unicorn propositioning me didn’t react

Was all of this...supposed to make me somehow more inclined to accept his offer, I thought to myself as I felt my lips twist up into a sneer of disgust. Because, as unappealing as the prospect of being paid for sex with a complete stranger was in the first plus, I wasn’t seeing how the assurance that it would be wholly underwhelming sex was supposed to sway my thinking the other way, “definitely not happening,” I snorted, turning to leave, “bye!”

I swiped my Sparkle Cola from the counter, leaving behind a few caps in its place. Apparently, however, I hadn’t actually heard the last of him as the stallion darted around and planted himself in front of me, casting me a stern glare, “I just want a quick mount!” he insisted.

“Alright,” I deadpanned. Time to end this so that I could get on with my day. Besides, my hangover was not coping well with this little irritation.

The unicorn’s face blossomed with delighted surprise and a smile started working its way across his lips, “now that’s more like it! So, I’ve got a room at―”

Whatever he intended to say was very abruptly cut off as I flung my unopened bottle of soda up into the air and darted forward. The stallion barely had time to process that I’d made a move by the time I was directly beneath him. At which point I pushed myself upward with all four legs, a forceful flap from my wings adding additional force as the orange pony was thrown bodily into the air, flipping flank over muzzle until he once more hit the ground with a grunt, flopped out on his back.

I then proceeded to flip myself effortlessly in the air, catching my airborne Sparkle Cola as I went, and landed―none to gently―upon his stomach, forcing the air momentarily from his lungs and prompting a series of coughing gasps as he tried to recover his breath. I leaned in a glared down at the stallion, “there: a quick mount. On the house. Now leave me alone, or I’ll fuck you in a way you won’t enjoy, got it?”

The stallion wheezed and then rapidly nodded his understanding without saying another word.

“Good boy,” I flashed the unicorn a cold smile, patting him on the head as I removed myself from his gut and resumed walking away.

As I left the area, I heard his companion coming over to help the unicorn back onto his hooves, “wow, who knew that she’d have moves like that, eh?” there was a brief pause, and then, “I think that actually makes her a little hotter somehow...let’s go back to the room for another round, eh?” his friend said something that was more coughing than words but sounded approximately like an agreement.

I rolled my eye and sighed. As drunk as they must already be, they were actually going to go and have another drink? Amazing. Then I frowned. Why would it have surprised them that The Wonderbolt would know how to fight? That was, like, my whole ‘thing’!

Morons.

It didn’t take me long to find the Feed Bag, and even less time to notice Ramparts. No longer hiding away in a booth in the back of a bar, this time he was seated at what appeared to be a collection of tables that had been pushed together in order to accommodate the group of nearly a dozen ponies that were seated with him. These were presumably the mercenaries that I’d been called here to speak with. Studying the congregation from afar, I noted that the attires of most of them matched in styles and coloring to one or two others in the group. In all, I estimated that I was seeing representatives from about five unique groups of ponies-for-hire.

Though, I very quickly noticed, not all of them were actually ‘ponies’. Two of the beings seated at the tables were griffons, and at least one was a zebra. Both demographics were rare in Neighvada―especially griffons―but I guess that caps were a universal language that just about any being was willing to respond to.

Even though Ramparts wasn’t wearing his courser barding either, I was feeling a little ‘underdressed’ without Foxglove’s modified Wonderbolt attire. If nothing else, it would have helped to not make me feel as young and small as I felt while stepping amidst them. A lot of eyes instantly locked onto me when I seated myself next to my brown earth pony companion, and most of the looks that I was getting were far more critical that I appreciated.

“Ladies, gentlecolts,” Ramparts began by way of introduction, nodding his head in my direction, “this is Windfall, The Wonderbolt; and your prospective employer.”

He received hardly any reaction at all from the members of the group, though I noticed a few scowls deepen significantly. I supposed that I could understand their displeasure with being called upon by a young pegasus who was barely out of fillyhood. The patch over my scarred eye notwithstanding, I wasn’t particularly intimidating looking without my reinforced barding and twin submachineguns. If anything, the bit of black leather on my face might even make it look like I was ‘trying too hard’; especially if they didn’t think I legitimately needed it.

One of them, a burly earth pony mare dressed in refurbished combat armor that sported a crimson horseshoe, marking her as a member―and likely leader―of a local mercenary group who called themselves The Bloody Broncos, dropped her silence in favor of a derisive laugh, “this is ‘The Wonderbolt?” she leaned back in her seat and sneered at me, “aren’t you supposed to be ten feet tall and farting lightning bolts or something, kid?” this comment earna laugh from a few others as well who began to mutter similar sentiments.

I couldn’t say that I was too surprised by that kind of reaction. The fact of the matter was that I didn’t look particularly intimidating without any barding or weapons. Heck, a little pony like me probably didn’t set a lot of knees to wobbling even when I was kitted out. I wholeheartedly acknowledged that Ramparts had me beat out in the intimidating department when he was dressed in his Republic best. Arginine, too, was the kind of pony that’d make a raider think twice with just a look.

In my case, what I couldn’t accomplish through mere visual intimidation, I had to do through other means. To that end, I leveled a glare at the much larger mare, “what does it matter to you who I’m claiming to be or how big I am? You’re here because of the size of my bank balance, isn’t that right?” these were all the same mercenaries that wouldn’t even give Ramparts the time of day prior to today. They weren’t here because they wanted to protect the valley or the rest of the Wasteland, and that was assuming they even believed Arginine’s stable was any actual kind of threat at all. ‘Stable ponies’ as a rule, weren’t considered particularly dangerous to surface natives, after all.

“If you don’t want a piece of this, that’s fine,” I went on, waving a wing at the other creatures seated at the tables, “I’m sure that they’ll be more than happy to get a bigger cut,” my hoof gestured to the bar’s exit, “so you can go ahead and excuse yourself. Sorry to have wasted your time.”

The flare of the earth pony merc’s nostrils and her own baleful eyes suggested that I’d hit quite the nerve by being so casual about dismissing her and her band like this. I could see the aside glances that she was getting from the others, as they waited to see how this big, bad, commander of the Broncos was going to react to my not-so-casual slight. There were a few ways that she could save face, I figured. However, there was one means in particular that I was hoping she’d pick.

The horn of a unicorn stallion seated directly to her left lit up with a pink aura. His barding matched that of the burly mare almost perfectly. He was either one of her senior officers in her mercenary band or just a bodyguard; in either case, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t very happy about my ultimatum either. I saw the matching magical aura form around a rifle strapped across his back.

The mare jerked up out of her chair, sending it clattering across the floor.

The rest of the table, which was comprised of seasoned combat veterans who could pretty much smell a fight coming from a mile away, were all moving away pretty swiftly. They knew what was about to go down, but they also didn’t want to be dragged in, if for no other reason than because it was too risky for them to pick any particular side in this altercation. They risked either antagonizing the pony they hoped to get a small fortune in caps from, or make enemies of another mercenary company, which was pretty bad for business in general.

Inter-company feuds weren’t very profitable, after all.

Ramparts was up and ready to fight too, though I imagined that―assuming we both lived through what was about to happen―we’d be having quite the talk about my behavior later. I didn’t really care all that much about how he felt about what I was doing right now. My head was still throbbing and my emotions were running a little high on the tail of last night’s revelations. Throwing that unicorn around at the cafe had been a little cathartic; this should prove even moreso.

The two members of the Bloody Broncos were both up and ready in less than a second. The unicorn with his automatic rifle leveled at my seat, and his earth pony commander with a rather grievously stained machete clutched in her teeth. The unicorn balked as he realized that my seat was on the move, and heading directly for him at a high rate of speed. To his credit, he managed to swat it away before the wooden frame could connect with his head. That was fine, because it was simply a distraction.

Both ponies flinched as splintered pieces of wood filled the air, and then they focused back on where I’d just been. However, I was no longer there. It actually took both of them a full second to comprehend where I’d gone, since they were used to fighting grounded foes. Any other pony might have been to the left, right, or even coming at them from over or under the table. So these were the first places they checked. While I was technically coming at them from ‘over’ the table, it was substantially more ‘over’ than they were used to seeing.

I was flipping through the air at them, springing off the bar’s rafters with my hooves and diving down at the unicorn stallion with outstretched hind legs. A deft twist of my wings sent my whole body whirling through the air, smacking the rifle aside with enough force to wrench it from his magical grasp with one hoof, and carrying on the motion to strike him hard across the jaw with the other. I didn’t let up there though. He was momentarily stunned, but his magic made him very dangerous if I let him get his mental bearings. I knew nothing about his magical arsenal of spells. For all I knew, he’d be able to paralyze me with a coherent thought.

So I continued to rip into the stallion, delivering blow after blow as I spun around, windmilling him with hooves and wings alike. Most of the blows landed on his face and head, further disorienting the stallion. He was very nearly finished off when my ear twitched at the sound of the wooden floors of the bar straining beneath a shifting weight. My wings flipped out, immediately halting my twirl, and instead pumping down in an effort to flip me up and over the stumbling stallion.

I landed upon him with my back down against his and reached up to encircle his neck with my forehooves. My wings went out to either side, and with a mighty strain of my pinions, I rotated the both of us around so that our positions were switched, with his body now over top of mine. My wings flapped, continuing to help me keep my balance now that I had the much greater weight of the unicorn atop me, and I vaulted forward, towards the charging earth pony mare wielding the machete. With a flex of my back and hooves, I threw her subordinate at her.

My body followed through with the throw until I was once more oriented rightway up, hovering in the air. As I did so, my head ducked beneath my wing and I drew out my pistol. The Bloody Broncos’ commander had sidestepped the unicorn stallion with deft ease considering her massive bulk, but she drew up short in her charge now, seeing that I not only had my pistol drawn on her, but that I was also managing to backwing just out of her reach with no trouble at all even as she charged me. The fact was pretty apparent that I could move a lot faster than she could, even going backwards. This wouldn’t have been true for pretty much any earth pony or unicorn trying to backpedal on the ground.

Pegasi, however, operated under our own set of rules.

She fixed me with a glare, almost daring me to shoot her. It wasn’t hard to figure out why that might be: an outsider killing the commander of a mercenary group could become quite the issue, regardless of the politics involved. If the leader was well-respected, then the rest of her group would undoubtedly come after the killer, seeking to avenge their beloved former leader. Even if they were despised, whoever assumed command would want to make sure that the word didn’t get around that ponies could just kill them and not have to worry about reprisals either.

If I shot her dead, here and now, the Blood Broncos would come after me, regardless of who might have pulled a weapon first.

That’s what made mercenaries such a dangerous element, honestly. Their chief bargaining tool was their company’s reputation. If ponies weren’t intimidated by them, then they were the next best thing to worthless. It was connected to why they wore such easily recognizable uniforms, unlike a ganger’s sense of solidarity. Mercenaries wanted to be recognizable to avoid fights. Fighting cost ammunition, which cost money. If you could complete a protection contract without firing a shot because raiders recognized who you were, and were intimidated enough by your reputation for being superb fighters, you made more money.

I’d already experienced first-hoof what getting on the bad side of a mercenary band could lead to, and I had no desire to relive it. Besides, I felt that I’d basically made my point to both this mare, as well as the other merc leaders present.

So I holstered my pistol again, “so now that you’ve established that one tiny little pegasus is more capable than the best two fighters that the Broncos have to offer,” I growled at the mare, noting the scattered amused chuckles from the other mercenary leaders who were once more seating themselves at the table, “you can either sit down and listen to the contract, or go home and plot your revenge. On the chance that you’re inclined to pick the latter, I want you the remember that the Lancers are conspicuously absent from...well, Neighvada.

“Please don’t make The Wonderbolt have to wipe out another mercenary company,” I paused for a moment and then nodded at the others, “though I bet that they’d be happy to have even fewer groups competing for contracts around here. Isn’t that right?” I piped up, directing the question at the now seated ponies.

“Sit down, Licorice Whip,” a slender unicorn mare wearing some leather barding that, in my opinion, offered...questionable protection from harm. It did a lot to flatter her figure though, “if you didn’t research the client, that’s on you, not her,” the unicorn mare shifted her violet eyes to me, “I, for one, want to hear what the Wonderbolt―of all ponies―could possibly need help with.

“From what I’ve heard, you’ve taken on jobs that most of us wouldn’t send in anything less than a platoon-sized element to take of. Don’t tell me that the zebras are about to invade here too,” she cast a glance at the lone striped figure in the group, “anything you want to tell us, Keri?”

The zebra, a stallion with broad stripes that barely extended much past his own backside returned the unicorn mare’s gaze with a stoic look that would give Arginine a run for his money and and shrugged, “if war was to come, then it would come as the wind; silent and swiftly.”

“Ah, so like one of my first husband’s orgasms,” the unicorn giggles, “noted!”

“If it’s a long and loud night yer after there, Hemlock,” a heavily scarred earth pony stallion seated a few chairs down from the leather-bound mare piped in, “the lads and I would be happy to oblige!” he and the stallion next to him shared a hardy laugh and a hoof-bump.

She rolled her eyes, her smile still curling her lips, “oh, so you’re a crier too? I should introduce you to my third husband then; you two would have a lot in common,” this prompted a chuckle from a few of the others at the table, and a grumble from the scarred stallion.

Sensing that most of the tension had finally been lifted, Ramparts cleared his throat rather loudly to get their attention, “if we’re all done with the dick-waving, metaphorical and otherwsie?” his glare lingered on me for a second or two as well, earning a frown. The fight hadn’t been my fault! Heck, I’d even ended it without killing anypony! Right?

I glanced at the unicorn stallion, who was still laying on the floor. His chest was rising and falling, so he was breathing. Though, even a swift kick from his commander didn’t seem to do much to revive him. She scowled again and snorted in his direction, resuming her seat at the table and leaving him to lay motionless on the floor. He was alive though! I flitted over to the table, snagging the unicorn’s chair as I went since he wasn’t using it anymore, and plopped back down next to Ramparts.

The leather-bound unicorn mare, Hemlock, didn’t drop her whiley smirk, but she did at least begin the discussion by asking a serious question, “very well. So, what’s the job, Wonderbolt?”

“There’s a stable in the western mountain range,” I informed them, “they’re going to launch an attack on the surface any day now. I’m hoping that we can organize some sort of first strike before they’re ready for a fight.”

“Figures,” the larger of the two seated griffons grumbled, “more stable ponies stirring up trouble. First that Stable Dweller bitch starts parading around, ruining a good thing a lot of us had going back in Manehattan, then we hear about some other stable mare in Hoofington starting the war with the zebras all over again or something, now we’ve got a whole stable that wants to start shit?”

I looked over to the pair of griffons, focusing on the larger hen that had spoken. She looked more raider than mercenary, to be honest, as most of her beak looked to have been cleaved off at some point, replaced with a none-too-aesthetic steel prosthetic that look like it had been made by hammering sheet metal into the rough approximation of a beak. Her armor was worn and battered, as was that of her smaller tiercel companion. A faded silver profile of a griffon head was stenciled on their chest pieces, an emblem that I didn’t recognize at all from my years in the valley.

“That’s about the gist of it, Miss…?” I didn’t particularly care for her appraisals of the other two mares I heard DJ Pon3 praising during her broadcasts, but I wasn’t going to comment on it either. I could sort of see how ponies trying to make the Wasteland an overall safer place could be bad for the mercenary industry. They pretty much depended on a certain level of chaos being maintained, so that they’d always have clients needing their serviced for protection and such. For my part, I was hedging my bets on the notion that they’d also realize they’d need a surviving populace in order to stay employed too.

They could hate me for making Neighvada safer later, assuming I somehow managed to pull something like that off.

“Griselda,” she replied curtly, “my company’s the Razor Beaks,” her gaze flashed along the other gathered mercenaries who were all regarding her now, “yeah, we’re new to the area, but don’t worry; we don’t plan on staying long. We just need to earn some caps for supplies and we’ll be out of your feathers―er, manes―or whatever.”

I cocked my head to the side, “so what brought you here in the first place?”

The griffon hen studied me in silence for a few long moments, considering whether or not she was even going to answer my question at all. Apparently, she decided that the query was harmless enough and not worth antagonizing a client over, “we came here as a favor to another griffon I knew back east: Scratch. He sent me a message, said he was setting up shop in Neighvada and wanted some muscle he could trust.

“Then I finally get here, and I find out he’s already dead―shot right in his office!” she snarled, sounding more annoyed than anything else. Knowing of only the one griffon who had ever taken up residence in New Reino who could have possibly been in a position to hire out an entire company of mercenaries, I made a concerted effort to keep my expression as impassive as possible. To the best of my knowledge, my involvement in Scratch’s death was still completely unknown to anypony, and I was especially keen to keep it that way at this precise moment, “and of course this damn desert is already rife with mercs,” she waved a clawed hand at the other representatives seated with us, “so contracts are hard to come by. So I figure I’ll go back to Hoofington. I hear there are ponies just throwing caps and gear at any creature that’s willing to help them fight both the zebras and that Security bitch!

“I just have to actually get us there first,” she finished with another irritated growl, “if nothing else, wiping out a stable full of ponies should take care of our provisions for the trip...” she and her companion shared a snigger, the tiercel licking his beak and casting a glance at the gathered equines.

Mine was one of several wary expressions. I’d certainly heard that griffons didn’t care much for vegetables in their diets, but it hadn’t crossed my mind that they’d be quite so, um...versatile in their diets where sources of meat were concerned, “right…”

I suppressed a small shudder at the thought of any thinking, talking, creature eating another and tried to power onward with my description of the duties I intended to hire them for, “fair warning: these ponies aren’t pushovers. They’ve got a lot of advanced tech―magical energy weapons mainly―and they’ve been preparing to invade the surface for a long time, so they know how to fight.”

“You’re not very good at negotiating,” Hemlock noted with a smirk, “that right there is going to drive our asking price up a fair bit. You know that, don’t you?”

“I also know how us surfacers tend to feel about stable ponies: that they’re weak and ignorant,” I pointed out, seeing a few nods from a the other mercenaries, “I don’t want you guys walking in there thinking this is going to be a cake job and get overpowered when you discover that these stable ponies actually know which end of a gun makes the ‘boom’ sound.

“This is a fight we need to win the first time, because we probably won’t get any second chances.”

“So what’s the offer?” Licorice Whip sneered, still looking at me like she’d have liked nothing more than to strangle me with my own intestines.

Ramparts spoke up this time, “We’ll take however many fighters you’re willing to provide for forty-thousand caps apiece. Half paid now, half when the stable is destroyed,” the courser informed them, “there will also be full salvage rights on any arms, gear, or equipment, that you wish to claim from the stable.”

The burly earth pony mare started cackling now, “forty thousand?! HA!” she stood back up and turned for the door, “I can’t believe that you even bothered calling the Bloody Broncos here for anything less than six figures. The rest of you lot might be in the business of charity work, but we’re too busy with real jobs that actually pay something!” she reached down and snagged her still unresponsive subordinate with her teeth and tossed him onto her back, stomping out of the bar as the rest of us watched.

I found myself biting my lip. I’d thought that nearly a quarter of a million caps would have been more than enough to hire a substantial number of mercenaries! If this amount wasn’t going to cut it, then what could I possibly do to―

Hemlock was laughing now too, and I felt my ears wilt as I sensed another of these groups was about to walk out the door. However, there wasn’t anything particularly derisive about her mirth, “I wondered how Whippy was going to weasel out of this one,” she chortled, wiping away at the corners of her eyes where her laughter had begun to generate tears. That was when she noticed my look of abject worry and confusion and her laughter redoubled in intensity.

Fortunately, the scarred stallion seemed perfectly willing to explain things to me on her behalf, “don’ mind Licorice. After the trouncing you gave her and her boy, there really wasn’t any way she could accept yer contract. She’d look like she was strong-hoofed into it, and that would play havoc with her crew. They’d lose respect for’er.

“So she had to find a way to refuse, but not look like she was just upset that you outfought her. Saying the contract wasn’t paying enough won’t ruffle anypony’s tails in her crew, and it makes it look like her groups doing well enough to turn down even high-paying gigs if they don’t like the smell of ‘em.”

I brightened up a bit, “‘high-paying’? You think this is a ‘high-paying’ contract?”

“Assuming that main course’s leaving means we’re all getting fifty thou now...” Griselda cast a questioning glance at Ramparts, who nodded in the affirmative, “then you’ve got my whole company: sixty-odd griffons and a half-dozen pegasi,” she glanced at her companion, “how about that, we’ll be out of this hellhole after just one job!”

“If the duty’s pay, fifty kilocaps exceeds, Hecate three score.”

I blinked at the zebra, the brow of my scarred over eye threatening to crawl all the way up into my mane as I tried to puzzle out what he’d just said. He was harder to figure out than Arginine!

“He’ll give you sixty ponies,” Hemlock translated, “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to low-ball you guys and only chip in thirty from the Harlots of Hades. Most of us are already on contract with New Reino,” she offered an apologetic shrugged.

“Aye, you’ll only be getting two dozen o’ my boys too fer the same reason,” the scarred stallion said, “but know that every Housecarl is worth three o’ any of these rabble,” he jerked his head in the direction of the other mercenary leaders, his teeth gleaming in a wide grin as they frowned at him.

I did a quick tally in my head. That brought our numbers up to just over one hundred and eighty ponies, including our own group. I still hadn’t heard any word on what Homily was going to be able to round up to help us, or how many might have responded to our call for volunteers, but I doubted it would be more than a couple dozen. There was just too much going on in the valley to hope that many more ponies than that would have nothing better to worry about than helping The Wonderbolt fight. So, if we were lucky, that gave us the better part of two hundred able fighters. Not too shabby, I thought, daring to be just a little optimistic. There was no telling how it would be able to compare to whatever Arginine’s stable, but I felt like it was a respectable showing, if nothing else.

Ramparts and I exchanged looks, and I saw the courser give me a curt little nod. He at least seemed to think that we were getting a good bargain. I turned back to address the mercenaries, “alright, agreed. You’ll all have the twenty-five thousand caps on you by the end of the week,” Double Down would need at least that long to cash out all of Jackboot’s―my―holdings, “I’ll need those ponies to be in Shady Saddles as quickly as possible. We’re moving out for their stable in…about ten days.”

“We’ll fly there the moment we’ve got our caps.”

“Shady Saddles? I’ll have to send word ahead to my second husband to reserve me a suite at the inn...or I could just stay at his place,” the unicorn giggled.

“Beckoning battles, becoming the desert wind; timely rendezvous.”

“Somepony better tell the bars there to stock up on their liquor, so my boy don’t drink the town dry!”

We bumped hooves―and talons―and the mercenary commanders made their departure in order to assemble the promised troops, leaving me and Ramparts alone in the now empty bar. I slumped back in my seat and let out a long, relieved, sigh, “we’re finally on track,” I said, allowing myself a little smile.

“I can’t speak for the griffons, but the other three groups have solid reputations,” Ramparts agreed, “two hundred is about what I expected to get for the funds we have. Although,” I felt myself wince at the newly acquired critical tone in his voice, “I think we should have avoided antagonizing the Broncos. Especially after seeing what lengths the Lancers were willing to go when you crossed them.”

“The Lancers were more raider than merc,” I rebutted primly, “I don’t think anypony’s sad to see them gone. As for the Broncos, well, I guess I could have handled that a little better. Maybe,” I acknowledged.

“You all but pushed those two into a fight,” the earth pony said, regarding me with a stern expression, “and all because they, what? Basically said you weren’t what they expected?”

I averted my gaze and frowned. Okay, so maybe Licorice Whip’s comments hadn’t been particularly disparaging or anything like that. I could certainly think of a lot worse things that ponies had said about me over the years.

“Is this something to do with Arginine?”

“What? No!” I snapped at the stallion, and then immediately winced. That sort of response wasn’t particularly suited to convincing somepony that they hadn’t struck a nerve, “he’s the furthest thing from my mind right now,” I insisted, not liking that Ramparts didn’t seem as convinced as I’d have preferred, “I just felt like I had to prove to them I could hold my own.”

“Windfall, mercenaries don’t care about that sort of thing,” the former courser sighed, “as long as you’ve got caps, they genuinely couldn’t care less about how capable their client’s are. Do you think all of the New Reino casino barons are super bad-flank fighters?” I thought back to Tommyknocker, who had looked like the only adversary he regularly defeated in battle was a pallet of Sugar Apple Bombs, “exactly.

“So, if something’s up, and it’s something that’s going to keep steering you towards knee-jerk reactions like that; I’d like to know what it is. Because we can’t have you doing anything impulsive when we confront that stable. Understand?”

My lips curled back into a grimace. Ramparts certainly had a point, there was no denying that. However, at the same time, I genuinely wasn’t feeling bothered by anything related to Arginine. At least, not enough to have prompted me antagonizing that big mare earlier, “I’m just...tense, I guess. Like you said: we’ve got a really important fight coming up. One that we can’t afford to lose.

“I guess it’s eating at me a little.”

That answer at least seemed to satisfy the stallion, “that much I can understand. It feels like a lot of us have emotions running high right now,” he let out a heavy sigh, “every time we get one problem solved―like Moonbeam and Selene―it seems like another pops up,” the earth pony looked over at me, “and this latest mess with you, Arginine, and Foxglove, is something that could get a lot worse before it gets better.”

“I already told you: Arginine and I don’t have a problem,” I insisted. Then I frowned as I processed the other individual that he’d included, “and what’s Foxglove have to do with it?”

Ramparts frowned now, “what she went through in that orb...it shook her up a lot more than she’s saying. When both of us were in there, it was like we were aware of each other’s thoughts. I could feel exactly how much those memories were affecting her,” he swallowed, “it was...pretty bad.”

I now recalled that the courser was a relatively new addition to our ranks. He’d might not have spent enough time talking with Foxglove to be aware of her history like Jackboot and I had. In fact, I wasn’t sure if she’d ever spoken about her Wasteland experiences with anypony else since. As a result, I wasn’t sure how much I had a right to tell on her behalf, but Ramparts should know something of what she went through to give him context about what she was feeling the other night, “Foxglove was a slave when I first met her. Jackboot and I helped her escape. She used to be owned by one of the barons, who had her ‘entertain’ his guests.”

“Ah,” the stallion said simply, nodding, “I see. That certainly explains it. If I’d’ve known that, I would have stuck around last night. How’s she doing?”

I shrugged, “I guess she’s alright. I mean, I assume she is. I haven’t spoken to her today,” Ramparts cast me a disapproving glance, “what? She didn’t seem like she wanted to talk!”

“Wanting to talk and needing to talk are two different things,” the stallion affirmed and then sighed, “I’ll have a word with her later. For now: you and Arginine.”

“Ugh! I already told you that there’s no problem! Was I upset? Yeah! But then I thought about it and I realized that it was more my fault than his. He doesn’t know about how regular ponies see things, and his stable is really weird about a lot of stuff.

“He didn’t know that he was ‘cheating’ on me, and he was just trying to help.”

Ramparts kept his expression neutral as I spoke. When I was done, he merely nodded and prompted, “so, you two are still together?”

I squirmed slightly, “well...no. I guess we’re not. At least, I think it’s best that I end the...intimate stuff. It’s not like I want him to go away or anything. He’s just...not coltfriend material, you know?”

“I certainly suspected,” the stallion quipped, his lip turning up in a wry smirk that bordered dangerously close to ‘I told you so’ territory, prompting a scowl from me.

“Look, I already got an earful from Moonbeam last night; and―Celestia, help me―I bet Foxglove is going to have some things to say too. The bottom line is that who I do what with is my business.”

“I’d be inclined to agree,” the stallion said, nodding, “unless it starts affecting your judgement and leading to stunts like that one,” he gestured at the vacant table and the destroyed chair, “at that point, it becomes an issue for all of us.”

“Arginine had nothing to do with that,” I insisted.

“If you say so,” Ramparts threw up his hooves in mock surrender, but his expression was far from amused, “but I suggest that you figure out exactly what is bothering you, then, and address it. We need you cool and clear-headed for what’s ahead if we’re going to win this thing.”

I supposed that I couldn’t argue with the stallion too much on that point. In hindsight, challenging that mare was more likely to have ended poorly for us than in our favor, and I wasn’t just talking about the fight itself. She’d just really irritated me. Maybe it was just the hangover still talking, but I didn’t like her baiting me like she had.

I let out a sigh, “fine, yeah, whatever. I’ll keep us out of trouble from now on.”

“Good. It was hard enough to find interested mercenary companies as it was; we can’t afford to antagonize them like that too often.”

“Do you think we have enough?” I posed to the earth pony, trying not to sound too concerned. Not that we had any funds left to approach any additional groups, but Ramparts was correct that we would need prospective companies to have heard positive things about our hiring practices if we ever did try to recruit more of them.

He didn’t immediately answer, which wasn’t a great sign, I decided, “in a straight fight with ponies built like Arginine? No,” well, that was about as discouraging as it could have gotten. I frowned at the stallion, but he continued on with a caveat, “however, if we get to choose the time, location, and deployment, of the battle, we’ll have a better than even chance, I think. You’ve proven that they’re as vulnerable to surprise and a blitz attack just like anypony else.

“Honestly, our best case scenario is to catch them still in their stable. We’d be able to bottle them up,” he frowned now too, “I don’t think a true siege would work, since they’d just be trapped in a self-sufficient bunker, so they couldn’t actually be starved out or anything. But we would at least be able to keep them from conducting any worthwhile attacks until we figured out some other way to get at them or wreck their stable.”

“Maybe we could gas them,” I suggested, remembering what I’d seen these ponies do when trying to invade a stable themselves.

“Possible. There’s a lot we won’t know until we see their stable for ourselves, but getting there before they come out is key. If they go on the offensive first…” Ramparts shook his head and said nothing further.

I grimaced. True, we’d emerged victorious in the past when confronting ponies from Arginine’s stable, but we’d had surprise on our side. Either because Arginine had betrayed them, or because they hadn’t been prepared to counter an airborne threat.

My eyes widened at that thought.

With those griffons, we had a pretty sizeable air force at our disposal, which was something that no many other groups in the valley could say. It was also something that we knew those stable ponies had trouble with. Griselda’s company might be our ace in the hole. If her griffons and pegasi were at least half the fliers that I was, they’d be able to fly circles around those grounded ponies, and arcane weapons actually made for pretty poor counters to an air assault. They were slower to fire, on average, than conventional weapons, and their brilliant beams made it easy to see where the user was firing and avoid them.

“We might not be as screwed as you think…” I said, casting the brown earth pony courser a wry grin.

“I’m getting the initial reports back from my team at the hangar,” Homily’s voice crackled over my pipbuck’s transmitter as she gave me her report, “it looks like the problem was that one of those settler groups that moved into the dump tore down the communications tower that the place had been using to stay in contact with McMaren. My team’s working on building a replacement.”

“How long will that take?” getting those drones into the fight would effectively cement our victory over those stable ponies. They’d been built with the intent to use them to fight off the whole of the zebra military. I refused to believe that they couldn’t handle a single stable’s worth of ponies.

“Hard to really say: two weeks...three? It depends on whether they can find a suitable dish in the yard or if they have to build one from scratch,” the radio jockey informed me, “I’ve put word out to prospectors in the valley that McMaren’s in the market for a dish and that we’re paying top cap for it, but who knows when somepony will come by with one that’ll work?”

“But that’s the only hold up; the dish?”

“It’s the only hold up at the moment,” the mare stressed, “we can’t know that the two facilities will be able to communicate seamlessly until we have the ability to even try. We could run into all sorts of bugs and glitches after that,” she warned, “these two places have gone two hundred years without maintenance, remember?”

“I’ve really been on a roll here with good news, Homily; please don’t be the pony to end my streak. We could really use those drones, and I’d especially like to have them before that stable makes their move,” an ace up my barding in the form of them griffons was nice and all, but those drones would be the ultimate trump card in this fight!

“Hey, I just don’t want you to think they’ll be ready at the drop of a horseshoe,” the earth pony countered, “I’m an engineer, not Princess Celestia returned.”

I let out a heavy sigh, “I know, I know. I just...we’re up against the clock, but I don’t know how much time is left and it’s really starting to get to me.”

“I understand,” Homily said, and then was silent for a moment before quietly adding, “we’re getting more reports, by the way; White Hoof sightings in the valley.”

“Celestia,” I snarled, “that’s the last thing we need: the White Hooves raiding again…”

“That’s just it, there haven’t been reports of anypony actually being attacked by the White Hooves. Ponies have just seen them. Small groups here and there, all heading east. It’s like they’re all going somewhere beyond the valley.”

I felt a small knot form in my gut, “...or they’re just trying to get out of the valley,” it was a depressingly short list, the things that would prompt the valley’s oldest denizens to spontaneously emigrate somewhere else.

Homily didn’t have a response that time. She was thinking the same thing that I was: that it might already be too late to box in Arginine’s stable. On the other hoof, “we know they recently underwent a change in leadership,” I pointed out. I’d actually be present for the event, “this could all just be the new chief purging threats,” I had to believe that was the case if I wanted to hold onto my optimism.

“Maybe,” Homily agreed, “hopefully. I’ll keep an ear out.”

“I appreciate that. Thanks, Homily.”

“No problem. Stay safe, okay? All of you.”

“Will do. Windfall, out,” I cut the transmission. With a sigh, I let myself slump back against the slightly mildewy couch in the shed that we were all still staying at while in New Reino. I wasn’t sure which of the two most likely possibilities I was dreading more: that the White Hooves were on the move and raiding again while the valley was just about to have to deal with a serious crisis…

...or that they weren’t.

“Please just be a power struggle,” I murmured under my breath.

“We’ll need to be ready in case it isn’t,” that point was made by Foxglove, who was just now beginning to disconnect the leads that she’d had plugged into Moonbeam in order to conduct the most recent of her diagnostics. The violet mechanic was satisfied with the firmware changes that they’d made to Selene, and saw no sign of the AI trying―or that it even could―to retake control of Starlight’s daughter; much to the profound relief of both Old World ponies.

“We just recruited nearly two hundred of the toughest mercenaries in Neighvada,” I responded dryly, “that’s as ‘ready’ as we’re ever going to get,” especially since the Steel Rangers and the Republic weren’t going to be offering up their support any time soon, “it’s not like I’m really ‘worried’ about the White Hooves, per say. The worst they’ll do is raid a few caravans or farms. I just don’t want them to become some sort of distraction that ponies are going to expect the Wonderbolt to do something about.”

“Especially when the valley hears about you hiring on an army?” Starlight asked.

“Exactly. If Ramparts is right and most of the ponies in Neighvada really don’t see Arginine’s stable as much of a huge threat, then they’ll probably assume I’m recruiting all these mercenaries to go out and finally deal with the White Hoof threat once and for all. After all: sightings of White Hooves are on the rise. That’s got to have the whole valley on edge.

“They’re almost certainly expecting me to be doing something about it,” I said, shaking my head in resignation. In the end, any grief ‘The Wonderbolt’ might get for not dealing with the ‘White Hoof threat’ soon enough was immaterial. I knew what the real threat was, and so did the ponies I was hiring. Once Arginine’s stable was dealt with, then I could go ahead and clear out whatever was left of those tribals once and for all.

If Homily’s ponies got those drones in the MoA hangar working again, I’d be able to clear out the White Hooves in pretty short order.

Heck, I wouldn’t even have to stop there. With a thousand machines that could do what I’d seen Moonbeam unleash on those Rangers the other day? I’d be able to eradicate the White Hooves, every gang or raider group, Ebony Song, and any other group in the Neighvada Valley that was causing problems.

There wasn’t any reason I’d need to limit myself to this one little valley either. It sounded like Hoofington and Manehattan could make good use of a thousand Luna-bots. Who knew how many other places in the Wasteland that I hadn’t even heard about might need us too?

By this time next year, maybe I’d be able to actually fix the Wasteland!

I found myself frowning slightly now. The concept of sweeping the Wasteland and removing every raider, ganger, slaver, and violet monster from the face of the world, thereby securing the safety and security of all the good and decent ponies in it, is the aspiration of pretty much every pony who’d ever styled themselves a hero, from the Mare-Do-Well and Lone Ranger of yesteryear, to the Stable Dweller and Security Mare of today! I would soon have the ability to do what ponies like them could only have dreamed of! It was the ultimate good.

...so then why did I sense so many tiny eyes looking upon me with disappointment?

“―right, Windfall?” I heard somepony who sounded very far away saying, “...Windfall?”

I shook my head and look over to Foxglove, who was now standing much closer to me, a look of concern beginning to spread across her face, “I’m sorry, what were you saying? I’m still a little hung over,” I lied, rubbing the front of my head.

The emerald-eyes unicorn frowned, but repeated to question, “I said: we are going to deal with the White Hooves at some point though, right?”

“Of course! Heck, I might even be able to talk one or two of those merc companies into detouring into White Hoof territory right after we finish off Arginine’s Stable,” unlikely, but there was a possibility of it. Funding might be a bit of an issue, since I was effectively back to being as broke now as I’d been a week ago. But, “we’ll have just gotten our hooves on a whole bunch of weapons and barding and stuff from the stable. Why not put them right to use doing some good for the valley?”

Griselda and her griffons would almost certainly not go for it, of course. The Razor Beaks didn’t have any stake in Neighvada and would likely just want to go back east as soon as they felt like they could. I wasn’t even going to try to pretend I had a clue what went through that zebra stallion’s head. Hemlock didn’t strike me as being of a ‘noble’ disposition, but I still might be able to negotiate some sort of accommodation with her. As for the Housecarl’s...I was confident that I’d be able to appeal to them in such a way that they’d take on the job with me.

In any case, I received a much more positive response from Foxglove than I had from my own inner demons, the violet unicorn smiling broadly, “that’s good to hear,” she thought for a moment and then chuckled, “you know, if you do become known as the mare that ended the wHite Hoof threat to Neighvada once and for all, ponies in the valley might start to think of the Wonderbolt as more than just some folk hero.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Ponies respond to a leader who produces results,” she said, “that’s why Homily and the rest of us follow you, after all.”

I felt my cheeks warm slightly, clearing my throat, “I mean, Homily doesn’t follow me exactly…”

“You’re joking, right? Everypony in McMaren would do anything you asked them to,” Foxglove pointed out, “they idolize you for all you’ve done for them. Getting rid of the White Hooves would earn you that kind of clout with most of the valley. They ponies of Shady Saddles would hold a festival in your honor, for sure!”

“That’s a bit over-the-top, don’t you think?”

“I’m not so sure,” this time it was Starlight who spoke up, drawing the attention of both of us, “you’d be surprised how often ponies elect to follow somepony’s directions just because it’s clear they have the power or ability to protect them,” her expression soured somewhat now, “none of the Ministry Mares had anything that might be called ‘formal’ leadership experience, but they all jumped into action, and had the ear of the Princesses, so most ponies didn’t hesitate to follow their orders to the letter.”

I wasn’t sure if I liked being compared to those mares any more than the pink unicorn mare appeared to like making that comparison, given the state of the world that those six ponies had led their followers into creating; but I at least acknowledged her point, “just so we’re clear: I’m not trying to become the leader of anypony, alright? I’m just...trying to make the Wasteland a better place,” I said with an anemic shrug.

Starlight smirked, “that already makes you a much better leader than any of the Ministry Mares in my book.”

I offered the pair of ponies a smile. Moonbeam was up and about now, craning her metal head in our direction, “you couldn’t be any worse than Ebony Song!”

All four of us shared a chuckle, “I guess that’s high praise?” I posed, earning a redoubled laugh from the others.

It was about that time when we all heard the garage’s main door eek open. We all turned now to see a familiar gray head poke through, followed shortly by the rest of his great bulk. The stallion turned his golden gaze in our direction, focusing specifically on Foxglove―whose expression had instantly soured―as he seemed to be appraising how well his return might be received by the rest of us.

I let out another sigh. Well, I suppose that this wasn’t a confrontation that could have been put off forever. Sensing that Foxglove had grown quite tense, and seemed like she was going to once more launch herself at the stallion at any moment, I raised a wing and gently brushed her shoulder. The violet mare glared at me for a brief moment before her features softened―slightly. She looked back to Arginine, snorted hotly in his direction, and finally turned away, heading for the shed’s workbench, “I’ve got some projects to finish,” she growled.

That was probably the best that I could hope for, honestly. Starlight smiled wryly and stepped over to lend the mare a hoof. Meanwhile, Moonbeam was pretending―badly―to be looking through one of Homily’s old technical magazines. As the publication was floating in front of her upside down, I was dubious as to how much sense she was making of the articles.

For myself, I stepped out into the garage and walked up to the stallion, “welcome back,” I began, “Starlight said that you’d been out all night,” there was a slightly pause before I managed my question, but I somehow brought it out, “were you...out working, or…?”

“My understanding was that our financial situation had been resolved,” Arginine said, quirking his head at a slight angle, “was I in error? Should I have resumed my vocation?”

“No!” I immediately winced at the urgency with which I’d responded and began again in a much more controlled tone, “no, you don’t need to go back to...whatever you were doing.”

“Engaging in sexual congress with other ponies,” the stallion supplied, as though he thought that I wasn’t aware of the details that his ‘job’ had entailed. I glared at him. To his credit, Arginine managed to even look almost slightly cowed. Given how little of his emotions actually made it all the way to his expression, he was probably feeling genuinely ashamed of himself. That realization did a lot to sooth my own rising annoyance. I once more reminded myself that he hadn’t meant anything malicious with anything that he’d done. Quite to the contrary, he’d been doing his utter best to help us.

I shouldn’t hate him for that, “yeah, that. We’re good on money,” I assured him, “in fact, Ramparts and I just secured almost two hundred mercenaries.”

Arginine’s lips tensed, “you believe those numbers will be sufficient?”

“Honestly? Probably not,” I was forced to admit, “but it’s the best that we’ll be able to do. It’d take years to raise enough money to matter, and I’m going to guess that your stable won’t give us that kind of time?”

“No, they will not.”

“Then there you have it,” I shrugged, “hopefully, with your inside knowledge, and Ramparts’ tactical expertise, we’ll be able to make those numbers really count,” I paused, and then sought the answer to my original question yet again, “so where were you last night, if you weren’t...earning caps?” was I really so immature that I still couldn’t bring myself to talk about exactly how he’d been doing it? Though, I supposed it was better to obfuscate than risk blurting something less kind like, ‘fucking around’.

“I was under the impression that my presence would not be appreciated,” the stallion noted, nodding his head in the direction of the shed. Both of us ignored the synthesized chortle from the nearby metal alicorn. Arginine continued by floating a small sac out from one of his saddlebags and passing it to me, “I also sought to correct an action I now realize might not be well received.”

Now quite curious, I stretched out a wing and collected the offered cloth sac, hearing it clink around as it was released into the grasp of my pinions. From the sound and feel, I immediately recognized what the contents must be, but I opened it up and peered inside just to confirm. Sure enough: I beheld a half dozen faintly glowing memory orbs.

I looked back up at the stallion, “you went out and collected all the orbs you made?”

Arginine actually blinked in surprise, “should I have? I’m not sure that would be possible. Approximately three hundred orbs that feature me in some capacity were distributed prior to last night. Even if it were somehow possible to track down their locations―assuming they have not already been resold by their original purchasers―I am quite positive that we now lack the funds to buy them all back. That also assumes that all of their owners are willing to part with them.

“Unless you are suggesting that I should retrieve them by force?”

“What? No! I’m not saying tha―wait, three hundred?! How did you eve―not important!” I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm myself. Once I was again confident that I was composed, I rephrased my question, “okay, if these aren’t all the orbs you made, then what is on them?” Surely he wasn’t trying to ply me with porn. Arginine was that dense…

“You,” the stallion answered with a nod, “those are the orbs that were made from my extracted memories of our fornication the other night.”

I heard the sound of a magazine dropping to the floor, followed by a not-so-quiet, “oh, fuck!”

“Exactly,” Arginine confirmed without even a trace of sarcasm.

“I’m sorry, what?” I managed to finally ask, my eyes not having budged from the tall gray stallion.

“Do you not recall? After dinner the other night, the two of us retired to a room above the Flash in the Pan Casino where we proceeded to engage in numerous sexual activities for the next two hours and―”

“I know what we did!” I snapped at the stallion, only peripherally aware that there was at least one other pair of eyes regarding our conversation from the direction of the shed. The next words out of my mouth were said in a very strained tone as I attempted―valiantly―to keep myself restrained, “what I want to know is: why your memories of...us were even on memory orbs in the first place!” Well, at least I’d almost kept my cool, “when did you even do this?”

“I returned to the production studio immediately after you passed out,” Arginine responded. For a supposedly super-advanced breed of pony, his self preservation sense was the least refined that I’d ever seen in a stallion, “my supervisor was constantly lamenting the lack of pegasi performers under his employ. He repeatedly mentioned that customers responded well to ‘exotic’ partners, like zebras and griffons.

“I knew that I’d be able to get a large number of caps for my memories of our sexual encounter,” the stallion continued, apparently quite oblivious to my utterly stupefied expression, “that was why I utilized such a variety of positions and techniques, in order to capitalize on the opportunity. It worked out very well, in fact.

“I received five thousand caps for the memories. I was about to say as much yesterday, but Miss Foxglove interrupted me,” Arginine gestured to the sac that was still being held in my not quivering pinions, “it actually took a good bit on convincing to return the caps for those orbs; but I was very insistent.”

Silence hung in the air. Mostly because I was still trying to figure out where I was going to begin with all of this! Where was I even supposed to start? Was it with the fact that he’d sold his memories of fucking me for caps? Did I bring up how indescribably wrong it was for him to have apparently gone into the whole thing thinking about how best he could make money off of what we were doing?

Yeah, let’s start with that one, I decided, seething. Let’s start with how it was bad enough that he didn’t even care about sex as it was, but that he was so dispassionate as to be thinking the whole time about using me to make caps!

“You pimped me out?!”

“Oh, this is going to turn into a murder―”

“Shut up, Moonbeam!” I screamed, whirling around and hurling the sac of glass orbs at the alicorn in a fit of rage. The metal mare winced, but a cyan barrier sprang up an instant before they would have hit her, shattering into an explosion of shards and wisps of memory against the magical wall that her mother had thrown up to protect her daughter. Likely more out of instinct than any thought that those memory orbs could have genuinely damaged the combat drone.

I wheeled back on the stallion, “do you have any idea how wrong all of that was?!”

“I did not, until you informed me of as much last night,” his calm response even in the face of my blatant rage was somehow so much more infuriating.

And yet...he had a point. A damnable, insufferable, point: he hadn’t known. He had been genuinely ignorant of the fact that I might have been upset by what he was doing. As much as I needed him to, Arginine somehow didn’t actually deserve my ire.

At best, all I could actually ding him on was, “well, you would have if you’d mentioned what you were going to do with your memories of that night with me beforehoof,” I growled at the stallion through clenched teeth.

“You are correct, of course,” he acknowledged, “in hindsight, I was not as forthright as I could have been. I simply was not aware that the specifics of sexual interactions between ponies was considered privileged information. Most of the residents of this settlement act as though the opposite is true. Indeed, all of my coworkers were quite open about their exploits.”

“Stop agreeing with me!” I screamed at the stallion, earning another surprised look from him, “fuck’s sake, RG, let me be pissed at you for one damn minute, will you?!”

“...no?” the stallion ventured cautiously, glancing between the others in the room to gauge if he’d made the correct response.

I facehoofed and just collapsed to the ground. My body could only take quivering with this much rage for only so long. It was either go limp or risk beating somepony to within an inch of their life...again. I buried my face in my wings and unleashed a muffled agonized yell in an effort to vent some of my frustration. Then I took a breath and said flatly, “just go away and come back in the morning.”

Again, the stallion hesitated, “...no?”

“Yes!” all four of us yelled at him. Arginine actually jerked in surprised, glancing around at the angry mares around him. Some deeply hidden survival instinct must have finally overcome all of that genetic engineering, because Arginine briskly backed out of the garage and closed the door behind him.

The other three ponies wisely maintained their silence as I lifted myself back up onto my haunches, glaring in the direction of the door. That silence endured as I reached into my saddlebag, withdrew my remaining bottle of Wild Pegasus, uncapped it, and proceeded to chug. Half of the contents were gone by the time I finally took a gasping breath. Wordlessly, I turned towards the shed and headed for the mattress within.

“Windfall?”

“Not now, Foxglove,” I sighed, relishing the burn of the alcohol that lingered in my throat. I fully intended to drink myself back into another coma, just like I did last night, and hope that my frustrations were gone. True, that hadn’t seemed to work very well this time around, but if at first you don’t succeed...!

I took another pull from the bottle.

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 49: I'M CRAZY 'BOUT MY BABY

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Ah! Looks like a good place to take a break. Excuse me, citizen, do you serve any non-alcoholic beverages?

The next couple of days were a bit of a blur for me. Admittedly, that probably had a little bit to do with the case of Wild Pegasus that I went through in the course of those two days. At least, Foxglove insisted it had been a ‘case’. I didn’t remember buying more than five or six bottles.

I didn’t leave the garage much during that time either. In fact, except to buy more whiskey and that one trip to see Double Down to get the down payment for the mercenaries, I don’t think that I even went outside. Foxglove made a few comments about my lethargy, I was pretty sure, but I was too out of it most of the time to pay them much mind. As far as I was concerned, there wasn’t much for me to do in New Reino. We had the mercenaries that we needed. Until we got to Shady Saddles, I wasn’t going to be much help doing anything.

So why not spend my down time drunk? At least the black-outs made the time go by faster.

From my perspective, our departure from the bustling city arrived rather quickly. Ramparts and Starlight had seen to our provisions. Foxglove had managed to finish getting everypony’s equipment in fine order, and even managed to fit our some proper barding for all of us. Mine, especially, had needed some significant revisions since her last pass at it.

Gone were my beloved dual submachine guns. I could probably have tracked down some suitable replacements from the various arms merchants in New Reino, but my heart wasn’t in it. While the light pistol caliber rounds had kept the weight of my armament down, their anemic penetrating power would be a lot less effective against the well-armored ponies of Arginine’s stable than they had been against the odd raider or bandit. Only Foxglove’s custom-packed ammunition had kept the weapons relevant since we’d began tackling more robust adversaries, but the bottleneck on her ability to produce the munitions in the quantities that automatic weapons demanded was proving to be a hindrance.

A drawn-out battle meant that I’d need multiple reloads at my disposal, and the hours and materials the unicorn would require in order to fill that order would essentially preclude her from maintaining the equipment for anypony else. As it was, she was essentially taking care of the weapons and barding for a whole squad of ponies. To say nothing of the upkeep that Moonbeam now needed. Her recent upgrades had been anything but ‘factory standard’, and several minor issues had already been addressed by the unicorn where structural support and power demands were concerned.

In the end, I’d been forced to acknowledge that my longtime staples were now part of a bygone era, and it was time to move on. Ramparts had suggested a bump in caliber; something more along the lines of the high-powered rifle that he used. I was reluctant though. Bigger bullets meant more weight, and that meant sacrificing a lot of speed and maneuverability in the air. As an Earth pony, the courser could better shoulder the heavier load, and even power through a couple of tough hits, provided his barding was up to the task. I had neither his bulk or his endurance, however.

Fortunately, Jackboot’s nest-egg wasn’t the only legacy that I’d recently inherited. I’d also come into possession of an heirloom in the form of some weaponized bracers. A weapon that transitioned seamlessly from one that was effective at range to a melee option, they complimented my fighting style almost perfectly. Admittedly, they weren’t the easiest things to aim with any great precision at long distances, but neither had my submachine guns been either.

Not that I minded all that much, my forte was being up close and personal anyway.

Foxglove performed her usual mechanical miracles and proceeded to integrate my bracers into my barding, along with the Gale Force rig. In fact, she’d even managed to give them a slight bump in their lethality, by having them draw from the much more robust spark pack arrays that she’d wired into my flight rig. She’d even rigged them to ride a little higher up on my forelimbs when I didn’t need them. When the time did come to call upon their firepower, all that I needed to do was flick my hooves and they’d extend into place, ready to be unleashed upon the threat.

It remained to be seen what kind of havoc they’d reek when confronted with the ponies from Arginine’s stable, but given what I’d seen them do to rocks and such, I had high expectations.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this…”

I glanced over to my left. Moonbeam glided along beside me in the skies above Neighvada as the pair of us played vanguard for the rest of own ground-bound party of ponies. There was quite the comically drastic difference between the two of us at a glance. Moonbeam was the better part of four times my size for the one thing, and probably almost ten times my mass with her new upgrades. Even her flying style wasn’t anything like mine, simply because the robopony wasn’t really ‘flying’. I mean, she obvious was flying, but not as a direct result of her wings. She was kept aloft by levitation talismans and propelled exclusively by a pair of large thrusters bolted onto her backside. She basically just had to sit motionless in the air as she was propelled along, while I flapped along briskly beside her.

My lips curled in a smile as I let my gaze pan across the dusty horizon, “I know what you mean. Being up here is like being in a completely different world from the surface. Nothing’s in your way, nopony is going to spring out at you from around the next bend, no monsters are going to jump out of the ground at any moment...it’s the safest, most peaceful, place you can be in the Wasteland.”

Moonbeam craned her head upward, looking towards the distant overcast above, “up to a point,” she noted, “I’m pretty sure that all comes back around full circle once you get high enough.”

I matched her gaze, looking to the thick white border which marked the divide between the Wasteland and the Enclave, a nation of pegasi with technology and weaponry that could give the Steel Rangers a real run for their money. If I’d thought that there was even a chance in Tartarus that they’d have lifted a pinion to help us fight Arginine’s stable, I might have been compelled to risk the wrath of their automated defenses to petition them for aid. As it stood though, I knew full well that they wouldn’t have cared at all what happened to the ponies on the surface. If some accounts were to be believed, they’d actually have been more likely to help the stable ponies wipe us out.

If only so that they’d no longer need to contend with the Rangers for technological supremacy.

Though, I did have to wonder if getting that army of old Ministry of Awesome combat drones operational again might be enough to draw their interest. I felt myself smirk at the thought of the Enclave making an appearance in order to ‘reclaim’ the property that I was sure they’d regard as being lawfully theirs by right of being the successors to Rainbow Dash’s ministry, in much the same vein that the Steel Rangers held claim to the fruits of any Ministry of Wartime Technology labors. Of course, if they indeed waited until all of those drones were functional to make their claim, then I was confident that I’d have a strong case regarding possession being nine tenths of the law…

One war at a time, Windfall…

“Do you know how high up we can actually go before things go bad for us?” the robopony inquired.

“Not really,” I admitted, “I haven’t met anypony who could give me a hard altitude limit. And, frankly, I haven’t been brave enough to conduct any tests.”

The existence of some sort of automated defense network was, by and large, a well-known fact even on the surface; confirmed over and over again by the odd Dashite. I suppose there was a chance that it was all just a lie that they were perpetuating to keep surface ponies from getting curious, but I found it hard to believe that pegasi who had either walked out on the Enclave, or been forcibly exiled by them, would all collectively feel a desire to protect the clouborne nation. The existence of those defenses had been confirmed to me by Jackboot too, who’d gotten his knowledge of them from Hoofington, so this would also have had to have been a conspiracy coordinated across every corner of the Wasteland if it wasn’t true.

Ultimately, it wasn’t worth risking my life, especially since all that I did know about those defenses was that they existed, and that they were supposedly impassable. I didn’t know if there would be a warning shot, or a visible indication that a lethal strike was incoming, or that it would be some sort of attack that could be avoided with some amount of skill. There was every possibility that, should I go too high, that I’d simply just poof out of existence as the result of some magical-based defense mechanism.

There was the slight―very slight―possibility that Moonbeam might be able to bypass those automated defenses by virtue of being a product of the MoA, but that wasn’t a possibility that I was eager to mention, on the off-chance that the robopony got it into her mostly-mechanical brain to test that theory. There were times that I felt like she’d gained a little bit of an inflated ego since getting her new body. She was a lot tougher than any of the rest of us, no doubt about it, but she wasn’t invulnerable.

“I’ve honestly never needed to go much higher than we are right now,” I continued, “not a lot of the monsters in the valley fly; and none of the raiders I’ve met ever have either.”

Moonbeam’s holographic lips creased into a disappointed frown, “you know, I never got to see the sun when I was a foal. Then I woke up in the Wasteland and I find out the pegasi have blocked it from the surface completely,” she glanced briefly my way, “no offense,” I chuckled and nodded, “and now that I have wings and stuff, I still won’t be able to see it; because I’ll get zapped or something if I do.

“That sucks.”

“Aren’t you going to live for, like, hundreds of years or something?” I asked the metal mare, “I doubt even the Enclave can last forever. Someday I bet you’ll be able to see the sun.”

“...I suppose,” she was silent for a long moment after that, then, “that’s really weird to think about: how long I’ll live―how long I have lived. I’ve already outlived everypony who was ever alive when I was born, pretty much―except Mom, I guess. I guess I’ll outlive everypony alive right now too.

“Do you think I’ll ever see the end of the Wasteland?”

“I know you will,” I insisted with a smile, “heck, that’s something I intend to live long enough to see.”

Some of that was little more than projected confidence, I suppose, with little to genuinely back it up. On the other hoof, I wasn’t just trying to be optimistic for the sake of it, or to try and make Moonbeam feel better. I wanted to believe that it was the truth; that this hellscape could be ‘fixed’ somehow.

Maybe that was hopelessly naive of me to think that way. After all, the ponies had been suffering in the Wasteland for the better part of two hundred years. What right did a teenaged pegasus have to feel that she could do anything to change that? On the other hoof, I wasn’t alone, was I? I wasn’t even just talking about my friends either. DJ Pon3 made frequent broadcasts about other mares working tirelessly in the rest of the world to try and fix the problems that existed there.

We weren’t the first, of course. I remembered the broadcasts from a decade ago about the ‘Mare-Do-Well’, a former caravan pony who’d tried to take on the slavers of Manehattan, and been slain for her trouble. More recently, the Lone Ranger who’d forsworn his oath to his order and made it his personal mission to slay raiders and monsters. He’d apparently lost his way and become a monster himself that needed to put down. I was sure that other examples from history that I’d never even heard about existed too. Obviously, those efforts hadn’t been successful either, but I was sure that they had existed.

The point was that ponies were trying to fix things, both today and in the past. One day, those efforts would stick. So why couldn’t that day be on the horizon?

“Ponies” Moonbeam announced, drawing me out of my thoughts, “nine o’clock; fifteen kilometers.”

I turned my head in the direction that the alicorn robopony had indicated. It was impossible for me to make out anything at that distance, especially through the dust and haze that covered the surface. My wingmate, however, was not reliant on merely organic eyes, “raiders?” I instinctively glanced in the direction of the rest of our ground-bound party. At that kind of distance, hostile ponies would hardly represent any sort of real threat. They couldn’t have even been aware that our friends were anywhere in the area, and we could easily chose to avoid them if we were so inclined.

“Doubtful,” she responded, “they’ve got wagons with them. Traders, I think.”

“This is a common caravan route,” I noted after a brief consultation with the map on my pipback, “they might even be swinging by Shady Saddles. We could link up with them and travel there together―”

“Additional contacts,” Moonbeam interrupted, her head jerking slightly to the right, “ten o’clock; twelve kilometers. A group of a half dozen. No wagons,” she paused for a moment, “they’re moving pretty fast.”

“Towards the traders, or away from them?”

“Towards,” the robopony confirmed.

“Okay, that sounds like raiders,” I said in a curt tone, already angling in the direction that Moonbeam had indicated, “let’s go check it out,” I brought my pipbuck back up and keyed in the radio to contact Ramparts, “Ramps, it’s Windy. Moonbeam spotted a caravan to the southwest. It looks like raiders are moving in on them. We’re going to go and help. Follow my pipbuck tag and link up with the caravan.”

“Roger that, Windfall. We’re on our way. Stay safe,” the stallion replied.

I closed the channel and kicked on some additional speed, Moonbeam keeping pace easily beside me as we streaked through the skies above Neighvada, “can you make out their weapons yet?”

“Nothing that looks too big,” she informed me, “a couple of rifles. I see spears across some of their backs. Pistols holsters on some flanks; can’t see the guns inside them.”

My lips twisted into a deep frown as I listened to her report. The pistols and rifles were certainly pretty standard fare for just about any group of ponies that you were likely to encounter in the valley. However, spears were another matter. Knives and machetes were the go-to for most gangs and raiders. In fact, there was only one group that I knew of who favored polearms, “can you make out any white markings on their legs?”

Moonbeam was silent for a moment as she scrutinized our targets with her electronically enhanced vision, “no,” she insisted, “I don’t see White Hoof markings on their hides―wait,” another few moments of silence, “but I can make out a brand on the backside of one of them. They are White Hooves.”

I frowned now. Odd that a raiding party like this would be operating without having painted themselves up. I kind of thought that was supposed to be like some sort of taboo or something: to not have their paint on them while they were out in public. True, it hardly helped you ambush your targets when you were wearing something that was so visible and distinctive from such a long way out; but White Hooves weren’t about ‘subtlety’.

At least, that hadn’t been while under the leadership of Whiplash, and her father before her. That family dynasty was over and done with though. Somepony else was surely leading the tribals by now, and there was no telling what sort of changes they might have put in place. We might be seeing a whole new fighting doctrine.

Not that any of that mattered. A brand meant that they were genuine White Hooves, and that meant that they represented a threat to the caravan ponies that they were heading for. Six White Hooves wasn’t a particularly large group, and I’d have thought that a larger force would have been dispatched to take on a caravan like this. It would be a tough fight under normal circumstances. On the other hoof, they’d have the initiative and the element of surprise. That small band of tribals was in a good position to take out half the defenders of those traders before they even knew what hit them.

“Then we’re going to take them out,” I informed Moonbeam, “we hit them hard and fast. Wipe them out before they can react.”

“Okay,” the metal mare nodded.

I flicked out my forelimbs, charging my bracers. The distance closed rapid between the pair of us and our targets. In no time at all, we were close enough that my own eye could make them out clearly. They were running along, their attention focused forward, completely oblivious to either of the flying ponies that were homing in on them. As Moonbeam had indicated: none of them wore the defining white marking of their tribe, but I recognized the slung spears as being distinctly of the White Hoof style.

My eye narrowed slightly as I noted that one of the stallions looked noticeably smaller than the other ponies. He could only barely even be a ‘stallion’, it seemed. Perhaps a pony being brought along on their first raid? I wasn’t positive how early on in their lives the tribal ponies began participating in such things. His youth and inexperience probably explained why he still had his spear slung while they were so close to launching their attack. Though I would have expected one of the other experienced ponies with him to have corrected this oversight.

Though, I now noticed, it didn’t look like many of them were as ready for a fight as they should have been. Were they really that confident in their abilities?

It hardly mattered. They were White Hooves, and they were about to attack a group of innocent traders. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

I cocked back my right forelimb and waited for the distance between us to close.

“...now!”

Glowing orange pellets of destruction began flying from my bracers as I unleashed a torrent of fire upon the White Hooves. A crimson ray of deadly light danced among those orbs, adding its lethal bite to the onslaught. Flashes of light blossomed among the tribal ponies as the once silent valley erupted into a cacophony of explosions and screams. Charging ponies stumbled and fell as they were pelted with debris from the geysers of dirt and rock. My weapons weren’t as accurate at range as Moonbeam’s was, but the mayhem that I wrought was quite spectacular.

A few of my shots did find their mark though, and a mare went sprawling to the ground as a bead of magical energy struck her in her side and exploded. Her charred and mangled corpse tumbled across the path of two others, drawing them up short in their abject surprise. Their stalled gallop was timed just perfectly for Moonbeam’s scarlet beam to do its due diligence and carve them in half.

In just a matter of seconds, only three White Hooves were left, and they were only just now aware that their lives were in peril. An older stallion recovered quickly, bounding back on his many years of experience in combat, and wheeled around in the direction that the attack had come from. A rifle hovered at his side as he doubled back towards the other two survivors of our opening volley: a stunned mare and the much younger stallion who was only just starting to pick himself up off the ground from where he’d stumbled during the eruptions caused by my barrage.

The elder White Hoof interposed himself between them and my assault, his rifle bucking in his telekinetic grasp as he returned fire. I whirled and rolled in an almost lazy loop, keeping myself out from in front of his sporadic rifle fire. His weapon was not designed to track and engage a fast-moving target like me. I unleashed another trio of blasts, surrounding the stallion in renewed eruptions of shattered ground. The White Hoof recoiled and winced away in an effort to shield his eyes from the dust.

There was a flash of scarlet light, and the now-headless corpse slumped to the ground.

Only two more remained. I closed in with a burst from my Gale Force. The younger pony had finally gotten his spear out and ready, gripping it in the crook of one leg. His stance was abysmal though, and it looked like he could barely see anything through the clouds of dust that my energy bolts had been kicking up. He certainly didn’t see my kick coming until it was too late.

His head whipped around sharply to the side, the rest of his body spinning a moment later as the blow sent him sprawling. When he landed, he made no move to get back up. My attention turned now to the last remaining threat: a White Hoof mare who was looking at me with terrified eyes. She was trying to backpedal away from me, one hoof curled protectively in front of her chest, over the cloth garments that were slung across her body.

“No! Please! Wait―!”

Unfortunately for her, I had been in motion before she’d even managed to form her words. My forehoof connected solidly with her chest. The bracer affixed to it registered the hit and discharged.

Even as I struck her, I felt that something was off. Not her reaction; I’d seen even the most hardened raider crack in the face of their imminent death. No, what had felt ‘off’ had been the hit. I’d stuck hundreds of ponies in my life. I knew exactly what it felt like to punch and kick ponies in all parts of their bodies. Heads, ribs, guts, limbs; they all felt different, but they were also distinct.

I’d seen where I stuck this mare―squarely in her chest―but it didn’t feel like that's what I had hit. It hadn’t been a solid mass of ribs and cartilage; but, instead, something much softer and more brittle.

The explosion of energy ripped through the mare from one end to the other. It wasn’t visceral or messy though; the detonation was more internal, pulverizing her bones and rupturing her organs. Her body flew back, already completely limp as the strike had caused her heart to pop like balloon. The garment that she was wearing was another matter though. It was thoroughly seared by the strike and fell apart in the air.

That was when I saw it.

That was when I saw that I hadn’t struck one pony, but two.

Weeks.

That was how old the foal must have been; just a matter of weeks. Tiny, delicate, held close to its mother by the cloth swaddle that had kept me from seeing it in the dust and haze and my own bloodlust.

Now, I could only stare at the sight of the tiny broken body. Why? What could possibly have possessed these White Hooves to bring a newborn along on a raid?! I always knew that these tribals were psychotic, but this was on a whole different level! It didn’t make any sense. There was no reason for them to have brought a newborn foal on a raid!

...it...it had been a raid, right?

A gust of air and dust washed over me as Moonbeam’s thrusters lowered her down to the ground beside me, “Windfall…” it was amazing how her mechanical voice synthesizer was able to so realistically mimic a genuinely frightful timbre as the metal mare regarded the same scene that I was looking at, “...what did we just do?”

My hind legs gave out and my armored flank slumped to the ground. My shaking pinions were moving seemingly of their own accord, digging a half-empty bottle of Wild Pegasus out from my saddlebags and bringing it to my lips. A lot of the amber liquid dribbled down my chin as I numbly tried to drink from the shaking bottle, but I got enough of a burning shot down my throat to get my brain working again.

For all of the good it did. I still couldn’t form any words or meaningful thoughts. My mind was simply stuck in an endlessly looping cycle of incredulity as I tried to understand why a foal had been here. It didn’t make any sense! The White Hooves would bring younger ponies along on their raids as a way to initiate them, sure; but even they didn’t bring newborns! Why had this mare brought one along now?!

“Oh, Celestia, this one’s alive!”

I hadn’t even heard her. My attention was still completely locked on the slain infant; its limp, broken, body sprawled out in the desert scrabble, only a few feet away from its mother. Somehow, I did retain enough awareness to vaguely note that the mare I’d killed wasn’t branded. Most of her backside had been obscure earlier by what I recognized had been a papoose for carrying her child. The garment was no longer there now, sundered by my strike, and so her entire backside was laid bare for all to see.

Sans the brand that every bona fide White Hoof would have received early in their life.

A captive most likely. A mare who had been taken some time ago―months, years, a decade, who knew?―and used as a slave by the tribe to perform menial labor and expand their gene pool. Ponies like that weren’t brought along on raids. They were kept safe and secure back in the camps.

This hadn’t been a raid.

And I’d killed two innocent ponies.

“Windfall? Windfall!”

My head snapped listlessly in the direction of the robopony. I noticed that she was cradling something in her forelegs. It took me several inexcusably long seconds to conceive of that ‘thing’ as being the younger stallion I’d knocked aside earlier in the fight. His cheek was split, and his eye was already starting to swell shut from where I’d struck him. The injuries would be painful for a few days, and his lack of consciousness suggested that there was some sort of concussion involved as well, but he’d almost certainly survive and make a complete recovery within a week. Much sooner with the application of healing potions or other medical magicks.

I blinked up at Moonbeam, whose holographic features were doing a superb job of reflecting the exact same feelings of confusion and grief that I was experiencing as well, “he’s alive, Windfall.

“What do we do with him?” Again, it took me some time to recognize that the robopony was doing more than merely asking me a question. My gaze eventually made its way down to were one of her alloyed hooves was indicating his backside.

This pony did have a brand.

Nopony could deny his youth―he was easily several years younger than I was! He might be a White Hoof by birth and by brand, but to suggest that there was any way that a stallion―a colt―as young as he was could have racked up any worthwhile number of raids or slayings was laughable. Chances were much higher that he’d never been out of the camps himself before this ill-fated expedition either.

My gaze wandered from the unconscious colt to the other four ponies. They all at least had brands as well, marking them as genuine White Hooves; but there was more to it than that. There was a...resemblance between them. Muzzle shapes, eye colors, and other little physical quirks that one often found within family units. This had not been some haphazard group of White Hooves.

They’d been a family.

We’d―I’d―just wiped out a family…

...save for one little colt.

“Windfall?” Moonbeam asked her question again, an edge creeping into her voice, “where do we take him?”

It was not lost on me―even in my vacuous state―how the mare had altered the wording of her original question. There was no longer a question in her mind of ‘what’ we were going to do with the colt. Clearly, we were not simply going to leave him here or callously ‘finish’ our job of wiping out the White Hoof ‘raiders’ that we’d so thoroughly slaughtered. Moonbeam had decided that we were going to take him from this place to somewhere he could recover.

What the colt would do after that...once he woke up to a world in which his family no longer existed―struck down in less than a minute by The Wonderbolt as they were merely trying to cross the Neighvada Valley―was anypony’s guess. My mind whipped back to that day in my own life where I’d woken up to the same reality of having just lost everything and everypony I’d ever cared about. How I’d stayed hidden in that barn for days until Jackboot finally found me and gave my life something approaching direction and meaning.

The difference was that I couldn’t do that for this colt, could I? What right did I have to try and help him, after destroying everything that he’d had? Even if―by the grace of Celestia―he was willing to accept that help...would I even be able to bring myself to give it? What I’d just done here…

Maybe there really wasn’t much of a difference between a raider and a hero after all.

“I don’t know,” I somehow managed to sputter out in choppy words, only just trusting myself to be able to speak. Inwardly, I cringed at how hollow I’d sounded, “maybe the caravan…”

Under most circumstances, it wouldn’t be a longshot to think that a group of trading ponies would be willing to entertain a small favor being asked of them by a pony that ‘Miss neighvada’ had been playing up as a protector of ponies in the Valley. Especially when that favor was taking an injured colt to their destination for treatment. The real question was whether those ponies would be able to bring themselves to look past his brand. Shooting White Hooves on sight wasn’t a policy that was exclusive to The Wonderbolt, after all. Even assuming that the ponies in that caravan could look past his brand, that didn’t mean that the ponies of the town they ended up in would be able to.

Seaddle was certainly a no-go. All of the news coming from that region was simply getting worse and worse since Ebony Song had taken over. If we survived the onslaught from Arginine’s stable, it was becoming clear that the former New Lunar Republic was something that I’d have to address sooner rather than later. Shady Saddles didn’t have a particularly ambivalent view of White Hooves either. Their proximity to the tribe’s home turf made them a frequent target for raids and harassment. Everypony who lived in that town had a family member or a close friend who had either been killed or enslaved by the White Hooves. New Reino would hang him on sight too.

There simply weren’t any places that I White Hoof could turn up and be safe in the Neighvada Valley. Not even on the say-so of The Wonderbolt―

Well...maybe there was one place, “McMaren,” I blurted, snapping my gaze back up to the robopony, “can...can you take him to McMaren?” my word carried genuine weight there. White Hoof or no, if I told Homily to look after the colt, the ponies there would.

Especially once they learned why, “tell them what happened,” my words caught in my throat, prompting me to clear it noisily and take a breath, “tell them everything…”

Moonbeam looked between me and the young pony held in her limbs, then she nodded, “alright. I’ll meet you guys in Shady Saddles,” she paused and cast her pink gaze to the other bodies, “what about them?”

“Just get him to McMaren,” I said hoarsely. The robopony hesitated another few seconds, but eventually she was merciful enough to merely nod and flare her alloyed wings. Levitation talismans and thrusters hummed to life, lifting her off the ground in a flurry of dust and grit. Then her engines angled themselves to provide optimal forward movement, and the metal mare jetted off into the eastern horizon.

Leaving me alone among the corpses.

I bowed my head, shaking it fitfully from side to side, “why? Why did you have to be heading towards that caravan?” I spat bitterly at the scattered bodies, “what did you think was going to happen to you, doing something like that?

“Even if I hadn’t been here, those caravan ponies would have gunned you down anyway,” yet, even as the words left me, I could feel how empty they were. Of course that wouldn’t have happened. These ponies would have seen the wagons from miles off and either kept themselves hidden until the coast was clear, or tried to skirt around them specifically to avoid this sort of outcome. From down here, they couldn’t have even known that those other ponies were in the area at all. Visibility for ground-bound ponies was measured in just a hooffull of miles; not the scores that Moonbeam’s augmented vision could pierce.

This wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t even mine or Moonbeam’s. Killing White Hooves wasn’t something that needed pretext in Neighvada. Not any more than killing radscorpions or crazy roboponies. They were a Wasteland hazard, and the fewer of them that existed, the better off every decent pony in the valley would be.

Honestly, it was just the unbranded mare and her foal that were digging at me, realizing that they’d gotten caught up in the crossfire, after a fashion. Had those two not been here, this would have been a completely clean operation with nothing to second-guess.

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as I felt the hard glare of a pair of emerald eyes that existed only in the recesses of my own mind.

That was when I threw up.

Most of it was the whiskey tat I’d just slugged down, and it burned about as bad on the way back up as it had on the way down. This was followed by about a minute of dry heaving as I tried to spit the rancid taste of bile out of my mouth.

This was a first, I thought to myself bitterly. Both vomiting at the sight of carnage like this, and twisting discomfort in my gut. Presumably my conscience was working overtime in response to what I’d done to the mare and her foal.

I finished spitting the last of the bitter taste out of my mouth and gave a final shake to recompose myself. I turned away from the carnage and hopped into the air, flitting away from the scene, ignoring the pain in my gut. It was more of an annoyance than anything crippling.

Nopony was perfect, and sometimes mistakes were made. That was the nature of the Wasteland. Two ponies who shouldn’t have been here got hurt, and that was tragic; but it wasn’t my fault. To balance out the scales, I was having Moonbeam take that young colt someplace he could be looked after, and perhaps even be taught a better way of living than whatever his guardians in the White hooves had been indoctrinating him with.

That was all that needed to be said on the matter.

I took the bottle back out and downed another swig to replace what I’d just upchucked as I glided in the direction of the caravan that I’d just saved. My stomach didn’t feel particularly receptive though, so I kept the amount down to a couple of cautious sips. Even that small amount was not received well though, and I spent the flight to the caravan with my mind keenly focused on not wasting any further of the precious Wild Pegasus on the ground below.

“And you’re sure there aren’t any more of them in the area?”

The speaker was a mare by the name of, Vardo, the caravan master and part owner of the franchise; which turned out to be a partner in the much larger trading company that was owned by Summer Glade and her husband. News of The Wonderbolt’s involvement in the saving of her life from Lancer mercenaries had spread to pretty much every pony working for them, making me and my distinctive barding a welcome sight. I was sure that, when this mare eventually delivered her report to her superiors, it would only serve to further cement my reputation with their organization.

Lucky me, “there’s nopony else within miles of here,” I assured her and the other merchants in the wagon train, “and we’ll be with you the rest of the way; at least until we reach Shady Saddles.”

“Well, that’s certainly a relief,” the earth pony mare breathed a contented sigh, “seems like the whole valley’s been going to pot these last few months. Knowing we’ve got the best protection a pony could want will go a long way to keeping our nerves from getting too frayed.

“We can arrange for some compensation, I’m sure,” the mare offered, casting her gaze in the direction of the group’s purser, catching a smile and a nod from the unicorn stallion.

“We don’t need any caps,” I assured them, ignoring a frown from Ramparts and the silent reminder of our upcoming expenses. The mercenaries were already covered, and we had enough petty cash for weapons, ammo, and healing potions once we reached Shady Saddles. Frankly, I wasn’t feeling too comfortable with the notion of accepting payment for what I’d just done. Not in the form of caps or bits anyway, “as long as we can mooch some meals off you, that’ll be enough,” then I thought about my rapidly emptying alcohol reserves, “and some Wild Pegasus,” I added.

Vardo grinned, “I don’t see as to how we can refuse an offer like that. In fact,” she covered her mouth and issued a none-too-convincing cough, “some ‘breakage’ is known to happen on long trips like this. I don’t see why a bottle or two of the Special Reserve we’ve got couldn’t be a part of the final tally…” I noticed a matching grin on the purser’s face now as he withdrew a notepad and promptly scribbled something onto it with a pencil.

Now I was smiling along with them, “that sounds like a deal to me!” I extended my hoof and bumped it against the caravan master’s. When I turned around, it was then that I noticed a concerned look on Foxglove’s face. As with Ramparts, I ignored it and simply trotted on past her, content to not comment on whatever had prompted such a look.

Unfortunately, the violet unicorn didn’t seem to be of the same inclination, “don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink for a while? You’re averaging more than a bottle a day―”

“You’re not my mother, and I’ve been drinking since I was twelve,” I snapped briskly at the mechanic, glaring at her, “downing a bottle or two a night has been my routine for years. The last couple of months were just a little...off. A lot was happening.

“Now I’m back in my old grove. So I’m back to drinking like I did then. It’s fine,” and that was all I had to say on the matter.

“Why don’t you see if any of their gear needs a tune-up?” I suggested to Foxglove. Then I turned to the stallions in our party, “you two see how you can help out their watches. Starlight?” the pink unicorn quirked her brow, “you...do whatever it is you do to help,” the mare frowned.

“I’m going back up,” I finished, and leaped back into the air before anypony could make a reply; and that was where I stayed for the majority of our trip into Shady Saddles. I wasn’t in the mood for lectures during the best of times, and was feeling especially unreceptive while nursing an upset stomach. There’d be plenty of time for them to give me an earful when the fate of the Wasteland wasn’t in the balance anyway.

“How’s he doing?”

“Physically? He’ll recover. There won’t even be any scars,” the Neighvada radio personality responded through the crackling speakers of my pipbuck, “but...he’s pretty upset,” she added in subdued tones, “he’s not eating. Barely speaks. He just sort of...lays there. He hasn’t even cried that I know of.”

Not so different from how I’d been in the wake of my own loss as a filly, I noted, “keep trying, Homily. He’ll come out of it, eventually,” I paused for a long moment, debating on whether I even wanted to know the answer to the question hovering on the tip of my tongue, “does he understand why I attacked them?”

There wasn’t a reply for several quite some time, which only served to further ratchet up my anxiety over the answer. Finally, “he thinks it was the Enclave, Windfall. He said it all happened so fast, that all he remembers was flying ponies and a ‘death machine’. We think he means Moonbeam. He was still unconscious when she dropped him off, so he doesn’t even know how he got here.”

I let out the breath that I hadn’t even realized that I was holding in a relieved sigh. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about that colt growing up to resent me. Or, would I? Homily wasn’t exactly in the business of peddling lies or half-truths. Not since Scratch stopped paying her to add in those ‘extra’ advisories during her news broadcasts. If the colt asked her what happened, “...are you going to tell him the truth?”

“Windfall, I barely understand what the truth is! Moonbeam was pretty tight-lipped when she brought him in,” the mare said, sounding more than a little frustrated about being kept in the dark. It wasn’t a position that she was used to being in with me and my companions, “something about a ‘mistake’? What happened, Windfall?”

I felt my expression harden as I issued my stoic reply, “we saw some White Hooves near a caravan,” I told the mare on the other end of my pipbuck, “so I did what The Wonderbolt is expected to do: I took care of them.”

“So then what was the ‘mistake’?” Homily pressed, “because that sounds pretty cut and dry to me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but then I hesitated. A little orange mare wearing a distinguished hat was glaring at me from deep within the recesses of my mind, “I…” I cleared my throat and took a breath, “I mean we…” I cringed as images of the shattered foal and its mother flashed through my mind, prompting a tear to burn threateningly behind my eye. I rubbed the sensation away and steeled myself, “...we didn’t kill them all, obviously. That was the ‘mistake’,” I finally said, “but I wasn’t comfortable stepping on the throat of a colt while he was unconscious. Sorry about putting him on you like this.”

A subdued snort of disgust made my ear twitch, even though the sound had not had a corporeal source. I no longer felt those emerald eyes glaring at me though. Others were, though.

“I see,” I wasn’t convinced that she did, but Homily didn’t seem inclined to press me on the issue if she had one with my story, “I’m actually glad to hear you’re not that kind of mare. I know what kind of history you have with the White Hooves.

“This was good of you to do, Windfall. We’ll take good care of him, I promise. You just focus on saving the valley, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I can do that,” if I rehearsed that a few more times, I might even be able to say it in a way that sounded remotely confident, “I’ll let you know the moment we have our first sighting, alright?”

“Alright. Stay safe; all of you.”

“We’ll try. Windfall, out,” I cut the connection. A bottle of spicy Special Reserve was out, uncorked, and to my lips before the pipbuck’s communications feature was even disengaged. A full third of the contents were gone before I let it part from me was a quiet gasp. I winced, clutching at my stomach only moments later as I felt my gut tie itself into a knot. The nausea was back too, but I managed to keep everything inside this time, if only barely. For the next couple of minutes, I merely sat atop the roof of Sandy’s bar and focused on breathing until the sensation passed.

So now I was lying to Homily. Neat. Some ‘hero’ I was, huh? Murdering unarmed mares and their newborn foals and then lying about it to somepony who trusted and looked up to me.

I winced again, but not at the thoughts; rather the now piercing pain that I was feeling in my stomach. Part of me was actually starting to feel a little concerned now. This was some pretty acute feeling indigestion considering that I hadn’t eaten all that much besides Cram and Wild Pegasus. Yeah, that might not sound exactly like the diet of champions, but it was the menu that I’d been accustomed to for years without ever having this sort of issue.

Briefly, I entertained the issue of downing a healing potion and being done with it, but I ultimately decided against it. We’d likely be needing all of the little purple vials that we could get our hooves on in a few days, I shouldn’t waste one on what could turn out to be just a little heartburn or something. The local clinic was bound to have something more appropriate on hoof, so I alit from the roof and glided my way in that direction.

I’d been a regular at the Shady Saddles Clinic during my upbringing. This town had been a frequent stop along the route that Jackboot had taken me on over the years and not all of our endeavors went without some sort of hitch. I was rarely the actual patient in question, but I’d always accompanied the older stallion when he’d come by to get treatments for the injuries he’d sustained. So, the regular staff pretty much knew me on sight, and I knew them all by name.

However, I was caught quite by surprise to discover an additional familiar face within the small-town clinic, “Doctor Lancet?” I blurted out loud when I saw the black unicorn stallion conferring with another patient in the modest office, “what are you doing down here?”

The older physician glanced up at me briefly, but only held up a patient hoof as he finished his already ongoing conversation with his patient. I blushed awkwardly and remained off to the side, not having intended to interrupt the doctor during his job. So I waiting off to the side, my hoof idly massaging my still aching tummy.

Finally, Lancet completed his talk and dismissed his previous patient, and turned to regard me with a patient expression, “Miss Windfall. it has been some time, hasn’t it?

“As to what I’m doing in Shady Saddles, well, there has been some...administrative woes, shall we say, in Seaddle,” he fixed me with a knowing look, eliciting another awkward blush from myself, “I thought it prudent to relocate my practice. So, now I work here with Doctor Phleb. He’s currently out making some rounds in the robust little ‘tent city’ that has so recently sprung up within the town limits.

“Which I understand is also your doing, correct?”

“Uh, yeah, something like that,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my head as I smirked at the physician, “they’ll only be here for another day or two. Then we’ll be heading out to go and deal with some bad ponies.”

“Woe be unto the ponies who prompted the Wonderbolt to enlist an army to deal with them,” Lancet allowed himself a dry chuckle before adopting a more serious expression, “if you’re here to try and purchase more of the clinic’s supply, we’ve already sold all that we can possibly spare. I explained to that courser friend of yours that it’s not a matter of caps or bits. Phled and I simply refuse to risk having nothing left to use to treat the ponies of Shady Saddles, regardless of the results of your campaign―”

“No no no, it’s nothing like that,” I hurriedly explained, “I just wanted to see if you had anything for an upset stomach, that’s all.”

“Oh,” he seemed almost surprised by the mundane request, which I guess was a little understandable, considering what most of my visits with him had typically involved, “well, that I can help you with,” he turned and began heading towards a cabinet in the back of the office, “can you give me some details about your stomach issue? What kind of discomfort you’re feeling, where exactly it’s located, that sort of thing?”

“I started getting some pretty sharp pains in my gut a couple days ago while on the way here. They won’t go away.”

Lancet hesitated and looked back in my direction, his expression slightly more concerned, “you’ve been experiencing sharp pains for the past few days?”

“Off and on,” I said, feeling a little more self-conscious as a result of his reaction to being told about a little stomach bug.

The Doctor studied me a little more intently with his eyes, “have you eaten anything out of the ordinary recently?”

“No, just the usual: Cram, Fancy Buck Cakes, whiskey. Same as everypony else.”

“How have your stools been? Runny? Have you gone at all?”

I frowned, “you mean my shits? They’re about the same, I guess. Why?”

“Hmm,” he frowned pensively, “it’s unusual to experience significant intestinal discomfort without anything manifesting during a bowel movement,” he tapped his chin, “when were you last in heat?”

My cheeks burned at the question, “what’s that have to do with anything?!”

“Maybe nothing, maybe everything,” Lancet explained, “there are several uterine issues that can be mistaken for stomach trouble; even if you aren’t sexually active, which I assume is still the case since your last visit?”

“Yeah,” I blurted immediately, feeling decidedly a lot more uncomfortable about this visit. Then I was forced to grunt and sigh, “I mean...kind of,” my cheeks felt like they were about to catch on fire, “I’ve only done it two times, and the first time was really quick, so it probably doesn’t count.”

The stallion’s expression was slightly more amused at that last remark, but his features swiftly morphed into a more professional mask as he continued, “I see,” he then moved towards a different cabinet and opened it up, “and I presume that both encounters were indeed after you last assured me you were celibate?” I nodded. Lancet retrieved a needle and syringe floating in his telekinetic grip, “in that case, I’d like to run one test before proceeding…”

I fidgeted with my hooves in the examination room that Doctor Lancet had told me to wait in while he ran his ‘test’ for whatever it was that he was expecting to find. More frustrating than the waiting had been the fact that the unicorn had refused to give me anything at all to deal with my abdominal discomfort. He’d also asked that I refrain from eating or drinking anything until he came back.

My ears twitched and my eyes went to the door just moments before it opened and admitted the older stallion into the cozy little room. Instantly, I felt myself go on guard as I saw his expression. There was...something behind his eyes that I’d never seen on Lancet’s face before. Almost like a...remorse, of some sort. He sat down in front of me on his haunches, a sheet of paper held firm in his magic as he looked his gaze onto me.

“Miss Windfall, I have the results back from the blood test,” his tone was flat and condid, raising my hackles in response, “and I’m just going to come right to the point: you’re pregnant...barely.”

I had once been hit by a gargantuan hell hound so hard that the resulting impact had slammed me into a wall with enough force to very nearly pulverize my spine and leave me paralyzed from the neck down…

...but this news hit me harder than I’d ever been struck before, “I’m sorry, what.”

“It’s definitive,” he repeated, his words still cool and reserved, “you are quite pregnant; but the hormone levels that I found in your blood indicate that you may not be for much longer,” he took a deep breath, “Windfall, your body is in the early stages of a miscarriage.”

I forced myself to remove the hoof that had, at some point, wandered over to hover across my belly during the news. My brain was still trying to process receiving the initial news when the gravity of those last words struck home, “I―how? What’s wrong?” then the wider implications hit, “how can I even be pregnant at all?! I’ve only done it twice!

“None of RG’s...whatever, even made it in me the second time! I can’t be pregnant, so why would I be miscarrying?!”

Lancet let out a long sigh, “if you and your partner were together while you were heat, then all that it would have taken was the one encounter, but ultimately I can’t comment on how you became pregnant. That’s between you and the stallion in question.

“All that I can tell you is that you are pregnant, Windfall; but not for much longer,” he paused, “unless you wish to be.”

“What?”

“As I said: you’re hormone levels indicate that your body is in the early stages of a miscarriage,” Lancet repeated, “with a combination of potions and some spells, it is possible that your pregnancy can be saved.

“Otherwise, I do have something that I can give you to...expedite the process and remove the discomfort that you’re feeling.”

“You can save it?” I noticed that my hoof was back again, resting gently over my abdomen. I didn’t remove it this time, though my head was still racing with a myriad of thoughts as I tried to wrap my brain around the whole concept of being pregnant.

I mean, having a foal or two had always been a foregone conclusion in my head. Raising a family was something that I was going to do someday. However, I hadn’t meant for ‘someday’ to be quite so near in the future. I mean, I was about to lead an army into battle within the week! I couldn’t do that pregnant! Could I? There wasn’t even any telling if this would be a proverbial ‘killing blow’ to Arginine’s stable, even if it was all successful. Who knew how many of their roving ‘specimen’ teams that they had out and about. They’d have to be tracked down and dealt with.

To say nothing of what was almost certainly an army of those genetically engineered ponies that was currently moving through White Hoof territory. I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that as a serious possibility, but ‘political instability’ didn’t account for why so many groups of White Hooves would be heading out of the Neighvada Valley. On the other hoof, it all made a lot more sense if they were all refugees fleeing from a systematic extermination of their whole tribe.

I was the last pony that was going to shed a tear over their slaughter, no matter what group was doing it. As far as I was concerned, they deserved to by struck down, to the lasted painted stallion or mare. However, that meant that there was currently a group out there that was large enough to perform the eradication of a group that was as large and powerful as the White Hooves. Even without Whiplash keeping them all unified, they wouldn’t have been pushovers, and an external threat would have curbed whatever infighting they might have experienced and unified them again rather quickly. Tracking down and destroying such a force could take a lot of time.

Time that I couldn’t afford to spend pregnant!

...and yet…

“Windfall?” Lancet asked again, peering at me with a slightly concerned expression, “did you hear me?”

“Huh-what?”

“We need to make a decision, and quickly: do you want to save the pregnancy, or not?”

“I…” I hesitated. Which was ridiculous. After all, there wasn’t really an actual ‘decision’ to make here, was there? I couldn’t lead this campaign and have a foal at the same time. There’d be plenty of time to find a stallion and settle down later, when the world wasn’t under threat from genocidal freaks. I’d be able to pop out as many foals as I want then with no issues whatsoever.

Logically, the only acceptable course of action was to help my body do what it was already apparently doing on its own anyway, and move on to more important concerns. Any other decision would just be stupid.

“I…”

“...am such an idiot,” I bemoaned for about the twentieth time since leaving Doctor Lancet. I reached up and flicked the tiny glowing pendant hanging from around my neck. According to the black unicorn, it had a very similar function to a regeneration talisman, though its magic was far less robust and powerful. It might help me heal cuts and stuff slightly faster than normal, but its primary focus was to keep the fetus viable for the next few weeks while I finished taking the course of hormone pills that he’d provided to me.

In two weeks, I was supposed to come back and see him again for another round of blood tests to see how everything was coming along and if the treatments were indeed working.

That was the stupidest part about this whole thing, honestly. Even if I did everything that Lancet told me to do, there was every possibility that I’d miscarry anyway! I could very well be doing all of this for nothing. According to the physician, it all came down to what had triggered my body’s reaction in the first place. If it was something that my body had detected that was biologically wrong with the fetus, then no amount of magic or pills was going to do anything to help.

However, he’d noted that an overabundance of physical activity, excessive drinking, and being under a lot of stress could also serve as triggers for a self-terminating pregnancy. With my luck, I was probably sitting right at a trifecta of all three, considering how the last few weeks of my life had been going. If that was really the case, then the treatment plan that Lancet had given me would keep things running smoothly until I was in a better place, both emotionally and physiologically.

None of that changed that fact that this was all still likely very stupid of me. I shuddered to think of what Foxglove’s opinion would be. Though, that was a conversation I was completely content to put off for a while. Preferably until my inbound colt or filly was all grown up with a family of their own. At around that time I’d be open to being berated by the violet unicorn mechanic.

However, there was at least one conversation―with one specific stallion―that I almost definitely should have.

Not that I was expecting anything from him. After all, Arginine’s and my ‘relationship’ was still in the midsts of a rough patch. I think that I’d mostly managed to forgive him in my head, but things were still pretty complicated where my emotions were concerned―I bet the fluctuating hormones from these pills would be a big help there!―and so we hadn’t really had a chance to speak and iron things out since New Reino.

...well, okay, so that wasn’t necessarily true. There’d been plenty of chances. I’d just been too stubborn and drunk to want to make use of any of them.

This was hardly the ideal way to try and reconnect with him. I wasn’t even sure just what kind of response I would want from Arginine. It didn’t even really matter, since I’d already made my―very stupid―decision. I just...wanted him to know, was all. He sort of deserved to know, right? Since he was the father and all?

Would a stallion like him even care?

“Well, isn’t this jus’ the smallest durn Wasteland in the world!”

My head whipped up at the vaguely familiar voice. Standing before me was a unicorn that I’d met only once before, but the circumstances surrounding that meeting had certainly made it memorable, “...Marl?”

“Well, now I feel all abashed an’ such,” the mare laughed, “ta think that the Wonderbolt remembers the name of lil’ ol’ me! How’s tricks? Not that it’s much of a secret what the Wonderbolt gets up to around these parts,” she added with a wink.

“Yeah, I guess not. And it’s hard to forget ponies like you and your crew,” I said, finding myself able to muster a warm smile for the mare, “your sapphires really came through for me.”

“Glad to hear it! It was definitely the least that we could do for you and yours.”

“What brings you to Shady Saddles anyway? Selling gemstones?”

“Pretty much,” she nodded, her hazel eyes glittering, “word got around that the Hecate Band was down here, and they’re always willing to pay top bit for high-end stones.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Their leader, Keri, a big zebra with a funny way of talkin’, uses them to make talismans and such. But, like, super zebra voodoo talismans, you know?”

It was reassuring to hear that at least one of the mercenary groups seemed to be taking my warnings about the threat that Arginine’s stable posed seriously and gathering together the resources that they needed to fight them, “zebra voodoo talismans, huh? How are they different from the ones that ponies make?”

“Oh, I’ve heard that zebras can do all sorts of things with their magic,” the unicorn mare informed me, “summon monsters from Tartarus, make dead bodies move on their own, enthrall ponies to make them their slaves, all sorts of dark stuff like that.”

My eyes widened, “really? Zebras can do stuff like that? But they don’t even have horns! How can they do magic like that? I didn’t even think that unicorns could do magic like that!”

“Unicorns can’t,” Marl insisted, “not that I’ve ever heard of, at any rate; but zebra magic ain’t really ‘magic’ like that. I heard that they get their powers by making deals with demons from another realm or some such,” she leaned in really close, “they sell their souls, some say, to get all sorts of powers. I even heard that, when they die, they become those same demons too and help other zebras.”

“That...sounds pretty dark…”

“Well, that’s zebras for you,” Marl shrugged, straightening back up again, “there was a reason that ponies fought their empire until the whole world was destroyed, after all.”

“Right, yeah, I guess.”

“You alright, girly?” Marl inquired, peering at me with a slightly concerned expression, “you seem a little out of sorts.”

I blinked at the mare blankly before I finally processed what she’d said and gave myself a little shake to wake myself up, “yeah, no, I’m fine. Sorry. I’m just...you know, under a lot of pressure right now,” I put on a wry smile, “sort of planning a war and all that.”

“Ha! That does sound a might stressful, I’ll grant ya!” the mare laughed, “in that case, I’m heading over to the local drinking establishment for some ‘stress relief’; care to join me?”

“Well, I kind of looking for somepony, and I don’t know where they are at the moment, so―”

“So why not start at the tavern? If the pony you’re looking for isn’t there, then maybe there’s a least a pony there what’s caught sight of them, right?”

That wasn’t the worst idea that I’d heard recently. While Arginine certainly wasn’t the kind to hang out at a bar and drink, a massive gray stallion with two horns popping out of his forehead wasn’t an easy sight to forget. Sandy or somepony else there very well might have seen him recently and be able to point me in the right direction to start my search, “sure thing. Let’s go…”

I trotted down the road at Marl’s side as the mare went on about how she and her family hunted gems, along with a questionably interesting explanation about the best soil consistencies for natural gem formation and the techniques that were used to dig for them, “after all, it’s not like you can just scratch at the ground and uncover a pile of sparkling gemstones!” the mare cackled, “maybe in the old days, if the stories are true,” she sounded dubious, “but certainly not anymore. These days, you have to dig for them, and I mean really dig.

“But our clan’s been tunneling for centuries, and we’ve gotten it down to a science. Heck, diggin’s practically an instinct for us Tarts; dating all the way back to our so-many-greats grandmother Lemon or Lime or Citron whoever,” she paused, tapping her chin in thought before finally shrugging, “eh, it was one of them fruits anyway, I think.”

I was about to point out that something probably couldn’t be both a science and an instinct at the same time when I realized that we’d arrived at the front door of Sandy’s tavern. Marl had apparently already vanished from my side and I spied her on the other side of the overcrowded dining area chatting away with a few other faces that I recognized from our rescue a few months ago.

While not every pony that the New Reino mercenary companies had promised us had made their way to Shady Saddles quite yet, it was pretty obvious wherever you looked in the small town that this place was a lot more populated than it usually was. Two hundred-odd ponies increased the settlement’s population by nearly a full quarter. Seeing the serving ponies, along with Sandy herself, now dashing between tables that had become ‘standing room only’ as they tried to keep up with their clientele, I idly wondered if I should have sent word ahead to Ramparts’ sister…

“Hey, Windy! Be with you in a sec!” the dusty-colored mare blurted as she zipped by, balancing a half dozen drinks and plates on her backside. She was out of sight before I could utter a word in reply. Patiently, I set myself by the door and waited. Several minutes later, the very out of breath mare approached me, smiling tiredly, “sorry about the wait,” she gestured to the packed room, “but, as you can see…”

“Yeah, sorry about that―”

“Sorry?! Are you kidding?” the mare laughed, “I’ve made more money tonight than I made all of last month! This is great!”

“Oh...well then...glad to help? Hey, have you seen Arginine around here? Big gray unicorn stallion with two horns? Always looks like he’s shitting out a cactus?”

Sandy sniggered, “can’t say that I’ve seen anypony like that, no; but I’ll keep an eye out. Can I get you anything? I have plenty of Wild Pegasus to go around if you want your usual?”

“Yeah, that sounds―wait, no!” I winced, idly putting a hoof to my stomach. Alcohol was one of those things that Lancet had been very clear about me staying away from during the pregnancy. He’d also cautioned me about drinking even after I’d given birth, since it would be bad for the foal while it was nursing, “Uh, a bottle of...um…” I drew a blank, “what do ponies drink that’s not whiskey?”

Sandy quirked an eyebrow, “expanding your palate, eh? Well, I’ve got some vodka, gin, a little rum―”

“No, I mean drinks with no alcohol at all.”

“Oh. You mean a Sparkle Cola?” the mare glanced at me, skeptically.

“Yeah, that’s right! One of those please.”

“Really? No booze?”

I frowned, mostly at myself for having managed to garner a reputation with this mare for being such a lush, “no thank you; just the cola.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged, “I’ll have a bottle sent right out,” the tavern owner said, and then she vanished into the crowd. A few minutes later, another of Sandy’s servers walked past me and delivered my bottle. I paid her, and then slipped back outside into the slightly quieter night in front of the bar so that I could drink in relative peace.

Finding Arginine here had been a long shot, so I wasn’t surprised about being no closer to locating him. On the bright side, I was left with plenty of time to look.

Just like in New Reino, there wasn’t all that much that I was responsible for handling at the moment. Ramparts was meeting with the mercenary commanders to hash out the details of our campaign. Foxglove was collecting supplies and servicing the group’s equipment. Starlight had locked herself away for the evening to look over her grimoires for any spells that might prove particularly useful in the coming days. Moonbeam had chosen to linger in McMaren for the evening at the request of some of Homily’s engineers. Apparently they wanted her help with testing the connections that they were setting up with the hangar beneath the landfill.

Meanwhile, I was left to...just sort of wait around. I wasn’t a tactician like Ramparts was, so I wouldn’t be a lot of help in their planning meeting. My lack of engineering expertise would be more likely to slow Foxglove down than provide her with any meaningful assistance. I couldn’t read any sort of magic at all. Outside of combat, I was really pretty much...useless.

I cast a scathing glance back at my cutie mark.

A fat load of help that thing was. I’d just slaughtered a whole family, save for a single young colt, because all I knew how to do was kill.

The bottle was uncorked and to my lips with hardly any thought given to the matter before I even remembered that I wasn’t holding a bottle whiskey. I just about choked when I tasted half-flat carrot soda instead of liquor. I wiped my mouth and glared at the offending bottle for several seconds before finally letting out a defeated sigh and sipping at what was left of its contents.

Being pregnant was going to suck…

I didn’t even have the luxury of escaping my self-destructive ruminating by getting too drunk to think straight anymore!

Fortunately for me, before my head could drag me too far back down the whole ‘all you’re good for is killing ponies’ rigamarole that I’d become used to of late, somepony came by to pull me right back out of it.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

My head whipped around at the sound of the deep voice. I breathed an exasperated sigh as I saw the familiar looming grey bulk of Arginine, “small Wasteland; I’ve been looking for you too. There’s some, uh,” I cleared my throat, which had suddenly gone dry despite the recent Sparkle Cola that I’d drunk, “things that I need to talk about with you.”

“Indeed?” the tall unicorn stallion asked. He motioned with his head, “then perhaps you could do so while we walk? There is someplace that we need to be.”

An annoyed grunt escaped my lips, “if I’d known that waging a war would require so many briefings and so much planning, I wouldn’t have stormed your stable myself,” Arginine didn’t respond to my little vent, and the two of us simply began to make our way down one of the town’s dimming streets as night began to go into full swing.

“Look, RG,” I began, a frown creasing my lips, “first, I want to apologize for New Reino―the way I acted. It was...well, I know that it wasn’t like you were trying to hurt me. You were trying really hard to do something nice for me, and I should have remembered that you don’t know how ponies on the surface do things.

“We needed money, and you went out and got a job that made a lot of caps. I needed some cheering up, and you took me out for what was genuinely a really fun night,” my expression shifted into a slight smile as I recalled the evening’s events. My cheeks burned with a slight blush as well as I remembered how it ended; which also prompted my hoof to briefly reach up and brush against the talisman around my neck. Time to stop beating around the bush, Windfall.

I took a deep breath.

However, before I could speak, Arginine interjected, “Your apology is appreciated. I would also like to comment, as well,” the words I’d been preparing stalled in my throat as the stallion went on, “I have noticed that, since the last night we interacted, several of you self-destructive habits have returned. You have begun drinking to excess, and have become more withdrawn from the others.”

“Yeah, I know; but I promise that I―”

“Those habits further escalated in the wake of the incident during our trip to Shady Saddles,” the stallion cast an aside glance my direction, “the ‘White Hoof’ attack?”

My mouth snapped shut and I felt a cold shiver run through my spine. Partly due to the reminder of the costly mistake that I’d made, but also because of the tone that Arginine had used to frame his question. In my head, I was furiously going through every word that Moonbeam and I had exchanged with anypony on the matter to see if there was a way that the details could have reached him. Frankly, there shouldn’t have been anypony outside of myself and a few of the ponies in McMaren who should have known that the White Hooves I’d butchered weren’t strictly ‘raiders’.

Moonbeam might have said something to her mother somehow, I supposed. I couldn’t think of any way that the two of them could have been in contact, but the unicorn mare was certainly the most likely candidate for the cybernetic alicorn to talk to about that subject. From there, it was possible that Starlight Glimmer might have said something to Arginine, or at least said it to somepony else where he could have overheard them…

Though, I felt like if any of my companions knew that I’d murdered a mother and her newborn foal, I’d have gotten an earful from at least Foxglove about it by now.

My left wing briefly moved from where it was folded at my side, a pinion brushing against my underside at the thought of the newborn. I felt my throat grow too tight to speak. The other day, I’d ended the life of a mother and her foal, and here I was trying so desperately to keep from losing mine...I wasn’t quite so certain anymore that I’d had to the right to ask for Doctor Lancet’s help. That impending miscarriage could very well have been the Wasteland serving up some very fitting justice for my actions.

“In any case,” the stallion went on, as though he were oblivious to the clouded state of my expression, “it has also been my observation that there has been a gradual shift in the load being undertaken by this group. You have begun to rely more upon Miss Foxglove and Mister Ramparts to organize this campaign. Am I correct?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question that felt so removed from the topic of my recent uptake in drinking, “I mean, I guess so. They seem to know what they’re doing. Ramparts knows military stuff, and Foxglove knew New Reino better than anypony else but me. It’s not like I could really hope to pull all of this off on my own, right?” I scoffed at the notion, all joking earlier to the side.

Honestly, I’d never had to to anything on my own. Not really. Jackboot had been there with me just about every step of the way until his death. Even after that, Foxglove had been by my side to lean on. Without somepony there to help out, I very much doubted that I’d have made it as far as I had; in life, or in this quest to stop Arginine’s stable.

“Indeed,” the taller stallion nodded, “though, this raise a few concerns.”

“Concerns?” my features scrunched up in confusion, “what could there possibly be to be ‘concerned’ about? Are you saying there’s somepony with us that you don’t trust?” that would certainly be quite the hypocritical opinion to hold, considering that his was the loyalty that should be the most questionable in all of this.

“It is not a question of ‘trust’, no,” Arginine assured me, “but there does yet remain some lingering...doubts regarding their competency. Up to this point, the ponies from my stable that we have faced have not been true reflections of the quality of pony that we will be facing in the near future.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our mission is, and has forever been known, to be an undertaking that is accomplished in various stages. Each stage would similarly rely most heavily of specific qualities from the ponies involved,” the stallion explained patiently, “and so those qualities were specifically expressed in the strains assigned to those tasks.

“For example: I am a Lambda Strain. Our genome was designed to favor high intelligence, but with a distinct lack of empathy and emotional reservations about our tasks. The latter traits are not something that is intended to be introduced into the eventual Omega Strain that our stable designs when settlement of the Wasteland is to begin.

“Now, while we do possess the greater mass, heartier health, and superior strength that is inherent to all strains in our stable at the moment, those traits are further enhanced in our Kappa Strains. It is those strains that will spearhead the extermination of all other ponies in the Wasteland. Ponies who, in a word, make me and all the others you’ve encountered up to this point look: ‘weak’.

I certainly didn’t like the sound of that, “wait, are you telling me that your stable has, like, special soldier ponies who are designed to be as good at fighting as you are at thinking?”

“That’s a fair summary, yes.”

Well...horseapples.

“Now, while that is true, I have faith in your personal abilities. I have, on multiple occasions, witnessed you best numerous members of my own strain while significantly outnumbered. While I would not hesitate to admit that any singular Kappa could easily best a Lambda like myself in combat, I do have doubts that one Kappa could do so while confronted with three or four of my strain.

“You have faced off against much greater odds and emerged victorious in the past. So I am confident that you would prove a match for a Kappa when the inevitable confrontation occurs.”

“Oh. Well, thanks, RG. That actually means a lot,” and I certainly couldn’t help but feel flattered by the praise, which was not something that Arginine seemed to so readily provide, even to me. Though, that little bit of elation was very much overshadowed by the disconcerting knowledge that he’d just provided as well. His stable had ponies in it that were even bigger and stronger than him? I was not looking forward to fighting off an army of uber-RGs…

“You told the others this, right?”

“I have,” the stallion nodded, “though I must acknowledge my own lack of in-depth knowledge on the subject of the Kappa’s specific capabilities. I was never involved in the design process in my stable. My knowledge is largely hyperbolic and anecdotal. The others were grateful for the warning, but it is hard to know how effective any of their precautions might be.

“Indeed, the more I think on it, the less assured of a victory for the ponies of the Wasteland I am.”

Well, that wasn’t what I needed to here from Arginine, of all ponies, “that’s not very optimistic,” I murmured.

“It is not a question of optimism,” he replied, “it is a question of capability,” he drew to a halt and gestured at a small building to our right. I glanced about, taking note of where we are, but not immediately recognizing anything. We were in a section of the town that didn’t seem to see a lot of traffic, and I couldn’t immediately think of anything of note that was supposed to be around here.

Though, I suppose that space in a town like this would be at a premium with the sudden influx of a few hundred additional ponies. The various mercenary leaders probably couldn’t afford to be very picky about where they held there little planning meetings and whatnot. So I went ahead and slipped inside what could only generously be described at a ‘shack’.

As it turned out, the exterior had actually served as a pretty good indicator for what was inside: it was a shack alright. Specifically one that somepony was using to store a lot of their old junk; and not even particularly valuable looking junk at that. I turned around and glanced at Arginine in confusion, “what’s going on? Where is everypony?”

Arginine shrugged, “I presume they are at a planning meeting. I honestly don’t know,” he brushed past me and walked over to one of the shelves that was choked with odds and ends. When he turned around, he was levitating a small case in his amber magic.

“So...what are we doing here?” I felt the fur along the nape of my neck start to stiffen as I became more unsettled. If Arginine was anything like a normal stallion, I’d have thought that he was trying to get the two of us alone to fool around or something, but that was about as far from the kind of pony that Arginine was as anypony could get, the events in New Reino notwithstanding.

The unicorn opened up the case and removed a small cylinder from inside. It looked very much like any of the syringes of Med-X that a pony might find in an old first aid container around some ruins. I opened my mouth to question what he was doing with it, but before I could get a word out, the hypodermic darted in an instant into the side of my neck. It happened so quickly that I didn’t even feel the bite of the needle as it entered.

By the time I finally reacted, Arginine’s magic had already withdrawn the now empty syringe and placed it back in the case, “ow! Hey, what gives?!” I reached up and began to massage the point on my neck that had been injected, “what was in that...thing…?”

As I spoke, I heard my words begin to sound deeper and further away. My vision was also starting to tunnel slightly. My hind legs grew weak, and I stumbled slightly in an effort to maintain my footing. All the while, Arginine simply stood in front of me, a patient expression on his face, “it was a sedative. A potent one. In a few moments, you will lose consciousness.”

“Wh...Wh…” my mouth was being quite uncooperative, as were my legs. Despite my best efforts, my haunches had already collapsed down to my knees. Vainly, I spread my wings and tried to fly away, but even my drug-addled brain could tell that their movements were far too slow and sporadic to actually create any amount of flight. All I was doing was fanning the dust off the shelves, “why?” I finally managed, though it took a frankly stupendous amount of concentration and effort.

“Because I am unconvinced that the ponies that you’ve recruited are capable of victory,” the stallion said in his usual unconcerned tone, “and my goal is, and has always been, to ensure that only the best ponies in this fight emerge victorious,” he paused and cocked his head to the side.

I heard it finally too, though it was a distant and dull thing to my dwindling hearing: an alarm. The town’s raid alert siren; typically employed whenever a group like the White Hooves or some other large band of raiders were attacking the town. Even in my drugged state, I knew full well that it couldn’t be White Hooves that were attacking at this moment.

The lines on Arginine’s face tightened in, what was for him, mild annoyance, “I suppose there is a fine line between ‘prompt’ and ‘inconveniently early’,” the stallion droned, “this will make getting out of the town unnoticed significantly more difficult than I had planned for.”

I found it difficult to sympathize with him, even as I could no longer keep myself upright. My body slumped slowly to the ground. I strained to keep seeing and hearing, but it was getting so much harder to do so. It was like everything around me suddenly felt like it was all a part of dream that I was having. There were words coming from my pipbuck that could have belonged to Ramparts. He sounded like he was trying to tell me something important. But I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge them, let alone respond.

Somepony was doing something to my pipbuck, and then the words went away. I recognized Arginine’s scent. Then I felt his warm body beneath mine. It was nice and reminded me of all of the great sensations that I’d felt the last time I’d experienced it this close. A part of my mind was wondering if I wasn’t supposed to hate that scent right now. I wasn’t sure. I just felt really tired. I was sure that something important was going on, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. Besides, I had great ponies with me. They’d take care of any problems.

I just wanted to sleep...

Foot Note: ...

CHAPTER 50: DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME

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Lady, I'm just a puppet like you. My stage is a little bigger, that's all.

The ground rushed beneath me, a blur of greens, grays, and blues as I soared over trees, mountains, and rivers respectively. If I reached out my hoof just a little, I could have smacked the canopies of those trees. I could hear their leaves rustling in my wake as the air cavitated around me. Above me, only the barest wisps of clouds were visible in the furthest reaches of an endless cerulean sky. To my left, a brilliant orb of light so intense that it hurt to look at directly, shown just above the distant mountaintops. Yet, despite its harsh glare when viewed dead-on, I found its light and warmth soothing and inviting.

It was beautiful. All of it. This whole world was precious and beautiful, and I wanted to keep flying above it for the rest of my life.

So, I would.

“You’re pretty fast,” I heard a pony ask from beside me, her voice sounding scratchy to my ears, but not unpleasant.

I peered to my right and saw that I was not as alone in this sky as I’d initially thought. A pegasus mare with a soothing blue coat and sporting a rainbow mane was keeping pace at my side. Her amethyst eyes held a subtly challenging glint in them, as though she was likely to invite me to compete against her in a race at any moment. Of course, I didn’t want to race. I just wanted to fly.

“I know,” after all, I was the fastest mare that I knew. I could cross the whole of the Neighvada Valley in hours if I felt like really pushing myself, and that was without the Gale Force. I’d be pretty worn out when I got to where I was going, but I’d be there.

“Wherever you’re going, it must be pretty important,” she observed.

“I’m not sure,” I responded, barely even registering how small and distant my own words sounded, “but I’ll know when I get there.”

“Oh?” the mare smiled, seemingly intrigued by my answer, “you’ll know when you’ve gotten to a place you didn’t know you were going to? How exactly does that work?”

I shrugged, “it’ll feel right.”

The blue mare nodded, “flying by your wits and instinct. I can appreciate that,” then her eyes adopted a sad quality, “I lived most of my life like that, in fact. Planning for today, and letting tomorrow tend to itself.

“It’s a dangerous recipe for most ponies,” she cautioned, “but if you’re skilled enough, and determined enough, you can still go pretty far like that.

“But skill and determination won’t carry you the whole way to your destination,” I glanced over at the mare, who had fixed me with her own intense violet gaze, “oh, you’ll feel like they can. That’s the danger of being awesome: you just blow through everything that the average pony thinks is really difficult. You start to think that everything in the world is easy, and that other ponies just won’t put in the effort.

“But the truth is that it’s you who stopped putting in the effort.”

She surged ahead of me with ease, coasting along on her backside like she might as well have been floating down a stream. She motioned for me to catch up. So I poured on a little more speed too. It wasn’t enough. The mare’s expression was growing impatient, and her urging for me to close the distance was growing more insistent. I pressed myself harder, working to coax even a little more speed out of my wings. Yet, every time I thought I’d pushed myself enough to catch her, she remained just out of reach.

“What’s wrong? Why can’t you keep up?” the mare demanded, annoyed at my failures.

“You’re too fast!” I gasped, still trying to muster another drop of speed out of my body which was insisting that it had reached its limit.

“I thought you were fast?”

“You’re faster,” I protested, though I didn’t let up yet. I wanted to beat her now, if only to drag her ego down a peg. Who did this mare think she was anyway? Yet, for all my efforts, I started to falter, and slowly began to lag further and further behind.

“No, I’m not,” the rainbow-maned mare insisted, “I’m old and worn out. My hayday is long behind me. You’re young, vibrant, powerful. You could fly circles around me if you really wanted to.”

“Obviously not,” I remarked dryly.

“I said you could if you wanted to,” the blue pegasus chided, pulling even further ahead of me, “you obviously don’t want to.”

I snarled and tried to redouble my efforts to match the other flier’s speed, but only found myself lagging even more, “yes, I do!”

“Oh?” the mare twirled lazily ahead of me, yet still somehow managed to maintain her breakneck pace that I simply was unable to match, “and why’s that?”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I tried to tell her that I wanted to beat her for the sake of proving that I was faster, but the words refused to form in my throat. My frustration mounted further as a result, and the distance between us continued to grow. Instead, I merely glared at the mare, who didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“I asked you why you wanted to beat me,” she repeated in a sarcastic tone that let me know that she was well aware of my stymied efforts to respond, “I’m still waiting to hear an answer.”

Again I tried to speak, and once more my voice refused to come forth, leaving us to fly in silence a few moments longer. In the midsts of another piercing glare at the mare, I saw something taking shape in the distance. A beacon of some sort. A ray of light that was shining up from the ground. My mind was suddenly filled with overwhelming desire to reach that signal, for I knew it to be my ultimate destination.

This mare could race herself for all I cared. I had better things to do. With a final, dismissive, snort at the blue pegasus, I veered down and streaked towards my goal―

Only to be drawn up short by the other mare as she moved so fast it was as though she materialized in front of me. I suddenly found myself at a dead stop. Yet, at the same time, there was no indication that the mare had used any significant force to restrain me. She’d only held out a single slender hoof, which now rested upon my chest with only the softest hint of a touch.

I blinked in surprise, glancing between her face and the hoof that had brought me to a halt. I grunted in annoyance and went to smack aside her impeding hold on me. She was stopping me from getting to where I needed to be. My surprise and frustration compounded when I discovered that I was inexplicably unable to budge her hoof so much as a inch. Confused and annoyed, I elected to cut my losses and simply fly around her.

That was when I discovered that even my own wings weren’t moving anymore. I was paralyzed in the air, motionless, at the mercy of this strange multi-colored mare.

“You are skilled, Windfall; and you are determined,” she mare said. Her violet eyes held neither malice, nor ambivalence. Only pity; and I couldn’t understand. She was my antagonist, keeping me from where I needed to be. Why would she pity me?

“But that’s not enough. It’ll feel like it, believe me, but it’s not. I know because that’s how I was too,” she continued, “I was so fast, and so powerful, and so fearless,” she let out a deep sigh, “it carried me through most of my adult life. I came to see myself as indestructible…

“So, when the war came...I wasn’t worried in the slightest,” her lip curled up in a wan smile, yet her eyes remained pitying, “because I knew―I knew―that my awesomeness would be all that I needed to support my friends and help them succeed,” her smile shifted slightly as the haze of distant memory briefly glazed her eyes, “and we very nearly did,” she said in a near-whisper, “we came so close…”

She glanced over her shoulder at the beacon that was calling out to me, wearing that same sad smile. Then she looked back at me, “but I lacked what I needed to take me all the way, just like you do.”

“And what’s that?” I said, surprising even myself that I’d managed to speak aloud again.

“Heart,” she said, “my heart wasn’t in it. Because, deep down, I didn’t want to be doing what I was doing, the way that I was doing it.

“Sure, I wouldn’t back down from a fight―not even with a dragon big enough to eat me in one bite―but I never wanted to kill anything! But that was what you had to do in a war,” she shook her head, “and even from the beginning, I knew that I’d never be able to put my all into it, because I didn’t agree with how things were being done, and why they were being done that way.

“Killing and destruction? Was that really all we could have done to bargain with the zebras? Nothing else? Nothing at all?” she shook her head, “I didn’t believe that,” then she turned to me and leaned in close, placing her mouth next to my ear, saying in a whisper that was almost too soft to hear, “and neither do you.”

She pulled back again and glanced over her shoulder at the radiant light in the distance, “which is why you won’t make it as you are. You can’t go the distance.

“You don’t know the way…”

The pressure was so slight―almost delicate―but it was enough. My wings were still inexplicably paralyzed, refusing to move no matter what I tried to do.

I started falling. A wordless scream was expelled from my mouth as I plummeted out of the sky, heading towards the dense arboreal forest beneath me. My legs kicked and flailed, as though even without any feathers, they might yet somehow manage to bestow me the ability to cease falling. It was a desperate, vain, hope, and it proved predictably futile. Inevitably, I was swallowed up by the canopy below.

Leaves cut at me, branches lashed my body like vengeful whips. Every inch of my passing saw me brutally punished and beaten by the trees who seemed to be consciously affronted by this pegasus who had dared to trespass into their realm so suddenly and without invitation. One of those trees was apparently so offended, that they saw fit to beat me with a limb that was as wide around as I was. Every ounce of beath left me in that moment, ending my torrent of ‘oofs!’ and ‘ahs!’ as I’d received my thrashing.

My sudden silence allowed for the resounding ‘crack!’ of my wing shattering to be heard quite clearly for many miles around. Through the intense pain, I somehow managed to hang on to just enough awareness to recognize that my agony was not yet over. While that limb did indeed prove to represent the lower limit of the forest’s brutal canopy, it also marked the beginning of the last leg of my fall.

And I would most certainly hit the ground with enough residual speed to break my neck as thoroughly as that tree had broken my wing. I shut my eyes tight, not finding myself willing to watch the ground rush up to bestow upon me its final farewell.

My surprise was total when I felt myself slowing down. My eyes snapped open now, my brain too curious to know how the very laws of physics had been so flaunted to remain ignorant of the source of my salvation. Yet, even seeing it, I wasn’t certain that I believed it all that much.

I had been caught, it seemed, and was currently being cradled in the limbs of: a giant, pink, butterfly. My stunned expression was frozen on my face as the massive insect glided on its immense wings and deposited me ever so gently upon the leaf-strewn forest floor. I stepped carefully, not certain that I wasn’t dead.

“Th...thank you?” I offered to the butterfly.

“You’re very welcome!” it replied in a sweet voice that sounded amazingly delicate for such a large bug. Then the creature lifted higher into the air again and ascended back into the canopy, vanishing from sight. I watched it leave in slack-jawed amazement.

Yet, the voice persisted, “my, you took quite the nasty fall! Are you sure you’re alright?”

I jumped with a start, my head snapping to look back in front of me. It hadn’t been the butterfly who had spoken, I quickly realized―after all, that would have just been silly!―but rather, it had been a demure looking yellow pegasus mare with her long silky pink mane brushed over the right side of her face. Her deep blue eyes were locked upon my left wing, which was bent at an obviously all too wrong angle.

My own gaze rested on the mangled limb, “I hurt my wing,” I offered dully, chiding my obvious statement. Flushing, I looked around for my saddlebags, “it’s fine. I’ve got a healing potion or something around here to fix it…” only I didn’t. My saddlebags were nowhere to be seen. Had they been caught up in the trees?

The yellow mare curled her nose at the mention of the purple liquid and shook her head, “good heavens! That stuff is just meant to be used for cuts and scrapes! Something like a broken wing needs more than that.”

“Oh,” I said, “well, I don’t have any Hydra, so―”

“Ugh!” how was it possible for that mare to look adorable while making a disgusted face, “that stuff’s more poison than medicine. Come, lay down,” she stepped over and guided me down until I was neatly crouched down on the ground with my legs tucked beneath me, “I’ll take care of it.

“You can’t just rush in and throw every random bottle of ‘medicine’ at an injury like this,” she chided me―if her delicate tone was even actually capable of ‘chiding’ anypony. She slipped off her own pink saddlebags and began to dig through them, retrieving some bandages and a few bottles of various ointments and salves, “you’ll risk doing more harm than good!”

“I mean, that’s what everypony does though,” I said defensively, “when somepony gets hurt, they drink a healing potion. I mean, for the really serious stuff you might need to see a doctor, but for regular, everyday, stuff like bullet wounds and cracked ribs, a healing potion seems to do the trick.”

The mare shook her head as she rolled up one of the bandages into a pad and poured a little of one of her elixirs onto it, “this might come as a shock to you, but bullet wounds are not ‘regular’ things,” her words sounded sad, almost defeated, “at least, they didn’t use to be,” she stepped over and reached out to touch my wing with the potion-infused pad.

I winced in anticipation of the pain such contact was likely to cause, but her touch was apparently so gentle that I felt no discomfort at all. I watched in amazement as the mare began to very carefully clean out the wound. She continued speaking as she did so, “once upon a time, ponies managed to go their whole lives without breaking bones or getting shot,” the yellow mare appeared to be trying to make light of her own words, but I saw her eyes misting almost instantly.

She sniffled and cleared her throat, “but that was a long time ago,” she took a deep breath and straightened herself up a little as she focused more intently on getting every last piece of debris out of my wound.

I found myself nodding in sympathy, “well, it’s how things are now, I guess,” I saw the mare wince and tried to follow my words with something a little more inspiring, “but I’m working on fixing that,” I insisted, “I’m making the Wasteland a better place.”

“Are you?” it was hard to tell if the pegasus was being politely inquisitive, or if she was dubious. Her words retained their sweet sound, yet I could see a hardness just behind her eyes that seemed so out of place among the mare’s otherwise soft features, “and how are you doing that?”

“I’m stopping the bad ponies,” I informed her, not sounding as sure of my words as I might have liked, “helping the good ones.”

“I see,” the mare said in a surprisingly short tone. She put away the pad and fetched a needle and some silk thread, “and it’s working?” she murmured around the hook-shaped steel barb in her teeth, “the world is becoming a better place?”

As had happened in the air only minutes earlier, I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out. However, this time it wasn’t because my body was suddenly incapable of producing speech. It was a much simpler this time: I had been about to lie to her, and that didn’t feel like a very nice thing to do to a mare like her. I bit my lip and hesitated. Then, “I don’t think so,” I admitted reluctantly, “the Wasteland doesn’t feel any different.”

“I take it that means that you’ll stop doing what you’re doing,” the mare said as she took the needle to several deep gashes along my wing and began to very diligently sew the rent flesh together one stitch at a time.

“No! Of course not,” I frowned. How could I stop trying to help ponies?

“But I thought you said it wasn’t working,” the yellow pegasus reminded me, “why would you keep doing something that isn’t working?”

“Because doing nothing sure isn’t going to help!” I protested, feeling that much at least should be obvious to the mare.

“Well, of course it isn’t,” she agreed, putting away the remainder of her thread and taking out several thin wooden slats and more linen bandages. The mare applied the slats to the joints of my wing, gently arranging the distorted limb into a half-extended state. When she had attained the desired positioning, she started to encase my limb in the linen wraps, “but doing the wrong thing can often be worse than doing nothing at all.”

Just beyond the mare, I spied a copy of myself with a mangled wing. She had a vial of purple healing potion to her lips and was drinking it. Before my eyes, I saw her spasm and her mouth spread open in a agonizing silent scream as the wing twisted and bent under the influence of the potion that she―I―had just drunk. When it was over, the ivory pegasus looked in horror at the appendage that, while no longer ‘broken’, was clearly not something that would ever let her fly again.

“You can’t just act,” the mare continued, seemingly oblivious to the other little white flier with the mangled limb behind her. Indeed, when I looked back, I no longer saw my double either, “you have to make sure that you’re taking the right action.

“I didn’t hesitate to join my friends,” she continued. I wasn’t sure that she was necessarily talking about medical treatment anymore, “everypony was doing something to help, and I knew that I had to as well. I couldn’t bring myself to fight, but I believed that I could help in other ways.

“A war meant that there would be wounded. They’d need ponies to help them, and to care for them,” she said in a voice that was trembling now, her eyes awash in memory, “their bodies were broken...and so I fixed them,” she closed her eyes now and shook her head, “but that wasn’t what was going to actually help them.

“They’d go right back out, break again, and return...if they were lucky enough,” she swallowed, “I never took the time to take a step back and look at what I was doing. I was just acting. I was doing what I thought would help, and not paying attention to whether or not anything was actually getting better.

“...then it got worse,” she said in a whisper, “it wasn’t just their bodies anymore that couldn’t stand up to the fighting, it was their minds too. Again, I just acted and tried to repair the damage,” tears were streaming down her face now. All I wanted to do was reach out and take the mare into a comforting hug, but I found myself unable to move, just like with the other rainbow-maned flier.

“I wasn’t helping,” the mare insisted bitterly, “I was causing them even more pain and suffering by letting the war drag on longer, and longer. I was adding to the suffering,” the mare looked up and peered at me now through her tear-filled blue eyes, “just like you’re doing.”

Her words struck at my core, inflicting far more pain than those trees ever could have if I’d fallen miles through their branches. Once again I tried to respond, but I could say nothing. It seemed that this mare wasn’t done with me yet anyway, “you’re throwing potions at the wound, but you haven’t even bothered to look at what the injury is,” her eyes left me for a moment, looking beyond me. I turned my head and followed her gaze. It was faint, but I could see, for a brief, fleeting, moment, a faint light emanating from deep within the forest. In an instant, I recognized it as the beacon from earlier, and I knew that I had to get there.

The other mare appeared to be able to read my thoughts, “you won’t make it there as you are,” she insisted. The light vanished into the depths of the forest once more, “you don’t know what to do...”

I looked back at the mare, my mouth open and half a response formed on my lips. Those words died without form, as the pegasus was no longer there anymore. I looked around me in every direction, but could see no sign that she’d ever even been there. Well, no sign save for my bandaged wing anyway; which was now aching quite noticeably.

With an annoyed grunt, I turned around and began walking in the direction that I’d seen the light in, even as the yellow mare’s words echoed around in my skull. It didn’t matter what she’d said. I knew that I had to get there, and I was confident that I would, even if I had to walk the rest of the way. So I started walking deeper into the forest.

I walked, and walked, and walked. After I’d done all that, I walked some more. My frustration mounted with every passing hour. From the air, the beacon hadn’t looked nearly this far away. A few times, I had begun to doubt the direction of my travel, fearing that I’d wandered off course and had overshot my destination. Every time I hesitated and thought about turning back though, I would catch another glimpse of that light, looming tauntingly out of reach ahead of me. It looked so close every time, just past the next line of trees, and yet it never was.

It was like I was being toyed with.

Finally, in a fit of exasperation, I sat my haunches down in a huff at the base of a tree and resolved to take a short break. I didn’t honestly feel particularly tired by my journey thus far, but I did feel a little peckish. Of course, my saddlebags were still missing, and along with them any food that I normally carried with me.

My nose twitched. I sniffed reflexively and my eyes widened as I caught the the sign of something sweet nearby. It smelled a little like Sugar Apple Bombs, but so much more intense. Almost like it could have been a genuine…

I looked up and discovered the source of the enticing aroma: my chosen rest spot turned out to have been directly beneath an actual apple tree! I immediately stood up and reared onto my hind legs, stretching myself out as long as I could along the tree’s trunk. A grunt of annoyance escaped me as I realized that I was falling far short of being able to reach any of the tantalizing red fruit. My left wing still ached, and was sealed away within its cast, so flight was out of the question. Even leaping while wildly flailing my right wing in the hopes of attaining sufficient altitude wasn’t proving fruitful.

...I wasn’t sure how mad I was at my brain for that pun.

My next endeavor was to try climbing the tree. The trunk proved too wide around for me to get a good grip by wrapping it in my limbs though. Charging the tree and trying to outright run up the trunk only ever got me halfway there, and the landings were never very graceful. After landing on my back for what was either the sixth or seventh time―I hadn’t thought to keep a tally―I took a moment to simply lay there and come up with a better solution.

“Lan’ sakes,” I heard a mare chuckling from nearby. My gaze shifted to my right and I spied an orange mare sporting a stetson stepping into view from around the back of the tree that I had been failing at trying to climb, “you sure are a determined sort, ain’t’cha? Not so much big on brains, I reckon; but no shortage of spunk,” she propped herself up against the tree and looked down at me, “it’d be downright commendable, if’n it weren’t so funny t’watch!”

I felt my cheeks flush and very quickly righted myself, glaring balefully at the stubborn tree that was thus far refusing to let me have one of its apples, “I’m hungry,” I said plainly before bobbing my head at my splinted wing, “and I can’t fly.”

The mare snorted and craned her head to look around at her wingless earth pony back, “well, shoot,” she said in a feigned sigh of resignation, clicking her tongue, “Ah guess we’re both gonna starve then,” when she turned back around, she was still wearing her amused smirk from earlier.

“Well then how exactly do you suggest we―” even as I had started speaking, the mare took two steps away from the tree, cast a brief look back in its direction, cocked her hind leg, and delivered a deft kick to the base of the trunk. The action stunned me to silence as I watched the sight in bafflement, “...what was the point of that? You’ll have to hit it a lot harder if you’re trying to knock it―”

The mare held her hoof up in front of her muzzle just in time for one of the apples to land perfectly cupped by her sole. She glanced at me with one half-lidded emerald eye, a satisfied smirk on her face, and took a slow, deliberate, bite of the apple. She closed her eyes and sighed in appreciation as she partook of the crispy fruit, a dribble of sugary juice slipping down her chin. When she swallowed the bite, she looked back at me, “Ah’m sorry. You were sayin’?”

“How’d you do that?” I said flatly.

The mare popped the remainder of the apple into her mouth, scarfing it down with a few vigorous chews before swallowing, “do what?” she reared on her forelegs and once again delivered a sharp jab with her hind legs. Just as before, a single apple became dislodged and fell towards the ground, the green-eyed mare snapping it out of the air and devouring it ravenously before grinning at me, “that?”

“Yeah,” I growled bitterly, “that,” I stepped up closer to the tree and looked between it and the mare, “can you get one down for me too?”

“I can,” the mare nodded.

My features instantly brightened and I stood there, waiting patiently for her deliver another of her bucks to the apple tree and free up a morsel for me as well. However, it quickly became clear that the mare wasn’t making any move to do so. I frowned at the mare once more, “aren’t you going to…?”

“Nope,” she said simply.

My eyes narrowed, “why?”

“Well, as Granny Smith used to say: give a pony an apple, an’ll eat fer a day. Teach a pony to apple-buck, and they’ll eat fer a lifetime!”

“Apple-what?”

“No, apple-buck,” the mare corrected patiently, giving me a gentle pat on the head, “are yer ears stuffed up or som’it?

“Here, watch closely,” the mare instructed as she once more took up a position facing away from the tree, “apple-buckin’ comes down to three basic parts. Step one, is havin’ the proper posture. Square yer shoulders, set yer hips, and make sure your back is straight,” with every point, the orange mare made an exaggerated motion with the indicated part of her body.

“Step two, is to line up yer shot,” she turned her head nearly all the way around to look back over her shoulder at the tree, “ya wanna make sure ya get ‘er right inna middle. Too far to either side an’y’ll risk a ricochet,” the mare stretched out on of her hind legs and set it flat against the apex of the trunk’s curve, tapping the location gently.

“An’ step three, is making sure you buck it with jussss’ the right amount of pep,” she said in a cautionary tone, “too soft, an’ you’ll get nothin’,” she reared and let her hind hooves land on the trunk with an anemic sounding thunk, “too hard, and you risk breakin’ somethin’ important,” her eyes lingered on my splinted wing, “an’ Ah’m thinkin’ ya ain’t got many more limbs t’spare.”

I rolled my eyes. The earth pony moved aside and motioned for me to stand where she had been. I was a substantial bit shorter than the blond-maned mare, so I had to position myself a little closer to the tree. I went through the same exaggerated motions of ensuring that I had my body properly aligned with the tree, and sought out the right spot to hit it. Satisfied, I reared up on my forelegs as far as I could, coiling my legs in tight.

When I felt myself start to roll back towards the tree, I sprung out with as much force as I could, pumping every ounce of strength that I could muster into the double-kick, like I had done to so many enemies over the years. If my kicks were potent enough to pulverize skulls, then surely I could get a tree to quiver a little…

My hooves connected, and I felt the impact reverberate throughout my whole body. Yet, at that same moment, I also heard the sound of would splintering with thunderous clamour. Then the trunk gave way beneath my hind hooves. Bark snapped, and branches scratched at one another as the massive apple tree gave its death kneel and toppled behind me. I turned just in time to see it crash to the ground, a triumphant grin on my face.

I raced forward to claim my bounty, not even noticing the disappointed expression on the face of the orange mare standing next to me. It hardly mattered, after all; I had my apples! I reached a hoof through the tangle of boughs and leaves, retracting it reflexively in disgust. I looked at my hoof and stuck out my tongue, shaking away the smear of pulverized fruit that was more rotting leaves than apple at the moment. Instead, I continued to search through the tangled mess of branches for one that had survived the fall intact.

However, I soon discovered that none such examples existed. As impossible as it might have seemed, every apple had been mashed into the ground beneath the tree, crushed into dirt-flavored applesauce. I let out a frustrated groan and cupped my head in my hooves, “that’s not fair!” I protested, “I knocked the tree down! I should get at least one good apple out of that!”

“If ya jus’ wanted one good apple,” I heard the orange mare saying from where she’d remained standing behind me. I looked back at her, only now seeing her previous amused gaze tinged with remorse, “then why’d y’all knock down the whole tree?”

I looked around me at the destruction and shrugged, “I mean, I thought that instead of getting down one or two, this is how I could get them all at once.”

The mare continued to stare at me with those disappointed emerald eyes, “Ah never said you could only get down one with every buck,” she pointed out, “ya could’a had as many as ya wanted. Ya jus’ had to know how much force it took t’get what’ch’a wanted.”

“Oh,” I felt my stomach knot up in embarrassment as I carefully stepped away from the felled tree, “I didn’t know that.”

“S’alright,” the mare insisted, though she still didn’t sound like she was feeling alright. Nor did it seem like she was still looking at the fallen tree either, “Ah didn’ know either.

“My friends needed my help,” she went on, in a distant tone as she watched events play out that only she could see, “an’ it’ll be a cold day in Tartarus when Ah don’t give my all to helpin’ my friends when they ask fer it.

“But jus’ like with apple-buckin’, there’s such a thing as too much. Ah didn’ know that back then. Never occurred to me,” she bowed her head and closed her eyes, “Ah wasn’ tryin’ to get jus’ ‘a couple o’apples’ with what Ah was doin’. Ah was tryin’ to knock down the whole tree,” she looked up again, surveying the damage, “an’ all Ah ended up doin’ was makin’ things a big’ol’ mess.”

The orange mare looked at me now, her emerald eyes drilling into me, “only, it weren’t buckin’ and trees. It were guns, an’ cannons, an’ missiles, an’ bombs, an’ power armor, an’ tanks,” she looked away from me, unable to hold my gaze in her shame. The mare trembled, “Ah weren’t thinkin’ o’what it was Ah was even tryin’a do!

“How’re ya suppose’ to know how hard to kick if’n ya don’t even know how many apples y’wanna shake down from the tree?!” she spat bitterly. The mare was silent for a long moment as she stood there, trembling in her grief, “...how big a gun d’ya gotta build to end a war?”

“I...I don’t know,” I admitted.

“THEN WHY’N TARNATION ARE YA KICKING SO HARD ALL THE DANG TIME!”

I hadn’t been prepared for that thunderous scream from the distraught earth pony. The force of it sent me scrambling back from her several steps, leaving me speechless as I gaped into her tear-streaked face. My mouth tried to move and form a rebuttal, but I couldn’t.

The mare continued, advancing on me, “ya, kick, an’ ya kick,” she spat, “ya buck so dang hard. Every. Time. Like you won’t ever need yer legs to buck again! An’ Ah get it,” her tone shifted abruptly, as though she were more aggravated with herself than she was with me, “Ah do―Ah really do! Ah understand not wantin’ to hold anythin’ back,” she was trembling again, fresh tears in her eyes, “‘cause yer afraid that if ya don’t go far enough―by even a hair―that all yer friends’ll pay the price.

“Yer so scared…” she said, her words cracking, “it don’t occur t’ya to think what happens when ya go too far,” she looked to the fallen tree, and I followed her gaze, “and what it’ll cost,” then the both of us seemed to become aware of a light in the distance. It held me, entranced, looking so close now that I could almost reach out and touch it.

“You won’t make it there as y’are,” I heard the mare say, though I couldn’t bring myself to tear my eyes from the light and look at her, “‘cause ya don’t even know how far you’ve gotta go…”

That last remark shocked my senses enough to cause me to look at her again, “but how am I supposed t―” only she wasn’t there anymore. Nor was the light when I tried to find it once again either. I hung my head and sighed. Figures. You’d think Ah’d be used to it by now.

I winced and swatted myself on the head a few times to knock the drawl out of me.

Then I shook myself and took a breath to focus myself and resumed walking in the direction that I’d seen the light in. I had to get there, no matter what. I couldn’t afford to let anything else distract me from getting―

“Freeze!” a very raspy and demanding voice barked from beyond the trees.

―Because of course something else was going to happen!

However, I very quickly discovered that I was not the target of the command. I crept further ahead cautiously, peering around a robust oak. What I saw, positively inflamed me. It was a merchant pony pulling her cart, and she’d apparently been set upon by a raider. The scraggly unicorn bandit was wearing what could only have described as barding in the loosest of terms, comprised of a mishmash of old tire parts and crudely shaped road signs. Similarly, the pistol floating beside him in his glowing telekinetic field had visible rust showing on the slide. I’d lay even odds if it was even capable of firing more than once before seizing up into a useless hunk of steel.

The caravan pony, an earth pony mare with a brilliant pink coat and an utterly unruly mane of fuschia curls, stood between the raider and her wares, completely defenseless it seemed. Neither of them appeared to be the least bit aware of me at the moment. I could very well have managed to bypass the whole affair, but I didn’t want to think about what would become of this unfortunate mare if I didn’t do something to help her. So, I resolved to intervene and started creeping carefully closer to the pair. With my wing splinted, I wasn’t going to be able to dash in there and dive upon the unicorn bandit from above, and having no weapons on me meant that I needed to be sure that I was right on top of him before he noticed me. His pistol might only work properly for the one shot, but if that shot hit me square in the head…

Fortunately, his attention seemed to be utterly consumed by the merchant that he had cornered, so I was rather easily about to sneak up to within just a couple yards of the unicorn stallion without any issues at all. Unfortunately, I had apparently failed to account for one thing when formulating this plan of mine, and that had been that the merchant was a few rounds short of a full magazine.

“Oh!” the pink earth pony mare exclaimed in an excited tone, waving her hoof wildly in my direction. Her baby blue eyes danced with excitement, “hi there! You’re just in time for―!”

The unicorn stallion wheeled around, gaping at me in surprise. Even as I let out a very unkind epithet under my breath, I wasted no time and lunged at my target. As close as I’d managed to get before having my presence revealed, I didn’t need my wings to cover that distance quickly. A single leap was all that it took to connect with the unicorn, tackling him to the ground.

A lifetime of experience took over now, as the two of us ended up with me strandling the stallion’s chest. I slammed my forehooves into his sternum, shocking his lungs and prompting him to expel every last gasp of breath that he’d had in him. The unicorn would only need a second to recover from this, but that was more than enough time for me to reach down and hook my fetlock around one of his hind legs. I let myself off him only slightly as I gave the leg and sharp yank, spinning the stunned stallion onto his stomach.

I fell upon his back now, slipping my forelegs around his neck, one of them across his trachea and the other pinned behind the base of his skull, clamping them together as I strangled the life out of him. I could already hear the unicorn gagging as he fought for breath. Failing that, he began rolling around frantically in an effort to dislodge me, but I refused to relent. I was out of his reach, and he only had seconds left before he lost consciousness. A minute after that, if I maintained the pressure, he’d be dead and then I―

My thoughts were interrupted by a blur of fuschia and pink as something leaped upon the both of us, “pony-pile!” Both my grip and my concentration were broken as the dense body of the earth pony mare I’d been trying to save bounced onto my own backside and wrapped me up in a strangle-hold of her own, “aww, I didn’t know you were a hugger! That’s so sweet!”

I watched, terrified, as the unicorn stallion scrambled away from us, now free from my grasp, and galloped away into the wilderness. I supposed that he could have done a lot worse to us, once he’d been freed, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to rally later and come back to seek his revenge on the two of us. He might even bring friends next time. With a irritated snarl, I fought free of the pink mare and hopped away from her before turning around and glaring at the merchant, “what is wrong with you?! I almost had him! Now he’s gotten away!”

The mare blinked at me a few times in seeming incomprehension. Then realization dawned upon her features, but it was immediately apparent that the conclusion that her mind had come to was not the one that it should have, given the situation, “geez, you’re right!” the mare sprang back up onto her hooves and hopped back over to her wagon, where she began to rummage around in it contents, “I didn’t even have a chance to give him his ‘Congratulations on Your First Mugging!’ celebratory cake!”

Then, quite contrary to my expectations, the mare did, in fact, produce a lavishly decorated cake from her cart. Equally baffling to me was the fact that it did have the words, ‘Congratulations on Your First Mugging!’ written across it in icing. More than that, below the message was an additional word: ‘Anzac’.

I glanced between the cake and the earth pony, “wait...is that...his name?!” I pointed at the last word.

“Yepperoonie!” the mare exclaimed, grinning broadly.

“You knew that pony?!” My brain was simply refusing to accept that any of what was happening made any sense whatsoever.

“Nope! Never met him before in my life!”

“But―wait, hold it,” I pressed my hoof to the bridge of my muzzle, feeling a headache coming on that was more intense than any of the hangovers that I could remember. I took a moment to try and arrange my thoughts for my next question, “how can you have a cake with his name on it if you’ve never met him before?” Then it occurred to me that actually wasn’t the most confounding thing about this situation that demanded an answer, “why would you congratulate a raider on mugging you?!”

“Why shouldn’t I?” the mare posed in what was the most serious tone I’d heard her use thus far, though it still contained more mirth than I could recall ever hearing in anypony’s voice, “did you see that poor pony? He was half-starved, poorly armored, barely armed; and yet, in spite of all of that, he was ready to risk his life just to get a few half-dented cans of Cram. Yuck!” the mare produced three cans of the ‘meat’ substance that was immediately familiar to any Wasteland denizen. Much like she’d described too, they had all clearly seen much better days. I wasn’t sure that I’d have trusted what was in them to still be edible after the abuse they’d suffered over the centuries.

“And for all he knew,” the mare went on, “I could have been some unicorn with disproportionately freaky telekinetic abilities that would let me twist his body around like a party balloon or turn his own blood into a sword to cut him to pieces with. Or maybe I could have even been a super-cybernetic security mare who could do all sorts of crazy flips with my super zebra cyber-legs before blasting him to atoms with a gun capable of blowing up the moon!” the mare exclaimed, rising onto her hindquarters and flipping around like I’d never seen anypony manage on the ground.

Finally, the mare came to a stop and settled back down on all fours, “that would be utterly terrifying; he’d never have had a chance!

“It takes a really brave pony to risk that for Cram,” the mare pointed out. Then she added in a genuinely subdued tone, “or, you know, a really, really, desperate one who had no other option but to either risk getting shot trying to get some food, or starve to death,” even her mane looked depressed at that thought, and lost nearly all of its bounce.

I frowned at the mare and shook my head, “horseapples―”

The pink mare gaped at me, “Gasp! language!”

I blinked, “did...did you just say the word ‘gasp’, and not actually gasp?”

“It was an anomadapea,” the mare replied primly.

“An ona...anama...huh?” that pain on the bridge of my nose was back. I reached up and rubbed that point in my head, squinting hard in an effort to dispel it. This mare was going to drive me up a wall, “whatever. Anyway,” I took a breath and tried to pick up where I’d left off, casting a wary look at the strange pink earth pony, “that’s...crap?” the mare didn’t react, seeming to let that word pass by without comment, “if he was really that hungry, then why not go find his own food? Old ruins are rife with stuff like that.”

The pink mare nodded somberly, “well, when feral ghouls, monstrous radscorpions, and crazy robots lurk in every aisle, you don’t find a lot of eager shoppers. You should know better than anypony how dangerous it is out there in the Wasteland,” she pointed out before turning back to her cart and slipping herself through its yoke. The mare then began to trot bouncily through the forest, leaving me behind.

Not satisfied to let the argument end there, I cantered after the odd earth pony, pacing right along side of her, “yeah, it is dangerous out there,” I agreed, “and prospectors risk their lives every time they go into places like that. Are you telling me that they deserve to get robbed at gunpoint for all their work?”

“Of course not,” the mare rolled her eyes, “that’d be ridiculous! But it wouldn’t kill them to share a little of what they could spare.”

“So? That doesn’t mean they should have to.”

“You don’t have to save ponies,” the pink earth pony quipped, “but you still do.”

I balked slightly at that, but didn’t back down from my position, “that’s my choice. I don’t think anypony else should have to put their neck on the line for anypony else just because I do.”

“But you’d like for other ponies to do it, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but―”

“You even had your friend, Homily, ask for ponies to volunteer to help you.”

“Hey, that’s not the same as―”

Yet, the pink mare refused to let me have my piece. She wasn’t being mean about it, per say, but her tone did have a slight edge to it as I continued to protest, “you’re an important pony in the Valley. You’ve made yourself highly visible, and you aren’t shy about your opinions. Ponies like you get noticed and, whether you know it or not, ponies are listening to what you say.

“They’re taking your advice to heart,” I fell silent now, listening to the strange earth pony. There was a sort of bitter aspect to her words that I couldn’t quite understand given what she was saying about me. Shouldn’t it be a good thing that I was making a difference in Neighvada?

“It’s too bad that your advice was to kill other ponies, and not to try and help them.”

Again her remark dug at me, and I felt a little ashamed. Yet, I still didn’t back down, “just bad ponies like raiders and White Hooves and stuff,” I insisted.

The pink mare stopped abruptly, and I very nearly tripped over my own hooves doing so without warning as well. She wasn’t looking at me though. The mare was staring straight ahead of her. I followed her gaze and instantly felt myself tense. It was the unicorn raider from before! I coiled back, ready to launch myself at him and finish the fight between us that had been interrupted earlier―

―Then I noticed that he wasn’t alone. However, it was immediately obvious that his companions weren’t any sort of martial support. It was two ponies: a very pregnant earth pony mare and a young unicorn colt, barely little more than a foal. Both of them were huddled together, taking shelter within the confines of an overturned wagon. Even from where I was standing, I could see that the pair were visibly emaciated. The clothing they wore was more filth than fabric.

As I watched, the unicorn raider trudged slowly towards the cuddling pair. The mare was the first to react, raising her head up to look at the stallion, a silent, desperate, question held within her gaunt features. The raider bowed his head and shook it slowly from side to side. It was the answer that the mare had already known was coming. She’d just been holding out for the vain hope that she’d been mistaken. Beside her, the little colt began to cough, prompting his mother to bend her head down and gently nuzzle him.

Meanwhile, the stallion, glanced back at his now empty holster, his rusted excuse for a pistol having been lost during our tustle earlier. I could see the despair clear on his face. Yet, lying just beneath it, was the barest glint of determination. He didn’t yet know how he was going to do it, but he was going to provide for his family or die trying.

Even if that meant killing innocent ponies to do it…

“A really good friend of mine, who’s a lot smarter than me, called it ‘game theory’,” the pink mare said, standing next to me as we continued to watch the display, inexplicably remaining unnoticed by any of them, “but if you ask me, it’s a pretty lousy game. It’s no fun at all.

“He knows that there’s food in the ruins,” the pink pony said, nodding to the unicorn, “but he also knows that he’s no match for even a small bloatsprite. After almost two centuries, all of the easy to get food has already been gotten. All that’s left are the most dangerous parts that even the ponies who are really good at exploring have left until last because they were so dangerous. Going through the parts of an old city that haven’t already been looted is a death sentence for a pony like him.

“But he also knows that ponies like me have all sorts of things. Either food, or valuables that can be traded for food. And it’s way easier to ambush and rob a pony than it is to take on a horde of feral ghouls!”

The mare shrugged, “so, of course he was going to become a raider. He didn’t think he had any other choice.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” I protested.

“I never said it did,” she countered, “I just pointed out that he doesn’t have many better ways to help the ponies he cares about,” the mare glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, “and nopony is willing to help him,” then she frowned, “well, almost nopony…”

She turned back to the scene, and I resumed watching. As though on cue, another mare walked into view, seeming to materialize out of the aether. She was dressed in brahmin leather barding that was stained with what I recognized to be blood. I could also see the green smears of paint splattered across it. She was a Viper. The mare’s mouth was twisted into a sadistic little grin as she approached the unicorn stallion. Wordlessly, the mare produced a box of Fancy Buck Cakes and held it out to the stallion…

...along with a new rifle and a set of ‘fresh’ barding with those same green markings. He was being recruited into their gang, I realized. The stallion didn’t even hesitate. He took the gun and the barding, and was instantly transformed into one of their members, joined all around by other ponies dressed in Viper colors. They were all armed, and all of them eager as they ran out and descended upon another distant caravan, gunning down all of the ponies who were a part of it and taking their belongings.

It tore me up inside to simply stand there and watch all of that slaughter, but I couldn’t seem to move in order to do anything to stop it. All that I could do was look on and despair. The pink mare beside me didn’t look particularly pleased by the sight either, but she also simply stood motionless.

“When ponies are desperate, and they need help, they start to care less and less about the price that comes with it,” she said in a soft tone. Then she glanced at me, “you say you want to help ponies, but you would rather have killed him.”

I glared at the mare reproachfully for a moment, but wasn’t able to continue to meet her piercing blue gaze and eventually looked away, “I didn’t know,” I protested.

“The problem isn’t that you didn’t know,” the mare said, reaching out and gently patting me on the back, “it’s that you didn’t even try to find out.”

Her hoof shifted from my back and guided my face to once more look at the scene before us. Time had reverted, it seemed. I found that we were once more looking at the despondent unicorn stallion, having just had to break the news to his starving family that there would be no relief for any of them that day either. Again, a mare sauntered out of the darkness.

Only, this time, it was a mare I recognized instantly. It was me. I was dressed in my wonderbolt barding, but I wasn’t carrying any weapons. Instead, held in my mouth was a bindle bag. The two grown ponies turned to look at me with eyes full of suspicion and fear. My doppleganger stopped a short distance from them, not wanting to try their nerves too much, and deposited her small burden on the ground at her hooves. She undid the simple knot on the cloth sack and revealed an assortment of fresh foods, likely from one of the many farms around Seaddle, and a few vials of medicine.

The other me nudged the bounty closer to the unicorn stallion and then took a few steps back to help him feel more at ease. The pseudo-raider was still quite suspicious, and he didn’t take his eyes off the armored pegasus, but his horn started to glow and he floated the contents closer to them. After a cursory inspection of the goods, apparently concerned that there was some fowl trick at work, he wasted little time in passing the choice morsels to the mare and giving some of the medicine to his ailing son. All the while, the mare who wasn’t me simply sat on the outskirts of the scene and patiently watched.

When the stallion was satisfied that his family had been seen to, he turned his attention back to the armored mare and slowly approached her. The pink mare and myself, despite being so close to the raider that I could have reached out and touched him, remained completely unnoticed. Yet, we were able to hear the words that the two of them exchanged.

“Why?” the stallion croaked out, torn between his suspicion and his gratitude.

The not-me shrugged and smiled, “I’m the Wonderbolt. I’m here to help.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. His eyes wandered back to his family briefly. When he spoke, it was without meeting the younger pegasus’ eyes, “I’m grateful. But…” it was only a temporary solution, the real me realized. A stop-gap. When the food and medicine ran out again, he’d go back to raiding. The next time that the two of us met, I wouldn’t be coming at him with a bag of food.

My imposter seemed to have thought of that though, “I know, it won’t last forever. Tell you what: I know some ponies not far from here. They need some more hooves to help out. I’ll talk to them. As long as you’re willing to play nice, they’ll keep you and your family fed and safe.

“Deal?” the other pegasus held out her hoof to the raider.

The stallion gaped at the flier, caught off guard by the enormity of her offer. Yet, how could he say ‘no’? She was offering him everything that he could have ever asked for. She’d saved his family. He reached out and touched her hoof, “deal!”

An uncertain smile, feeling so foreign and unfamiliar to the unicorn’s features, started to take shape as he turned away from the armored mare and regarded his family. They were going to be fine, he realized, tears starting to run down his cheek. Tears, not of despair, but of joy, and relief.

I heard the mare next to me sniffling, and turned to look at her. She was wiping her own eyes, but it didn’t seem that she was being emotionally caught up in how heartwarming the scene playing out before us was, “I wanted to help ponies too, you know?” she said, her voice cracking. Her mane slowly began to flatten out and fall over her shoulders as she spoke, “my whole life, all I wanted was for everypony to be happy.”

“My friends needed my help keeping everypony happy, even when there was so much happening to be sad about. It was really hard,” she sniffed again, “but I knew I had to help everypony I could…”

“...I just hadn’t realized that it wasn’t just ponies who were suffering.”

I looked back at the raider family. Only, they weren’t unicorns and earth ponies anymore. They were zebras. The ruins around them were fresh, smoke still billowing around them from raging fires. An air raid siren blared in the distance. I could see flights of pegasi flashing by overhead in their black and purple power armor. Flashes of emerald and ruby light streaked down from the heavens, ravaging the town around us. The three terrified zebras huddled beneath their pitiful cover as torrents of lethal magical energy rained down, vaporizing their friends and comrades.

Then they were no longer zebras either. They transformed before my eyes into a trio of the lanky horses that were Hoplite’s race. Nor was it pegasi squadrons that were terrorizing them. A flight of dragons of all shapes and sizes strafed their homes, raking the surface with blazing columns of fire that seemed to melt the very stones of the buildings themselves.

“The whole world was suffering,” the pink mare was whispering, “and all I cared about were my fellow ponies. And why shouldn’t I have?” she offered in mock defense, “after all, I’m a pony. I should care more about my own kind than others, right?” the vision of the trio had them as zebras sheltering from pegasis warriors once again, “especially when those others are the enemy.

“Right?”

Time passed. The raid ended. The fires dwindled to nothing but embers. The coast clear, the zebra stallion ventured out from beneath their cover. He looked to the sky and glared, uttering something in a language that I didn’t understand, but still recognized it as an epithet from the raw anger in his voice. The stallion reached out and retrieved a rifle that had been carried by one of the town’s slain defenders. He checked to ensure it was loaded, cast one last look at his family, and then galloped off into the distance.

Towards the Equestrian front.

“You were at war,” I offered by way of trying to assuage the mare’s guilt, “you couldn’t be expected to help the enemy.”

“They’re not the enemy if they’re your friends,” the earth pony countered.

The scene reset once more. Only this time, there was no raid. The trio of zebras were walking down the street, which was pointedly not smoldering in any way. Then, something caught the stallion’s attention from the side. The three of them tensed up and cowered. In a few seconds, I saw what it was that they were looking at enter my field of view: a pair of ponies galloped up to them. However, these weren’t soldiers, I soon discovered. They were dressed in bright pink uniforms, wearing leg bands that brandished a trio of floating balloons. There were no weapons anywhere to be seen. Instead, they came trotting up with pastries and helium-filled floating balloon animals, passing them out to every zebra that they came across.

There were zebras who were less than receptive, yes, but it looked like many more were, if nothing more, quite perplexed by the intrusion into their town. As I watched, more and more of the pink uniformed ponies filtered into view and began striking up enthusiastic conversations with the striped residents. Everything seemed to be calm and pleasant.

“I could have advocated for cupcakes when everypony else was demanding that we send bombs,” the pink mare said bitterly, “but I didn’t. I was focused only on those that were most familiar to me.

“Which,” she sighed, “isn’t a good way to make friends at all,” she turned her head and glanced at me, “neither is killing.”

I shook my head, “I don’t do it because I like it,” I insisted, “raiders are dangerous. I need to get rid of them, for the good of everypony else!”

The mare sighed and bowed her head sadly, “killing a raider gets rid of a bad pony. Converting a raider gets rid of a bad pony and gains you a good one,” she flashed me a wan smile, “it seems pretty obvious to me which option is the better one.”

Something beeped, startling me and drawing the pink mare’s attention to her fetlock, where she was wearing a watch that I could have sworn had not been there just a second ago, “oop, my time’s up!” she sat up on her haunches and clopped her hooves together. Instantly, I flinched away as a blinding light suddenly appeared off to my right. I shaded my eyes with my fetlock and looked to see that the beacon drawing me had appeared once more. The pink mare didn’t seem to be particularly interested in it though. She was turning her cart around, preparing to leave.

I glanced between her and the light. Finally I asked her, “aren’t you going to tell me I can’t make it there or something?”

The mare’s lips spread out in a smile once again, her mane gaining back a small amount of it earlier bounce, “why bother? You seem to know that already.”

“Could you at least tell me what it is?”

Her smile broadened slightly, her eyes twinkling with amusement, “it’s not a ‘what’, Windfall. It’s a who,” she turned and started trotting away. As she faded from sight, I heard her last words floating out from the darkness, almost taunting me in a lyrical fashion, “and that’s why you won’t make it there as you aaaare!”

I snorted in annoyance. That hadn’t been very helpful. With a shake of my head, I turned to the light, which seemed so close now, and resumed walking towards it.

Indeed, it turned out that the source of that light had truly been very close now. In fact, I had only to venture beyond the next rise and I could see it as plain as day: a glowing ball of brilliant white light, formless, floating there in the middle of a glade. Relieved to have finally made it to my destination, I slowly started to approach the light. It was almost too bright to look at directly, but it gave off no heat whatsoever.

However, just I was close enough to almost touch it with my outstretched hoof, the light vanished. Though, I suppose that it might have been slightly more accurate to say that it simply ‘turned off’, for there was something left in its place. An object that, though so rudimentary and simple in its appearance, sent a shiver down to my very core. It was a terrifying object, and I began to back away from it, my mouth agape in wordless horror as I lost even the ability to scream and express the totality of my anguish.

Where the light had been, was now a steel sword, upraised, and floating in the air about a foot off the ground, balanced upon its pommel. I recognized it for what it was now. It was the most vile part of me. The source of my grief and the torment that my very soul went through each and every day: my cutie mark.

“...no” I finally managed to get out, so quiet that even I barely even heard it, “no!”

I turned and fled. However, I made it only half a step before I tripped over something on the ground and face-planted. I writhed there on the ground for a moment, trying to get my bearings. Then I froze when I saw what it was that had impeded my escape from the floating symbol of my despair: a...chaise lounge?

My brain was busy trying to fathom the existence of the dark stained oak and red leather piece of furniture that had materialized in my way when I became aware of the fact that I wasn’t alone in the clearing anymore. Something was nearby. I craned my head and found that there was indeed another pony here with me. It was a white unicorn mare with some of the most meticulously styled hair that I had ever seen in my life. It must have taken gallons of styling gel to get her deep violet mane and tail to maintain those twists and arches.

“Do watch your step, darling,” the unicorn said, as though only tangentially aware of my existence. She was currently standing in front of a rather large mirror, admiring herself as she floated in a sunflower yellow hat from beyond my line of sight and set it upon her head, “that’s my favorite fainting couch. I’d hate to see it mussed up too badly,” she used a length of sheer silk to bind the hat in place, her magic tying the ends into a neat bow just beneath her chin. Once that was done, she cast a reproachful look at our surroundings, “it’s bad enough that I had to drag it all the way out here in the first place.

“It’s not exactly patio furniture, you know!”

She turned away from the mirror and cast her appraising eyes upon me, a contemplative look upon her face. Her features were almost immediately creased by distraught frown lines, “oh, heavens, dear! You look an absolute sight! When’s the last time your coat even had a proper shampooing?”

“Sham-what-now?” I managed to reply, despite my mounting confusion.

The ivory unicorn shuddered, “oh, I’m so glad I didn’t survive the war. I simply would have died without access to hot showers and my Acqua Di Palomino!”

I opened my mouth to comment on her contradictory statement, but the unicorn didn’t seem to be of a mind to be interrupted quite yet. Her horn began glowing with soft blue light and I found myself lifted up into the air, plopping down in front of the mirror that she’d been admiring herself in a few seconds ago. She then procured an ivory brush and began to ruthlessly attack my coat, waging a total war upon every gnarl and errant hair. It was quite painful, actually. Yet, at the same time, it was immensely satisfying.

If there was a downside, it was that looking into the mirror gave me a clear view of the sword floating in the middle of the clearing. I averted my gaze, suddenly finding the ground at my hooves to be immensely more interesting that anything visible in the mirror. The mare seemed to be oblivious to my discomfort as she continued to speak, “don’t you worry you’re soon-to-be-pretty little head, darling!” she gushed, obviously quite enjoying being able to address what she saw as her own personal kind of crisis to be solved, “I have a patented nine step program that is guaranteed to transform any mare from drab to dazzling in no more than seven hours!”

I cocked my head, still avoiding looking in the mirror, as I tried to glance back at the unicorn skeptically, “seven ho―?”

“First,” she carried through, brushing my words aside with as much abandon as she was giving to my hide, “is obviously a vigorous brushing, which will be followed by a thorough rinse. Then an invigorating shampooing, followed by another rinse―this time with mineral water imported straight from the Yaket Mountains. A meticulous clipping to ensure that every hair is it’s proper length. A third rinsing. A second shampooing―with Acqua Di Palomino, of course! A fourth―and final―rinse. And, to cap it all off, we apply a thin patina of coconut oil to your coat.

“You’ll glisten like the undriven snow!” the mare positively gushed, “and then…” her tone took on a slightly more hesitant tone, “we can tackle your...mane,” she paused for a moment, “tell me, dear: are you entirely married to the short look? Vanity Mare magazine says that shoulder-length is all the rage these days. I have some mane weaves that we can try―”

“I like it short,” I informed the mare before she could get too deep into planning what to do with it, “it fits under my helmet better that way. And it doesn’t get in my eyes when I’m shooting.”

“Ah. Yes,” the mare responded in a stiff tone, as though she’d been asked to swallow something bitter, “well...I suppose there is something to be said for practicality over aesthetics,” she didn’t seem to sound very convinced of this though, “I had a friend who never appreciated artistic flourishes either, when she felt they got in the way of her flying.

“Of course,” the mare continued on as she resumed assaulting my coat with her brush, “she could have just changed her flying habits to something a little less...rugged. But what do I know about looking good,” she sighed, “I was just Equestria’s premier fashionista, after all…”

“Look, I appreciate all that you’re doing, really,” I said, trying to sooth the mare who currently held the integrity of my fur in her hooves. My eyes darted ever so briefly to the mirror before I averted them again, “I don’t suppose we could do this somewhere else?”

“What?” the mare sounded surprised, “but you worked so hard to get here! Why would you want to leave?”

“This wasn’t what I thought it was,” I offered in a meek tone, “I was wrong. I want to go.”

“Oh, come now,” the unicorn protested, “it can’t be all that bad…”

I shook my head vigorously, “I don’t want to be here. Look, I know I came all this way to meet you, but can we please go someplace else to talk about whatever it is we’re supposed to be talking about.”

The brushing paused for a moment, and I could see in the mirror that the mare was wearing an amused little smirk on her lips, “moi? Oh, darling, you didn’t come all this way to meet little old me!” the brush resumed assailing my back. I’d have protested if it didn’t feel so good.

“But that pink pony said I was meeting somepony here,” I said, “if it’s not you, then who am I here to find?”

Once again, there was a pause in the brushing. The unicorn was glancing off to the side at something I couldn’t see, “my, it seems that we have a guest. You two should get acquainted!”

I turned my head to follow the line of her gaze. Surely this is who I’d come all of this way to meet. Only, when I beheld who was approaching, I felt myself tense up reflexively. It wasn’t a pony who was coming my way, it was a hell hound! Frantically, I looked to the mare to warn her about the dangerous creature that was shambling towards us. Only, she wasn’t there. The unicorn with the purple mane was nowhere to be seen at all.

No, that wasn’t true. She just wasn’t anywhere near me. I did eventually spot her though, bound and on the ground at the towering hell hound’s feet. The large dark gray canine was glaring down at me, cracking the knuckles of his long, claw-tipped forepaws. He then reached up and straightened his steel spiked collar, “pretty pony is Rover’s now!” he declared in a scratchy voice, “you! Leave!” he jabbed a claw in the direction of the distant forest.

My lip curled back in a sneer, “the fuck I will! You let her go, right now!”

“No!” the canine snapped back. His right paw vanished from sight behind his back, emerging a second later gripping a long steel-tipped spear. The polearm held fast, he charged me.

Reflexively, my head jerked towards where my compact forty-five was usually sequestered. However, much like my saddlebags, the concealed holster was also conspicuously absent at the moment. My broken wing added yet an additional handicap to me in this fight as well, preventing me from simply flying out of range of any of the hell hound’s attacks. Instead, I was forced to dive out of the way of his first jab with the leaf-bladed weapon.

I spent nearly all of those first moments of the fight on the defensive. His weapon’s reach forced me to stay too far out of reach to manage to deliver any punches or kicks without the ability to simply fly around his strikes. All I could do was give more and more ground in an effort to keep from being hit. It was incredibly frustrating, and my gaze continually darted to the bound and gagged unicorn mare laying at the edge of the glade. There was simply no way for me to get to her like this―

My latest hop to the side was interrupted by my unexpected collision with something hard, but apparently not particularly heavy. Which was fortuitous, because that meant that it didn’t stop me completely from dodging my attacker’s latest lunge. It did, however, slow me up enough that the razor sharp blade managed to open up my shoulder. The cut wasn’t deep, but it did bleed pretty freely, and it hurt a lot.

With an enraged scream, I clamped down on one end of whatever I’d knocked over and swung it around in a desperate arc, hoping to catch the hound with it and at least get myself some room to maneuver while I came up with a better plan.

The sound of ringing metal echoed across the clearing. The canid’s spear was knocked from his grasp, flipping through the air until it was lost in the treeline. My eyes locked onto the now disarmed hell hound, my teeth clamping down more solidly around my own weapon of opportunity. I glanced down at it in order to get a better appreciation for what it was that I was working with, and I froze.

I was holding the sword. For the span of a heartbeat, I felt that knot of dread in my gut tighten, but it passed just as quickly, pushed from my mind by the knowledge that this detestable blade was the only way for me to vanquish the hound and rescue the mare that he’d taken prisoner. Her safety came before my own discomfort. So I renewed my resolve and launched my own attack upon the canine.

A few menacing flourishes had the fiend making his own awkward retreat, even as he swung with his massive clawed fingers in an effort to get at me. My lip curled in anticipation as I stumbled, dropping my guard for just a moment. Much to my delight, the hell hound fell for the feint and rushed me. A simple side-step at the last moment and a smack against his knee with the flat of my blade saw the canine crashing to the ground.

I wasted no time and leaped on him before he could get up, perched atop his chest. The sword clutched in my mouth was poised down at his throat, the tip resting against his pulsing jugular. All it would take for me to end his life was a deft twist of my own neck and the clearing would run red with his blood. The threat that he posed would be gone from the world forever.

All that I had to do was twist my neck…

My eye twitched to the side for a brief moment. We’d come down near the mirror, laying such that the two of us were framed perfectly in the reflective surface. I saw myself quite clearly then. The simple steel sword, so alike in appearance to the one emblazoned on my flank, was pointed down at the vanquished canine’s neck, held firm in the grip of my teeth. There I was: the monster-slayer. The killer.

Both of remained there, frozen in place, for what felt like an eternity, my blue eyes locked onto his wide, green-slitted pupils. Both of us were breathing hard from even that short boudt. I could see the understanding there, the realization that his life was in my hooves...er, mouth, rather. I saw the fear there too. He didn’t want to die. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t want to kill him.

Did I really need to? Was his death going to solve anything that hadn’t already been resolved by this existing defeat? He wasn’t a threat anymore. Not to me, and not to the mare that he’d taken hostage. Sure, maybe he’d go on to try this with somepony again. Of course, maybe this moment of imminent death had shaken him enough that the next time he thought about taking on a pony...he’d remember this moment and think again.

It was worth giving him a chance, at least.

So, I removed the sword from his throat. Slowly, and with an eye to his nearby paws, ready to reconsider my action if it looked even for a moment like he was going to abuse my mercy. It seemed pretty clear though that he recognized his defeat, and he made no threatening movements as I backed off of him completely. The sword still in my mouth, held at the ready, I mumbled around the hilt, “goah!” I snarled, jerking my head towards the treeline, “weave!”

Cautiously, the hell hound got back up onto his haunches and stood up. He looked at me with a suspicious glint for several long seconds, as though doubting my sincerity. However, apparently he decided not to question my motives too thoroughly. He reached up, swatted some dirt off of his red waist coat and slowly trudged off in the direction of the treeline. I let out a relieved sigh and placed the hilt down on the ground, letting the blade lay flat against my shoulder, at the ready in case he returned.

Then I remembered the mare and looked around for her―

“Well done, darling! Bravo!”

I just about flew up into the sky, despite my broken wing, as I heard the mare yelling from behind me. She popped into view, prancing around me in a celebratory fashion, apparently completely unharmed, and unrestrained. In fact, not a single strand of her mane even seemed the least bit out of place despite what must have surely been some rough handling to bind her like she had been. She came to a stop directly in front of me and leaned in, delivering two quick pecks to either side of my muzzle, much to my own embarrassment.

“You do make quite the dashing knight, I must admit,” she beamed. Then she looked off in the direction that the hell hound had gone, “thank you, Rover! You did very well too!”

“Pony owes Rover for this!” I heard him howl back, “tiny bird pony ruined Rover’s favorite vest!”

The mare scrunched up her nose in mild disgust, “that old rag? Puh-lease, darling, I’ll have a new and much more fabulous vest made for you by tomorrow. You’ll be the envy of every diamond dog in Equestria!”

This vow was met with grumbled mutterings that slowly faded out of earshot. Leaving me to gape at the mare with a mixture of rage and disbelief, “this was a setup?!”

“What?” the mare gasped, looking almost―almost―genuinely shocked at my accusation, “no―no!―of course not! It was a...motivational exercise, yes!” she grinned at me, batting her very full lashes at me innocently. Then she stepped up close to me and pressed her cheek against mine, forcing the two of us to look into the mirror again, “and, if you ask me, I think it did the trick.

“Don’t you?”

The image I saw in the mirror this time wasn’t the perfectly framed tableau like when I’d been straddling the hell h―er, the diamond dog. I didn’t see a wide view of myself and the alabaster unicorn. It was only me, and even then only a specific part of me. The mirror seemed to have been focused in on my cutie mark. I knew it well, of course, the upraised sword framed by a pair of white wings, resting over a red heart. I’d known it since I was a filly, for the portent of death and woe that it had been.

However, it wasn’t just my cutie mark that was visible. My shoulder had made it into frame as well. The one that I had rested the sword’s blade against. I stared at the image, my head slowly canting to the side as I really took in the image:

An upraised sword. Next to it was a white wing. Beneath that blade, were I to strip away my own flesh and muscle, would have been the approximate location of my own beating heart. The arrangement was, in a sense, a very real manifestation of my own cutie mark. My magically imbued destiny.

Yet, I hadn’t slain the diamond dog, had I? I’d fought him yes, and defeated him. But I had, in the end, spared his life, spilling not a single drop of his blood in the process. Which, was apparently a good thing, since I suspect that the mare would have been quite cross with me if I’d killed a being she appeared to be on equitable terms with for some reason.

I noticed something else too: how this scene contrasted with the one I’d seen earlier. The sword had been pointed down then, poised at the canine’s throat in preparation for the kill. Right now, it was upturned, in an orientation that I’d consciously made because―in the absence of a proper scabbard―this was the easiest way for me to have it at the ready quickly, by bending my head down and picking it up if I needed it to defend myself. This was a protective orientation, not an aggressive one.

“...it’s pointed up…” I heard myself say.

“Sometimes,” I heard the mare say from somewhere behind me, and no longer by my face, “we don’t need to change who we are to be satisfied,” I turned around and found that it wasn’t just the two of us anymore. The other four ponies that I’d encountered on my journey here were present as well, “we just need to change our perspective,” the unicorn said, smiling sweetly at me. Yet I could see that there was so much pain behind her pretty blue eyes.

“I lost that perspective,” she admitted, looking around at her companions, “I found that I didn’t like how the world looked anymore, and so I tried to change it,” she shook her head, “but I did it in all the wrong ways. I took all the things that I thought were ugly and wrong, and I hid them away. I locked them up so that nopony could get to them. But that didn’t actually solve any of the problems.

“It just made ponies forget where the problems had come from. Ponies forgot that there had once been a better way of doing things,” she looked between the others and sniffed, “We forgot that ponies―and all of the other creatures of the world―had once been able to work together, and that they could be better for that cooperation.”

Now her attention returned to me, “just like you, darling. You forgot about yourself, distracted by the world around you, and what you thought you had to be to survive in it. You sacrificed who you were,” she said in a mournful tone, “and that doesn’t help anypony. Least of all yourself.”

“I didn’t know,” I said meekly.

“I think you did,” the unicorn corrected me in a gentle tone. I knew she was right too. I’d always felt that something was...off. But I’d drowned out that protesting voice with alcohol and denial, “but you can’t deny who you are―who you really are―anymore, dear. You must embrace your destiny.”

“...I’m not going to make it though, am I?”

All five ponies were silent for a moment, exchanging looks with one another. Then the orange earth pony spoke up, “we honestly don’t know what the future has in store. That’s not our place.”

The blue pegasus with the rainbow mane chimed in, “all we can do is set you on the right path...”

“...and give you the tools you need,” her fellow yellow flier added.

“How you chose to use our advice...” the orange mare continued once more.

“...and who you help with it...” the pink bouncy mare added.

“...That’s ultimately up to you,” the white unicorn finished. All five of them beamed at one another, pleased with themselves for their successful execution of their coordinated speech.

I frowned at the group of mares, “but, you guys all kept talking about how I ‘couldn’t make it as I-’”

“As you were, yes darling,” the unicorn interrupted, still smiling, “but you're not the same mare you were last night, are you?”

“Well, not after all of this, I guess,” I admitted. Then her words fully penetrated my skull, “wait, what do you mean, ‘last night’?”

The mares began to look around at the scenery, feigning innocence. Eventually the orange earth pony spoke up, “well, ya’see...it’s sorta mornin’ already. Y’all’ll probably be waking up soon,” she winced now, biting her lip pensively, “y’all’re gonna want to prepare yourself too. Things kinda got ‘complicated’ while y’all were, uh, ‘out’.”

“How complicated?” I deadpanned before being overtaken by a wave of anxiety, “are they attacking?!”

“Not...quite…” the blue pegasus stressed. However, before she could elaborate, all five of the mares recoiled as a brilliant ball of light erupted into existence directly behind me. There were sounds too, distant and muffled. I turned to look into the light, which didn’t seem to actually affect my eyes in any way.

The yellow pegasus and pink earth ponies were at my side, looking into the light with me, “aww. Well, it looks like our time’s up,” the pink mare bemoaned before giving me a potent hug goodbye. My state of shock only permitted me to return it half-heartedly, but the mare didn’t remark on that if she minded.

I looked to the pegasus at my side, “how bad is it?”

She opened her mouth, as though to reply, but then seemed to lose her resolve. Instead, she looked between me and the light, and then gave me a brief hug as well. Then...I was alone in the clearing. The mares were gone, as was the furniture, and the sword. Even the trees were nowhere to be seen. All the remained was me…

...and the light.

I let out a deep sigh, “well...here it goes…”

I stepped through the light.

The first thing I noticed was that I wasn’t lying on a bed anymore. Nor was I even inside. Well, not in the same sort of permanent structured that I’d last remembered being in at any rate. This appeared to be the inside of some sort of tent.

Though, I had to admit that, for a tent, it was very nice. Clean, spacious, and constructed out of a synthetic fabric of some sort. So, clearly not a White Hoof or other tribal tent. Which was good. However, it was also a far cry from anything that any of the ponies in Shady Saddles would have had. Which was bad. Very, very, bad…

I moved to get up, and that was when I realized that I wasn’t a free mare any longer. Both my front and rear legs were bound together with shiny, brand new, steel hoofcuffs. My wings, too, were securely strapped to my sides by plastic-coated steel rope.

Only one group that I knew of could possibly have access to resources like this in such impeccable condition, and that was―

“Well, well, well,” I heard a young sounding voice say from the tent’s entrance, “my most unworthy adversary awakens!”

My head whipped around to the source, falling upon a rather peculiar sight. Though one that was no less dread-inducing for its oddness.

The mare―though her diminutive size more accurately suggested a filly―was attired in a suitably small set of white combat barding that had clearly been tailored to fit her. The barding matched her equally ivory mane, and her coat was a slate gray color that wasn’t even a shade different from Arginine’s. Her amber eyes were different though. They weren’t impassive in the slightest. To the contrary, they held a great deal of very apparent emotions within them.

Which only made my fear compound, because I saw within those eyes such a look of vicious triumph as I hadn’t seen since Cestus and Whiplash had had me in their clutches. This didn’t strike me as a passing coincidence either.

“Oh horseapples…”

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Peanut Gallery - Two's Company; You're A Crowd! SPECIAL Bonuses from Statuettes is Doubled!

CHAPTER 51: AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD

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"We shall see how brave you are when nailed to the walls of the dam, your body facing west so you may watch your world die."

You ever have one of those dreams that’s just so vivid, and feels so real that, when you finally wake up from it, you’re not completely positive that you are not, in fact, still dreaming? Because that was me right now.

My present circumstances weren’t doing a whole lot to help convince me otherwise either. Maybe not the waking up imprisoned and tied up part. That...was actually disturbingly ‘normal’ for me, all things considered. As was returning to consciousness in unfamiliar surroundings. No, what was really doing a number on me right now was the little filly who was confronting me.

I say, “little filly”, but the reality was that she was probably only a year or two younger than I was. Then again, she might have been a little younger than that, as I was going off of her size for my estimate, and ponies from Arginine’s stable tended to be on the larger side. In any case, it wasn’t like she was a straight up foal. Likewise, the look on her face was anything but childlike.

None of which helped to dispel the serendipitous sensation that was clouding my head as I dumbly watched the young armored pony strut around before my bound form, taking obvious pleasure in my predicament, and favoring me with more than a little disdain.

Standing just behind her were two other ponies from Arginine’s stable. One was a towering stallion that I didn’t recognize. And when I say, ‘towering’, I mean that, as large as these ponies tended to be, he easily dwarfed every other example that I’d come across. Indeed, the other stallion next to him only came up to his shoulder.

That ‘other stallion’ turned out to be Arginine. I didn’t know if my brain was still working a little behind the curve as a result of whatever he’d drugged me with, but I was finding it even more difficult than usual to pierce his deceptively stoic expression in an effort to try and see what information I could glean from him about what was going on.

After all, this was not the first time that he’d ‘betrayed’ me, only for it to have turned out to be a ruse on his part. I very desperately wanted to believe that was the case right now too. Although, our last conversation wasn’t doing much to help bolster that assumption. The alternative was a lot less pleasant, however, so I decided that I’d at least hope for the best until proven otherwise. During that interim period, it was probably important either way that I pay at least some attention to what the filly was saying. For some inexplicable reason, she seemed to be the one in charge.

“...trouble that a little pissant like you has caused us. Honestly, I choose to regard it more as a rather scathing indictment of our own strategic planners’ capabilities, than due to any amount of genuine competency on your part,” the small gray armored pony sneered at me, “regardless of whatever reports that Argile here has made...”

“Arginine, ma’am,” the stallion behind her corrected.

The filly whipped her head around and glared at him, “I beg your pardon? Are you under the impression that I remotely care about what a lambda thinks?” the tone of the filly’s voice suggested that she found even conversing with Arginine distasteful, “or what its name is?” she scoffed, clicking her tongue dismissively, “they should have given your batches serial numbers and been done with it.

“The fact that my own sources have confirmed your reports that this...pony,” she managed to stress in such a way that I somehow found the designation insulting, “is responsible for leading two successful raids on facilities staffed by your defunct strain only proves just how much of a waste of resources your gene lots were. Clearly, they phased out the Iotas too quickly.”

To suggest that I was having an easy time following any of what was being said would be an abject lie; and I couldn’t blame that on whatever residual effects might still be lingering in my body from the contents of the syringe that Arginine had used to knock me unconscious. Frankly, my brain was still working really hard to figure out why I was being talked down to by a little filly. By the differential attitude that Arginine was taking with her, it was clear that she was the pony in charge―or at least the pony in the highest position where the occupants of this room were concerned. That she was wearing what was clearly combat barding suggested that her position wasn’t purely administrative either.

Almost as puzzling to me as this filly’s position of seniority, was the suggesting that Arginine had been coordinating with her for some time. ‘Reports’? How long had this been in the works exactly? Drug-addled I may still be, but I was absolutely sober enough to realize that it could not possibly be a coincidence that a force from Arginine’s stable showed up on the doorstep of Shady Saddles on the exact same day that I arrived. The timing involved in accomplishing something like that would be phenomenally impressive under any circumstance given the distances involved. Honestly, what made the most sense was that these stable ponies had already been in position a few miles from Shady Saddles for some time in order to avoid being seen by the local sentries, and had merely been staged and waiting for some signal to move in on the city.

My eyes darted to the stallion that I had long regarded as a friend and an ally. In my head, I was wracking my brain in an effort to try and figure out how long he’d been planning something like this. Yet, at the same time, a part of me refused to accept it at all. After all, I’d been in a similar situation before, hadn’t I? Arginine had been playing the role of a dutiful stable pony then too, going along with my captors and feigning a continued allegiance to them, until the opportune moment came to release me and turn on the ponies there. The deception had been complete, and the surprise at his turn total. We’d managed to carry the day largely because the augmented ponies had believed that Arginine was their devoted ally until the last possible moment.

I wanted to believe that was the case here as well.

I wanted to believe that, but…

That day in the Wasteland when he’d ‘turned’ on me had been an ad hoc plan that he’d seemed to have concocted on the spot to give us all the best chance of escaping alive. That wasn’t the case this time. He’d helped to actively coordinate this. He’d been working with the ponies from his stable, behind all of our backs, for at least a week. Perhaps even longer, honestly. If he meant this to be some sort of trap set for his stable, then he would have clued us in.

...Right?

“Hey!” my head was violently whipped to the side with enough force to roll my entire bound body over onto its side as a hoof struck the side of my face. My lip hurt especially, and a prodding with my tongue revealed the bitter taste of blood, “if I’m going to waste the breath talking to an insect like you, then you’re damn well going to listen!”

I glared at the petulant little gray filly, and received another belt across my face for my trouble. She shook out her hoof, sneering down at me, “grubs like you surfacers need to learn to show your betters the proper respect,” the unicorn snarled derisively, “if you had all been content to lay down and die like you were supposed to, they wouldn’t have had to bring me out of development so early…

“Where was I? Ah, right,” the filly snorted and resumed whatever monologue she’d been reciting when my thoughts had drifted, “I was detailing your fate. You’d do well to pay attention. I know how easily such simple creatures like you surfacers get confused, and I wouldn’t want you to freak out in your ignorance.”

Sweet Celestia, I did not like this pony…

“We’ve completely encircled the shanty-town you call a ‘settlement’,” the filly informed me dismissively, “in the morning, you’ll be taken to a gallows that we’re building in front of the southern gate. Your brave little defenders will watch as their ‘hero’ is hanged, and then we’ll put an end to to their grief by purging the place,” the little unicorn sounded quite pleased with the plan, “Arguing has informed me that the entirety of your little, ugh, ‘army’ is inside,” she sounded quite unimpressed by the notion that a force of armed surface ponies had been organized to resist their stable’s efforts, “and that wiping them out will remove any serious opposition to us in the valley.

“I am still thoroughly of the opinion that my presence is not needed for dealing with such paltry little efforts,” she sighed, “so I’m not going to be wasting my time dealing with all of this directly. I’ll be halfway to...Seattle?” she peered over her shoulder at the two stallions behind her.

“Seaddle, ma’am” the larger stallion that I did not recognize corrected in a monotone that was eerily similar, if not deeper, than Arginine’s.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes, “it’s going to be a smudge on the ground within the week, whatever it’s called,” she returned her attention back to me, “I won’t even be here to watch you swing. Honestly, I just came down here to confirm for myself how pathetic you truly were so that I could send over a properly scathing report back to the engineers who panicked and pulled me for this ‘assignment’ ahead of schedule,” she clicked her tongue contemptuously and shook her head.

The filly turned away, delivering a final swat across my face with her ivory tail as she strode purposefully towards the tent’s exit. She paused and glanced aside at that larger stallion, “let me know when the bulk of the forces are ready to move north,” then she looked the other way towards Arginine, “you, will collect her corpse after the battle tomorrow and return it to the stable for study. Maybe the engineers can finally get future strains some proper wings with her genetic material,” she paused, looking him over with an expression of mild disgust, “then go ahead and submit yourself to be decommissioned. You Lambda’s aren’t long for this world as it is; best to get a jump on purging the lot of you…”

With that last little derisive jab at Arginine, the filly’s horn glowed amber and the flap over the tent’s exit was pushed aside, allowing her and the armored stallion that was escorting her to leave. Now, only Arginine and I were left in the tent, with an awkward silence hanging in the air between us. I sniffed and rubbed my head against my bound forehooves, looking briefly at the thin smear of red that my bleeding lip left behind on my coat.

I cleared my throat, which was feeling very hoarse at the moment, “so...is there a plan?”

The silence lingered for several agonizing seconds until Arginine responded, “General Constance has told you the plan,” he answered in a subdued tone, even for Arginine, “as much as is relevant to you, at any rate. To lay out the details beyond tomorrow’s events would be redundant, given that you will not be in a position for them to concern you.”

“You mean because I’ll be―” my throat unexpectedly closed as I was about to say the last word. Of course, Arginine was considerate enough to complete my thought for me.

“―dead. Indeed.”

Again the tent was too quiet for my liking, “I don’t suppose that this is all secretly part of some big master plan on your part,” I ventured, trying not to let myself feel too hopeful about the prospect, “like the last time?”

“That would be a bit...hackneyed, wouldn’t it? To try the same plan twice on the same adversary.”

“If it’s stupid and it works...” I shrugged, managing to conjure up a wan smile at the stallion. Arginine held my gaze for several heartbeats, and then he looked away.

“There is no deception this time, Windfall. I will not be releasing you at the last moment in order to facilitate a grand escape.”

“Oh―” my voice cracked. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat again, trying to fight back the feeling of dread that was creeping up along my spine, “do...do I at least get to know why?” I looked at the stallion, “can you give me that much? I―I thought that you believed in me, and what I was trying to do―”

“I do believe in you, Windfall,” the stallion interjected somberly, “and my faith in your personal abilities when you are dedicated to a cause have not waned. However,” I’d grown accustomed to the stallion’s stoic nature over the months. I’d even learned to read through his facade on occasion, and pick up on the otherwise extremely subtle cues to his mood. This time, however, I could see his disappointment plainly upon his face, and the sheer clarity of it struck right down to my core, “I have watched that dedication falter in recent weeks.

“You have become detached and distant, passing off responsibility to others to see your plans through. Mister Ramparts is spearheading the campaign with the mercenaries; you’ve barely coordinated with them at all. You’ve been too preoccupied with drinking and sleeping.”

“Ramparts is a soldier,” I protested, “he knows about commanding armies and stuff, not me!”

“That may be,” Arginine acknowledged, “but there is a distinct difference between seaking somepony’s expertise, and passing them complete control over an operation,” he insisted, “I have gauged and evaluated your abilities, Windfall; I have not done so for the others.

“Frankly, I do not trust them to be able to succeed; as they have not demonstrated their ability to overcome the ponies of my stable to my satisfaction.”

“So you turned on us?”

“I have never made it a secret that my desire is simply to see that better ponies win out in the end; whether those ponies are the residents of my stable or the surface does not matter to me. I will act to aid whichever side I observe to have the best chance of success. For the last several months, I have dedicated myself to aiding you, because I judged that you had the best chance of being able to provide a worthwhile challenge to my stable.

Arginine was silent for a moment, “now, I have reason to believe that I was mistaken. Your resolve and dedication were not as resolute as I had predicted. I acknowledge that the failure in that appraisal was my own, and I accept the consequences for it.”

I was shaking my head, feeling my eye burning slightly with teas that threatened to escape if I let them, “look, I know I’ve been fucking up lately, believe me; but don’t punish everypony else! Everypony doesn’t deserve to die because I messed up!”

The stallion let out a little sigh, “that is not what is happening here, Windfall. Their deaths were already foregone conclusions from the outset,” he explained, “what I was offering you was a chance to save them; because you insisted that the ponies of my stable were, in fact, not the better option for the future of ponykind. You insisted that you could rally the ponies of Neighvada and successfully resist us.

“I no longer believe that to be the case. My stable will complete the task given to us by Equestria of old, and we will finish creating a better breed of pony that can rebuild the world, and keep tragedies like the Wasteland from ever happening again.

“It is what’s best for the world.”

Arginine turned and started to leave. I opened my mouth to reply, but it closed silently after a long, wordless, moment. I wanted to scream at him. To curse him. I wanted to rant and wail and cry out at the stallion who’d betrayed me and all of my friends to our deaths. I wanted to do all of those things…

...but I couldn’t. Had it been any other pony, I certainly would have; but not Arginine. I knew the stallion too well. He wasn’t being vindictive, or malicious, or cruel. This wasn’t all being done in order to secure some sort of personal gain. Heck, from what that filly had said before leaving, it sounded like Arginine wasn’t going to be alive for all that much longer than I was when he got back to his stable.

No, he wasn’t doing any of this for any of the reasons that the typical pony might have. Arginine was simply too...honest to do something like that. Too genuine. He was doing this because, deep down, he actually believed that this was what was objectively best for ponykind as a whole. Nothing else mattered to him outside of that. It was his whole purpose in life: ensuring that the world was inherited by the ponies most likely to fix it and stop anything like the Wasteland from ever happening again. It was all that he cared about.

It had been all I cared about too―was all I cared about. How many hundreds―thousands―of ponies had I killed over the years because I was clearing out the ‘dregs’ of pony-kind in order to allow ‘better’ ponies to thrive and prosper. I’d killed those White Hooves yesterday without a second thought because their kind ‘needed to be removed’ from the Wasteland to make it a better place. It was what I did, and how I lived my life.

I’d never thought of my actions from the point of view of those raiders and tribals. Until now. Until I had suddenly become the ‘undesirable’ pony that needed to be dealt with to make way for ‘better ponies’. If I condemned Arginine for what he was doing, I had to condemn myself as well. We were doing the same things for the same reasons.

There wasn’t any reason for me to believe that we’d get different results either. I recalled the flashing visions of those terrified zebras hiding from the bombardment being launched by overflying pegasi. I saw those same figures as ponies, being burned by dragons. I remembered what I’d seen those survivors do afterwards: pick up weapons and perpetuate the fighting. They carried on with and propagated the violence, until...all that was left was The Wasteland.

Killing gangers wasn’t going to bring about the end of the Wasteland. Killing tribals like the White Hooves wasn’t going to do it. No matter how many ponies I killed, it would only be a matter of time before some other group―like, say, a horde of genetically mutated stable ponies―came along a tried to kill me and my friends. Even if Arginine’s stable won out here tomorrow, some other group would try to kill them. It would just go on, and on, and on, until the Wasteland was somehow even worse than the hellscape it was now.

Killing wasn’t going to get us anywhere, I realized. Vengeance, hatred, violence...at best, it would keep us all right where we’d been for the last two hundred years.

It wasn’t the answer. Fixing the Wasteland wasn’t as easy as killing the ‘right’ ponies. You’d think that should have been obvious after all these years. I’d thought that my lack of progress was somehow due to my not killing enough ponies. But now...I could see where I’d been going wrong. You didn’t stop violence with more violence.

You did it...by stopping.

“...I forgive you.”

The stallion paused just in front of the flap and looked back over his shoulder at me, “I beg your pardon?”

“I said: I forgive you,” I repeated, feeling those tears that had been threatening to fall earlier starting to creep out from beneath my eyelid. It wasn’t grief, necessarily, that was spurring them on though; but rather the sense that I had, in the end, just lost a close friend―and I had, in a very real sense. Arginine was a pony that I’d grown to rely on and trust with my life; and, through my actions, I’d let him down. I genuinely regretted that. But none of that changed how I felt about him―how I’d always felt about him.

“I forgive you for what’s going to happen to me,” I swallowed, “and for what’s going to happen to Shady Saddles and the rest of Neighvada...and the world, I guess. For what it’s worth, I hope you’re right too,” I added, swallowing hard, “I hope that this really will lead to a better world for not just ponies, but every race. Deep down, I don’t think it will, but you’re a much smarter pony than I am, so maybe I’m wrong.

“In fact, I sincerely hope that I am,” I added, “I hope that everything works out, and that the Wasteland gets fixed and that everypony will someday live in a new Equestria where everypony is safe, and loved, and happy. I hope that we do learn to be better ponies; even if I’m not around to see it for myself.”

I sniffed and wiped my nose on my manacled hooves before smiling as broadly as I could at the stallion, “if we really have to lose, then I want you to be right about what you’re doing. So, I forgive you, and I wish you the best of luck, RG.”

The stallion stared back at me in stoic silence for several seconds before finally nodding, “thank you. I hope I’m right too,” he once more turned to leave.

“RG!” I called out before I was even aware that I was saying anything more. Once again, the stallion stopped and looked back at me. I fidgeted for a bit, mentally arguing with myself whether what I was about to say was even worth uttering. It wasn’t like it was going to matter at all.

On the other hoof, this could turn out to be the last chance I ever got to speak with him. Whether it was going to amount to anything or not, I still felt like I needed for somepony to know―Arginine especially. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the gray unicorn’s golden eyes boring expectantly into me, “you’reafather,” I blurted, flinching as I took a moment to compose myself a little better.

“I mean: I’m pregnant; and it’s yours,” I sighed, “I know it’s not going to matter tomorrow and everything, but I was trying to tell you earlier; but then there was the whole druging thing…” I trailed off, prompting myself to clear my throat once more and refocus my rambling, “I just―” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “I guess, given the circumstances, this is the closest that I can come to ‘having a family’,” I managed a wan smile that didn’t last very long, but it had at least been something, “so, thanks, for letting me have that...before the end.”

“...”

Arginine slipped out of the tent without a word. I cringed, closing my eye and bowing my head, cradling it in my bound forelimbs. I was acutely aware of my bare neck, which no longer was adorned with the talisman that Doctor Lancet had provided for me to help sustain the life that was only tenuously growing inside of me. It was a silly thing to be concerned about. I was pretty sure that there didn’t exist a talisman in the whole world that was powerful enough to save my unborn foal from me dying.

I looked to the pipbuck on my fetlock. While I was almost certain that such an effort would be fruitless, I craned my head down and began to awkwardly nudge the buttons and dials with my nose until I managed to get the device over to its radio application. It was of little surprise to me at all that every station that I tried was met with static and silence. Of course the these stable ponies weren’t going to overlook something like a pipbuck and how it might have helped me get out a warning. They were probably jamming the whole area to keep the ponies here from getting out a warning to others in the valley.

Which meant that, not only did I have no way of trying to coordinate a rescue with Ramparts and the others, I wasn’t even going to be able to say goodbye to them. I didn’t even know for sure whether or not they were aware that I was a prisoner. I had been vaguely aware of somepony trying to reach me on the radio while I was losing consciousness, but I certainly hadn’t replied. Chances were that whatever device that these ponies were using to block my pipbuck’s radio transceiver was also hiding my pipbuck tag location.

For all that the others knew, I’d abandoned them completely. Or was passed out drunk and unreachable somewhere, more likely, I thought bitterly. Whatever the others thought, the defense of Shady Saddles was ultimately in their hooves. I wasn’t going to have any part in it.

I wanted to believe that my friends, the mercenaries we’d hired, and the organic defenders of the town would be enough to repel the augmented ponies from Arginine’s stable. I genuinely wanted to believe that. It was just…

...Arginine sure didn’t think so; and I very much doubted that the ponies who appeared to have so easily devastated the greatest threat to the Neighvada Valley―the White Hooves―would be the sort of force that could be turned back by a rag-tag ‘army’ that had been cobbled together a week ago. This wasn’t where the fight was supposed to happen either. We were supposed to trap them in their stable where they’d have a limited avenue of approach. Right now, we were experiencing the exact opposite of that. They had to have the whole town surrounded, which meant that they could attack from every side all at once.

It was impossible for me to know the numbers that we were dealing with, but I could imagine that even the most conservative estimate for the size of an army that was being specifically built to wipe out every pony in the whole Wasteland had to number in the thousands. The filly―Arginine had called her ‘Constance’, right?―had said that she was going to take the bulk of it on to Seaddle while leaving a smaller detachment here to finish off the town. If even a tenth of such a force were left here, they’d have us at least matched pony-for-pony; and if all of their ponies were as big as that behemoth in the barding that had been standing next to Arginine, those were odds that decidedly did not favor us.

I just...I couldn’t see a way for us to win this. These stable ponies had the numbers, the equipment, the positioning, and they’d seized the initiative by moving in and surrounding the town before we’d even suspected that they were in the area. They simply had every conceivable advantage. The only trump card that we could possibly have played was off in McMaren. While Moonbeam might have even been able to get here by morning easily if she could be reached, I had every reason to believe that it wasn’t merely my pipbuck whose radio was being jammed. There was no way to get a message to her.

We were done for, before we’d even managed to truly begin.

I let out a defeated sigh and lay my head across my hooves.

I’m sorry, everypony...I fucked up, and I’m sorry…

It appeared that ‘morning’ referred to the crack of dawn with these ponies, as I was led out of the tent into a Wasteland with a sky that was only just beginning to lighten from. While the land was still quite dark, I was able to finally get a look around at the enemy’s encampment as I was escorted through it. The sturdy plastic-encased steel rope binding my wings down remained, but the manacles on my fore and hind legs had been swapped out for two sets of hobblers that let me walk, but kept my gate short and slow. If nothing else, I had plenty of time to look around as me and the quartet of large gray ponies walked through the camp.

Most of the pristine plastic and canvas structures appeared to be sleeping tents designed to hold some number of the soldiers present. It was hard for me to judge an accurate number, honestly. The tents could have comfortably slept a couple dozen ponies my or even Ramparts’ sizes, but these genetically engineered beasts were substantially larger, so maybe only a half dozen or so of them would fit. Those tents appeared to ring the entirety of Shady Saddles.

There were other small collections of tents as well that didn’t look like they were being used as quarters. I could peer into a couple of them, and saw that they contained plastic and metal crates of various shapes and sizes. Supply depots, I guessed. There was a larger tent complex nearby as well, that looked like several tents had been connected to one another. Just outside of it was a simple radio tower of some sort that I suspected they used to keep in contact with their stable.

Perhaps whatever they were using to squelch my pipbuck’s transmitter wasn’t as all-encompassing as I originally thought. Not that it did me much good to know that there might be a way for somepony to get signals out of this place. Without the ability to examine exactly how these ponies were blocking the signals and then getting around that block, I had to wonder if even Foxglove had been able to find a solution last night. Not that I was convinced that being able to call for help would have done us much good against the force we were facing.

I took the sign that the little filly general hadn’t shown up for one last round of gloating over my inevitable demise to be an indication that she’d made good on her promise to have been well on her way to Seaddle with the bulk of her stable’s forces. That being the case, it certainly looked like quite the force had been left behind to complete their sacking of Shady Saddles. I could see what must have been well over a hundred ponies just along this side of the town’s southern wall. I suspected that at least as many were positioned along the other three as well.

My eyes wandered to the wall in question, sitting about two hundred yards distant from the edge of the camp. It was a tantalizingly close distance, honestly, that seemed like it was designed to further demonstrate the sheer contempt that these engineered ponies had for the denizens of the surface world. Any worthwhile pony with a properly sighted rifle could have scored reliable hits on the ponies in the camp, and I suspected that there had to be a significant number of qualified marksmares among both the town’s usual defenders and the mercenaries that we’d recruited.

Of course, there was also little doubt in my mind that, the moment the first such shot was fired, these stable ponies would have launched their assault immediately. A night assault wouldn’t have favored the defenders any, so instigating the attack would have served to gain the ponies of Shady Saddles nothing. They were forced to just sit there all night as these augmented invaders sat here taunting them with their proximity. Was it really not enough that they were going to grind us all under their hooves with ease, they had to take every opportunity to rub our noses in our hopelessness all the while?

I thought these ponies were supposed to not feel strong emotions or whatever? That General Constance had sure seemed to be full of all sorts of overt emotions last night.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to get the chance to ask Arginine for an answer about that. My gaze drifted from the wall, where there were a scattering of pony silhouettes of the defenders, to the gallows that I was being steadily marched towards. There wasn’t much to them; little more than a wood-framed base, a pair of upright beams, and the crossbar between them. A nylon noose was already set and waiting.

Lights had been positioned all around the platform, focused so as to illuminate the center stage for the main event. I found myself idly wondering if the lights might not have been set up rather early on in the process so as to allow the defenders of the town to watch every step of its construction and wonder as to its purpose. Those lights would certainly make it rather easy for the ponies on the wall to easily identify who it was that was going to be hanging there, assuming they hadn’t managed to figure it out already. Even in the dimness of early dawn and at this distance, a petite white pegasus mare had to stand out when compared to these overbearing gray monstrosities; and it wasn’t like ponies matching my description were a dime a dozen…

I was walked up unto the platform. I glanced down, feeling the slight give of the trap door in the center of it as my hooves stepped upon it. Idly, I tried to move my wings, but there was absolutely no give to their restraints. I felt my lips twist into a tiny little mirthless smile as I pondered the absurdity of a pegasus essentially dying because of a fall.

The hoop of rope, which was glowing with a golden magical aura, deftly slipped itself around my neck, the knot slipping down until the cord was snug against my neck. I noted that there wasn’t nearly as much slack at the end connected to the gallows as there should have been. The idea was supposed to be that the noose would allow me to fall far enough that the sudden jerk as I reached the end would snap my neck and kill me. As it was now, I was almost certainly going to simply strangle to death over the course of several minutes.

That seemed unnecessary.

“I would like to take this moment to apologize,” I stiffened and quickly looked to the side, surprised to find Arginine standing on the ground nearby, “but I requested avoiding traumatizing your brain stem and spinal cord unnecessarily,” the stallion continued in a low voice, not meeting my gaze, “the autonomic system of a pegasus is not something that our engineers have had many opportunities to study up close. Keeping yours as intact as possible will be of a great benefit to my stable.”

I closed my eye and let out a long sigh, “that...I probably won’t forgive you for,” I muttered to the stallion, “but thanks for being here, at the end, I guess.”

“I am on hoof to collect your body after the assault is complete,” the unicorn replied simply, “I am the only pony here with any training on how to properly preserve specimens for transport back to the stable.”

Despite myself, I felt a hollow snort escape me, “nice to know that somepony’s gonna care what happens to me,” I muttered before turning my attention from the stallion and facing Shady Saddles. I caught a brief flash of something shiny in the dim light in connection to what looked to be a rifle. Probably a scope or some sort. If somepony along the wall had indeed recognized who I was and what was about to happen to me, I might find myself lucking out and they’d be merciful enough to shoot me and spare me the agony of a slow and grueling death by strangulation.

I just hoped that it wasn’t going to be anypony I knew doing it. I didn’t want Ramparts to have to spend his last hours alive thinking about he’d been the one to ultimately kill me.

This did all feel eerily familiar though. My mind flashed back to my experience in the White Hoof camp. It hadn’t been a hanging that awaited me there, of course. In retrospect, I had to wonder if being stung to death and ripped apart by monstrous radscorpions wouldn’t have been a significantly cleaner death compared to hanging like I was about to.

There wasn’t a screaming and jeering throng of tribals clamouring to watch me suffer though, so there was that. In fact, the camp was almost chillingly quiet. These large engineered ponies didn’t even seem to be idly chatting with each other. I wasn’t saying that I wanted them to be gathered about taunting me as I was about to die; all of this was perfectly depressing enough as it was. It would have just been a little more encouraging to get the sense that the ponies who were about to inherit the Wasteland and rebuild Equestria were a lot more...like normal ponies, is all.

Ugh...I can’t believe that this was what I was going to spend my last moments thinking about! I mean, I guess I’d already gone through all of my more maudlin thoughts last night as I thought back about Jackboot and my family and the life that I’d never had. All that was left to ponder now were these ponies who were about to kill me, and the fact that there looked to be a lot fewer ponies on the defensive walls of Shady Saddles than I would have thought.

Honestly, I should have been able to see nearly a hundred ponies along the southern wall that I was facing, considering all of the mercenaries and such. Heck, the town should have rallied every able pony with a firearm to the defenses, given what was at stake! But I only counted just shy of twenty silhouettes at the moment. So where was everypony else?!

I closed my eye and shook my head. Yeah, that a girl, Windfall; spend your final conscious thoughts criticising the last minute plans made by desperate ponies who were suddenly surrounded by an overwhelming army just before nightfall. That’s time well spent right there! Couldn’t you at least have thought about―!

“Release.”

It barely even sounded like a command, but a moment later the hatch beneath my hooves gave way and I was falling. Although, ‘falling’ was greatly overstating what the result was thanks to the shortness of the noose around my neck. The rope almost instantly tightened, sealing my throat shut as my hind end swung down. The whole weight of even my lithe body was now being supported entirely by the cord wrapped just below my chin. Panic set in immediately, even though I’d been fully expecting this. My brain very quickly realized that my body could no longer draw breath, and my subconscious began to engage in every futile effort it could conceive of to fix the problem; which amounted to a lot of spasms and fruitless flailing of my bound limbs.

Then, quite unexpectedly, my world was awash in a sea of cyan light. Somepony had their hooves wrapped around me. My brain was still very much in a state of frenzy though, so I wasn’t processing much of what was happening. All I knew was that there had been a light, and the sensation of being touched, and a lot of lavender in my vision. There was a voice too, I think, that said something along the lines of: “hold still!” not that I was in any state to comply if that is indeed what the vaguely familiar voice of a mare had said to me.

The loud crack of a rifle shot I recognized despite my death throes, thanks to a lifetime of exposure to firearms and battle. I felt some of the pressure around my neck slacken in that same moment, but the rope was still completely constricting my throat and preventing me from drawing even a wheezing breath, so that sensation was of little comfort to me.

Then there was another blue flash of light.

I hit the ground hard, smashed beneath the weight of a pony significantly larger than I was. That bulk was quickly removed though, and then I was aware of several other ponies around me moving in from all sides. A knife appeared from somewhere and began sawing. An agonizing collection of seconds later, I felt the pressure on my throat vanish. The gasp that escaped me was so loud that it drowned out the voices of the ponies around me, and my body was in such a rush to get fresh air into it that it felt like I was in danger of over-inflating my lungs.

I was reduced to a hacking a coughing fit for several long moments as my body struggled to make up for the oxygen that it had been deprived of. Only after spending the better part of a minute recovering was I finally cognizant of my surroundings.

The first thing that I noticed was that I was no longer on the gallows, which was a wonderful revelation. In fact, it was very soon apparent that I wasn’t even on the ground. I could see the adobe and wood construction beneath my hooves, and recognized it as belonging to the walls that encircled Shady Saddles. Indeed, looking out in front of me, I could see the buildings of the town spread out below.

Though it was the frenzied sounds from behind that soon drew my attention. Screaming, gunshots, the whines of magical energy weapons, and even a few thunderous explosions were rolling over from beyond the wall. I clambered up on unsteady legs, shoving ponies away who tried to stop me and ignoring their pleas for me to hold still. I hobbled my way to the battlements of the wall and propped myself up along them so that I could peek over at the source of the cacophony beyond.

It was a full on melee.

Ponies of all shapes and sizes swarmed over one-another. The massive white-armored forms of the stable ponies were not alone. Smaller equine forms dressed in all manner of barding and armed with a wide variety of weapons writhed among them as the two side fought in a chaotic brawl. To my left and right, ponies armed with rifles carefully marked their targets and fired in support of their brethren engaged in close-quarters-combat. Stunned, and still not quite comprehending what was going on, I plodded my way towards one of the other walls on hobbled hooves.

Sure enough, I saw an identical scene before me. Ponies who were very clearly those defending Shady Saddles were on the ground and fighting with the force of stable ponies. Yet, it was more than that. The bulk of the town’s forces looked to be concentrated behind their larger and monochrome foes, pinching the stable ponies between the Wastelanders and the city walls filled with discerning marksmares.

“How…?” I heard myself say aloud in a word that was barely more than a soft croak as my ragged throat decried any attempt to speak. I winced and awkwardly massaged my larynx as I continued to look on in stunned silence. Then my gaze finally fell upon the explanation: holes.

The landscape around the town was ringed with holes; scores of them! It was like somepony had perforated the Wasteland around Shady Saddles, just beyond the edge of the stable ponies’ encampment. On a hunch, I stumbled my way to the inward facing side of the wall and glanced down. Sure enough, I spied several additional holes that clearly led into tunnels running beneath the surface. Even now they were being utilized to drag back the wounded and for fresh reinforcements to enter the fray.

Something was tugging at my hooves. I looked over, still dazed, to see a violet unicorn with an auburn mane tied back in a loose bun. Her horn was glowing with emerald green light as she telekinetically manipulated both my hobblers and her eldritch lance’s ignited tip; albeit on its faintest setting. A few deft swipes with the tool was all that it took for the mare to uncuff and remove the restraints from my legs. Another swipe released my wings from their own bindings, and I felt myself sigh in relief as my pinions fanned out in appreciation of their newfound freedom.

I was then summarily glomped by a bawling Foxglove, “oh, Celestia, Windfall! I thought―,” she hiccuped in between sobs, “I thought you were dead! Oh, thank Celestia you’re alright!” she immediately pulled back a little and began to pat down and quickly inspect every part of my body, “you are alright, right? Are you hurt anywhere? Are you okay?!”

My mouth opened to respond, but I couldn’t managed to get out much more than a choked gag as my still recovering throat rebelled against further utterances. I winced, instead descending into a fit of coughing while trying to bravely nod my head in the affirmative.

“Oh dear, let me see,” the mare bent down and looked beneath my chin. I heard her sharp intake of breath, “oh, that looks bad; let me get you a healing potion,” she whipped her head over her shoulder, “I need a healing potion!”

A young earth pony colt appeared only seconds later, galloping along the town’s battlements. He had a pair of yellow, butterfly-emblazoned, medical cases strapped to his sides like improvised saddlebags. As soon as he reached us, he popped open one of the cases and tossed Foxglove a healing potion from within. As she caught it in her telekinesis, he was already cantering away further down the wall towards where somepony else was yelling for a potion. I noticed that the colt wasn’t alone in this duty either. Many other smaller figures of young colts and fillies were visible scampering along the walls, doling out medicine and ammunition where it was needed as the older ponies continued to engage the attackers.

Foxglove had uncapped the vial and was holding it to my lips, all but force-feeding me the potion in her ernest haste to treat my savaged throat, “here, drink it,” and I somehow managed to do so without coughing most of it back up. It helped that the purple fluid served to almost immediately soothe my very sore throat even as it dribbled into my mouth. In a matter of seconds, the pain ebbed and both the act of breathing and speaking got immeasurably easier.

“Thanks,” I managed to finally say with only the slightest note of hoarseness. All that remained of my injury now was a faint, lingering, itch in the back of my throat that itself was already noticeably fading with every passing minute, “and thanks for the save, too. I assume that Starlight did her teleport thing?” I ventured, glancing around to try and figure out where the other unicorn mare had gotten off to. It wasn’t hard to pick her out from among the other defenders, as she was one of the very few who wasn’t armed and firing. Instead, it seemed like Starlight was applying herself to a more defensive role, generating protective barriers for the other defenders to shield them from incoming fire.

Though, I noted that that fire was a lot lighter and more sporadic than I would have predicted from the number of attackers that I’d seen in the camp while being taken to the site of my foiled execution. It didn’t take any sort of expert to figure out why that was, of course. Those same ponies were far too busy dealing with the surprise assault coming at them from their rears to focus much of their attention on Shady Saddles.

I once more turned my attention outward, looking back over the wall at the fighting that was raging on down below. It was still something of a mystery to me how the townsponies had managed to pull off the whole thing. Surely this place hadn’t always possessed such a tunnel network? No, that couldn’t be it. I could plainly see the piles of freshly-churned dirt surrounding the openings inside the town walls. Those tunnels had been recently dug, there was no doubt of that. Though I was having some difficulty believing that such a network could have been created from scratch over the course of a single night!

Foxglove was standing at my side, protectively, her posture suggesting that she was quite aware that being at the edge of the town’s walls was not exactly a safe place at the moment. While the larger stable ponies were obviously primarily concerned with fighting the Wasteland denizens who’d suddenly appeared in their midsts, more than a few of them found the opportunity to engage the defenders on the walls, and bolts of pale green magical energy burned sporadically through the air around us.

“Yeah,” the mare responded, “she teleported in to get you, while I shot the rope.”

My eye widened in surprise and my head whipped around to look at the mare, “you made that shot?” I immediately winced, not having intended to sound quite that incredulous. It was just that I remembered quite clearly how bad a shot the mare had once been with a rifle. Then again, it wasn’t like I’d always been a ‘crack marksmare’ early in my career either.

Fortunately, Foxglove seemed to have been sufficiently self-aware to chuckle in response to my abject surprise, “yeah, well, I was pretty motivated to not miss,” she said, pressing herself against me, seemingly as much to reassure herself that I was really there as well as to offer a playful nudge, “besides,” her expression darkened slightly as her eyes stared out across the fighting, “Ramparts wasn’t available.”

“He’s down there?”

The violet unicorn nodded soberly and I turned to follow her gaze.

I’d been baptized in blood early on in my life. My formative years, leading into my―budding―adulthood, had been spent fighting a killing. I wasn’t a stranger to violence by any stretch of the imagination. Yet, at the same time, looking out over the brawl going on below, I couldn’t help but feel taken aback by the sheer scope and...brutality of it all.

While I’d seen―and participated in―innumerable fights during my lifetime, this wasn’t like any of those. This wasn’t a ‘fight’, this was a battle. The prelude to what could only be described as a war with the ponies of this stable.

Hundreds of ponies, more than I’d ever seen engaged in combat with one another at one time, were fighting tooth and hoof. Gunshots were crackling so frequently that the popping sounds almost seemed to blend together into a singular saturated drone of white noise. My nose itched from the acrid smell of the gunsmoke that hung in the air. So much of it was being generated, in fact, that I could see a bluish gray haze hovering over the town wall and the brawling ponies below.

The color of that blue-tinted smoke contrasted with the decidedly crimson tint that the Wasteland’s surface was taking on. At first, I thought that it was some phenomenon of the early dawn light that was doing it. However, much to my own horror, I soon realized that it was no trick of the light that made the ground look red: it was blood. Gallons upon gallons upon gallons of spilled blood, running over the parched and dry hard scrabble ground of the Wasteland that was simply incapable of absorbing liquids fast enough to keep up with how much of the vital life-sustaining fluid it was being drenched with to keep it from spreading outward from the periphery of the fighting itself.

Even as I watched, I could see both the significantly larger stable ponies and the more diminutive town defenders occasionally losing their footing on the slick ground. Such unfortunate ponies rarely survived long enough to get back up, their missteps upon the blood-muddied ground only serving to further add to the expanding crimson moat being formed around Shady Saddles.

This level of carnage was almost impossible for me to truly comprehend, even while I was watching it all unfold in front of me. I wanted it to stop. I wanted all of this to still be part of the dream, so that I could wake up from it and discover that it hadn’t―that something like this couldn’t―actually exist in the world. This much gore, this much death, wasn’t something that I wanted to accept as being a reality of the world, even in the Wasteland.

Of course, in my head, I knew that all of this was far too real. Indeed, two centuries past, I suspected that a confrontation like this wouldn’t have even been logged as a mere footnote in the long annals of all of the battles that occurred during the grand struggle between ponies and zebras. I tried―vainly―to imagine this sort of carnage on a scale of tens of thousands, and felt something inside my heart break.

I turned away from the fighting, slumping back against the wall. My chest was heaving as I let out wheezing breaths brought on by a sudden feeling of panic and dread. I was hugging myself tightly with my wings, wrapping myself into a little ball as I desperately tried to shake this feeling off, but I wasn’t having much luck doing so.

“Windy?!” Foxglove exclaimed, kneeling down beside me, her voice tinged with concern, “what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

I shook my head, “make it stop…” I muttered helplessly, tears creeping out from beneath my tightly closed eye, “it’s too much...there’s just too much…”

“Oh, Windy,” the unicorn sighed, and I felt her lean her head against mine in a comforting fashion as she held me for several long moments. Then she pulled back slightly and began looking around, “we should get you down from here. Come on, let’s go. There’s nothing you can do to help right now.”

Oh, how that last statement stung me, right down to my core. The Wonderbolt―the hero of Neighvada―a petulant, sobbing, mess while hundreds of ponies were fighting and dying around her. Many of those ponies were only here because I’d brought them here! They were fighting and dying because of me! I was why the mercenaries were here. Heck, I was even why those stable ponies were here, in part thanks to Arginine. This was the fight―the battle―that I’d wanted; that I’d been preparing for…

...and I was going to spend it cowering in the middle of the town somewhere, hyperventilating. Some ‘Wonderbolt’ I turned out to be…

Of course, I’d only ever been pretending at that, hadn’t I? I’d found a pretty blue jumpsuit in an old basement somewhere in the Wasteland and let the ponies in the valley call me a ‘Wonderbolt’. I knew nothing of their organization other than what I saw on decrepit recruitment posters and faded billboards. I knew even less about their most noteworthy leader during the war except that she was apparently involved in a lot of shady dealings in an effort to build a secret robot army, going so far as to experiment on little foals to accomplish her goals.

What exactly had I been aspiring to be, with a legacy like that? How was any part of that ‘heroic’?

Now look what playing at heroics had gotten not just me, but the rest of the Wasteland? I’d caused this bloodbath, and now I was going to hide away from it. A real hero would have rebuked Foxglove and flung herself into that fray.

Me? I mekely sniffed, nodded, and let her lead me off the wall. I didn’t have the words to describe the shame that I was feeling right now. I just...I wanted it to all be over. I wanted the killing to stop…

Yet still I followed my friend down off the battlements. If anypony noticed that the ‘Wonderbolt’ wasn’t taking an active role in the fighting, I didn’t hear them say anything. Then again, it looked like just about everypony had their hooves full right now. Foals scampered up and down the walls, delivering munitions and medicine. Ponies emerged from the scattered holes, dragging back wounded, screaming, ponies; many of whom were missing limbs or covered in disfiguring burns. A familiar black unicorn was darting from pony to pony in an open area where all of the casualties were being taken.

Even Sandy was there, with a few of her bar’s servers, doling out medicinal servings of grain alcohol to make up for Med-X shortages. Everypony was doing something to help, in their own way.

Except me.

“Windy?” I heard Foxglove say, that note of concern back in her voice once more, “is everything okay?”

It was then that I noticed that I’d stopped walking. I glanced down at my hooves, which had stopped mid-stride. My gaze drifted from my frozen legs to my flank, and the sword-impaled heart emblazoned upon it.

No, I corrected, the sword-shielded heart, as I’d recently come to realize in what had surely been the throes of drug-induced madness last night. While putting a lot of stock into what could only charitably be described as a ‘fever dream’ might not have been the more reasonable course of action, it had certainly felt like a cogently rational realization at the time. Looking back on the more significant moments of my life even now, I could feel the ring of truth to it all. Killing ponies had left me feeling sickened and disgusted at the end of the day, and I’d been driven to drown those feelings in alcohol to escape from them.

Saving ponies, that was what had filled me with elation. That was what had driven me my whole life.

I wasn’t a killer; I was a protector. That was what my cutie mark had been trying to tell me all of these years. I’d just been too poisoned by the Wasteland to realize it.

I glanced up, over my shoulder, towards the sounds of the raging battle beyond the wall, towards the embodiment of that ‘poison’ that was propagating this very moment. Deep within me, I could feel that...urge, that need to fling myself over to wall and do...something. I didn’t have the faintest clue what one little pegasus could do to change anything that was happening out there. Probably nothing, honestly. There was every reasonable expectation that I’d just go ahead and get myself killed, despite everything that my friends had just done to try and save my life.

Yet...I knew that I had to go. I had to try and save somepony―anypony.

It’s what my cutie mark was telling me.

Finally, I turned my head to look back at Foxglove, meeting her worried expression with an apologetic smile. For a long moment, the mechanic’s face scrunched up in confusion. Then, it looked like realization finally dawned upon her as her eyes went wide with fright, “Windfall, no! Don’t―!”

“Sorry!”

I was in the air and over the wall before the mare could even react. Not that I had any clue what I was going to do yet. All that I knew was that there were ponies out here who needed protecting, and I was going to try my best to do it. So I plunged myself into the haze of gunsmoke.

It was a grudging testament to the skills and abilities of whatever ponies in Arginine’s stable had designed these massive unicorns that, even caught as completely unaware as they had been, they were putting up a heck of a fight! Most of them were battered and bloodied despite their previously pristine combat barding, but they were still on their hooves and fighting hard. The beatings that they were taking would have easily killed any normal pony. This meant that the defenders of Shady Saddles were having to work two or three times as hard to bring down each and every one of the engineered soldiers. Without that initial moment of surprise, I found myself suspecting that the fight would have been as one-sided as that filly general had bragged that it would be.

Yet, here I was, entering this fight without so much as a pistol. Though, truth be told, there were plenty of weapons that had been discarded by the dead and dying for me to take up if I were so inclined. I was not. I was here to save ponies, not kill them. Not today.

To that end, I descended upon one of the massive stable ponies―a burly mare―currently engaged with a quartet of mercenaries who were dressed in the barding that identified them as being part of Keri’s crew. The Wastelanders looked haggard and hurt as they tried to get in close to their target, in an effort to bypass the magical shield she was maintaining that thwarted any effort they made to shoot her. In the meantime, they were forced to move frantically in order to dodge the stream of lethal magical energy being unleashed by her own weapon.

One of the mercenaries didn’t manage to move quite fast enough. The stallion caught a bolt in his shoulder, screaming out in pain. Yet, that was not the end of his plight. The weapon’s destructive magic took hold, despite his protective barding. In the span of a breath, the energy spread, consuming the earth pony stallion and reducing him to a pile of glowing green dust that was quickly absorbed into the blood-soaked ground. His three remaining companions could spare only a fleeting glance at where their slain member had been a moment ago before returning their full attention to the mare who was turning her weapon upon her next victim.

I descended.

Unlike so many hundreds of Neighvada raiders, however, these stable ponies seemed to be possessed on an awareness of their surroundings that I envied. My strike had been directed at the mare’s energy rifle, with the intent of either breaking it or knocking it free from her telekinesis. However, at the last moment, she deftly juked it aside and I sailed on past it. Not far though. While this pony might be trained to be able to sense or anticipate attacks―probably as a result of some spell or other―there was no way that they could be experienced enough fighting pegasi to know the degree of maneuverability that we possessed in the air.

While I may not have been able to land the direct hit that I had been going for, it took scant little effort to flare out my wings and flip my body around the mid-air rotational axis that they created. I halted my direction of flight less than a foot past her hovering weapon and somersaulted in the air, kicking the weapon away with an outstretched leg before she could move it again. The rifle flew free from the large mare’s magic. I completed my first full rotation and then tilted the axis of my wings as I continued on into a second flip. This time my hind hoof landed a sharp buck at the base of the mare’s horn. Even on a pony her size, that kind of hit on a sensitive area of a unicorn’s anatomy was enough to make her flinch, her glowing horn sputtering briefly as she fought to maintain her protective barrier.

Those three mercenaries weren’t slouches however, and they knew how to capitalize on an opportunity when one presented itself to them. The barrier shielding the stable pony wasn’t completely gone as a result of my strike, but it had been significantly weakened. Weakened enough that, when the three of them leveled their weapons and unleashed their own torrents of bullets and beams, it promptly shattered. Powerful rifle rounds and bolts of crimson energy bored into the stable pony’s barding, shredding it away quickly. The massive mare fell to the ground, dead, seconds later. Unlike far too many of the Wasteland ponies being slain around us, the stable mare died in an unsettlingly quiet fashion that left my spine chilled.

Not that I had much time to dwell on the phenomenon. There was still plenty of battle raging on around me. The Hacates seemed to be aware of this fact too, and spared only the most cursory of thankful nods before throwing themselves back into another fight. I was about to do the same when I sensed a shadow flashing over me. The stable ponies didn’t have any forces capable of flight, so I had a pretty good idea of the source. I glanced up.

The griffon terciel with the metal beak was hovering nearby. He was clutching a carbine in each of his taloned hands as he favored me with an approving smile, “glad you finally decided to join the fight!”

He tossed one of the carbines my way. I reached out and caught the weapon in my hooves, feeling the warm receiver against my fetlock. The weapon had clearly been seeing quite a bit of use. Briefly, I looked down at the carbine. It was a semi-automatic model that fired a relatively large round―perhaps a fifty caliber or just shy of it―judging by the diameter of the barrel. It was a powerful weapon, no doubt, even when employed against these tough opponents. Somepony like me could do a lot of damage with it.

I could kill a lot of ponies with a gun like this.

The griffon almost didn’t manage to catch the weapon as I tossed it back to him, gawking at me in confusion, “thanks, but I’m good,” I assured the mercenary leader, “I...kind of have my own style of fighting,” I said, smiling at him, clacking my hooved together.

He was clearly still a little dubious, but neither of us had a lot of time to hover around here debating the matter, so he simply repositioned his grip on the returned carbine and shrugged, “suit yourself,” he waved one of the weapons in my direction, “but I better still get paid even if you buy it out here!”

I rolled my eye but he didn’t wait around for my assurances that every last cap of the fifty thousand that he’d be promised would be coming his way. Assuming that we all survived this, of course.

Again and again, I threw myself back into the brawl, moving from one target to the next, serving to intervene directly or make myself a distraction, whichever proved to be the most help to the Wasteland fighters. I punched, I kicked, I flew, I rolled, and I tossed fallen weapons to ponies who lost or broke their current ones. I helped as best I could, and I fought to defend the ponies protecting Shady Saddles with everything that I had. The one thing that I didn’t do, was kill. Not directly anyway. I wouldn’t pretend that, at the end of the day, disarming the augmented stable ponies and leaving them defenseless in the face of the mercenaries I’d hired was all that far removed from being responsible for their deaths just as much as the ponied pulling the triggers were, but it did at least serve to not leave quite as bad a taste in my mouth.

Maybe I was just being a silly little filly who was trying to sooth her conscience with semantics; but it mattered to me that I not be the pony to kill them. It mattered that the focus of my thoughts and actions was on protecting ponies, and not ending lives. It was a narrow distinction on this battlefield, but it was a distinction.

I wasn’t even aware of when precisely the fighting stopped. Suddenly...there just wasn’t anypony left to fight. The persistent drone of gunfire and explosions that I’d been able to all but ignore was completely silent, leaving in its wake an almost unsettling level of quiet in the world. Though that serenity was sullied somewhat by the moans of the dead and dying that yet lingered on, wafting over the Wasteland like a foreboding wind. They were being tended to though, as best they could be. Not all of them would survive until nightfall, but most of them might.

I glanced down at my hooves, which were covered in blood, bruises, and burns. My body ached all over, and I’d been shot in my flank at least once by a stray round. A shrapnel wound on my right shoulder was oozing dark blood. Yet, as battered as I was, I knew that I’d fared much better all too many ponies today.

“Lady? You hurt?”

My body jerked in surprise. I glanced around to see a little blue unicorn filly standing nearby, balancing a yellow medical case on her back. Wordlessly, I studied the tiny little pony, noting the dark blood that was splatter all over her legs and belly, kicked up from running through the crimson mire that the area surrounding Shady Saddles had become. Her features were pale and drawn, her pink eyes dulled from the horrors that she’d seen that day. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how many dead and dying ponies she’d seen in the last hour.

Her gaze darted to my bloody shoulder and she fished a potion out of her medical case with her magic. I reached out with my wing and took the offered vial in my pinions, looking down at the small vial of purple fluid, noting that it was only half-full. It seemed that they were running low on their supply of the precious healing draught, “thanks,” I managed, but the filly was already gone, kicking up a mist of darkening blood in her wake as she galloped to the next pony in need of some help.

I put the vial up to my mouth and was about to remove the stopper, but I hesitated. Half-remembered visions about an imagined encounter with a yellow pegasus mare stirred in the back of my mind. I looked down at the wound on my shoulder, spying the sliver of heat-warped steel that was poking out of the wound. If I just drank this potion, who was to say that the piece of shrapnel wouldn’t just be sealed inside my shoulder for good? It wasn’t bleeding all that badly anyway. I could wait to have Doctor Lancet take a look at it later, when he had a free moment.

The same went for the bullet wound on my flank, which was similarly only letting out a trickle of blood. I looked around and tore off a strip from the uniform of one of the stable ponies nearby, wadding it up and using my left wing to hold the improvised bandage in place. I then turned and began to hobble my way back towards the town, passing the vial of healing potion off to a mercenary that I passed who was tending to a comrade who looked to be in much worse shape than I was.

As I limped towards the town, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to clear up the surroundings of Shady Saddles. There were hundreds of bodies that needed to be addressed before they began attracting hordes of bloatsprites, radroaches, and radscorpions. Though, I supposed that if whoever had managed to dig all of those tunnels in a single night was still around, they could probably dig up some graves in only a matter of hours.

I jumped in surprise as a loud explosion roared across the Wasteland. For one, terrifying, moment, I was certain that General Constance had turned the forces she’d split off around and come to finish us off. I whirled around towards the source of the detonation, just in time to see the large transmitter tower coming down. No sooner had it hit the ground than my pipbuck’s radio, which had been silent up to this moment, burst to life, “―nypony...please...please respond,” I heard the audibly broken voice of Homily pleading softly over my pipbuck’s speaker, “Foxglove, Windfall, Ramparts, somepony, let me know you’re all alive. Please…”

This wasn’t a public broadcast, I immediately realized. Homily was reaching out on a direct frequency. Hurriedly, I slapped at the pipbuck’s controls, “Homily? Homily, can you hear me?”

“Windfall?!” the relief in the mare’s tone as her voice cracked just speaking my name was palpable, “Oh, praise Celestia, Luna, and the fucking clouds above; you’re alive! What happened?! I got this garbled transmission from Ramparts last night and then nothing.”

I guess that after he couldn’t reach me, the former Republic courser had tried to get out a warning to other parts of the valley, but the signal had gotten jammed before it could be understood, “Arginine’s stable attacked Shady Saddles,” I informed the mare, immediately following it up with, “but we’re okay; we fought them off,” mostly, I amended to myself. It was hard to look across the remains of the battlefield, take in the mountains of slain ponies―a great many of whom were clearly Wastelanders―and think of this as any sort of ‘sweeping victory’ or something of the like.

Especially since, “but this wasn’t the main force,” I added, “that group’s on its way to Seaddle as we speak. They’ll be there in a matter of days.”

“I’ll get the word out,” Homily said, “the situation in Seaddle is pretty hard to read, but I’m sure I can reach somepony who’ll listen and be able to let the Republic Guard know that an attacks imminent―”

“Negative!” A familiar stallion’s voice cut in sharply. I blinked in surprise, because I had actually heard the word coming at me from two directions at once; both from my pipbuck’s speaker, and from behind me without any indication of electronic distortion at all.

I turned to see a haggard and blood-covered Ramparts walking towards me, speaking into his own fetlock-mounted device, “do not transmit a warning in the open, Homily. Stop transmitting to us too. Make your usual public broadcasts, but nothing about the stable ponies heading for Seaddle, and nothing about us being alive. We’ll contact you when we can do so securely. Ramparts, out,” and with that, the stallion shut off his pipbuck’s transmitter and motioned for me to do the same.

As relieved as I was to see that the earth pony stallion had managed to survive the battle, I couldn’t keep from being annoyed at his interruption, “what gives? She was worried about us, Ramps; and why can’t we warn Seaddle about what’s coming?”

“Because, right now, we have every reason to believe that we took these ponies by surprise, and before they could get out a signal to the rest of their forces about getting overrun,” the former courser responded, “if they knew that we survived, they’d turn their happy flanks right back around this second and be back in a matter of hours to finish us off.

“Right now, we have the initiative,” Ramparts went on, “and...I have every reason to believe that we also have an open path to their stable. What is, in all likelihood, a largely undefended stable.”

I blinked.

He was right. At least, he was right that, if this ambush from below ground had really been as surprising to the force of stable ponies surrounding Shady Saddles as it had been to me, then it was possible that they hadn’t been able to let the rest of their forces know things hadn’t gone as expected. For the moment, at least, General Constance had no reason to suspect that everything here wasn’t going exactly as planned, and that the population of the town was currently being systematically exterminated as per her orders.

I wasn’t naive enough to think that she’d go on assuming that for very long. These ponies had almost certainly been left with instructions to let her know when they were finished and on their way to meet back up with the main body that she was personally leading. However, it could still be a long while before she got suspicious that something was amiss. If we were really lucky, she might not even bother to turn back around until tomorrow morning.

What was also pretty obvious was that Arginine’s stable was finally operating openly. General Constance had suggested that their timetable had been bumped up considerably, in part due to my own activities in recent months, but that didn’t change the fact that they were indeed moving ahead with their plan to exterminate the Wasteland’s surface population. I found it difficult to believe that they’d be undertaking such a massive effort, especially if they were jumping the gun where their original timetables were concerned, and not have as many of their forces committed to the mission as possible. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I believed their stable lacked any sort of defenses at all; but whatever they’d left behind couldn’t possibly compare to what they’d deployed to the field.

Their army had been large, no doubt, but I couldn’t have been enough to wipe out every pony in the entire Wasteland. A second wave was likely in the works; and who knew how many more would be churned out after that? But that wave probably didn’t exist yet. If we launched an attack on their stable now, while their army was out in the valley well away from it, we might be able to fight our way in, and destroy it once and for all. Constance and her army would still be around, yeah, and they’d represent a huge threat for sure, but they’d be reduced to a threat that could only diminish over time as their forces were eroded away with every fight. I couldn’t guess how many surface ponies they’d manage to kill if they kept on with their campaign of genocide in spite of losing their stable, but I knew that the number had to be less than the sum total of the population of ponykind. So that was something.

It was hardly a foregone conclusion that we could pull it off, of course. Stables had been designed to be the ultimate hardened facilities, able to survive direct balefire bomb bombardments. Breaking into even the least militarized stables was a monumental undertaking; and I doubted that a place whose population was obsessed with fighting a war of genocide wasn’t going to have formidable defenses. However, Ramparts was right in at least that this would be our best possible chance to fight our way in. The stable itself would be at its weakest. If we could get in there and blow it before Constance knew what we were planning…

She was an arrogant and condescending little cunt, but if she was even a tenth as smart as she made herself out to be, then she’d have to acknowledge that, without the stable to support them, their mission could only ultimately be a failure. There was no reason for her not to listen to reason and stand down at that point, right?

Not warning the ponies of Seaddle that a threat was heading their way sure didn’t sit well with me, but Ramparts was right in that regard as well: we couldn’t afford to have Constance catching wind of those warnings and learning that we’d survived before she came to that eventual conclusion on her own when she failed to hear back from the forces she’d left to finish the assault on Shady Saddles. Besides, there was little chance that she’d make it all the way to Seaddle before reaching that conclusion. That chance fell to zero if she also had reason to believe we were, indeed, headed for her stable.

So, I nodded, “you’re right. We need all the time we can get,” I looked around the field once more as the recovery of the wounded and the scavenging of weapons and munitions continued, my gaze falling to one of the holes nearby, before glancing back at Ramparts, “good work, by the way. That was a clever ambush. How’d you pull it off though―”

As though on cue, I felt the ground beneath me quiver slightly. Startled, I took to the air, hovering just above the bloody surface as the head of a unicorn mare burst up through the ground. She shook off a few errant flecks of dirt and looked around, quickly spotting Ramparts, “there y’are! That unicorn friend of yours is looking for ya.”

Ramparts looked down at the sable mare and quirked his brow, “which unicorn friend?”

“The mare,” Marl replied simply. When the courser’s quizzical expression remained unchanged, she added, “the purple one,” still, his inquiring features persisted, “oh fuck it: she wants you keep an eye out for the Wonderbolt. She says that fool turkey’s dun gone and tried to get herself killed in the battle and she’s worried sick.”

The stallion merely shifted his gaze up from the ground-bound unicorn head to where I was hovering just above her. Curious, Marl craned her own head upwards, finally noticing me, “oh. There’y’are!” she smiled and looked back at Ramparts, “I’ll go tell her to stop her frettin’ then!”

With that, the mare’s head once more vanished below the surface and she was gone. I fluttered over and peered into the hole that she’d left behind, noting the narrow tunnel that extended below, “Marl and her crew seem to be pretty remarkable diggers,” Ramparts stated redundantly, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think they were half hell hound. Apparently, according to her, they just come from a long line of ponies who knew a lot about rocks and how to get at them. Claims she had ancestors who could punch their way through mountains, or something like that,” he waved a hoof at the nearby tunnel openings, “considering what her clan accomplished in one night, I can’t honestly say I doubt her.”

“That’s incredible,” I said, audibly impressed, “all of this was. The ambush, the rescue, the fight...I don’t know that any of it could have gone better,” I looked back at the former Republic officer, “you did really good, Ramparts. You saved all our lives.”

The stallion snorted and shook his head, “I can’t take all the credit for this. Starlight first floated the idea of attacking them from the rear, believing that she could get enough unicorns together for them to cast a mass teleportation spell to make the mercenaries appear where we needed them,” he explained, “she went to Marl to get the gemstones that she’d need to do it. When she was explaining what the gems were for, Marl let her know that her folks could do the same thing by digging these tunnels.

“There was concern that the stable ponies would feel the vibrations from all the digging, especially as fast as it was going to need to be done, but Keri assured us he could ‘calm the earth spirits’, whatever that meant, so that nopony noticed anything. Griselda and her Razor Beaks provided ariel recon that let us plot where to place the openings so that everypony came out in the right spots.

“It also turns out that Hemlock knows quite a lot about potion making. She and some of her mares were able to supplement our healing potion supplies, while Foxglove stayed up all night supervising a team making improvised grenades.

“This,” the stallion waved his hoof around us, “this was a group effort.”

“Well, it looks like it was a pretty good group,” I noted, allowing myself to smile broadly at the stallion, “I should probably get them together so that we can talk about how to deal with the stable, huh?”

Ramparts quirked a brow, regarding me in quiet surprise for a brief moment. Then a smile began to curl his lip and the earth pony nodded, “if you want to lead a planning session, I think I can get everypony there in an hour or so. Most of Sandy’s bar is being used as an overflow infirmary, but I think there’s a room upstairs we can use―”

“Captain Ramparts!” a mare called out from nearby, drawing both of gazes in her direction. It was a unicorn mare dressed in barding that identified her as being a part of Shady Saddles’ militia. She wasn’t alone either, I immediately noted, my eye widening in surprise. There was a stallion with her. Specifically, a large, gray, stallion with a white mane and golden eyes, an easily identifiable double-horn mounted to his forehead.

If I thought that myself or Ramparts had looked a little worse for wear as a result of the recent battle, our injuries didn’t even begin to compare with what Arginine seemed to have been put through. Just from looking at him, it amazed me that he was even alive, much less standing up under his own power. He did have quite the pronounced stiffness to his gait as he trudged, his legs severely hobbled, behind the militia mare leading him. A half dozen other armed ponies from the town had formed a loose circle around their prisoner. From how freely a couple of them were still jabbing him none-too-gently with the butts of their rifles, I found myself idly wondering exactly how many of his injuries he’d sustained after being captured.

The most likely answer to that thought didn’t sit too well with me. It was all that I could do not to snap at those ponies when they brought Arginine to a halt a dozen or so feet from the pair of us and then proceeded to assault all four of his legs at once with vicious striked from their weapons, sending the stallion to the blood-soaked ground with a pained yell. It was the first time I think that I’d ever heard him cry out like that.

I didn’t like it.

“This one surrendered,” the militia pony sneered, not even trying to hide her displeasure at the notion; as though Arginine hadn’t had the right to do anything but fight to the death, “we thought about killing him ourselves,” clearly these ponies had done more than merely ‘thought’ about it, I noted, observing his swollen facial features and battered frame. The unicorn mare flashed Ramparts and myself a vicious grin, “but then we thought that you deserved to do it more. This is the stallion that betrayed you, right?”

“He is,” I heard Ramparts say in a tone that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. I glanced over at the brown earth pony and saw the cold, unbridled, hatred in his narrowed eyes. There was no doubt at all in my mind that Ramparts would kill Arginine, right here and now.

It was an all too understandable desire. Arginine hadn’t just betrayed us, after all. He’d put the ponies of Shady Saddles in jeopardy. Hundreds lay dead now because of his machinations. He’d turned me over to the enemy to be executed. There wasn’t a community or organization in the entirety of the Wasteland, I felt, that wouldn’t sentence Arginine to death for that list of offenses.

Ramparts’ mouth moved towards the trigger bit of his battle saddle. Then he hesitated and looked over at me, “he’s yours; go head,” and the stallion passed me a pistol from a holster on his withers.

I looked at the offered weapon, a simple nine millimeter pistol. Substantially less potent a weapon than the compact forty-five I usually favored, but even one of those smaller ball rounds through the top of Arginine’s skull would have been more than up to the task of ending his life. I suppose, that of anypony out here today, I might have been the one most personally wronged by him. Whether that meant I truly deserved the dubious ‘honor’ of being the stallion’s executioner, I couldn’t say.

What I did say was, “no.”

Arginine’s ear twitched slightly at the word, but otherwise didn’t react at all. Ramparts and the other Shady Saddles ponies did though. The former courser did a double-take, as though he was certain that he couldn’t possibly have heard me right, “what?”

I extended the pistol back towards him, balanced upon my pinions, “I’m not going to kill him,” I said, following it up almost immediately with, “nopony is,” I held my gaze upon the ponies who’d brought him to us to ensure that they understood. I saw quite a few rebellious expressions looking back at me. For a while, I wasn’t certain that they wouldn’t just kill him anyway, no matter what I said. It wasn’t like I was their leader or anything; they weren’t obligated to follow any instructions that I gave them.

“You’re not serious,” the incredulity in Ramparts’ voice was both unmistakeable and understandable, “do you have any idea how many ponies died today because of this asshole?!” he snapped, waving a hoof around us, “one of them was almost you, by the way!”

I regarded the stallion evenly. While I could understand his reaction, that didn’t mean that I appreciated it any. Besides, “those ponies were going to attack this place eventually. There’s probably nothing that we could have done to ultimately prevent something like this,” I could see the grudging acknowledgement on the earth pony’s face. The residents of Shady Saddles might not have known that those stable ponies were preparing for exactly this sort of campaign, but we all had. It had only been a matter of time.

Honestly, this had probably been the best outcome that we could have hoped for, I noted. If the ponies from Arginine’s stable had shown up a few days earlier or later, Shady Saddles would have been completely wiped out and there would have been nothing that we could do the stop it. Hundreds of innocent ponies would have been slaughtered and Constance’s army would have been roaming around Neighvada without us having any notion of where they’d be heading to next. At least this way the town was safe and we knew what direction the army was headed in now.

Arginine selling us out like this had done a lot more to help us than hurt us, all things considered.

…!

My eyes widened as that thought crossed my mind and I looked at Arginine. The bruised and battered stallion held my own gaze with his swollen expression that was otherwise its normally impassive self. It was a ridiculous thought though, wasn’t it? Especially in light of the conversation that we’d had last night. Either he’d been playing some weird psychological game, or this outcome hadn’t actually been something he’d planned. I had to know for myself though.

I stepped closer to him, ignoring the other ponies around me, “RG? Last night you told me that you’d lost confidence in me, and that you didn’t think the others would be able to stand up to your stable. Was that true?”

The kneeling stallion nodded his head stiffly, “it was,” he acknowledged.

My eye narrowed, “but if you hadn’t contacted your stable and told them what we were planning, then this fight wouldn’t have happened, and we wouldn’t have had this chance to beat them,” the stallion didn’t respond; which I supposed was probably because I hadn’t phrased that much like a question of any sort, “did you lure your stable here so that we could beat them?”

Arginine remained silent for a moment more, then, “I merely arranged for an opportunity to test my stable’s capabilities against those of your chosen companions,” he replied, “I had no way of knowing the ultimate outcome.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ramparts growled from behind me. The earth pony surged forward, and for a moment I was certain that he was going to strike the already battered unicorn. However, the courser somehow managed to restrain himself to merely snarling at our prisoner, “this was all one of your sick tests?! Ponies died here, you bastard!”

Unsurprisingly, Arginine remained unflappable, even with such an obviously furious stallion snarling only a couple inches from his face, “many ponies have already been killed by my stable, even without my intervention,” he pointed out, and followed his response up with, “and my...evaluations have previously resulted exclusively in the deaths of ponies from my own stable. I do not recall you voicing such objection at that time.”

I probably wouldn’t have blamed Ramparts if the stallion had punched Arginine right then. He did not, which probably spoke to his professionalism as a genuine soldier for many years. That wasn’t to say that he was mollified by Arginine’s response all that much. I did take the opportunity to step between them though, and Ramparts withdrew a few yards, fuming.

“Okay, so you didn’t do this because you thought we’d win,” I acknowledged, “but you did arrange for both your stable’s and our main forces to face each other, right?”

“If my stable could defeat the forces gathered here, that would have removed any meaningful obstacles impeding the planned extermination of the valley,” Arginine nodded.

“But we won,” I pointed out, waiting to see his reaction to the outcome.

“Indeed. General Constance’s underestimation of the threat that the residents of the surface posed served as her justification to divide her forces and allow for your victory today,” the stallion said, inclining his head briefly, “it was a grievous tactical blunder. Especially for a member of a strain that is supposed to be the most cunning that our stable is capable of producing,” even I wasn’t sure if I genuinely noticed the slight tug on the corner of his lip that would have indicated a satisfied smirk from the stallion.

“Demonstrating that the allegedly most brilliant tactical mind the engineers of our stable are capable of producing can be outmaneuvered by a hodge-podge army of surface ponies would significantly undercut my stable’s assessments regarding their progress in creating ‘better ponies’ thus far,” the stallion said, holding my gaze with his own.

“That filly is supposed to be the perfect general or something?” I quirked my brow skeptically.

He nodded, “General Constance is the flagship example of the Nu Strain, which are to serve as the tactical leaders of the forces charged with cleansing the surface of all other invalid strains, to make way for the eventual Omega Strains my stable will produce.”

“She sure did seem pretty ‘new’,” I agreed, rolling my eye, “why the heck is your stable putting fillies in charge like that.”

“It was never intended for Nu Strains to be deployed in an underdeveloped state,” Arginine admitted, “However, your intervention thus far has obviously prompted the leadership in my stable to accelerate their timetables considerably. Obviously, they did not feel it was appropriate to wait for the general to reach full maturity before giving her command of the forces that had been constituted thus far.”

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with a pony like her leading those hulking soldiers of yours,” I grumbled, remembering my short but terse encounter with the haughty little filly, “what exactly are they feeding you in that stable, anyway?”

“Sorghum,” he replied simply.

I rolled my eye, “whatever. So we’ve got an army of mutant ponies being led by a psychotic filly terrorizing the valley; and no force capable of taking them on head-to-head, is that about right?” I leveled my gaze at the bruised stallion, who nodded, though he seemed to take some exception with my summary of the situation. I glanced back at Ramparts briefly, “Ramps thinks Constance’s army represents most of your stable’s defenses too. Is he right?”

“There are sentries and guards, of course,” Arginine said in response, drawing a surprised look from most of the nearby ponies―myself included―with how candid he was being with such sensitive information, “but that army does indeed consist of the bulk of my stable’s forces. What defenders remain, while certainly capable, are significantly fewer in number,” he paused briefly, considering, before addings, “unless doctrine has undergone a significant change since my departure, that is.”

“So, if we were to say, march on your stable, these mercenaries I hired would have a good chance of overwhelming those defenders and taking the facility?”

All eyes were on Arginine. The stallion held my gaze briefly, and then nodded, “if the defenses have not radically changed, I estimate that your army would have a good chance of success overwhelming them, yes.”

One of the militia ponies scowled, “there’s no way he’s telling us the truth,” she insisted, “he’s trying to lure us into attacking his stable so that we’ll be caught in an ambush! I bet he warned them to be ready.”

I frowned, “he already warned them that all of the ponies I was recruiting to attack his stable would be here; which is why their army attacked,” I pointed out to the militia mare, “Constance was certain that the portion of her army she left behind would be more than enough to destroy the whole town,” she still didn’t looked very convinced of my reasoning, however, “you didn’t get to meet their general. She thinks surface ponies like us are stupid and weak. It wouldn’t occur to her that we could have won here,” and, admittedly, without those rather brilliantly conceived surprise tactics developed by my friends, nopony would have, “and she strikes me as the kind of pony who is way too full of herself to think that she could possibly lose.

“She wouldn’t have organized a trap for us, because she thinks we’re already dead,” I glanced at Arginine for confirmation, “and I bet that she’s already made a report back to the ponies in her stable telling them that we’re all dead; am I right?”

“She would have had to justify her departure for Seaddle,” the stallion agreed.

“It’s not a trap,” I concluded.

“You can’t possibly know that,” the militia mare insisted.

“Yeah, I do.”

“How?!”

“Because Arginine may be a lot of things, but he’s never lied to me,” I quirked a smile at the battered pony on the ground, “frankly, he’s honest to a fault. Let him up.”

That didn’t go over well. Both the militia ponies that had captured him, as well as Ramparts, voiced their objections, with the courser’s being the loudest, “you can’t be serious?! Look, if you don’t want to kill your coltfriend or whatever, I can understand that,” the mention of my relationship with Arginine earned a pointed glare from myself, but the earth pony was unphased as he continued on with his objection, “but we’re not letting him go! He betrayed us, Windfall―not just you―all of us! Ponies are dead because of what he did―”

“We’re all alive because of what he did,” I snapped back briskly, drawing Ramparts up short, “now, I’m not saying that was how he intended things to go,” I acknowledged, “but the bottom line is that we faired a lot better because he arranged for this attack. If we’d met that army on the way to the stable like we were planning on doing, none of us would have survived, and you know it.”

“So, what? He gets a ‘pass’ because their general got cocky? That’s bullshit, Windfall; and you know it!”

“He gets a pass,” I seethed at the stallion, “because he thought he was doing what was best for ponykind!”

The earth pony blinked in surprise, caught off guard by my rebuke. I took advantage of his silence and further articulated my decision, “he and his stable aren’t raiders, Ramparts; they aren’t doing this because they want caps or slaves or whatever. They want to fix the Wasteland, and they genuinely believe they can do it like this.

“Are they going about it in a really fucked up way? Damn straight! Am I going to move the clouds and the earth to stop them? Duh!

“But what I’m not going to do is punish a pony who really thought that he was helping to fix the Wasteland. Especially,” I looked over at the gray stallion, “when I get the impression that he is finally starting to see that he was helping the wrong ponies. Isn’t that right, RG?”

I noticed the tug of his lip, “the data points that I have observed over the last couple of days have been...enlightening.”

Ramparts shook his head, snorting, “you can’t possibly expect us to trust him?”

“Maybe not,” I acknowledged, shrugging. Then I held the courser’s gaze, “but I’m hoping that you still trust me. I’m not your commander, Ramps. I can’t―and wouldn’t―order you to come with me any further than you’re comfortable with.

“I’m bringing Arginine with me. You can come, you can stay and help Sandy, you can go back to New Reino with Yatima, whatever you want. Whichever you choose, I won’t hold it against you either,” I assured the stallion. The two of us regarded each other for a long, silent, moment.

Then I turned to militia ponies watching over Arginine, waiting to see how they were going to react to the news. For a good while, none of them moved. Their expressions weren’t pleasant ones, and I couldn’t say that I blamed them. It had been their home that had been attacked. I had no idea how many of their friends and family members had been killed in the fighting this morning. At least one of them looked like they wanted to just shoot Arginine in the head and be done with the whole thing.

I heard Ramparts grunt behind me, and the other ponies grimaced in disgust, but stepped away from their prisoner. Silently, I approached the large, battered, stallion and helped him to his hooves. It was little more than a symbolic gesture, as there was hardly any way that a young mare of my size would have been able to support much of the larger pony’s weight if he’d actually needed my help to stand. Arginine was smart enough no to make any comments either as the two of us began making slow progress back towards the town.

It was still up in the air as to whether or not some aggrieved townspony on the wall would shoot Arginine dead on principle when we got closer, but there wasn’t much that I’d be able to do about something like that aside from hope it didn’t happen at all.

I glanced back over my shoulder at Ramparts as we left, but the brown earth pony was already issuing out fresh orders to the militia ponies. Idly, I wondered whether or not he’d continue on with us after that exchange. I hoped that he would, but I wouldn’t have held it against him if he chose otherwise. My decision was undeniably going to prove to be at least as unpopular with the others as well. Foxglove would think I was being naive, or maybe even that I was thinking with my flank or something.

“This is perhaps a good time to return your possessions,” the stallion said in a subdued tone. His horn glowed and he floated over my saddlebags, which I hadn’t seen since he’d drugged me. My eye widened and I came to an immediate stop. I snatched them out of the air with my wing and started rifling through them. I very quickly found the pendant that Doctor Lancet had given me last night and slipped it around my neck. Next I dug out the bottle of hormone pills that he’d given me and took a hasty double-dose. I wasn’t sure if that would be the same as making up for what I’d been unable to take last night, but it was worth a shot.

I sat in the mud for a while, one hoof clutching the little healing crystal laying on my breast and the other held tenderly against my belly. I couldn’t feel anything of course. It was far too early for anything like that. I just hoped that not having the pendant on last night, and everything that I’d been through all day, hadn’t been the final nail in the coffin that the former Seaddle doctor had warned me was in my baby’s future if I wasn’t careful.

I hadn’t even considered what else I was risking by throwing myself back into the fight like I had. The smart thing to do, for my baby’s sake, would have been to go with Foxglove and find Doctor Lancet and let him look me over and get me a new pendant as quickly as possible. Instead, I’d just gone ahead and placed both our lives in jeopardy.

What kind of mother did that? I bit my lip, doubt besetting me, as I started to wonder if it might actually be better for me to take the healing talisman off and let my body go on doing what it had been trying to...especially if this was the kind of precedent that I was going to set as a parent. I mean, I obviously wasn’t prepared for this kind of responsibility. What did I know about caring for foals?! I’d grown up learning how to kill ponies, not raise them!

“It’s true, isn’t it,” Arginine said in a surprisingly gentle tone as he regarded me, “you are pregnant.”

I nodded silently.

The large stallion’s eyes widened slightly in what, for him, was probably akin to stark surprise, “I will admit that I doubted the validity of your claim last night. I was under the strong suspicion that you were making an attempt to appeal to my sympathies in order to enlist my aid in an escape attempt. But you were being entirely truthful, weren’t you?”

Again, I nodded, my lips cracking in a wan smile, “I doubt something like that would have worked anyway, right? You’re not a very sympathetic pony.”

“I am not prone to emotional investment, no,” the stallion agreed. He was silent for a few seconds, then, “but...had I believed you…” he canted his head and idly stroked his chin, “I would have been...very curious to see the results of a genetic melding of a Lambda Strain with a specimen such as yourself. Such a foal would present with fascinating characteristics,” he mused.

I snorted, unable to help but let out a short laugh, “that has got to be the most Arginine way of saying: ‘I bet we’d make beautiful babies together’!”

“As the progeny of a genetically superior stallion that is the product of centuries of careful chromosomal refinement and one of the most capable genetically invalid mares in the Wasteland, it is doubtful that they could be anything other than a marvel.”

“Wow...that was almost romantic,” I smirked at the stallion, “but you’re not quite out of hot water with me yet, buster. You did drug me and stand by while I was nearly hanged to death, remember? Just because I spared your life and don’t actively hate you doesn’t mean that I’ve forgiven you.”

“Noted,” Arginine nodded, “and to be expected. I am grateful, by the way. I certainly would have understood any desire you might have had to seek retribution through my death.”

I sighed and stood back up, shaking my head, “enough ponies have died today. Besides, I expect you to repay me by telling me everything you know about how to get into your stable. Passcodes, layouts, weaknesses; anything and everything, you’re going to tell us. Understood?

“We’ve just proven that we can kick the flanks of your stable’s strongest and brightest; which means we’re the ‘better ponies’, right? Your goal in life is to help the better ponies, so you’re going to help us―and only us―from now on. You’re not getting a third chance,” I thought for a moment, “or a fourth chance. Whatever chance you’re on right now, it’s your last one.”

“Understood, and appreciated,” Arginine agreed, following at my side, “and I will indeed provide any and all information that I possess.”

“Good,” I nodded. Then I frowned as I beheld what was waiting for us at the gates of Shady Saddles, in the form of a violet unicorn mare with smoldering emerald eyes, “you can start by telling me how to convince Foxglove not to carve you up like a Fancy Buck Cake…”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 52: PRAISE CELESTIA AND PASS THE AMMUNITION!

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Longing makes the heart grow fonder, but I've always been a fan of hog-
tying my lovers to make sure they don't escape.

“Are you crazy?!”

I winced slightly at the violet unicorn mare’s question, which had been asked in none too pleasant of a tone. I was also quite cognizant of other faces in the cozy little suite above Sandy’s bar that were currently watching me with intent expressions, patiently awaiting my answer to the―admittedly fair―question. It was not the first time, nor the only variation, that Foxglove had asked me that question since initially confronting me outside the city. Whatever my response, I had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t be the last time either.

“We can’t just kill him―” I began to insist once more, only to have the unicorn mechanic cut me off.

“I beg to differ!” Foxglove scoffed, “in fact, I’ll go down to the guard barracks right now and show you exactly how easily I can ‘just kill him’! My only regret is that I’ll only get to do it the one time!”

More concerning than the all-too-convincing note of jubilation in her voice at the prospect of killing Arginine, was the scattered murmurs of agreement that I heard from the other ponies in the room. I glanced around at them, the mercenary leaders and their seconds, and it was hard to blame them for being just as critical of my decision to spare Arginine’s life as my friends were. They’d all lost ponies―and griffons―in the battle; and each of them had figured out by now that the arrival of General Constance on the evening we’d reached the town hadn’t been a coincidence.

Mercenaries on my personal payroll or not, I was genuinely at risk of having a mutiny on my hooves if I handled this badly enough, “nopony’s killing him,” I repeated through gritted teeth, meeting Foxglove’s glare with my own and holding it, “he’s too valuable.”

Foxglove readied to retort, but I cut her off this time, “RG knows the layout, protocols, and systems of his stable,” I pointed out, then I glanced over at the gathered mercenary commanders, “and unless any of you managed to take any other prisoners…?” I knew the answer to that question before I’d asked it, of course. The stable ponies hadn’t made it very feasible to capture them alive with the way that they’d been fighting, even if any of our forces had been so inclined to give them an opportunity. It was something of a minor miracle that the ponies who’d found Arginine hadn’t simply killed him right out of hoof, “...I didn’t think so.

“I’m not saying that we give him free rein to wander around like before,” I conceded, turning back to Foxglove once more, “by all means, keep him under guard―hobble him, even!―but he lives. Got it?”

The mare snorted, but remained silent. I wouldn’t go as to say that I’d left her feeling at all mollified by agreeing to have somepony keeping an eye on him until everything was over and done with, but it was a step in the right direction that she was no longer ranting about executing him. That put her in about the same camp that Ramparts and Starlight were. It wasn’t ideal, and it was a far cry from what our relationships were like a week ago, but I’d have to settle for it for the time being. When all of this was over with, then I could work to smooth things over with everypony.

The mercenaries were another matter, “you guys got that too?”

Griselda spoke up first from where she was sitting on the far side of the room, running a rasp noisily over the tip of her recently replaced metal beak. Her old one had been shot off during the fighting. She paused in her filing, leveling her gaze at me, “nobody said anything about slumming it with traitors,” she said, then she shrugged, “but I can look past that...for some additional hazard pay.

“Our rate’s just gone up twenty-five percent. Up front; or we’re sitting out the rest of this brahmin shit.”

I saw the others nodding their heads in agreement, and I felt my gut starting to tie itself in a knot. They were already getting pretty much every cap that I had. There was no way that I could come up with anything approaching the amount that they were asking for, even just for the griffons. To say nothing if the other three groups asked for the same increase; and I couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t if I caved into the Razor Beaks.

Even with everything that Arginine could tell us about his stable, there was no way that my friends and I could manage on our own. We needed the guns and muscle that these groups provided. If they backed out...we lost. If I backed down and caved in, everypony died.

I slammed my hoof down and snarled at the griffon, “I told you at the outset how risky all of this was,” I reminded her, “if you want to turn feather and fly back east because you decided your crew can’t hack it, that’s your business. But if you think I’m paying you a cap more than the small fortune you’re already getting off me, you’ve been huffing too much of that high-altitude air, lady.”

My response earned my a very pointed sneer from the griffon hen, but it was Hemlock who responded next. Her tone wasn’t nearly as antagonistic as the griffon’s had been, but it was no less serious, “honey, none of us are out here because we fancy ourselves heroes. That’s your schtick. We risk our lives for caps. The higher the risk, the higher the price; and trolling around with a pony who’s looking to sell us out to his buddies represents a lot of risk,” she leaned back in the thickly cushioned recliner that she’d claimed and smirked, “so, yeah, we’re going to need a lot more caps too.”

My attention was drawn briefly to the sound of a door opening. I was just in time to catch Starlight Glimmer leaving the room. She hadn’t said anything, and I had no idea where she could be going at a time like this, but I didn’t have much time to dwell on the minor mystery either.

I felt my heart sinking. This couldn’t be how things ended. I refused to let it happen, “and where exactly are you going to spend any of those caps, huh? That army that surrounded us last night is just the first of many more that’re going to be coming. If you thought the fight this morning was tough, how hard do you think things are going to go when you’re trying to protect New Reino from an attack five times bigger?

“These aren’t White Hooves,” I insisted, “they’re not looking to launch a little in-and-out raid for food and slaves. These ponies are here to kill every last pony living on the surface. Every bottlecap on the planet won’t do you a lick of good when they succeed, will it?”

The griffon leaned in a little closer, her sneer turning upwards into a sadistic smile, “then I guess it’s a good thing we’re mostly griffons, isn’t it?” she clicked her metal beak at me and motioned with her talons towards her subordinates. The group headed for the door, “we’ll hang around town for another day or so,” she said over her shoulder, licking her metal beak, “taking advantage of the new buffet that opened up outside the walls. If you change your mind, let us know.”

With that, the griffons left.

Along with over a quarter of my ‘army’. The expressions on the faces of the other mercenary commanders suggested that I might lose even more by the time this meeting was over unless I could somehow come up with enough caps to satisfy them. Which wasn’t going to happen of course, “I told all of you right from the start what was at stake,” I reminded them pointedly, “and now you’ve seen for yourself that this stable isn’t playing around, and isn’t to be taken lightly.

“They’re on their way to Seaddle now. It’s only a matter of time before they’re at New Reino. We barely came out on top against a force that we outnumbered, and only because we managed to take them by complete surprise from all sides. You can’t honestly tell my that your groups have the numbers to stop them out in the open?”

The leadership of the Housecarls, Harlots, and Hecate all exchanged glances with one-another. Some of those faces were new, in fact, compared to who had been present in New Reino. The scarred stallion who had been leading the Housecarls had died in the fighting that morning, and Hemlock had a new mare with her whose shoulder was freshly bandaged. Keri, the zebra in charge of Hecate, was looking very...worn. More so than a couple hours of fighting would have explained, I thought.

Finally, Hemlock spoke up, “we get what you’re saying, sweetie,” she began, in a tone that wasn’t―quite―patronizing. Almost, “but the catbird wasn’t wrong: at the end of the day, we’re doing this for the caps. It’s not as shallow as you think though.

“It’s not as though we just sit on that money like a dragon horde,” she explained, “those caps are how we get guns, bullets, medicine, food, and bodies. Today, we lost a lot of those guns and bodies, and, technically, we haven’t actually started the job you hired us to do―which was to hit their stable. So, it’s safe to say that we’ll be losing even more ponies before everything’s over and done,” she held my gaze with a knowing look.

“That’s part of the job,” she shrugged, “we all know that. But if we can’t be sure that we’ll be able to at least replace everything we lose on a job with what we’ll be paid…well, then we start seeing ourselves getting whittled down to nothing. What good does it do to give the Wasteland a tomorrow if we don’t get one too?”

“You can’t honestly feel that way,” I said to the mare, “what about all of the mares, stallions, and foals out there that don’t deserve to be killed because of some stable’s crazy notion of perfection?”

“Honey, ponies die all the time,” Hemlock reminded me, rolling her eyes, “that’s how life works.”

“Well it shouldn’t!” I snapped, slamming my hoof on the floor, “and we have a chance to stop it! We have a chance to be better ponies and help others! Like how this world used to be!”

Keri snorted, “youthful ignorance. A naive heart loudly speaks, from an empty head.”

“Oh, Celestia, spare me from strange stallions who refuse to talk normal...” I sighed under my breath, “but nopony has every used ‘ignorant’, ‘naive’, and ‘empty headed’, to compliment somepony, so fuck you too, you striped asshole,” I flicked the zebra an upraised pinion, “but I’m being serious.

“Yeah, the world sucks. But I don’t suppose that anypony here has thought that maybe things would stop sucking if we all stopped making the same mistakes we’ve been making for two hundred years?”

“That sort of thing only works if everypony agrees to stop ‘making mistakes’ though, right?” the new leader of the Housecarls spoke up, an older blue earth pony whose coat had started to fade some years ago, “otherwise we’re opening ourselves up to being taken out by those who don’t agree to play by the same rules.

“What about the ponies you’ve met in your life makes you think that ponies will suddenly start acting as altruistic as you are?”

“Survival is ‘altruistic’ now?” I shot back, “exactly how long do you expect to live once Constance’s army really gets going? How about when a second army that big show’s up while the first one is still burning the valley down around us?” I glared at Hemlock, “how likely are all of you to see a ‘tomorrow’ then, huh?

“You don’t want to do this whole thing out of some sense of nobility or whatever for the innocent ponies of Neighvada, fine, whatever. But you have to still at least care about what’ll happen to yourselves, right? These stable ponies aren’t going just stay in the valley either, you know? Griselda may think she’ll be safe in Manehattan or wherever, but she’s wrong. In a month, or a year, maybe even a decade, Constance will show up at Manehattan’s doorstep with ten times the numbers they have now and that’ll be the end of everypony there.

“If you back out now you will all die,” I stated firmly, flashing a glare at the gathered equines, “and corpses can’t spend caps. But, if you see this thing through, then you might live long enough to spend those fortunes that I’m paying you to do this.”

The room was silent for a few moments. Briefly, I entertained the notion that my words had started to get through to the mercenaries, but then I saw them beginning to exchange glances with expressions that suggested to me that they actually weren’t very keen on staying around. If another of the groups left, the rest would follow, knowing full well that there’d simply be too few mercenaries left to have a hope of victory. They were just waiting to see which of them would be the first to back out.

I saw the elder leader of the Housecarls starting to stand up from the table when all eyes were suddenly drawn to the opening door and the pink mare walking through. Hovering in front of her, gripped in her cyan telekinetic aura, was a large canvas bag. The bored-looking unicorn tossed the sack onto the table, and it landed with the telltale jingle of caps. A lot of caps.

“There. Another fifty thousand caps,” Starlight grumbled, looking around at the mercenaries, “are we good now? Can we move on to actually planning things?”

The three groups of mercenaries, as well as myself, gawked at the small fortune that had just been thrown in front of us. Keri, looking skeptical, reached out and opened up the sack, spilling a few thousand caps out onto the table for all to see. The zebra looked briefly back at Starlight before nodding his head and sitting back down. The delegations from the Harlots and the Housecarls similarly followed suit, apparently more than satisfied by the presentation of the payment.

“Thanks, Starlight,” I heard myself say, still feeling a little stunned, and having no worldly idea of where the mare could possibly have gotten that kind of money. It had taken Jackboot the better part of a decade to tuck away the nestegg that he’d left me, and Starlight had managed to rival it in fifteen minutes? I had a few questions for her later, to be sure!

In the meantime though, it looked like we could get down to the business of figuring out how to fight the stable ponies.

“Alright then,” I said over a sigh of relief, “let’s get down to business…”

“Starlight!” I called out as I jogged after the mare once the planning meeting had concluded. The pink mare slowed and looked back at me as I caught up, “I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there. You might have just saved the world…”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the unicorn quipped with a satisfied smirk, “but you’re welcome.”

“But, I do kind of wonder,” I began, nibbling at my lip in hesitation, “how did you―I mean where did you…?”

“The caps? I made them.”

I balked, “what could you have possibly done in fifteen minutes to earn fifty thousand caps?! I didn’t think there were that many caps in all of Shady Saddles!”

“I didn’t ‘earn’ them,” the mare corrected, “I said I made them,” she tapped her horn with her hoof.

“Wait...you can do that? You can just make money out of thin air?!”

“Of course not, that’d be stupid,” the unicorn snorted, causing me to frown at her in reproach. She moved on the explain what she had meant in more detail, “you can’t just ‘make’ things out of nothing using magic. The raw material would have to come from somewhere, and be pretty similar. So, making gold bits in Equestria would have been pretty impossible without already having a source of raw gold at hoof.

“But caps aren’t made out of gold. They’re made out of steel and paint,” she gestured around us at the structures of the town, “and there’s plenty of that lying around. So, I got a couple of gems from Marl to use as a catalyst for a mass transformation spell, collected some scrap steel from a junk vendor, and whipped up some caps,” she shrugged, “any unicorn who’d attended a magic school in Equestria could have done it.”

She thought for a brief moment, “which, now that I think about it, is probably really hard to come by these days…” she frowned, “I can only imagine how far magical research has been set back.”

“Wait, those caps were counterfeit?” the idea of paying the mercenaries in fake money wasn’t sitting well with either myself or a little orange earth pony in the back of my mind.

“What’s to counterfeit?” Starlight insisted, “they’re bottle caps! They are tiny little steel circles that exist to keep soda fizzy! I mean, I know that one mare’s trash is another mare’s treasure, but sheesh! I bet whoever first said that never knew it’d be taken so literally in the future,” she looked back down at me, “I’m not the one who told everypony to put a value on bottle caps; and you’re not about to tell me that it matters how anypony gets the things, are you? I mean, are they minted by a government somewhere or do ponies just dig through old ruins to get them?”

“Umm, well, I mean, I guess―”

“You’re not really about the criticize me for not digging through piles garbage to get a specific kind of trash that ponies are interested in, are you? I mean, if you’re really hung up on this, then I bet I can track down a Sparkle Cola bottling plant and find a bottle press that’ll turn bits of scrap steel and paint into bottle caps the ‘right’ way but…”

“Okay, okay! You made your point,” I huffed, “just...try not to collapse the Wasteland’s economy, alright?” Another thought then occurred to me, “wait, if you could have just whipped up as much money as you wanted at any time, then why didn’t you do that in New Reino?”

“When was I supposed to do that exactly?” the mare deadpanned, “was it after I thought you’d killed my daughter, or before you showed up with a quarter million caps, like, a day later?”

My jaw snapped shut. Oh. Right. I cleared my throat and looked away, “so, yeah, thanks for your help back there; and thanks for, you know, saving my life this morning too.”

“Eh...my daughter seems to like you a lot,” the pink unicorn shrugged, “I figured that she’d be pretty sad if you died,” I gaped at the unicorn, my brow furrowed in consternation as I tried to determine whether or not her decision to help had really been so shallow. Then I saw the mare’s lips curl for a brief moment before she started laughing, “I’m kidding! I mean, not about Moonbeam liking you; she does. But of course I was going to help you back there,” she cleared her throat and glanced around briefly before adding in a much quieter tone, “or should I say: help both of you,” she held my gaze with a knowing look.

I balked, mimicking her quick survey of our surroundings to ensure that nopony we had overheard what she’d said, “wha―? How―?” I stammered.

Starlight waved a hoof, urging me to settle down, “let’s just say that teleportation magic requires the unicorn using it to know exactly how many guests she’s taking with her, eh?” she winked, “trust me, nopony was more surprised than I was when I couldn’t get us out of there immediately. So, I have an idea who the lucky stallion is…”

I sighed, “yes, it’s Arginine’s. Before you ask; yes, I’ve told him about it―after he tried to, you know, get me killed.”

“I should hope so,” Starlight gave a mirthless chuckle, “there were easier ways to get out of foal-support payments even back in Equestria…” she was silent for a moment before adding in a more sympathetic tone, “and how do you feel about...you know?”

I swallowed, “I’m a little terrified, a little excited, and a whole lot of anxious.”

“That sounds about right,” Starlight snickered, then her expression took on a distant appearance, “I remember being so worried about how Sunburst would react. Which, admittedly was stupid of me. We might not have been strictly trying for a foal, but we certainly weren’t taking precautions either, if you know what I mean,” she nudged me in my side as she chuckled, “and, when I saw that he was just as happy as I was, I could focus on being properly worried about whether I’d be a good mother or not!”

This time there was a shadow that came over her eyes, and I knew that she was thinking about how things had turned out with Moonbeam. Sympathetically, I leaned into the older unicorn, “I think Moonbeam turned out pretty well, if you ask me,” I assured her, “and from everything she’s told me, she seems to feel like you did everything you could be expected under the circumstances.”

She took a deep breath and smiled wanly in appreciation of the sentiment that I was offering, “I did a lot wrong though,” she sighed, “I should have been a lot more careful while I was pregnant…”

“Well, I just threw myself into a battle this morning, and I’m going to be fighting a few more in the coming weeks,” I pointed out, “so it’s not like I can judge.”

“How did Arginine take the news?” Starlight asked, shifted the focus of the conversation back onto me.

“Pretty good, I guess,” I said, recalling the stallion’s reaction to the news after the battle had ended, “he said he was looking forward to seeing how our genes melded, or something like that.”

“Oh my,” the unicorn droled flatly, “it’s easy to see how a charmer like that managed to win you over…”

“Yeah, yeah,” I rolled my eyes, playfully shoving the larger unicorn mare. Then my own expression soured somewhat, “but as well as he took the news...I mean, I’m not really going to let him stay in my life right? He tried to have me executed!”

“Admittedly, as far as ‘rocky relationships’ go, that’s a doozy,” Starlight agreed, “I considered breaking things off early on with Sunburst because he never emptied the kitchen trash on garbage day. I got past it eventually―and enchanted the kitchen trash so that it emptied itself―but this thing with Arginine does feel like it’s on a different level. Slightly.

“If you want my advice: I’m not sure that’s something that can be forgiven,” before I could respond, she went on, “I’m not saying you should kill him either,” she assured me, “if only because my Equestrian sensibilities still aren’t on board with the Wasteland’s preoccupation with executing ponies for every little thing.

“I could zap him with a reform spell, if you’d like?”

“He’s not a bad pony,” I informed the mare, “he just has...really extreme views about the world.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Starlight snorted.

“My point is that he’s already trying to be a ‘good pony’; he’s just doing it in a really wrong way. We shouldn’t be trying to force him to ‘be good’. We should be convincing him that our way is the better one.”

“...isn’t ‘our way’ to kill all of the ponies from his stable? That sounds a lot like something he’d be against,” the unicorn noted.

“That’s not our way,” I countered, catching the pink mare by surprise.

“It’s not?”

“No,” I repeated, “we don’t have to kill all of them to ‘win’. We just have to take away what they need to fight: their stable. Once they can’t make more engineered ponies, then they can’t fulfill their mission to populate the world with their tailor-made ultimate pony or whatever. They’ll have no real choice but to give up.”

“They might not do that though,” Starlight pointed out, “they might keep killing ponies out of spite.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, “and maybe they won’t. Arginine keeps insisting the ponies from his stable are super smart. That’ll be their chance to prove it,” admittedly, after having dealt―however briefly―with General Constance, I could understand why Starlight might have her doubts. All the more reason to keep Arginine around, honestly; he might be able to talk some sense into some of his brethren, “we have to give them that chance.”

“Says who?” the mare asked.

“Me,” I replied tersely, “because killing shouldn’t be how ponies solve problems.”

I noticed that the unicorn mare had stopped walking suddenly, and I turned around to find that she was staring at me with a look of surprise, “what?”

The mare blinked and then shook herself, an odd smile worming its way onto her lips, “nothing. It’s just...I didn’t expect to hear something like that from the same mare that pulled me out of my sleep tube. You know, the pegasus who didn’t seem to take a lot of prisoners?”

I recalled Starlight’s shock after the fight in the Seaddle outskirts when we’d been ambushed by gangers, and how affronted she’d been by the ease with which I’d killed ponies. Looking back, that day felt like it was part of a whole other lifetime. In a way, I suppose that was even accurate. I cracked a wan smile, “yeah, well, it turns out that even a feather-brain like me can learn something if it’s pounded into my head hard enough.”

“That’s actually pretty encouraging,” she said, smiling slightly more broadly a moment before her expression soured slightly, “but that doesn’t mean that letting all of those ponies off the hook for everything they’ve done is going to sit well with everypony. Forgiveness doesn’t mean amnesty. If the other Wasteland ponies―especially the citizens of Shady Saddles―see Arginine’s stable getting a pass after everything they’ve done, there will be more violence.

“Victims have a right to see those that wronged them punished, Windfall. I’m not saying that they need to die, obviously; but there’s a reason that reform spells were such a staple of Old Equestria. I mean, those spells were available at the local library of every little podunk town. That’s how much our system relied upon them.

“Knowing that there was no longer any way a pony could hurt another again for as long as they lived was how we kept otherwise good ponies from seeking revenge for things that happened to them. It kept our kind at peace for over a thousand years!”

“...until it didn’t,” I pointed out, earning a frown from the unicorn.

“I think a millennia is a pretty solid track record. We’d be lucky to see another run of peace like that, I think.”

“My point is that a reform spell doesn’t ‘solve’ the problem any more than killing a pony does,” I saw Starlight open her mouth as she made ready to counter my statement, and I cut her off with a pinion jabbing right in front of her face, “it’s reactionary. I remember how those Lancers were in Santa Mara after you zapped them all in the head with your spell. They were completely different ponies.”

“That was kind of the point,” the unicorn countered droly.

“And that’s my point! As different as they were, you might as well have killed all the violent, vindictive, assholes that held that town hostage and brought in a whole new group of wholesome, subservient, doormats and dressed them in the Lancer’s old barding. Yeah, that ‘solved’ the problem of ponies holding the town hostage, but that wasn’t the actual problem!

“The problem was that those Lancers became violent assholes in the first place,” I said, “if we can find a way to avoid that, then we don’t need to kill ponies or use reform spells; because there won’t ever be a need. At that point, we’ll see peace that lasts a lot longer than a thousand years.”

“And how exactly do we keep ponies from ever becoming ‘assholes’?” Starlight inquired, not bothering to hide her skepticism.

“How am I supposed to know? I’m a teenager; and, until recently, I was one of those violent assholes.”

“So this was all rhetorical.”

“This was pointing out that we need a better long term solution than murder or brainwashing,” I said flatly, “even if I don’t know what it is yet. But, I feel like if we let ourselves become reliant on one or both of those other things, then we won’t feel motivated to keep looking for that better solution.”

“Assuming it exists,” the unicorn pointed out.

“It exists,” I affirmed.

“How can you possibly know that?”

I bit my lip and hesitated for a moment before replying in a less self-assured tone, “because I had a dream about it.”

Starlight blinked at me in silence for several long moments, “was this dream during the time that you were drugged by Arginine?”

“...maybe.”

“Awesome,” the pink mare deadpanned, rolling her eyes, before walking off, “fine, I won’t zap your baby-daddy. Yet!”

I bowed my head and let out a low, frustrated, groan.

Okay, so maybe the concept that I knew there had to a better way of fixing the Wasteland because of some ponies that had come to me in a dream had sounded a lot better to me before I’d said it aloud, but I still couldn’t shake this feeling deep down that I was right. If for no other reason than because everything that I had experienced last night had felt much more intense than a mere ‘dream’. I’d had dreams before. Last night hadn’t been like any of those. Last night had been like...I don’t know, a lesson?

Too bad I hadn’t been able to grasp what exactly those visions of the statuettes in my possession had been trying to teach me. That didn’t mean that I hadn’t been left with some rather strong feelings in its aftermath though. The one that stood out the most was that the killing had to stop. No simple or easy feat by any stretch, of that I had no delusions. But I knew that it was step one on the path to the world’s recovery.

Of course, knowing a step and implementing it were two vastly different things, especially in this instance. Killing was practically a way of life in the Wasteland as a whole. It wasn’t going to stop overnight. Maybe not even in my lifetime―even assuming that went beyond a week, given our current circumstances. But, if I could just find someway to start the ball rolling...maybe that would be enough.

It was worth trying.

My pipbuck chirped, drawing me out of my reverie, and I glanced down at the device a moment before a familiar voice began emanating from the speakers, “Windfall, can you hear me?” Moonbeam asked. I cocked my head slightly, noting that there was noticeably more distortion in the synthesized voice than I was used to hearing from transmissions received on my pipbuck. Similarly, the frequency that the radio had tuned itself to in response to the call was one that was far outside the usual range that I was familiar with.

“Moonbeam? Yeah, I can hear you,” I frowned down at the device on my fetlock, “I thought Ramparts told us to avoid making calls like this?”

“This isn’t a broadcast in the clear,” the robopony assured me, “I’m tapping into your pipbuck through the MoA network that was designed to control the drones. It’s way off of Stable-Tec’s spectrum, and encrypted besides. Even if those stable ponies pick up the transmission, they’ll just hear static. I highly doubt they’ll be able to crack high level Ministry cyphers. This stuff was designed to keep the zebras from listening in to vital war-related communiques, so it’s pretty tough stuff.”

That abated my concerns a little, and should reassure Ramparts as well when he learned that we might have a way to safely and securely contact McMaren again. We might even be able to get a warning out to Seaddle if the former courser could come up with some ponies that could be specifically singled-out in the city to help fortify its defenses. We even had a strategy to give them that might help them win as well, providing they could come up with ponies who had the right skills and know-how.

“Well, in any case, it’s good to hear your voice. Is everything alright in McMaren?”

“From what I understand, we’re a lot better off than you guys are,” Moonbeam replied, “Homily’s ponies are redoubling their efforts to get the connection to the hangar established. She thinks that we’ll be able to get the drones operational and in the air in about three or four days at the latest.

“Once that happens, we’ll be ready to rain fucking Tartarus down on top of those bastards and end this thing,” I felt myself cringe at how satisfied the mare seemed to sound at the thought. Though, I doubt hers was anything like an outlying thought. I was sure that most of the ponies in McMaren were of a like mind, “in the meantime, I’m getting ready to head down to meet up with you guys and kick some flank.”

“No, stay where you are,” I insisted.

“What? Why? It sounds like you’re going to need all the firepower you can get, and I’m literally designed to fight armies!”

I could hear the frustration through the radio, “we can’t know when and where General Constance’s main force will eventually catch up with us,” I told the synthetic mare, “we’ll need you in place and ready to control those drones at a moment’s notice. A thousand of you will be a lot more effective than one of you, right?” perhaps, I hoped, seeing such an overwhelming force descending on them would be enough to prompt the stable ponies to surrender with a minimum of bloodshed too.

The mare on the other end of the transmission audibly grumbled, which I found only slightly odd, seeing as how it was highly unlikely that the robopony―who had a transmitter built into her chassis―was actually saying any of this out loud where she was, “...fine. I’ll let you know the moment everything’s fully operational.”

“Good. Give Ramparts a call too and let him know what’s going on with our comms situation. We might be able to use it to get a warning to Seaddle after all.”

“Alright,” the mare said in a significantly more chipper tone at the prospect of being able to actively help with the war effort after all, “talk to you later. Tell Mom ‘hi’ for me, will ya?”

“Consider it done,” I glanced off in the direction that Starlight had departed in, wishing that I’d received this call about fifteen minutes earlier. Of course, I was sure to see the pink unicorn again in the near future, so I’d be able to pass the message on then, “later!”

My pipbuck went silent again as Moonbeam cut the transmission on her end. It was actually a great relief that we’d be able to communicate with McMaren and the others through the Ministry of Awesome’s old network. That gave us a lot of flexibility. After another moment’s thought, I cursed myself for not asking if there was any way that we could use the Ministry network to intercept and listen in on Constance’s communications. Ramparts was likely to be far more cognisant of that possibility than I was, so it would probably occur to him more immediately. Either way, I’d bring it up with him the next time I ran into the stallion.

In the interim, I had one other pressing concern that I wanted to have addressed before we left Shady Saddles that I didn’t want to put off any longer.

I cautiously nudged my way into the clinic, and was immediately hit with the drone of groans and pained whimpering of the dozens of ponies that were laying stroon about the small medical center’s waiting area upon every spare scrap of makeshift bedding that could be acquired. Save for an uncomfortably narrow walking path that allowed the nursing staff―augmented by another half dozen ponies who volunteered to help―to navigate their patients, every available patch of floor was taken up by a maimed mare or stallion. I could see that this was the same circumstance the existed down the hallway and through the open doors to the exam rooms.

It was impossible to know exactly how many ponies were currently in hear, but I did know that this was only a fraction of the total wounded. The buildings to either side of the clinic had been emptied out and converted into additional makeshift wards as well. Sandy’s bar had served as a temporary collection point for casualties during the fighting, but the injured ponies there had been moved later so that they could be closer to the clinic and the medical staff that was based there.

For many, there would be a long road to recovery, as it would surprise nopony that the battle had completely drained the small town’s meager medical facility of every last drop of healing potion. Stocks of Med-X were similarly non-existent any longer as well. Booze was the only analgesic left, and the blood-thinning effects of alcohol meant that it was too risky to give even it to many of the seriously wounded, for fear that they’d bleed out and die as a result. This meant that most of the town’s injured was left to wallow in pain, and nothing could be done for them.

A nurse noticed me enter, and I saw a brief look of resignation wash over her face as she initially mistook me for either another injured pony, or a loved one seeking additional medicine for a wounded family member. When she finally recognized who I was and realized that I wasn’t yet one more pony she would have to immediately disappointed in their time of need, she relaxed―a little―and even managed to gather up an expression that could almost be considered a smile. Though the bleakness of her eyes, which had seen far too much suffering in such a short period of time, betrayed the haggardness beneath the otherwise pleasant curl of her lips.

“Wonderbolt,” she greeted, and it was my turn to suppress a sour expression at the use of a title which no longer held any appeal for me, “what can I do for you?”

I’d already been feeling a little apprehensive about coming hear in the first place, and that feeling was only further compounded once I was directly confronted by the moaning around me. I felt so incredibly selfish, in the face of such blatant suffering, to even think of asking what I was about to; but I managed to press on anyway, “I...was hoping that I could speak with Doctor Lancet...if he has a moment? It’s not important,” I added hastily, “just...if he feels like he has time,” I swallowed, seeing the already ever so fragile smile on the nurse’s lips falter slightly.

Still, she eventually nodded and carefully picked her way around the shifting bodies on the floor towards the back of the clinic. I remained near the door, pointedly looking down at my hooves so that I didn’t need to look at the wounded. There was no way I could keep from hearing them, but I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to take seeing all of the blood that didn’t seem to want to stop oozing through their bandages which, by this point, were little more than boiled bedsheets and curtains that were being used for the upteenth time to try and stop the bleeding from wounds that were too big to suture closed with what was available to the tiny little clinic.

Idly, I found myself wondering how many of these ponies would ultimately recover. How many of them would even live through the night? I knew that a grave detail had been organized to bury the dead from both sides, and that they’d be at work for a couple days at least. I also knew―from overhearing some of Ramparts’ orders―that they were digging more graves than they had need of currently, ‘for later’.

“Windfall,” my head whipped up, and I found myself looking into the tired and drawn features of the black unicorn stallion who had thought that coming to Shady Saddles would mean escaping strife and turmoil. If he found the irony in any way amusing, there was no indication of it at the moment in his shadowed expression, “what do you need?”

I winced at the beleaguered tone that I was confident hadn’t been intended to come down on me so harshly. He was tired, overwhelmed, and had likely spent the morning tending to untold numbers of ponies who had already ultimately died under his desperate care. Now, while surrounded by scores of other dying ponies, he’d been sought out by yet one more seeking aid. I’d have left right then and there if I wouldn’t have felt somehow even worse for wasting his time by doing that.

“I’m sorry...it’s just...” I swallowed, feeling my right wing curving down around my belly and brushing softly against my abdomen, “with the drugging, and the hanging, and...everything...I want to know if…” I couldn’t quite get the last words out, wondering if there was even any longer a point to wearing the pendant or taking the pills he’d given me. After all, if everything that I’d been through in the last twenty-four hours had been enough to finally terminate my―

...to...to render the pendant moot. Then there were certainly ponies in this town who needed more than I did.

The physician pony’s expression softened then, “I understand. Come, let’s go to my office and look you two over, hm?”

Just hearing him include my unborn foal in his statement caused what felt like a physical wave of relief to wash over me. If he had enough hope to bother doing that, then surely it meant that he was confident, right? I followed the stallion gingerly as he led me through the throngs of bodies, finally coming to a halt in front of his ‘office’. Though the faded ‘JANITOR’ stenciling suggested that the room had originally been intended for an alternate purpose. Indeed, once we were inside, I could tell that the conversion to Doctor Lancet’s ‘office’ had been a rather recent and hurried thing. There wasn’t hardly anything in here except for a bedroll and a stack of hastily written patient files.

“Please, have a seat,” the unicorn said, gesturing to the sleeping mat. I did so as the stallion dug through the stack of files until he found the one that he was looking for and pulled it out. I noticed my name written across the top of it as he flipped the manila folder open and began to look it over and refresh his memory, “now, are you feeling any actual discomfort? Abdominal pains, cramping, dizziness?”

“No,” I shook my head, “nothing like that.”

“Hm. I assume that you have no idea what substance was given to you?” again, I shook my head, “Very well. A true sedative shouldn’t have been too traumatic for the fetus, but you did undergo a lot of physical trauma and stress from what I understand,” he noted, “so it wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look,” the stallion frowned, “unfortunately, I don’t have any more clean syringes to use to draw blood, and I’m loathe to try and reuse one without at least putting it through an autoclave...which Shady Saddles doesn’t have.

“It wouldn’t do to perform another blood test and find out everything’s still fine, only to end up giving you tetanus or hepatitis in the process,” he conjured up a mirthless smile. He then set the file down and took a deep breath, “but, there is one other option,” he informed me, “though I do warn you that it can feel a bit...invasive. It’s a spell that I developed as a form of exploratory telekinesis for use prior to a surgery, so that I’m not going in totally blind while trying to remove of tumor or repair a clot; that sort of thing.

“My patients have described it as ‘feeling like something is crawling around inside of them’. It is completely safe and doesn’t cause any harm or damage, I can assure you. I just wanted you to be aware that it might be uncomfortable to experience,” the stallion said, “I have used it on pregnant mares in the past, to confirm placental placement or proper fetal orientation immediately prior to birth, things like that; so it won’t upset your pregnancy either.

“It’s the only way I currently have to confirm for certain if your pregnancy is still viable. Though, even then, without bloodwork to look at your hormone levels, I can’t give you complete assurance that it’ll stay that way. You’ll need to go to...well, I guess New Reino is really your only option at the moment,” he finished after a brief moment’s thought, “if that sounds acceptable to you, we can begin whenever you’re ready.”

I bit my lip, “you’re sure it’s safe?”

“It’s never caused any harm,” he once more assured me.

I swallowed and nodded, “okay. Let’s do that then,” I had to know, if only tentatively, if there was any point in even continuing to worry about it.

“Very well. If you’ll lie down, this should only take a minute.”

Without a word, I lowered myself down onto the thin sleeping mat and tried to make myself as comfortable as possible. I spent several awkward seconds fidgeting with my hooves as I tried to find someplace to put them that didn’t make me look as nervous as I was feeling; which ultimately only served to make me look even more nervous, I realized with a barely stifled groan. Doctor Lancet didn’t notice though, as he already had his eyes closed and his head bowed. His lips were pursed ever so slightly in concentration as his horn began to glow with a magical aura.

I wasn’t sure that I’d felt it at first. It was like a soft breeze that just barely touched my coat and feathers. As the seconds wore on though, I noticed the gentle increase in pressure, like being covered with a blanket. A blanket that was moving over my body. Suddenly I felt myself shiver and stiffen as that pressure passed from the outside of my coat to just beneath my skin. It was like I was itching everywhere, but on the inside.

“Sorry,” Lancet said in a distant tone, his eyes clenched as he continued to concentrate on what he was doing, “this is usually the most uncomfortable part. Once I’m past the nerves in your dermis, it should subside...there we are…”

As he was speaking, I could indeed feel the irritation almost instantly subside. Though I wasn’t confident that the sensation that replaced it was objectively ‘better’, in my opinion. While there was no longer a feeling of scratchy irritation, it instead felt like somepony was pressing down on all of my muscles in my chest and abdomen. It had all of the constriction of a cramp, but with none of the pain.

It only got more unsettling from there as I started to feel my guts themselves slowly and subtly begin to shift ever so slightly. It was like there was something crawling around inside of me, just as he’d described. The lack of any real pain did nothing to take away from unsettling nature of it all. To say nothing of the...conflicting sensations I began to feel once the Doctor’s telekinesis migrated from my gut to my nethers. My eyes went wide as a gasp escaped my lips.

“Oops, sorry, too far…” Lancet apologized. The pressure immediately receded from where only one other stallion had ever been and focused in the lower portion of my abdomen. I took a calming breath and focused on holding as still as possible, not sure if any movement on my part would interfere with...whatever it was that he was doing exactly.

“Placenta is attached…” the unicorn murmured softly, more than to himself than for my benefit, judging from the fact that I had to crane my head to be able to hear him, “blood is flowing…” his eyebrow quirked slightly in mild surprise, “movement. You’re further along than I initially thought,” the unicorn stallion let out a deep breath and I felt the sensation of pressure quickly recede. His horn lost its glow and his eyes opened, a slight smile on his muzzle, “it seems he’s quite the stubborn little fellow. If you keep to the regiment I set you on yesterday, everything should be fine.”

I blinked as my initial feelings of relief were quickly superseded by his choice of words, “‘he’? It’s a ‘he’? You can really tell that already?”

“You’re nearly five months along,” he said, picking up a pencil with his telekinesis as he updated some notes in my patient file, “that’s about the normal time the gender can be reliably identified. It’ll be a little longer yet to make a definitive determination of what breed of pony he’ll be. He’s not a pegasus, of that much I’m certain, but it’ll be another month or two before we’ll know if he’s a unicorn or an earth pony. Horns are one of the last bones to begin development.”

A frown creased my features, “five months?” I did some quick mental math in my head, “that can’t be right. It hasn’t even been half that yet!”

It was Doctor Lancet’s turn to frown, “then perhaps you’re mistaken about who the father is. Judging by the size of the fetus, it is in at least the fifth month of development. You can expect to deliver in about thirty weeks.”

“But…” the math just didn’t work out. On the other hoof, I wasn’t sure what further arguing the point was going to accomplish. It wasn’t like the stallion had any reason to lie to me, and if his examination had been anywhere near as thorough as it had felt, then it was hard to imagine that he might have been mistaken. But I was positive that the first time that I’d been intimate with a stallion had been that time with Arginine back in McMaren.

Nothing had certainly ever happened with Jackboot―not for lack of trying―and it wasn’t like I’d ever made any sort of habit out of throwing myself at any other stallions. Heck, the only stallion that I’d even kissed besides Arginine and Jackboot had been Cestus, and―

My eyes went wide.

Cestus. Whiplash’s son, and the pony that had abducted me. I’d been fooling around with him only because of how angry I was at finding Foxglove having her way with the stallion she new that I loved. It had been stupid and juvenile, and ultimately had proven nearly terminal. I’d never intended for things to go beyond kissing and groping, but my memories were still pretty hazy about what exactly had happened. He’d ultimately drugged me and hauled my unconscious body back to the White Hoof capital, but I supposed that I couldn’t be completely, one hundred percent, certain about what we might―and might not―have done before I went out.

Strictly speaking, it’s not like I’d even have had to be awake and aware for a stallion like Cestus to have done anything…

Oh, Celestia...had he? I mean, the conversation between him and Whiplash in their tent suggested that being another White Hof brood mare was the eventual fate that they had intended for me, so it wasn’t like there’d have been any great reservations felt by the stallion for ‘jumping the gun’ in that regard. He was certainly enough of a monster to have done that to an unconscious mare.

“Windfall, are you alright?”

I jerked slightly, having forgotten entirely about the doctor somehow. In that time, I’d apparently also curled up into a ball and surrounded myself protectively with my wings, my eyes wide open in shock. I swallowed and licked lips that felt suddenly chapped, “no. I’m not.

“Thank you, Doctor,” I added in a tone that sounded detached even to my own ears as I slowly stood back up and left his office.

My listlessness helped with my apprehension, at least, as I navigated my way back to the clinic’s exit through the persistently moaning wounded. My mind was elsewhere as I headed outside. Even though all of this would have had to have happened many months ago, back during what felt like a whole other lifetime, I felt myself overcome with a sense of violation and regret. It should have been bad enough that even my brief interaction with Cestus had resulted indirectly in the deaths of both my adoptive father and my birth mother within the span of a few minutes. It was a inescapable memory that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

Was I really now supposed to be doomed to retain a physical reminder of it all? I already had plenty of scars to attest to the decisions that I’d made―for better or worse. Even my most egregious ones, like the loss of my eye, had been incurred while helping ponies; I didn’t regret a loss like that. However, giving birth to a White Hoof spawn―the same one who’d taken my mother from me―was another thing entirely. How was I supposed to be able to look at a that foal and not be instantly bombarded with that grief all over again?

I jerked as I felt a slight weight around my neck. I looked down, noticing that I’d subconsciously wrapped a pinion around the little regeneration talisman. My unborn foal’s situation was still quite tenuous, I knew. If I removed the small gem and simply never took the pills that I’d be given, my body would sort itself out and I wouldn’t have to worry about it. If we survived, and especially if we won, I’d have plenty of opportunities to have foals again someday, at a time in my life when I was more prepared to be a mother too. It would even be a foal that was sired by a stallion I felt something besides loathing for.

...Of course, I’d just remember all of this every time I looked at them anyway. Nothing I did was ever going to erase the mistakes that I’d made in the past. Given their results, I was confident that I didn’t deserve to forget anyway.

My wing released the amulet and folded back to my side as I let out a defeated sigh. No, nothing would be accomplished by doing that, ultimately. I’d already made the decision―however right or wrong it may have been―to keep this foal, and I’d done it for reasons other than because of who I’d thought the father was. Cestus was a monster who received the death that he deserved for everything that he’d done in his life. Meanwhile, the foal in me hadn’t wronged anypony.

Enough ponies had died because of stupid things that I’d done in my past. I didn’t need to add another.

I looked around briefly, my gaze finding my next destination, and I walked off. There was something that I did need to do about this though...

The Shady Saddles Guard was not an organization that I’d dealt with much in the past. Jackboot had made a habit of avoiding contact with law enforcement organizations as much as was possible. Only recently had I discovered this was because of his desire to limit the possibility of incurring any undue attention that could lead to ponies with the authority to do so detaining him over some trivial matter and discovering his brand. Before that, I’d assumed that he just believed that all guard forces were abusive and corrupt; which had been an assumption that I’d more been projecting onto him as a result of my experiences with Golden Vision and the Seaddle ‘justice’ system.

After all, the Shady Saddles’ arm of the Guard was nominally part of the same New Lunar Republic military that governed most of Northern Neighvada. Or, rather, the military that once had governed it. The NLR wasn’t running much of anything these days since we’d made off with their prop monarch and Ebony Song had plunged Seaddle into chaos in his bid to retain power.

In any case, the Guard Barracks was one of the few structures of town that I’d never been inside before, other than private homes. That being said, I felt like it was probably not quite as busy as it seemed to be at this particular moment.

Dozens of ponies, and not merely those in the Guard itself, were sorting through a veritable mountain of weapons and barding, looking over the equipment and sorting it into respective piles that represented its serviceability. While I was sure that they’d be able to make excellent use of most of the weaponry, I had to imagine that the barding would need to undergo substantial modification before the average pony could get much use out of it. Though, the raw material would certainly be of some value, I supposed.

It wasn’t any of these efforts that had brought me here though. While I’d never been here before, I did know a little about the building’s uses and purpose. Such as the fact that it served as not only the quarters for the town’s protectors, but also the repository for unsavory characters who were awaiting either trial or transport elsewhere. At the moment, there was only one of these ‘unsavory’ ponies being boarded; and they were who I had come here to see.

I made my way past the working ponies who were too busy to pay me much mind and descended to the basement. Here I found perhaps the only pony in the building not actively engaged in sorting equipment; a smokey gray earth pony dressed in the barding of a republican soldier. The armored stallion noticed me approaching and cracked a wry smile, “Wonderbolt,” he nodded before gesturing down the hall behind him, “she said you’d probably be dropping by. They’re in the back.”

‘They’? I suppressed a quizzical frown and instead nodded like I knew what he was talking about. I’d find out which ‘she’ he was referring to shortly; though the list of likely suspects that came to mind was quite short, “thanks.”

Sure enough, I didn’t have to go far to determine that the mare in question was Foxglove. She was standing directly in front of Arginine, who was secured behind the vertical steel bars of his cell. Manacles hobbled his forehooves still, and I spied a golden ring draped over both of the horns protruding from his forehead. The violet mare’s ear twitched at the sound of my approach and she glanced back over her shoulder, casting a level gaze in my direction.

“Took you long enough,” she said in an even tone that elicited a slight wince from me, “I figured you would have come straight here. Did you get lost?”

“There was something else I wanted to take care of,” I said evasively. Foxglove might know that Arginine and I had become intimate, but there wasn’t any possibility that she knew about my...other situation. Heck, I’d only found out shortly before being captured, and hadn’t had time to tell anypony. Of the two―or, rather, three now―ponies who knew about my ‘situation’, Doctor Lancet would certainly keep my confidence, and Arginine wasn’t the sort to volunteer personal information either. Starlight didn’t have a reason to go spreading the news either. Foxglove hadn’t reacted particularly well to my involvement with Arginine, and I was loath to see how she dealt with learning I was expecting.

“Why are you here?” I ventured carefully. Did the unicorn mare really not trust me to be alone with Arginine anymore? He was locked up, hobbled, and magically dampened. Surely she couldn’t actually be concerned that he’d find some way to harm me?

“Just putting the finishing touches on this piece of garbage here,” she sneered. I felt myself cringe slightly at how she’d chosen to refer to him, but I had to acknowledge that I couldn’t fault how she was feeling. Of all ponies, Foxglove wasn’t one to give her trust easily to begin with, and with the history of the sort of betrayals that she’d had to deal with, I could understand her hostility. That didn’t mean that I enjoyed seeing it up close and personal though. The mare stepped to the side and gestured at the stallion, “if you’re really hung up on bringing him with us, then he needs to be appropriately ‘dressed’ for the journey,” I didn’t like the biting tone of her voice.

I liked what I saw even less. I felt my jaw hang agape and my eye go wide as I spied the bomb collar clamped tightly around the stallion’s neck, “Foxglove, what the fuck?! Get that thing off of him right no―”

“Not on your life,” the violet mare snapped, her emerald eyes glaring deep into me, “which is why I’m doing all of this, by the way! This asshole nearly got you killed this morning. Now, I get that you’ve got a soft spot for your ‘coltfriend’, or whatever, and you don’t want to see him put to death―like he deserves,” she added in a none-too-subtle aside directed at the impassive stallion, “but I’m not just going to sit back and let him get another chance to finish the job.

“So from here on out, he’s going to be wearing that collar; and,” she stressed as her horn flared and a small device floated into view just before snapping around her fetlock, “I’m going to be the one with the detonator,” she waved her new bracelet under the gray stallion’s nose so that he got a clear look at it before returning her attention back to me, “if he so much as twitches in a way that I don’t like, I’m going to trigger his collar,” I opened my mouth to retort, but the mare didn’t seem to be quite finished with me yet, “and I don’t care if you don’t forgive me, or if you send me away, or whatever.

“I care about you too much to let you risk your life like this, Windfall,” Foxglove said, her tone become much more somber now, “I can’t stop you from fighting, and I won’t; but I’m just going to sit back and let ponies hurt you either, not when there’s something I can do to protect you.

“If you want him to come with us, then this is how it’s going to be. Not arguments.”

My jaw snapped shut as the violet unicorn mare held her gaze on me. It wasn’t malice, or even anger, that I saw in her deep green eyes, I realized. It was fear. She was worried for me. That was why she was doing this. I shifted my gaze briefly to Arginine to try and gauge how he felt about the situation. As usual, his face wasn’t particularly expressive, but he did nod his head slightly in acceptance. Perhaps wisely, he chose not to actually say anything out loud and risk further increasing Foxglove’s ire by agreeing that she was being perfectly prudent.

“Fine,” I finally said with a defeated sigh. If there was any consolation to be had, it was that I was confident that Arginine truly wouldn’t do anything to provoke Foxglove into making good on her very credible threat to end his life. Maybe, in time, I’d even be able to talk her down once the stallion had helped us defeat his stable once and for all.

In the meantime, I still had that matter to take care of, “the collar stays. Happy?” she nodded, but her expression was anything but jovial, “now, I’d like to talk to Arginine. Alone.”

“Nope.”

“Excuse me?”

The mare shook her head, “the last time you were alone with this freak, he foalnapped you. So, yeah, I’m not leaving you alone with him. Not ever again.”

“You can’t be serious,” I said flatly.

“Try me.”

“Fox―”

“Not. Happening,” she reasserted firmly, “besides, it’s not like there’s anything going on between the two of you that the rest of us don’t know about...anymore,” she added with an annoyed grunt, “no more keeping secrets from the rest of us, Windy,” she said, pointing an accusatory hoof at my chest, “we’re supposed to be your friends. How can we help you if you aren’t honest with us?”

An only half suppressed grumble escaped my throat as Arginine and I exchange another brief glance. Then my attention went back to the violet unicorn. Her expression left no doubt in my mind that she was being completely serious about her intentions, which didn’t bode particularly well for me. On the bright side, there was a good chance that what I was about to divulge wouldn’t prompt her to end Arginine’s life prematurely.

I took a deep breath and turned to face Arginine, “I just saw Doctor Lancet,” I began, “he told me that I’m fine―that we’re fine,” I amended, “and that it’s a colt…” a faint smile touched my lips for a brief moment before I nibbled at it deciding how exactly to break the other news, “but that it’s been at least five months.”

I swallowed and cleared my throat before continuing, “...it can’t be yours.”

Arginine was silent for a moment, considering. Then, finally, he nodded, “I understand.”

Foxglove, on the other hoof, didn’t quite; judging by her puzzled expression, “what are you two talking about? What isn’t his? Who’s a colt?” then, in an instant, her features morphed from confusion into abject surprise, “oh, fuck me sideways, you are not―! Windy?!” she looked me up and down with widened emerald eyes as if she was trying to decide if this was all some attempt at a joke at her expense.

“How?! When?!”

This time I didn’t make an attempt to mask my annoyed grumbling, “what do you mean ‘how’?” I grunted, “and I just said ‘when’.”

“Well then with who?!” the mare blinked, “Jackboot?” Something in her tone suggested to me that the mare was suddenly deeply upset that the rust-red stallion had already managed to get himself killed and deprive her of the opportunity.

“...Cestus,” I offered in a volume that was just about a whisper.

“Cestus?” the mare was briefly confused as she processed the name of the young stallion who’d we’d only dealt with for a few brief days several long months ago, “who’s Cest―oh,” recognition finally dawned on her and her ire quickly gave way to sympathy, “oh, Windy, he didn’t…” her hooves went to her mouth in shock. I could only look away in shame, “oh, Windy…I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” I think that was what I was supposed to say in response. It was hard to know, “but...yeah. Doc Lancet said I’m around five months along. It’s only been two since the first time RG and I...you know...so it can’t be his, like I thought,” I flashed an apologetic look at the stallion who still appeared otherwise nonplussed by the revelations thus far.

“And about five months ago was about when...well...you know…”

“Oh, Windy…” the mare moved over and wrapped me up in her hooves, leaning her chin atop my head. She didn’t say anything further; she simply held my to her chest. After a few seconds, I found myself reciprocating the embrace, encircling her with my wings, my eye shut tight as I simply felt her warmth against me.

I supposed if there was one mare in my life who would understand what I was feeling, it would be Foxglove. Her experiences in the Wasteland hadn’t been particularly pleasant before meeting us after all. Unlike me, however, her own years of abuses at the hooves of ponies like Tommyknocker hadn’t left her with any ‘reminders’ like I was about to have. In that regard, I wasn’t certain how much help she would be able to offer.

“I don’t know what to say,” Foxglove said softly, her eyes closed, “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

I frowned, “how do you figure that? None of us knew what Cestus was. Not even Jackboot.”

The mare shook her head, “I should have known better than to leave you alone like that. Especially because we didn’t know Cestus. I was...doing something stupid,” she said bitterly, “I should have been with you.”

My frown deepened further and I gently pushed myself away from the unicorn so that I could look into her face, “Foxglove, I’m not a filly; not even back then. You’re not my mother. You’re not responsible for me. I’ve been holding my own in the Wasteland for a long time,” I insisted, “Jackboot did right by me in that way, at the very least.

“I made a mistake, and these are the consequences. It wasn’t the first mistake I ever made, and probably won’t be the last. Celestia willing, I’ll live long enough to see these consequences through too,” I managed a wry smirk, “but it wasn’t your fault. You and Jackboot risked your lives to rescue me back then, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

My smirk shifted into a more genuine smile now, “you’ve stuck with me the longest out of everypony I know, and that means a lot to me. I know that you care about me, and that you want to look out for me; but if you’re going to do that, you have to do it keeping in mind that I’m not your ‘responsibility’.

“I’m my own pony, and I’m going to live my own life,” I nodded my head in Arginine’s direction, “and I’m going to live that life with who I want,” I saw the scowl return to Foxglove’s face, but before she could rebuke me, I quickly added, “but you’re right: I can’t be completely reckless about it. Keeping a watchful eye on RG is a good idea. I don’t think it’s necessary, but I know it’ll make a lot of ponies feel better about bringing him along.

“So, okay. You can keep the collar on him,” I relented, though I’d be lying if I said that I felt completely comfortable about acquiescing on that point, “but only until his stable is dealt with. Once they’re no longer an issue, it comes off; okay?”

Foxglove was obviously no happier about that condition than I was about him wearing the collar in the first place, but she eventually accepted the compromise with a grunt and sharp jerk of her head, “fine. I still think he needs to be punished for what he did though.”

“Well, I’m the one he wronged,” I pointed out, “which means that I should be the one to decide if he does get punished, or how,” I finally broke the embrace that we were sharing entirely and squared off against the incarcerated stallion, “I didn’t die, so neither will he. That being said, I suppose he shouldn’t get off with only a slap on the fetlock either,” I rubbed my chin idly with a pinion and then smiled, “though, it does occur to me that I’m going to have a lot on my plate in another five-ish months.

“I could certainly use a lot of help on diaper duty…”

Arginine’s brow cocked ever so slightly.

As I ascended back out of the town’s jail, I emerged to find a familiar face among those who I’d seen sorting the weapons which had not been their just thirty minutes ago, “Ramparts,” I greeted, drawing the earth pony’s attention, “what are you doing here?” I asked as I watched the former courser picking through the pile of weapons that I presumed was meant to contain the most serviceable ones.

“PCCs and PCIs,” the republican soldier replied simply. When he saw my furrowed brow he smiled and further elaborated, “pre-combat checks and pre-combat inspections.”

“Combat?” I felt myself immediately tense up. Had General Constance already managed to get her forces turned around and on their way back here?!

“Don’t worry,” he assured me, seeming to have accurately guessed where my mind had initially gone to, “there’ve been no reports of the army’s location,” then he added with a grunt, “which is kind of the problem. We don’t have any eyes on where their forces are or which direction they’re going. We need that information, especially if we want to know how much time the group heading for their stable is going to have before they get pinned, if it comes to that.

“Without a way to maintain secure comms, there wasn’t any point in shadowing them though, because they’d be able to listen in on everything that was being passed back and forth anyway,” the earth pony stallion explained, “but with Homily and Moonbeam being able to tap into the Ministry of Awesome’s encrypted bands...well, now we can deliver intelligence reports without them knowing about it. Which means that there’s now a point to sending out a recon party.

“I’m going to be leading that party.”

“You’re not coming with us to their stable?” I found myself asking, audibly shocked.

Ramparts smiled at my reaction, “with the mercenaries, you’ve got all of the experienced hooves you need to knock over an undermared stable,” he assured me with a confident grin, “I’ll be more use to you keeping an eye on their main force.”

I glanced at the selection of weapons that he was pulling out, “that’s a lot of firepower for just ‘keeping an eye’ on a bunch of ponies,” I noted.

This evoked a small chuckle from the stallion, “it’s call force recon for a reason! No, but in all seriousness, this is more precautionary than anything. I’m only taking about a dozen ponies with me in total. We’re going to do everything we can to keep ourselves out of sight,” then he thought for a moment, “though, if we see an opportunity to thin their ranks by ambushing the odd picket or sentry…” the stallion flashed a ruthless smile and waggle his brows.

“Just...be careful, okay?” I said, though the warning was patently unnecessary. Ramparts understood just as well as anypony how little chance their small team would stand if they encountered any significant forces from that stable, no matter how many of the enemy’s weapons they were bringing along with them.

As uneasy as I was feeling about splitting up our group...again...I couldn’t really argue against the former courser’s logic. There would come a point, sooner or later, when Constance realized that the group she’d left to finish off Shady Saddles wasn’t following whatever schedule she’d left for them. Not long after that, she’d investigate to figure out what had gone wrong. She’d either turn her whole army around, or at the very least break off an even bigger piece to come back here and investigate what had happened.

That wouldn’t go well for Shady Saddles. Which meant that, while we wanted our assault on their stable to come as a surprise for the most part, it was a secret that we were going to eventually have to let slip. We needed Constance to come after us and bypass the town. Evacuating it would have been an ideal solution, but it wasn’t really an option without abandoning most of the wounded who simply couldn’t be moved safely.

The plan became marginally less risky if we had a means of keeping track of just how close that army was getting to us so we had time to prepare. Griselda and her griffons would prove to be an invaluable screening force when the inevitable battle was close at hoof, but having reports of the main body’s location while they were more than just a few miles out would be very helpful as well, as it would give us a lot longer to prepare our defenses than just an hour or two.

“I will be,” the earth pony assured me just before exchanging a brief look with Foxglove as well, “honestly, it’s you ponies I’m worried about. At least I know what that army’s going to be like. None of us know precisely what’s waiting for us at their stable.”

“We’re going to try and be as prepared as we can,” the violet unicorn affirmed, “I’ve identified some capable Housecarls and Razor Beaks; they’re making some modifications to our gear,” her expression soured slightly, “partially based on the changes that Arginine made to his energy rifle. I’m scrounging some spark batteries and Starlight says she can make a few passable targeting talismans. With luck, we’ll have some heavier firepower ready to go by the time we get to their stable.

“If they don’t open up, we should be able to burn our way through quick enough,” she then looked in my direction, “I’ve got your barding ready to go, by the way. I did a little more tweaking with the bracers. The output should be quite a bit higher now, so even those big bastards should go down in a hit or two.”

I winced as I remembered what a direct strike from one of those old energy bracers had done to a living pony when I’d struck them directly, “thanks, but...I’m actually curious if there’s a way to make them less lethal?”

“Excuse me?” the violet unicorn said, surprised.

Even Ramparts looked a little confounded by my request, “...you want to be less effective in battle?”

I shook my head, “no, I just want to be less lethal,” I stressed, “I don’t want to kill anypony I don’t have to anymore.”

“Usually war is one of those times when killing others is a ‘have to’ kind of deal,” Ramparts pointed out, “otherwise, the other pony is going to kill you or somepony else on your side.”

“I know that,” I said, feeling my resolve beginning to buckle beneath the scrutiny of two ponies whose opinions I genuinely respected quit a bit, but a little yellow pony with a pink mane in the back of my mind silently urged me onward, “but I want to know if there’s a way to modify my bracers so that they still take a pony out of the fight, but maybe not kill them outright? There’re are other ways to deal with ponies,” I pointed out, “Starlight’s used magic to freeze them before,” I looked to Foxglove, “I put Tommyknocker to sleep that one time using drugs,” then I found myself frowning unhappily, “Celestia knows I’ve been taken out of commission with drugs and magic often enough…

“I just need to know if there’s a way to do it for me?”

Foxglove sighed and shook her head, “no, Windfall, there’s nothing that I can do to your bracers that’ll let them do what you’re asking―”

“With my help there is!”

All three of us looked towards the barracks entrance, startled, to find Starlight Glimmer approaching. The pink unicorn mare was wearing a pleasantly bemused expression on her face as she looked at me. Her horn was glowing as she passed a small pouch over to a surprised Foxglove, “here’re the talismans that you wanted. They’ll probably only work for an hour or two though.

“Did I hear you right?” she asked, turning her full attention towards me now, “you want a non-lethal option for your weapons?”

“Yeah,” I cautiously confirmed, “you can really do something about that?”

“Of course! I mean, not immediately,” the pink mare amended, “but if I can get my hooves on a couple of quality gems―and I mean, really good quality―and some silver of at least Bittania quality or better, I can make the changes you want. It won’t even be that hard.”

“Really?” that actually surprised me quite a bit. Mostly because I’d always come to regard Foxglove as the most technologically capable pony that I knew, and she’d seemed to be of the opinion that my request wasn’t possible to fulfill, “you know about engineering and stuff?”

“Oh, Celestia no!” Starlight chuckled, earning a perplexed look from me; but she elaborated before I could ask for clarification, “but I do know talismans!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

The unicorn rolled her eyes and sighed, exchanging a sympathetic look with Foxglove, “Celestia save us from the ponies who don’t know anything about the very technology that keeps them alive, am I right?” the other mare barely suppressed a chortle of her own as Starlight dove into a more detailed explanation, reaching out with her levitation magic to snatch an energy rifle from the nearby pile. She brought the weapon up to her face and scrutinized the casing, slowly rotating it until she finally found what she appeared to be looking for, “ah ha!”

There were a few audible clicks and snaps, and suddenly a panel came off of the energy rifle. A second later, Starlight had extracted a glittering emerald that seemed to glow with a faint internal light. She held the jewel out to me so that I could get a better look at it, and I immediately noticed that the emerald was covered in silvery tracings of various runes that I couldn’t make any sense out of, “this is a talisman,” the mare began, “the heart of most pony technology. It’s responsible for shaping the raw mana being fed into it from a spark battery into a coherent spell.

“In this case,” her tone immediately took on a sour tone, “it’s a heat spell. A very potent one, that borders on outright incineration,” she sighed and replaced the emerald in the weapon, closing up the panel once more and tossing the weapon back onto the pile none too gently, “sometimes it even crosses that border. That’s why some ponies get turned into ash.”

“So what’s that got to do with my bracers?”

Starlight frowned, “it’s got everything to do with your bracers. Somewhere in them, they have a gem just like that emerald, and that emerald has a spell matrix carved into it. Making your bracers non-lethal is as easy as putting a new talisman in them with a different matrix.”

“Really? That’s it?” I looked between both Starlight and Foxglove, seeking confirmation from the violet unicorn mare.

The engineer looked a bit more skeptical though, “it’s not quite that easy,” she countered, “a talisman like that would have to be made, like Starlight said, from a really high-quality gemstone. Plus, the pony making it would also have to know the spell inside and out in order to make the runes to duplicate it. Just knowing the spell isn’t enough. You have to know the mana theory behind the spell,” she rolled her eyes, “not to mention being about to have it compensate for background leiline interferences and not be overly influenced by the users own aura.

“No offense,” she said to Starlight, gesturing at the sack that had just recently been delivered, “but making a bunch of knock-off targeting talismans is a lot different from creating the kind of matrix you’re talking about. There’s a reason that ponies in the Wasteland aren’t just stamping out new rifles. Heck, even the Rangers don’t have the resources to manufacture new tech like that, right?” she looked to Ramparts for confirmation.

“All of their gear looks like it’s two hundred years old,” the stallion confirmed, “just like everything the Republic uses. Mostly,” he added after a brief moment’s thought, “making new powder and lead firearms is quite a bit easier than making new magical energy weapons.”

The pink unicorn favored the other two ponies with a flat look, “...hi, I’m not sure we’ve been introduced; my name is Starlight Glimmer and I was born and raised in Equestria, where I literally spent decades in the best unicorn academies ever established, learning magic from the brightest minds of my generation.

“I then went on to invent a whole new branch of magic based entirely on cutie mark manipulation. Magic. Is. My. Life,” she jabbed a hoof at the wand on her flank for emphasis, “so, yeah, for me it’s exactly as easy as I make it sound. Heck, the hardest part is going to be figuring out what spell to use!

She sat down and withdrew the tomes and scrolls that she’d procured during our brief visit to the Ministry of Arcane Science Hub in Old Reino and started flipping through the pages as she muttered to herself, “it can’t be a simple sleep spell, because they’ll just wake up almost immediately from the sounds of battle. A petrification spell would leave them frozen in place, but they’ll probably just end up getting shot anyway because they’ll still look like they’re in the middle of attacking, or shooting, or whatever. Numbing magic might work,” she mused, “it’d be nearly impossible for them to move or fight without being able to feel their bodies…” she rubbed her chin as she contemplated her available options.

“I may ultimately have to go with a blend of spells,” she concluded in a somewhat reluctant tone, “that would make the matrix a lot more complex, as well as a lot more sensitive to even tiny fluctuations in energy flow,” she looked back at Foxglove, “are the bracers still tied in to her barding’s thrusters?” the violet unicorn nodded, prompting a grunt from Starlight, “surges from the engines and levitation systems would play havoc on a multi-spell talisman…” she continued to flip through the pages of her tomes, glancing between them in quick succession, “I need to find a singular spell that fits the bill―ah ha!”

Starlight Glimmer jabbed her hoof at the pages of one of her spell books before flipping around the hovering grimoire and shoving it into my face. Not that I had any luck making sense of the seemingly random assortment of glyphs and diagrams that filled the indicated pages, “anestogia comatatos!”

“Gazuntite” Ramparts quipped, earning a brief glare from the pink unicorn.

“It’s a spell that Equestrian doctors used to use in order to render a patient unconscious before surgical procedures,” Starlight explained, withdrawing the book in order to read off some of the spell’s attributes, “a pony under its effects ceases to respond to any outside stimuli whatsoever. No amount of pain or physical injury is capable of waking them up. Which makes sense, seeing as how the ponies it was being used on where about to be cut into and such.”

“How long does it last?” Ramparts asked, “some fights can last a good while.”

“Most surgeries last hours,” the unicorn noted as she scanned the page for a concrete answer to the stallion’s question, “here we go: it can either be deliberately ended with a counter-spell or it eventually fades after about twelve hours,” she glanced up at the earth pony with a smug smile, “I assume that’s long enough?”

“So you’re telling me that you can modify our weapons to knock out the enemy without hurting them at all?” Starlight had my full attention now, “that’s amazing! Especially if it’s not affected by armor the same way that energy weapons normally are, we could take their whole army out of the fight without anypony getting hurt at all. This is exactly what we need to―”

“Woah, woah!” the pink unicorn interrupted, bringing me to silence, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I mean, yeah, technically,” she stressed the qualifier, “given enough time and resources I could modify every energy weapon to fire a comatatos spell instead of an incineration spell, but that would take months.”

“What?”

“I can’t whip up something like that in the blink of an eye,” the unicorn insisted, “and a potent spell like this would take a lot out of even a unicorn like me,” she looked over the spell one more time, “I could cast something like this...maybe six times in a day? But it’s a lot harder to imbue a spell into a talisman than to cast it normally.

“Never mind the twenty-odd pounds of silver I’d need of Bittania quality or higher―and the gemstones,” she gestured at the rifles, “I can’t reuse any of the stones in those. Stripping them of their existing spell matrixes will damage them too much to be usable as weapons-grade talismans anymore.”

I frowned, looking over to Foxglove, “but you used to repurpose talismans for me all the time?”

“Not really,” the violet mare shook her head, “I wasn’t putting new spells onto them,” she corrected, “I was using the existing matrix, just splitting it into smaller pieces. Starlight’s right, we don’t have what’s needed to forge talismans for all these weapons. I’d be genuinely impressed if we found the two that your bracers would need.”

“Actually, I think I could do it with one,” the other mare mused, “especially if her barding is only going to have the single power source anyway,” she looked back to me, “though that would mean the spell would work on contact only, since the bracers wouldn’t actually be ‘projecting’ the spell anymore, like they do now. They’d be more like ‘spell applicators’.”

“I have to punch them asleep? I can deal with that,” I assured her, “do you think you can actually do it?”

“If I can get the materials,” Starlight said by way of a caveat, “I’ll go ahead and see what I can track down,” and with that, she nodded at the others and headed out of the barracks.

Not long after Starlight Glimmer was out of sight, Foxglove sighed, “and I’d better go touch base with the Housecarls and make sure we’re good on their front,” she flashed Ramparts a smile, “stay safe out there, alright?”

“I’ll make an effort,” the brown courser agreed. Then the violet mare was gone as well.

“And I guess I’ll―” I snapped my jaw shut, my eyes growing wide as a deep rumbling sound appeared to echo through the immediate area, drawing looks from Ramparts and a few other nearby ponies. I felt my cheek burning with embarrassment as I cleared my throat, “...go find some lunch,” I shook my head and trotted for the exit, “I guess both of us did miss breakfast after all…”

“‘Us’ who?” I heard a slightly perplexed Ramparts ask just before I left earshot and turned towards Sandy’s bar in search of nourishment, prompting a snigger from both of the mares.

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 53: MEMORIES ARE MADE OF THIS

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"Too many ponies have opinions on things they know nothing about; and the more ignorant they are, the more opinions they have."

“Hello, Wasteland! The one and only DJ PON3 is back, once again, bringing all of my little ponies the truth, no matter how bad it hurts,” the distant Manehattan radio personality proclaimed through my pipbuck’s speakers as I listened to the news broadcast while perched on a cliff overlooking the stable that Jackboot, Foxglove, and I had found raided by Arginine’s stable half a year ago. Sweet, Celestia, had it really been so long since that day? “Fortunately,” the distant DJ went on, ignorant of my own idle musings, “most of what I have to share today won’t hurt all that much. I say that because our favorite Wasteland heroine, the Stable Dweller, is fresh on her way from removing one threat to dealing with another.

“You’d have thought that stopping Red Eye would be enough, but nope! I have gotten confirmed reports that she just blew up a nest full of mutant alicorns―with a genuine balefire bomb no less! Not only did she survive,” I heard more than a little relief in the stallion’s deep voice. If I didn’t know anymore, I’d have sworn that the Stable Dweller had an admirer, “but she’s not wasting any time in calling out the Pegasus Enclave on their shenanigans either. Word is that they’re getting extra ornery, and our little stable-born unicorn hero is having none of it.

“Stay tuned for updates, my little ponies, as we find out if the stubborn mare cleaning up Manehattan can finally get those turkeys off our case once and for all. In the meantime, here’s some Count Bison to put your minds at ease!”

As the DJ’s voice was replaced by the deep tenor of a bufalo two hundred years dead, I found myself letting out a long, resigned, sigh. My own little part of the Wasteland seemed so big to me sometimes that I often forgot that there was a whole wide world out there with problems of their own. Hearing some of these reports, I had to wonder if what I was dealing with was even the biggest threat to ponykind. Part of me even idly wondered if the ponies from Arginine’s stable would be up to the challenge of surviving in the Wasteland. Thus far, they’d only ambushed caravans and unsuspecting stables and a tribe of warriors already embroiled in anarchy.

Not exactly insurmountable threats.

I’d like to have seen General Constance contend with a hell hound as big as a house, or survive the wandering radiation storms of Old Reino―which, I supposed, no longer existed. I’d never met one of these ‘alicorns’ that DJ PON3 was talking about, but they didn’t sound like particularly pleasant types either; or pushovers, if a pony as tough as the Stable Dweller had needed a balefire bomb to put a stop to them.

Never mind The Grand Pegasus Enclave! They’d tear these stable ponies a new flank hole. Not that they gave two feathers about surface politics. At least, generally speaking. It seemed odd to me to hear that they were taking such an interest in Manehattan. I had to wonder what all of that was about…

Perhaps someday I’d find out. Right now though, I was a lot more interested in getting Ramparts’ latest report; which should be coming through―as I checked the time on my pipbuck―now.

“Ramparts to Windfall.”

These military types sure were punctual, I thought to myself with a smile, “Windfall here. How’re you doing, Ramps?”

“I’m fine, but you may finally be running out of luck. Constance’s force’s made camp earlier that usual tonight. There seemed to be a little confusion in the ranks as well. I don’t think anypony was expecting them to halt this early,” the courser informed me.

“What do you think it means?”

“I think they’re turning around,” he said bluntly, “Constance might be thinking of splitting her forces, but it’d be too much to hope that she’d make the same mistake twice. My guess is that they’re halting early to get some rest and then head back for Shady Saddles before dawn. These ponies move pretty fast for any army this size,” Ramparts remarked, sounding more than a little annoyed at the fact, “they could be back outside the town by the next morning at the earliest if they really feel like pushing themselves.”

It was my turn to sound annoyed now, “we’re still two days away from their stable,” I noted, “and that’s at the earliest too,” we’d been making decent time for a group of a hundred and fifty ponies, I had to admit, but we were still moving a good bit slower than our small group of friends had been able to manage. It turned out that an army―even a tiny one like ours―needed to carry a lot more baggage than simple Wasteland wanderers; and that weight was dragging us down.

I glanced at my pipbuck’s map and noted the location of Ramparts tag. I compared how far he was from Shady Saddles to how far away we were, and the distance that we had yet to go. What I was seeing wasn’t very comforting. If Constance wanted to, she could bypass Shady Saddles and catch our force before it had managed to reach her stable. Which meant that we couldn’t risk letting her know what we were up to quite yet.

On the other hoof, if we waited too long, Constance might simply decide that she was close enough to the town that razing it to the ground wouldn’t take up a significant amount of time before diverting to catch us. Our margin was going to be razor-thin on this.

Apparently, Ramparts was just as aware of this fact as I was, “my team and I was been discussing a plan to try and buy you some time. With luck, we’ll be able to slow them down quite a bit.”

I wasn't sure how much I liked the sound of that. Ramparts’ little reconnaissance group consisted of about a dozen ponies. They’d armed themselves to the withers for a team their size, to be sure, but I couldn’t see them lasting more than a few minutes if they were confronted directly with any significant forces from Constance’s army, “don’t do anything too reckless,” I cautioned, “you guys are a lot more valuable to us alive than dead.”

“Don’t worry,” the distant earth pony assured me, “we don’t intend to get ourselves into any trouble we don’t think we can get out of; but we’re not just going to sit here on our hooves and watch everything fall apart either. If we can buy you another day, we’re going to do it,” the stallion insisted.

Whatever reservations I might have been feeling despite all of his assurances, it wasn’t like I was in any sort of position to do anything to stop him. I just had to trust that the former Republic courser knew what he was doing, “alright,” I finally relented, “stay safe. Call in when they start moving again.”

“Will do. Good night; Ramparts out.”

With that, the frequency went silent once more, leaving me to sit on my outcropping while my mind continued to entertain worrisome scenarios where Ramparts plans went awry and got him killed. A tiny little part of me wondered if that concern was a sign of me already starting to become a ‘mom’. After all, Ramparts was a lot older and more experienced than I was in this sort of thing. If anypony should be worried about anypony, he should be the one concerned about me. After all, I was the mare who was about to storm a fortified stronghold that had already survived a balefire apocalypse.

Fortunately, brighter minds than mine had already been hard at work during this trip coming up with ways to address that. Foxglove, having spent her formative years in a stable herself, and been very thoroughly educated in said stable, had already come up with a number of possible ways to breach the Old World bunker. In fact, she had been practicing them for the last couple of hours on the systems of the stable that we were currently camped at. While the ponies that had once lived here might have had to open their fortified door to the Wasteland in order to avoid suffocation, their electronic security systems had remained completely intact.

As all of the stables were designed and constructed by the same company―Stable-Tec―the security architecture that was employed by all of the stables was largely identical, save for the off protocol or two. The violet unicorn was working with Homily and Moonbeam to find a way to use the hacking software of the Ministry of Awesome to create a universal override for stable locks. Arginine had also been involved in their development sessions, though his in-depth knowledge of the security side of things at his stable was limited.

Not having much to contribute to such a project at all, I’d instead taken myself out on ‘patrols’. While most of my time had indeed been spent genuinely scouting out the surrounding area for any signs that Arginine’s stable had posted sentry teams to act as an early warning system for their stable’s defense, a significant portion of it had also been spent on more introspective matters.

Specifically, I’d been wrestling with my relentlessly twirling moral compass.

Word had gotten around among the mercenaries that ‘The Wonderbolt’ no longer had the stomach for fighting. Which was a pretty big deal when one considered that my reputation in the Neighvada Valley had effectively been built upon that specific pillar: The Wonderbolt was likely the best fighter in this part of the Wasteland.

Everypony in the valley knew that I’d faced down the Steel Rangers largely alone and managed to make them blink―twice―something that the entire New Lunar Republican army hadn’t been able to manage in nearly two decades! Everypony had heard about how I’d also wiped out the Lancers. Homily, in her role as Miss Neighvada, had seemingly glossed over a few details in the telling of that story. Just as she’d bent a few facts regarding how Jackboot, Foxglove, and I had cleared out the shapeshifting monsters that had previously inhabited McMaren.

The point was that The Wonderbolt had a certain reputation. A reputation that had played no small part in why the Housecarls, Hecate, Harlots, and even the Razor Beaks, had been willing to sign on with my contract in the first place. Yeah, they had stayed because of the money, but I had serious doubts that they’d have even bothered to show up to the initial meeting in the first place if it hadn’t been for the fact that they knew a pony like me to be genuinely capable. That sort of thing went a long way with professional ponies who were used to having to deal with ignorant rich-types that made up the bulk of mercenary contract holders in New Reino.

It was refreshing to work with a pony who at least had some understanding of what were―and what were not―reasonable expectations where combat was concerned. Based on the reputation that I’d been building for myself, they’d regarded The Wonderbolt as being such a pony.

Now that was all being cast into doubt.

I could only surmise that somepony in the guard barracks back in Shady Saddles had overheard my conversation with Starlight and Foxglove about modifying my equipment to lower my lethality. Which had come on the heels of my controversial decision to spare the life of a known traitor that had lured Constance and her army to the town where we’d been staging, costing many of both the local defenders, and the very mercenaries I had hired, their lives. Frankly, the only reason that I’d been able to get away with doing that had been because of the massive amount of good will that my persona had garnered with the ponies of the valley. Without Miss Neighvada singing my praises for the last few months, I’d never have been able to get away with that.

However, it was looking like I’d effectively used up the last of my clout. All that was keeping the mercenaries here was the money they’d been promised once everything was complete; and even that might not be enough if I came across as making any more ‘reckless’ decisions. These ponies were used to doing all of the heavy-lifting while their employer sat back and filed their hooves, so my insistence in personally avoiding killing anypony wasn’t new to them; but it wasn’t something that they had expected from me personally.

Having so many ponies question that decision―to include a couple of my own close friends―was weighing pretty heavily on me. The only pony that I really had in my corner right now was Starlight Glimmer, and even the two of us weren’t seeing eye-to-eye on everything. She completely agreed with me that killing the ponies in Arginine’s stable wasn’t high up on her list of desires either; but she’d also made no secret of the fact that she intended to hit everypony there with the mother of all Reform Spells once we’d secured the facility. It frustrated even her that I was in opposition to that course of action too.

On the one hoof, I knew my own feelings. I might not have been able to completely explain them―which sure wasn’t helping matters―but that didn’t change how strong those feelings were: killing ponies and mind-wiping ponies were not how we were going to fix the Wasteland. There was a better way. I didn’t know what it was at the moment, but I knew deep down that it existed. My inability to articulate what that mysterious method was also frustrated Starlight.

It was starting to frustrate me too, in all honesty. If for no other reason than because my ignorance was causing me to doubt my newfound convictions. After all, if I didn’t know what the better alternative to killing was, then how could I genuinely be sure that there was one? I was just some young filly being confronted by hundreds of ponies who all held an opposing point of view. Logically, it was really hard to deny which of the two sides was most likely to be in the wrong.

Especially since my own opinions were based upon a ‘dream’ that I’d recently had. Mostly, anyway. Killing hadn’t been sitting right with me for a while now―perhaps even longer than I’d realized, it turned out. However, it had only been recently that I discovered the reason behind that feeling: I’d misinterpreted my own cutie mark. It hadn’t helped that saving certain ponies had often involved fighting and killing other ponies, leading to a rather confusing mixture of glee and guilt that I’d turned to alcohol to sort out. In hindsight, that hadn’t been the best solution, but even Jackboot hadn’t been the best teacher on those particular topics, it turned out.

The fact that I’d been wrong before also wasn’t doing much to help convince myself that I wasn’t wrong now. Maybe I was still an ignorant little filly who was too stupid and naive to accept that killing really was how problems as big as Arginine’s stable needed to be solved. After all, if just about every other pony in the world felt that way, then who was most likely to be wrong: the world, or me?

Even The Stable Dweller and The Security Mare seemed to feel that way. Those radio updates from the distant reaches of the rest of the Wasteland were rife with reports of those two contemporary heroines cleaving their way through one group of monsters and ponies to the next. I’d literally just sat through a broadcast announcing that The Stable Dweller had committed genocide! She was one of the most renowned ‘good ponies’ in the world, and was using weapons of mass destruction to fix the Wasteland.

Who was I to question a pony like her?

Yet, here I was, sitting alone―and simultaneously beneath the invisible gaze of five sets of pitying eyes―wrestling with my own conviction that The Stable Dweller may, in fact, have been wrong. Even thinking that felt tantamount to heresy, given the prevailing opinion of DJ PON3 and the residents of Manehattan and the obvious good that they all felt she was doing. But, even so, I couldn’t shake this newly entrenched idea that there was another way―a better way―that had been lost to time.

...or I was a complete nut-job and this was all just pregnancy hormones fucking with me.

I let out a frustrated groan and fell backwards, looking up at the dark overcast clouds. My hoof snaked out to my nearby saddlebags and I pulled out a box of Sugar Apple Bombs and began munching. The other thing that this pregnancy was doing to me was sending my metabolism into overdrive or something. I was constantly hungry these days. Starlight, being the only pony who’d experienced pregnancy in our group, had assured me this was largely normal. As were a few of my more outlandish cravings that even I was finding a little concerning.

I’d actually diverted from my flight earlier that day and hunted down a radroach. Didn’t even cook the thing. Just pounced on it, crushed it to death, ate it, and resumed my flight. Thinking back on it right now with a ―mostly―clear head, I felt a little nauseous; but at the time, it had been one of the tastiest things that I’d ever eaten in my life.

Kid, no offense, but the sooner you’re out of me, the better...and I wasn’t just saying that because my barding was starting to get really uncomfortable. It had been over a week since I’d even tried to wear my Wonderbolt barding, not since my confrontation with that group of White Hooves, but in that time it seemed that I’d gained enough girth that I had to noticeably suck in when trying to buckle a couple of the straps. It wasn’t uncomfortable―yet―but I had no doubts that would be changing in a few more weeks.

Which, of course, presumed that any of us were still alive in a few weeks.

On that note, it was probably a good idea to touch base with the ponies who’d been charged with saving the valley. Even if they weren’t doing it for entirely altruistic reasons, I thought with a bitter smirk as I took wing and glided down to the camp below.

I frowned as I saw the layout of our forces from above. While it might not have appeared so from the ground, there were some pretty clear divisions between the groups that were plainly visible from the air. All four of the mercenary factions, as well as a much smaller fifth ‘faction’ of Shady Saddles ponies who’d volunteered to come along with us, were all camped out in distinct little cliques, interacting as little as possible with one another. I might not have been an experienced tactical leader, but I felt like it wasn’t the best sign that the various parts of our army didn’t feel like at least trying to get to know one another.

With a flurry of wing-beats, I alit on the ground among the Harlots and looked around for Hemlock. She didn’t turn out to be particularly hard to find as it turned out. Or, rather, she didn’t she it particularly hard to find me, “good evening,” I heard the mare’s sultry tone from behind just a couple seconds after I landed, “and to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

I turned around and blinked, caught off my guard by the sight of the mare. While her normal attire of form-fitting black leather could be charitably described as ‘alluring’, what she was wearing right now was downright seductive; to the point that I found myself doing a quick mental confirmation about my own carnal leanings. At the very least, her sheer silken pink robe caused my words to catch for a few seconds before I finally managed to clear my throat and speak again, “just...getting a feel for how everypony is doing,” I began, wincing slightly at the slight heady tone of my voice, “you seem...relaxed.”

The unicorn mare’s bright eyes veritably sparkled with amusement as she gave her head a brief shake, sending her shimmering mane bouncing about her features, “just because we’re ‘in the field’, there’s no reason why we can’t still enjoy some of the comforts to which we’ve grown accustomed,” she insisted. There was a brief pause while she studied me intently, a smile tugging at her pursed lips, “come,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of her tent, “why don’t you come in and relax for a few minutes; let me touch up your mane for you. A general should look at least somewhat inspiring, no?”

I frowned, running my wing through my mane. It had been touched up not too long ago in New Reino, but the couple weeks since then certainly hadn’t been kind to any part of me. Hemlock certainly seemed to have no problem keeping herself looking pristine out of the city though, “um, sure, I guess,” what could it hurt?

“Excellent! Lunette,” the mercenary leader called out to another nearby mare, “be a dear and bring by my bottle of Cheval Pierre, please?” she paused for another brief moment, looking me over once more, the adding, “and some soft cider as well,” the mare she’d been addressing bowed her head and trotted out of sight while Hemlock turned around and motioned with her tail for me to follow, “let’s go talk, shall we?”

The leader of the Harlots didn’t seem to travel like any mercenary that I’d ever encountered before, I found myself thinking as I stepped through into the palatial tent that served both as Hemlock’s private sleeping chamber as well as her ‘war room’ to coordinate with her fighters. Yet, even in that regard, it certainly had its own style about it, with the floor veritably completely covered in surprisingly soft and brightly colored pillows of all shapes and sizes. The mercenary leader claimed a lush pile of them for herself, pausing briefly to adjust her robe, before patting another pile nearby, “let’s get that barding off of you so that we can talk while all nice and relaxed, hm?”

I hesitated for a few moments, a little put off by the atmosphere of the tent’s interior. As though sensing my apprehension, the unicorn mare smiled pleasantly at me, “oh, come now; I promise I don’t bite,” she thought for a moment, “except for my fifth husband. But I only did that the one time, and only because I’d told him, ‘not in the mouth’,” the grin she flashed me revealed a great many teeth beneath her briefly vicious eyes before her features softed once more, “but somehow I don’t think that’ll be an issue with you,” she chuckled.

“Right…” I nodded absently, trying to puzzle out what she was talking about as I made my way over to the pile of cushions that she’d gestured to. As I settled down, I found myself eying her curiously, “are you...flirting with me?”

Hemlock blinked in mild surprise for a few seconds, just before she burst out laughing, “oh, goodness; I suppose it does sound like it, doesn’t it?” her laughter subsided and she produced an elegantly carved ivory hair brush, “sorry. I don’t mean anything by it; just a force of habit, I suppose,” I felt my tail begin to lift into the air, held aloft by the glowing magic of her horn’s telekinesis as she began to gently but firmly deal with the tangles that it had gathered since last being tended to, “when you’ve entertained clients for as long as I have, some things just tend to become habit.”

“So the ponies who hire you like it better when you talk like a...well, no offense,” I mumbled nervously, “but you kind of come off sounding like a prostitute sometimes.”

Again the mare paused briefly before being overtaken by yet another raucous boudt of laughter, “only ‘sometimes’? Dear me, I must be losing my edge after all these years!” she resumed brushing my tail, a grin spread across her face, “oh, you sweet little filly, I am a prostitute,” she said before shrugging, “or, to be more precise: I am a Madame, who oversees a staff of prostitutes.”

I blinked wordlessly at the mare, my eyes wide with shock. This only drew forth additional chortles from the mercenary leader, “come now; with a name like The Harlots, I didn’t think that we were being particularly subtle about things! Did you really not do any research into who you were hiring?”

A frown creased my features and I found myself looking away from her in mild embarrassment. She certainly had a good point there. I’d been nowhere near as attentive to what was going on around me as I should have been for a long while. That certainly needed to change; and better sooner than later, “Ramparts was in charge of recruitment,” I offered by way of a meek excuse, which even I acknowledged wasn’t a particularly good one, “and I never really bothered to look too closely at who mercenaries were,” I admitted, “I always figured they were just bigger groups of ponies like Jackboot and I were: ponies who did work killing other ponies for money.”

Hemlock nodded, “I suppose, as a general rule, that’s an acceptable―if rather broad―way of looking at ponies like us,” the mare said as her brush continued to diligently attend to my tail, “but some mercenary groups didn’t start as mercenary groups. Their origins were far more...organic than a bunch of ponies coming together to fight for caps. In the case of the Harlots, our group was founded about eighty years ago, by my grandmother.”

“Your grandmother started a mercenary company?” I didn’t bother to hide my genuine surprise, “why?”

“Well, strictly speaking, she didn’t,” Hemlock corrected, chuckling again at the look of confusion plainly visible upon my face; then she elaborated, “brothels have been the family business...well, probably since before the bombs fell, really. So far as I know, at any rate.

“As a result, my family has always had a pretty firm grasp of what makes for a successful business like ours. Believe it or not, there’s more to it than bringing together a few mares who are a bit more liberal with lifting their tails than most. Though, there certainly is that,” she said with a knowing wink, “but among those keys to success are having the right mares―and stallions, if you want to broaden the customer base―getting in with the right regulars, and having enough muscle on hoof to keep things civil.

“Trust me, nothing brings out the worst in ponies than seeing a pretty flank and wanting more of it than you’re allowed to have,” the mare’s expression soured briefly before warming once more, “usually, we can rely on the local security forces for most of the latter. But, there have been times when that very security wasn’t so...secure.

“During my grandmother’s time, New Reino entered a period of, shall we say: ‘deficient civility’. The local guardsponies started to prefer being paid in flesh rather than caps,” she grunted in disdain, “and to hear her tell things, they started to ratchet up the ‘price’ to the point that some of the guards all but moved in. It reached a point where the staff weren’t so much ‘working mares’ as they were the guards’ personal comfort mares.”

“That sounds like it must have been pretty bad,” I agreed, “how’d they get it to stop?”

“It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t happen overnight,” Hemlock acknowledged, “but my grandmother was a patient mare. She also knew how to manipulate ponies. You don’t last long as a Madame if you don’t,” she added with another wink, “and she knew that the only thing that guardponies liked better than dominating mares in bed, was proving to those mares why they deserved to. Specifically: proving how oh-so-good they were at ‘protecting’ them.

“Those stallions didn’t think anything of the house’s mares taking a sudden interest in learning about shooting, because to them it meant that they got to show off how ‘amazing’ they were. Same with the hoof-to-hoof and wrestling; especially when the mares made a big show of ‘losing’ those wrestling bouts,” a wicked smile spread across Hemlock’s features, “but you can still learn an awful lot from ‘losing’.”

That much I had to agree with, and I nodded knowingly. Jackboot had not been a patronizing teacher in my youth while showing me everything that he’d known about hoof-to-hoof combat. But, by studying everything that he was doing to win, I started to lose less and less soundly, until I could eventually hold my own against even the bigger, stronger, and more experienced earth pony stallion who’d raised me.

“When they felt they were ready, they threw the guardponies out. Not very gently either. As you can imagine, they didn’t like that very much and they tried to do something about it,” that vicious look was back in the unicorn’s eyes, “they very quickly learned that Tartarus hath no fury like a mare scorned. The mares didn’t have any more trouble after that; and my grandmother didn’t service any more guardponies until they’d paid enough in ‘back fees’ that she could have retired a very wealthy pony, even by New Reino standards.

“Instead, she invested that money into weapons, barding, and expert instructors to make sure that she and her mares were always able to do their own protecting. She also bought out brothels across the valley, and she made sure that they all adopted those practices too.

“When a pony applies for a position in one of my establishments, they spend just as much time being trained at a gun range as they do being trained in ‘bedroom etiquette’,” Hemlock smiled broadly as she reached up with the brush and began to work on my mane, “the New Reino guards don’t seem to mind all that much these days. The way they see it, they don’t need to worry about rowdy, horny, ponies causing too much trouble, since my mares can deal with them just as well―if not better―than the actual security forces. And in a place like New Reino, that basically cuts their workload by about half,” she chuckled, “and who doesn’t like to get paid the same amount for doing less work?”

“So...why the mercenary stuff then?” I ventured, “I mean, I can understand wanting to be able to look after yourselves. In fact, I think that’s pretty awesome,” and that was quite true, “but what do you get out of taking up jobs like this?”

The other mare smiled warmly, “that was my mother’s idea. Grandmother was mostly just concerned about looking after her own, but Mother was a bit more outward-looking,” she waggled the brush at me, “but she wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of her heart either,” she resumed brushing, “she just realized that if more caravans made it to their destinations, the more ponies there would be for her and her mares to entice into their beds.

“She also briefly ran an ‘Escort via Escort’ business,” she continued, “where working mares would sign on with caravans to provide protection as well as something of a ‘turndown’ service,” she smiled, though there was a slight bitterness to it, “but it turned out that it was hard to keep a vigilant eye on the perimeter while sucking off the caravan. After a few spectacular failures in that regard, and far too many good mares being carried away by White Hooves and other raider groups, the Harlots adopted our current policy of: ‘tails tucked while out and about.’,” again she winked at me, “so, don’t worry about me trying anything with you or anypony else. Every Harlot here―including me―is staying celibate until we’re back in New Reino.

“After that, if you want to drop by and find out why ponies pay a thousand caps for an hour of my time…” she let the offer hang in the air.

A thousand caps for an hour? What could she possibly do that would incline ponies to pay that kind of money to―. You know what? It didn’t matter, “I like stallions,” I blurted, and immediately blushed.

“I can tell,” she chuckled, “and, personally, so do I―hence why I’ve had to many husbands. But, just because you ‘like’ stallions doesn’t mean that you can’t still ‘have fun’ with mares,” she shrugged and continued to brush at my mane, “but that’s fine. Maybe just to chat then?

“Another things that Madames like myself are good at is having a keen eye for capable mares,” Hemlock nodded, “and I can tell that you’re one to watch,” both of us glanced up at the sound of the front tent flap rustling. It was the mare from earlier, balancing a tray which contained a bottle of wine and two glasses, one of which was already filled with an amber fluid. The mercenary commander smiled broadly, “ah! Thank you, Lunette; I’ve made myself absolutely parched chatting off our guest’s ears!” she floated the tray over using her magic and set it down beside us, flashing another smirk in my direction as she poured out a glass of the white wine for herself, “I hope you’re ready for a second round!”

I felt my cheeks grow a little warmer beneath her sultry gaze. Objectively worth the caps she charged for her time or not, it was pretty easy to see how she was able to talk ponies into paying those sorts of amounts; Hemlock was very charismatic. She was also―my wavering heterosexuality was forced to concede―drop dead gorgeous. Barely even aware, I found myself nodding along with her as my wing reached out and took up my glass of cider and brought it to my lips.

The moment the liquid touched my pallette, I balked and gave the contents of the glass a sniff. This drew a chuckle from the unicorn mare, “no worries, dear, it’s soft cider. No alcohol,” she took a rather long sip from her own flute and let out a relaxed sigh before smiling warmly at me, “perfectly safe for baby.”

My face drained in surprise and I glanced with wide eyes at my belly. Even at Lancet’s estimated five months, I had been positive that I wasn’t showing―at least not noticeably. I’d noticed some places on my body that were a bit...fuller than they’d been a month or two ago, but there was no way that it should have been nearly as obvious to anypony else. Especially not anypony who hadn’t even known me a few months ago!

“How…?” I began in a tone that wasn’t―quite―suspicious of the mare.

Hemlock let out another bubbly laugh, “oh, please! After having three foals of my own, a mare can tell these sorts of things,” she beamed, taking another sip of her wine, “if it helps, it’s nothing that I saw, per say―you still have an enviously firm figure. But mares have a...posture...about them when they’re in a way,” she nodded knowingly.

“Congratulations,” she lifted her glass and peered over the rim with a questioning eye, “I hope?”

“Yeah―I mean...kinda. Maybe?” Hemlock quirked an intrigued eyebrow, “I’ve always wanted foals,” I clarified, “just not quite this early on,” I added with a shrug. Then, after a long pause and with a sour expression, “or in the way that it probably happened,” another questioning look from the Madame. I debated saying anything further at first. On the other hoof, a pony like her, in her line of work, would probably understand better than most. Even if nothing like it had ever happened to her, she was likely to know another mare that it had happened to.

“Given how far along Doc Lancet says I am, there’s only one pony that could be the father,” I cleared my throat and took a swallow of my drink. Too bad it didn’t have any liquor after all, honestly, “...and it wasn’t ‘consensual’,” I finished.

“I see,” the mirth was gone from Hemlock’s eyes now, replaced by a pitying expression of one who likely had heard such confessions before, “I’m sorry to hear that,” a humorless smirk tugged at her lips as she poured out a second glass of wine for herself, “it’s far too common of a story out here,” she agreed, “and I suppose it says something that even a mare as big and strong as the Wonderbolt has a page in it.

“If it helps,” she continued, taking another drink of wine, “you seem to be coping well.”

“Thank you,” silence hung between us over the bitter subject, until I finally cleared my throat and tried to direct things to more pleasant topics, “you said you had three foals? I have to admit, I’m a little surprised.”

“Why?” the unicorn mare’s face instantly brightened, thankful as well to be talking about a lighting subject, “I’ve had more husbands than there are days of the week. Surely it’s not so odd that I have something to remember a few of them by?”

“I just...I dunno; I figure that foals are something that pros―erm...mares in your profession,” I corrected, earning a chuckle from the Madame-slash-mercenary, “try to avoid. Since it cuts down on, you know...work?”

“You’d be surprised what some stallions fancy in the mares they take into their beds,” Hemlock winked. I was starting to feel like it was something of a tick with her, “but, generally, you’re right. However, like I mentioned, my grandmother was a wealthy mare; and my mother didn’t exactly squander the family fortune.

“I could have gone my whole life without doing a single thing to earn a cap for myself and just taken my cut from the other ponies in my employ,” Hemlock pointed out, “I could have, but I didn’t. At the urging of my mother, I did my ‘time in the trenches’, as it were. Her feelings was that, if I was going to be taking the reins, I should know what my mares were going through. Otherwise, I’d have frankly made a shite Madame.”

The shock was difficult to hide on my face, “your mother had you...sleeping with ponies?”

“She certainly didn’t force me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Hemlock corrected sternly, “it was merely a condition of taking over the family business. Otherwise, I would have been left to merely be a wealthy heiress living off of my ancestors’ stupendous quantity of wealth for the rest of my life,” the last was said in a tone that was quite obviously meant to be satire. Her previously jovial demeanor returned in an instant, “in the end, I figured that since I was going to be toying around with New Reino’s most eligible bachelors either way, I might as well be in a position to charge them absolutely ludicrous amounts of money for the privilege!”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” I admitted with an eyeroll. Then a thought occurred to me, “but why get married so many times?”

“Because, deep down, I suppose that I’m something of a romantic,” the mare sighed, a warm smile plastered across her lips as a glossy look came over her expression, “there’s just something ever so flattering about a young colt promising to ‘take me away from this life’ and spoil me rotten as his blushing bride,” she chuckled, “the marriage rarely lasted much past the honeymoon, which is when I finally let them know that I could buy and sell their family a dozen times over and bid them a fond farewell,” she batted her eyes as her features took on a flirtatious appearance, “but only after I made sure to give them a weekend that left them far too weak and drained to chase after me.

“I’m nothing if not a generous lover,” Hemlock had leaned in close by this point. So close, in fact, that all it would have taken to kiss her was only slightly extending my own lips. The sweet, fruity, bouquet of the wine that she’d been drinking mingled upon her warm breath, filling my nostrils and fighting with the already flowery aroma of her perfume. Her eyes burrowed into mine, her pupils wide and inviting in the dim light of her tent, quivering slightly as they traced subtly over my muzzle, like she was plotting out how best to land the kiss that was sitting on the precipice between us.

“Right―” I choked out and launched immediately into a small coughing fit, only realizing now that I’d actually been doing a fair bit of leaning in her direction. I reseated myself and tried―vainly―to act as though I wasn’t refolding my outstretched wings. I slammed back the rest of my drink and was both thankful and resentful that there was no alcohol in it. Something to take the edge off my nerves would certainly have been quite welcome right about now. On the other hoof, I was fairly positive that even a sip of booze was all that it would take to errode my wavering restraint and give myself over to this siren.

Damn was she good!

Hemlock was looking more than a little satisfied by my reaction. Though, for a brief instant, I imagined that I saw the slightest hint of disappointment that I hadn’t taken up her invitation, “and, as I mentioned before, I got a few foals out of the deal as well. Two colts, five and one; and a filly, who will be four next month,” a resigned smile set itself upon her muzzle, though there was an amused glint in her eyes, “and she’s every bit her mother’s daughter. She’s managed to make herself into quite the hostess already,” she chuckled, “she’ll be more of a heartbreaker than I ever was, mark my words!

“The boys aren’t doing so bad either,” she went on, her whole attitude seeming to shift in an instant as she began to talk about her foals. Anypony could have been completely forgiven for not even recognizing this mare as the same pony whose bedroom eyes were apparently the stuff of legend!

“Dandy is barely off the teet, of course; so not much personality there yet. But Beau is turning into the quintessential ‘big brother’, and not just for his siblings. He’s out to look after each and every one of his ‘aunties’ and ‘uncles’ too. He’ll make a fine second-in-command for Nightshade when she eventually takes over for me in...oh, we’ll say another fifteen years?” Hemlock tapped her chin pensively, “heh, by that time I may actually be looking to nab a real husband,” she poured out a third glass, “if only so I’ll have somepony around to pour my evening wine for me,” she added with a smile and another wink.

I was smiling too by now, listening to the mare talk about her family and gushing over her children. There was a brief flash of burning loss―an old wound that would never be quite healed―as I thought back over my own older brother, Holstein. About our family, back when it had been one. I’d wanted that for a long time; and listening to Hemlock now, it was refreshing to know that it was something that could happen for ponies.

My wing subconsciously curved itself along my stomach. While this might not have been the time or way I’d envisioned starting that sort of life...I was glad that it was going to happen someday; and I was looking forward to talking about my foal the way that Hemlock was now: with hope for the future.

A future that we were on our way to ensure.

“Thanks for that,” I said to the mare, drawing a curious look, “for reminding me that there’s still a little bit of light in the world. You’re whole family is pretty inspiring,” I went on, “they’ve had some bad stuff happen to them in the past, but they were made stronger for it. I’m hoping I can live up to that kind of thing myself,” I finally put down my empty glass and stood up, noting how my mane and tail shifted so fluidly with my movements. I ran a few pinions through my mane and smiled at the Madame, “and thanks for the brushing too. I’ll have to remember to come back here in a few days for another session.”

The mare crossed her hooves and rested her chin upon them, grinning up at me broadly as I set about putting my barding back on, “my ‘sessions’ run quite a high price, sweetie, and tend to leave my customers with very matted and sweaty manes and coats,” she chuckled with a waggle of her eyebrows as I was unable to keep myself from blushing, “but I certainly wouldn’t mind some more ‘girl talk’,” her eyes darted briefly to my belly, “and it’ll give me a chance to fill you with all sorts of horror stories about what you’ve got in store for you over the next six months!”

I grimaced, sticking out my tongue in mild disgust, “gee, thanks,” I shook my head and slipped from her tent. After a few cursory tugs on my barding’s straps, I flipped out my wings and alit into the air once more, angling in the direction of the next camp on my list.

Unlike the Harlots, I did know a little bit about the Housecarls. Most of it was hearsay and stereotypes regarding their reputation, so I was ready to take most of it with a salt-lick. Not that there was anything particularly bad about their reputation or anything. They were, however, known to be a fairly ‘irreverent’ bunch of ponies who did as much drinking and fucking as they did fighting.

Their area of focus was personal protection. Bodyguards and residential security for the rich and powerful. They rarely did all that much in the way of work that took them out into the wider Wasteland, unless they were escorting one of their employers on a trip, that is. Which, admittedly, made it a little odd that they’d have taken on this job. Either bodyguard work was slow, or the pay that I was offering was just that high.

As my hooves touched down at the outskirts of a raging bonfire surrounded by loudly carousing ponies, I figured that there was no reason I couldn’t get an answer to my question. I folded my wings to my sides and started looking around for either the Housecarls’ new leader or at least a pony who would know where they’d be. My arrival, unsurprisingly, had not gone unnoticed, and my attention ended up being drawn to the elderly mercenary leader as a result of several other ponies near him guestring in my direction while saying something to him. I crossed the short distance to the group of improvised benches that the ponies had created out of various crates and boxes they’d fished out of the nearby stable and inclined my head slightly towards the stallion.

“Wonderbolt,” the older pale blue earth pony greeted levely, returning the nod.

“...Sir,” horseapples, I’d never bothered to learn his name! In my defense, I’d had a lot of other things going on recently. Like nearly being executed.

“Yeoman,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging briefly at the corner of his lip. He waved a hoof at a pony near him and the stallion made room enough for me to be comfortably accommodate. I took the offered seat, “should I assume you have news for us?”

“No, not really,” I admitted. Somepony tried to pass me a bottle of Wild Pegasus, but I waved it aside and asked for a Sparkle Cola instead, “just making the rounds, you know? Trying to get an idea of where everypony is at.”

“I see,” the older stallion nodded, “anything in particular you wanted to know?”

“Nothing super important, I guess,” I said. A bottle of cola was passed my way and I popped the cap and took a sip, not feeling all too thirsty after the cider Hemlock had supplied me, “but I wouldn’t mind knowing a bit more about you and your ponies. I thought the Housecarls usually only took on bodyguard jobs. Isn’t something like this a bit out of your usual comfort zone? Not that I’m complaining,” I hastily added, “we needed all the ponies we can get for this, but I am kind of wondering. Are you branching out?”

“Something like that,” Yeoman sighed, his features pulling taught, “my nephew, Hird, the pony you and that courser of yours negotiated with in New Reino, was always a bit...hotheaded, I suppose. He’d had it in his head from a young age that he wanted to see our band ‘return to the glory of our ancestors’ or some such,” the stallion shook his head, “my brother-in-law would always tell him stories about how we were before the Wasteland. Most of them were just that though: stories. No truth to them, not really.

“Hird refused to see it that way,” he said, cringing, “he wanted a grand battle. Something he could brag about and use to make a name for himself and the Housecarls,” his old brown eyes darted to me, with a look that bordered on accusatory, “then your friend showed up with that story about a stable and the end of the world. You couldn’t have fed him a more perfect tail. He was hooked.”

I swallowed, looking away, “it wasn’t a ‘tail’,” I mumbled, “you have to know that by now.”

“Oh, aye,” Yeoman agreed in a gruff voice, “the threat sure is real enough, and Hird got the grand battle he always wanted. He just didn’t live to see the end of it and reap the ‘fame’,” he snarled. I got the impression, though, that it wasn’t precisely me or Ramparts that was truly angering the stallion, “stupid boy. Damn him and his father both.”

There was a brief pause, a ragged sigh, and then, “so that’s why we came in the first place. The only thing that’s keeping us staying is our own stubborn reputations. Not good business to quit a contract half done,” his lip quirked into a wry smirk, “worse business to be killed to a mare by humongous super-soldiers like those bastards were, the way I see it; but none of these ponies would follow me back home if I left anyway, so…” he shrugged and shook his head.

“I’m sorry about your nephew,” I said, not having to try very hard to sound genuinely sympathetic, “I didn’t know we’d be surprised like that.”

“So I gathered. You’ll pardon my frankness, but I’m in agreement with that fiery wrench wench of yours: best to gut that cur that ratted on us and not risk a repeat,” he shrugged, “by all means, wring him for all the information you can first, but the sooner he’s put down, the better for all of us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied tersely. Then I hurriedly changed the subject off of Arginine, “so...why have the Housecarls always focused on bodyguard work? I mean, I know there’s some good money in it, but a lot of groups keep their options open, client-wise.”

“S’cause it’s what we’ve always done,” the older stallion shrugged, “since long before the bombs fell, the Housecarls saw to the protection of ponies what could afford to pay our fees. ‘Course, back then we weren’t so much a mercenary company as a company company: Housecarl Protection Services Ltd. Best providers of asset and personal protection West of Ghastly Gorge!” the last was rattled off with an affectation that wouldn’t have been at all out of place during an advertising broadcast. Though the stallion’s eye roll as he recited the ancient slogan suggested that he wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about his heritage as the feigned tone of the recitation might have made it seem.

“Truth of the matter,” the elder earth pony went on, grumbling, “was that things before and after the war couldn’t have been more different. Before the fighting, ‘security’ was all about the theater of it all. Well-dressed, intimidating, ponies standing on the sidelines in dapper suits and shades. Some of them might have known how to throw a punch, but mostly they were there just so that there was the idea of security. If shite actually hit the fan, well…” he barked out a dry laugh, “they’d probably have been using their client for cover!

“Then the war happened, and suddenly there was a need for more than mere theater. Zebra assassins and griffon wet teams were very real dangers; and it took more than a tailored suit and stoic expression to stop ‘em. Fortunately, there was also a sudden surplus of ponies in Equestria who were coming off their calvary stint and needed work. Who better to stop zebras and griffons than ponies who’d just spent three-odd years fighting against them?” Yeoman flashed a wry smirk, “in a matter of years, the atmosphere of the whole company had shifted. Classes on looking fierce were replaced by CQB firearm drills and krav yeeha training.”

Another short bark of mirthless laughter, “then the world ended and the whole paradigm had to change all over again. Now we fight off mutated monsters and other ponies mostly. Some of the theater wormed its way back in a bit. The bigger and badder you look, the less likely somepony is to try and start something,” his expression soured slightly, “though that also means that when somepony does start something, it’s probably because they think they’ve got the firepower to take you...or they’re drunk off their flank.

“At the end of the day,” Yeoman sighed, looking back my way, “we don’t branch out much on account of not seeing much practical reason to. City walls keep out most of the monsters, raiders, slavers, and gangs, sure; but they don’t do anything to hold back violent drunks, hired hitponies, or armed robbers looking to make a big score. Places like New Reino and Seaddle are teeming with ponies looking to hurt one-another. Doesn’t matter that they don’t paint their bodies or where matching leather jackets; they’re looking to make a ruckus either way.

“For ponies like us, that means we’ll always have paying work though, so I suppose it’s not all bad.”

I frowned and stared down at my Sparkle Cola, which I’d barely touched. The old pony had a point. Trade Caravans and other Wasteland travelers weren’t the only ponies who needed protecting. The Republic Guard couldn’t be everywhere in Seaddle at all times, and there were plenty of ponies looking to do harm to others even within the walls of a settlement. Ponies of means, like senators, casino barons, and merchant company owners, took advantage of their wealth and employed dedicated personal security details to keep them safe, even in their own homes.

The common pony didn’t have that luxury though.

Stopping the ponies from Arginine’s stable wasn’t going to do anything about that, though. Frankly, neither would have systematically hunting down every raider in the Wasteland, I admitted. There’s always be ponies looking to rob from the rich to give to themselves, and probably not shy away from hurting more than a few innocents along the way.

Though, there was something from Yeoman’s story that I found myself more interested in than the rest of it, “you said that, before the war, Housecarl ponies didn’t need to actually do much more than be there? That it was mostly show?”

“Security Theater, they called it, aye,” he nodded.

“Did ponies just not hurt each each other as much back then?”

“Beats me! You’d have to ask somepony who was there,” the old stallion replied with a sarcastic snort, “and I’m not that old, thank-you-very-much!”

“Right, no, sorry,” I mumbled, cringing slightly, “I just...it’d be nice to know what was so different about the world back then. Other than the whole no radiation, taint, and devastation thing, I mean.”

Yeoman shrugged, “I’m not an expert on ancient ponies,” he informed me, “I just know the history of our little company.”

I was barely listening now though, my mind racing with questions, and focusing on one mare in particular that I needed to direct them at, “thank you. For talking to me, I mean,” I said, putting down my mostly full bottle of soda and walking away from the bonfire and the mercenaries who were still intent of enjoying their evening.

Honestly, it was hard to digest what I’d just been told. The idea that the world had once been a place where somepony’s initial inclination wasn’t to hurt or kill another? It sounded more like a fantasy world than a history lesson. Though, that did align with what little of the old world that Starlight Glimmer had told me, I supposed. She’s insisted that ancient pony society had shied away from doling out lengthy prison sentences and death as a punishment, even for high crimes, in favor of magically altering their minds. Just like she’d done with the Lancers.

Even so, none of that had really suggested much in the way of how often serious crimes had actually been committed, just that punishment for them had been vastly different from what was done today. On the other hoof, surely if there had been enough lawbreaking back then, then a significant swath of the population would have been rendered as pacifistic as those Lancers had been. Ponies like that would have hardly made good soldiers, and to fight a war on the scale that ended the world would have required a lot of soldiers; not doormats.

If Yeoman’s grasp of the history of their company’s duties was accurate, and even ponies whose job it nominally was to be able to guard against violence barely had to know anything about actually fighting, then that did suggest that whatever crime rate existed in pre-war Equestria had to have been pretty low, and leaned towards the petty side. Again, it was conceptually hard to wrap my head around that notion. It was like the sort of fantasy world that I’d tried to envision in my youth that could exist once the Wasteland was ‘fixed’.

Obviously, it couldn’t have been all that idyllic. It eventually resulted in the Wasteland, after all.

Though, I supposed that the war hadn’t involved only ponies, had it? There’s been another belligerent too. Had their society undergone some radical shift during the war as well? I frowned. Even if we all survived the next week or so, a trip down to zebra territory wasn’t going to be in the cards for me any time soon, if I was hoping to track down a lot of sources for that kind of information..

―!

But maybe I had a source closer at hoof! I flipped out my wings and jumped into the air, making my way towards the Hecate camp.

The reception that I received upon arriving wasn’t quite as warm as the one that I’d gotten at the Harlots or Housecarl camps. That wasn’t to say that it was cold, per say, but the atmosphere was certainly a lot more...dour and subdued. Everypony also spoke with an odd accent that I couldn’t quite place. They did at least direct me towards their leader’s quarters without any reservations though. At least, they claimed that it was the tent for their leader. I found myself feeling a little skeptical about that as I approached.

Most commanders tended to situated themselves in or around the center of their companies, so that they could quickly get to any one element and issue orders. Keri’s tent wasn’t just on the outskirts of the Hecate encampment, it was almost a hundred meters away from the next nearest tent belonging to his company. I found myself wondering what kind of pony―er, zebra―wouldn’t want to be anywhere near their own company?

Was it some sort of prejudice between the zebra and the ponies that he commanded? That would have been hard to believe, since it was highly unlikely that even ponies who worked primarily for coin would follow a leader that they didn’t even want to sleep within earshot of―

“Can I help you?”

I jerked with a start...again. I really needed to stop letting ponies surprise me like that. I turned my head to the side and noticed that a mare had appeared from around the backside of the tent that I’d been told Keri stayed in. A striped mare. Though those striped appeared to be quite faded, and not with age, since she was obviously quite young. Older than I was, but still on the more youthful side of ‘adult’. There were also some features that were strikingly similar to the older mercenary leader I was here to see.

A sister, maybe?

“I was told that this is where Keri would be?” I ventured hesitantly.

“It is,” was the mare’s curt response.

There were several long moments of silence which ended when I finally let out a tired sigh and rolled my eye, “I want to talk with him. Is now a good time?”

“He’s currently meditating. It’s very important that he not be disturbed under any circumstances,” the faintly striped mare insisted, a severe expression upon her face, “otherwise there could be serious spiritual repercussions.”

“Oh,” I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by all of that, but it seemed pretty clear that I wasn’t going to get to see him any time soon, “well, then do you have any idea when I could come back and―”

“One moment!” the mare’s demeanor shifted in an instant and a wicked glint flashed across her pink eyes. She veritably pranced to the entrance of the tent and poked her head in, “OH, DAAAADDDDYYYYY! YOU HAVE A VISITOR!”

Even I winced, my ears folding back reflexively from the intense volume of her yell, and I was in the opposite direction. I could only imagine what it had sounded like inside the tent!

...wait, had she said, ‘Daddy’?!

“From the smell of her, I’d say that the Chief Whore is sending over another ‘negotiator’,” the mare’s only slightly muffled voice continued. Shocked by the assumption, I surreptitiously sniffed at myself. Indeed, I did find that some of the perfume that had been saturating the air inside of Hemlock’s tent seemed to have adhered itself to me during the brushing that she’d given me. In fact, I wouldn’t have put it past the madame to be the sort who owned a brush that applied the scent as a feature.

It did smell pretty nice though, “whatever she’s offering, try to keep it in your robes this time. I swear to the spirits, if I wind up having to foalsit for another of your little ‘accidents’, I will castrate you myself...with a dull, rusty, spoon!”

She withdrew from the tent, wearing a deep frown and letting out an irritated sigh, “you’d think he’d have learned his lesson when I was dropped off at his doorstep, but nope!”

“Actually, I’m not―”

“Pfft! Duh!” the striped mare chortled, “I know who The Wonderbolt is; I’m not a moron. I just said that to make him squirm for a bit. Come on in,” she lifted the entrance flap with a hoof and nodded her head inside, “I’ll help you translate.”

I flashed the mare a quizzical look, “but he speaks ponish, doesn’t he?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

As we entered and I cast my gaze into the middle of the tent, my face immediately flushed a deep crimson. The older striped zebra stallion that I had met at the previous planning meetings was waiting for us, but not in any fashion that I had seen him previously. The zebra was languishing on his side, attired in a thick felt robe that had quite clearly been left open with deliberate care. Specifically, he had made an effort to draw attention to his framed and exposed stud-hood, which he was currently in the process of running a hoof along the length of, an almost eager smirk spread across his face.

To his credit, it took Keri less than a second to realize that he had indeed been misled by his daughter, and that I was clearly not a ‘negotiator’ sent by Hemlock to discuss...whatever it was that The Harlots ever discussed with Hecate. Almost immediately, the stallion flipped his robe over to cover himself and sat up more erect―more stiffly―...more properly, in order to greet us. As the confusion and the shock passed, he glared at the younger striped equine, “errant words spoken, employed in wicked earnest; dangerous habits,” he growled.

Then he looked in my direction and adopted an apologetic expression, “conduct improper, sincere regret aplenty; a new beginning?”

“Like I said,” the younger mare sighed, though she was wearing quite the satisfied expression on her face despite the admonishment I was pretty sure she’d just received, “I’ll translate. Unless you feel up to deciphering his bad poetry?”

I glanced between the two ponies, “wait, you mean that he always speaks like that?” I looked back to Keri, “why?”

The elder zebra frowned, but it was his daughter who supplied the answer, “because it’s his fetish.”

I balked once more, taking a reflexive step back towards the tent’s entrance, “his what?”

Keri glared daggers at the other mare who was unable to keep herself from chuckling as she explained further, “not that kind of fetish. A magical one! Kind of,” she thought for a moment, “insofar as zebras can do ‘magic’, at any rate,” she raised her hooves and flicked them in the air by way of forming quotes around the word, “speaking like this is something that he has to do all the time, for the rest of his life, otherwise the spirits won’t ever help him do stuff again. Along with a lot of other bad stuff that’ll happen to him.”

“The...spirits? You mean like ghosts and stuff?”

The younger mare was frowning along with her father this time too, “no, not like ghosts. Look, I doubt you came down here for a whole long spiel on zebra magic and shamanism, and I don’t want to waste the months it would take to even scratch the surface explaining it to a pony. Especially one who can’t even do pony magic―no offense.

“So let’s just say that the zebras can make deals with the forces of nature themselves to get the world to do what they want, and that if a zebra is very young and very stupid when they make those deals, it can make life really hard for them,” she inclined her head towards her father, “for example: let’s say a hormonal teenaged colt asks a spirit of fertility to make him an unrivaled sex god; and he thinks that having to forever speak in haiku is a fair trade; even if he knows nothing about haikus!”

“Seriously?” it was getting a little difficult for me to distinguish between when this mare was being genuine and when she was trying to have fun at her father’s expense. However, I saw no indication of reproach on the older zebra’s features.

“Seriously,” the mare deadpanned, “the downside is that if he slips up, even once, his testicles shrivel up and fall off.”

I started to laugh, if a little uncomfortably, at the part of this that simply had to be a joke, but neither of the others joined in. Instead, they both simply looked at me with completely stoic expressions and my laughter quickly petered out, “...oh,” I was quiet for a moment, “can he write normally at least?”

“Nope,” the mare said, and the stallion shook his head in confirmation. In fact, he was shaking his head for what seemed like an absurdly long time, “because that would count as trying to ‘cheat’ the spirit that he made the deal with; and he’d be censured,” she then seemed to notice the odd look that I was giving to her father as he continued to shake his head. Even he was looking a little annoyed by it by now, “yeah, he shakes and nods his head seventeen times just in case.

“Spirits are pretty fickle.

“Anyway, can we please get on with why you’re here? No offense, but I don’t feel like spending all evening in my Dad’s love shack,” the mare grimaced, shifting uncomfortably on the cushion she was sitting on, “for all I know, at least five of my siblings were conceived on this thing…”

“At least five?” I balked, “how many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“A dozen that I know about,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but who can be bothered to count anymore? He certainly isn’t keeping track,” she muttered, jabbing a hoof in her father’s direction. Still seeing my shocked expression she leaned over and said in what sounded like a well-rehearsed explanation that she’d heard several times, “fertility spirit; condoms are a cheeEEAat!” she sing-songed.

I was in the middle of awkwardly mouthing the younger mare’s last statement to myself as I tried to wrap my head around the concept when she started clopping her hooves in front of my face, “now, make. With. The. Point!”

“Right, right,” I shook away my earlier musings and took a cleansing breath before―finally―getting to the reason that I’d come here in the first place, “I’m actually here because I want to know more about how zebras were before the war,” I began, “I want to know if things were...well, peaceful and stuff.”

“...Seriously?” the mare’s face fell as a look of exasperation immediately washed over her.

“Well, yeah. I recently heard about how ancient ponies barely had need for real security forces before the war because there wasn’t a lot of violence. I was wondering if it was the same for zebras.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because if ponies and zebras didn’t use to be such colossal assholes in the past, then maybe there’s a way to get us to stop being them now,” I reasoned, “I’m not saying I think we can go back to how things were overnight,” I added by way of caveat, “but it’d be nice to know that the possibility existed.”

The younger mare was wearing a decidedly dubious expression, “you came here for a lesson on how polite ancient zebras used to be?”

“Pretty much.”

“...Spirits, now I actually wish you were here to get plowed into these cushions,” the mare groaned, while leaving me sputtering. She sighed and fell back onto a collection of blankets in resignation and waved at her father, “fuck it! Hit her with a history lesson, Pops…”

The older stallion was looking at me now with a curious expression. After several long seconds, he finally spoke, “winged destruction, seeking ancient placid tails. A novel concept.”

“He thinks it’s weird the Death Machine of Neighvada wants to hear about super-happy-fun-times,” the younger mares said, still lying on her back.

“I want the world to be a better place,” I shot back reproachfully at the mare, “I’ve always wanted that. I used to think that meant killing all of the ponies and stuff that were ‘bad’, but…I feel like that’s not how it works. So I want to try something else.”

“What, you mean not killing at all?”

Her tone suggested that she was trying to be sarcastic. Which prompted her to peak up in mild surprise when my answer was anything but, “if I can avoid it, yeah. Killing…” I swallowed, my vision briefly clouding with an image of a dead mare laying next to the broken form of her infant foal, “you can’t take it back if you make a mistake, you know?

“My mistakes shouldn’t get innocent ponies killed. Nopony’s should.”

The younger striped mare, looking slightly cowed by my answer, didn’t have a response to this; but her father did, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips, “youthful ignorance, new eyes see a simple world; blind to its layers.

“Life’s lessons are cruel, second chances a scarce find. The lucky grow wise,” the elder zebra nodded his head in his exaggerated fashion with his speech, “histories I know, divulged for the worthy few, of them you I count.”

And so, with his daughter chiming in any time his ‘poetry’ got a little too abstract, Keri started to relate to me what he knew about ancient zebra society before the war. According to him, their was actually quite a bit of tension that existed between zebras, because they divided themselves into many different tribes. Even today, with the trials that the modern zebras faced in their own version of the Wasteland back home, they still clung to those tribal identities. It turned out that, a lot of times, those differences turned violent.

At one time, there had been hundreds of tribes, basically consisting of large family groups. For the most part, they dealt with other family groups passively, interacting only occasionally to trade or perform marriages to bring in new blood and keep the gene pools from getting too stagnant. Sometimes those interactions went more violently though. Over time, either through multiple marriages, or because of outright conquests, those hundreds of tribes were whittled down to scores, and then dozens.

Today, there were ‘twelve and one’ tribes, as he insisted on describing it. Those tribes regarded one another with great animosity, Keri informed me, and waged nearly constant wars with each other to control what little of their nation remained.

Much to my disappointment, it sounded to me like there had never been a time that he knew of where zebras weren’t fighting amongst each other on some level. This was disheartening, to say the least. I was going to have a hard enough time trying to get ponies to stop going at each other’s throats, and there’d already been a time when they’d been like that! How was I even supposed to start getting zebras to play nice with other races, when they couldn’t stand their own kind?

Keri and his daughter were barely even able to describe to me what made all of their existing tribes so different from each other, boiling it down to stereotypes that didn’t quite make sense to me. It was all: “metal-headed Properolli”, and “daydreaming Zencordi”, and “sex-crazed Cannolis”, or whatever. Zebra’s used too many ‘i’s in their names, I decided; who could be bothered to keep it all straight?

While the information was far from what I’d have hoped for, I suppose that it would have been wrong to consider it a wasted effort to collect though. At the very least, it would help to prepare me for what I might come up against if my efforts to stop the violence in the Wasteland ever made it as far as the zebras. Doubtful, but optimism was in dreadfully short supply these days; so why not?

The griffons might provide a little more insight, I thought hopefully...

Wow...was I ever wrong!

“We do stuff for money,” Griselda said tersely as she idly gnawed on the rib bone of what I was depressingly sure had once belonged to one of the ponies that had attacked Shady Saddles. That, combined with the smell of seared pony flesh hanging in the air around the griffon’s camp, would have been more than enough to make me nauseous. However, I was unfortunately dealing with the rather unexpected element of finding the back of my mind reasoning that a nice, thick, slice of grilled meat wouldn’t go amiss right about now. If there was a saving grace, it was that only thoughts of radroaches made my mouth water, and not the slowly turning haunches I’d seen grilling outside the griffon leader’s quarters.

“Okay, I get that; but what about before the war?”

The griffon snapped her metal beak in irritation, “we did stuff for money then too,” she then snapped the rib she was holding in her talons and started sucking on one of the halves like a hard candy, “probably some sort of instinct or whatever. I hear a lot of birds like shiny things,” the hen shrugged.

I frowned, but refused to give up entirely quite yet, “okay, but did you at least ‘do stuff for money’ as a single group, or…?”

“Fuck no!” Griselda snorted in amusement, “we can barely stand each other. You put two griffons in a room together, you’ll end up with only one griffon by nightfall,” she made a long, wet, slurping sound before plucking the rib half out of her mouth and replacing it with the other one and made herself comfortable on top of a bundle of pastel hides, “probably the only reason that griffons haven’t died out by now is that, after getting in a good, hard, fuck, we’re too tired to try to kill each other. Usually,” she sniggered.

Then she seemed to think for a moment before adding, with a frown, “well, I guess there was this one time,” she said in a marginally annoyed tone, “we had some king or other than managed to get the whole flock on the same page for a while,” almost as though sensing my tentatively rising anticipation, she jabbed a claw in my direction, “but! It was only because he’d found this super shiny gold statue thing that all the other griffons really admired.

“Heck, supposedly a lot of other races admired it and came from all over to gawk at it. It made us feel important. Respected,” it was hard to tell with her mostly metal beak, but I was pretty sure that I caught sight of the barest hint of a whimsical expression. However, it vanished so quickly beneath another scowl that it was hard to be sure.

Her tone was anything but whimsical when she continued, “but then it disappeared, and so did all the visitors, and it was back to doing things for money. During your war with the zebras, those ‘things’ mostly involved killing; and most of that killing was directed towards ponies because zebras paid more.

“We’ve just sort of been carrying on doing it ever since,” she finished with another shrug.

Well, it certainly wasn’t an ideal history lesson, but it did at least offer me the briefest of insights into griffon thinking. Though, I had to wonder if it was really that easy, “so if I were to get my hooves on a big, gold, statue, I could become queen of the griffons?” I mused aloud, rubbing my chin thoughtfully, “that’d be cool.”

I knew that it couldn’t have been nearly that simple, but it certainly got Griselda’s attention as the hen turned and glared at me with baleful eyes, “it’s not that simple, you moron!” she didn’t even need any prompting to continue explaining to me where my assumption had erred, “never mind that a pony being the leader of griffons is beyond laughable, but anygriff who wanted to give themselves the title of king or queen and expect to be taken seriously would have to prove that they deserved it in the first place.”

“So how did that one old king do it?” I asked, “and why hasn’t any other griffon done it since?”

“Because the statue disappeared, you dumb fuck! I already told you that,” she snapped, “and ever since, no other creatures traveled to the griffon lands to admire it. Other races basically ignored us until they needed something,” the griffon’s lips beyond her metal beak pulled back in a sneer, “who’d ever want to rule over a race no other creature really even cares about? You understand now, moron?”

“I’m starting to,” and I was, “thanks.”

“Good,” the hen huffed bitterly, “now get out of here before I start charging you for this shit. You paid me to kill mutant ponies, not give you history lessons.”

In the end, I wasn’t so sure that all of my efforts that night had been worthwhile. While Hemlock’s story had been interesting, it didn’t exactly help our situation. Similarly with Yeoman, Keri, and Griselda. It was academically interesting to get even limited glimpses into what life had once been like in the world for the major races involved, but it again didn’t help anything in the here and now. Honestly, I wasn’t quite sure how much anything I’d learned would ever be helpful even down the rode.

While―if Yeoman’s account was even accurate―it seemed that ponies were―nominally―capable of getting along peacefully, it didn’t seem like that was true for the other races. I wasn’t sure if I’d have either the time, or the sources, to ever learn what made ponies so fundamentally different from the other races; let alone how that knowledge could be effectively applied to any meaningful end.

Maybe the Wasteland had simply been inevitable and we were all eternally doomed no matter what we did.

Wasn’t that a cheery thought?

My pipbuck beeped.

I glanced down and felt myself tense up as I beheld Ramparts’ tag as being the indicated source of the transmission. Even before I opened up the frequency on my fetlock-mounted device, I had a pretty good idea of what the distant earth pony was calling to tell me, “I’m here, Ramps; what’s up?”

“Constance is turning around.”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 54: I'M OLD FASHIONED

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Who're you an' how the hell did you get in here? Wh-where are those jackass guards?

I passed the spyglass―which was really just a detached rifle scope―back to the griffon scout that had lent it to me, for the ‘bargain’ price of five caps for five minutes. For an additional ten caps, they had even been willing to point out all of the enemy sentry posts that they’d discovered so that I could make the most of my time with the scope. Apparently these services had not been included in the overall employment contract that I’d signed with the Razor Beaks. I made a mental note to track down my copy of said contract and find out what else I hadn’t actually paid them for. Presumably they were obligated to actually fight, but I wasn’t positive about that any longer...

Arginine’s stable rested at the far end of a narrow valley, nestled into a cliff face. At one time, there seemed to have been a small river or large stream of some sort that ran through here. Either balefire bombardments had reshaped the mountains and diverted it, or the valley’s newfound arid disposition had dried it up. I suspected that, back before the end of the war, there may have even been a waterfall concealing the stable entrance, given the terrain in question.

The layout made for quite the double-edged sword where tactics were concerned. On the one hoof, this small valley would be easy to defend with even a small force like ours. The narrow avenue of approach meant that even a few hundred defenders could effectively hold back a much larger attacking army, since any invader would only be able to maintain a narrow front in such confined quarters. On the other hoof, it also meant that we would be easily contained by little more than a token force if Constance decided, upon her return, that all she wanted to do was hem us in while she went on her crusade through Neighvada.

It would also make assaulting the stable itself quite difficult. Their sentries would see us coming from a mile away, and they might even be able to keep us at bay depending on what kind of forces they could send out of their stable to reinforce them. Getting close enough to catch them off guard wasn’t going to be very easy…

This morning had everypony―as well as zebra and griffon―getting an early start. There’d been a general sense of urgency hanging over us since leaving Shady Saddles, and a prevailing knowledge among those involved in the overall planning of our course of action that the margins we were playing with where the timetables were concerned were razor thin. General Constance’s force moved faster than we did. If we got her attention too early, she’d have caught us before we reached the stable. If we made our move too late, either Shady Saddles or Seaddle would pay the price.

As a result, we’d been cutting down on sleep during the night, and rest stops during the day. We’d covered ground more quickly, but now our forces were pretty fatigued, and I had my doubts that any of the mercenaries were going to be able to perform at their best. There had been no helping that though, as the alternative was either not making it to the stable at all, or arriving too late to do anypony any good.

To that end, Ramparts and his small picket of scouts were trying to do everything in their power to slow down Constance’s forces. I’d been more than a little apprehensive initially, but my nerves were somewhat soothed―marginally―when the courser laid out their plan of action to me in more detail. Rather than performing any direct harassing actions, like I’d feared, they were going to take more indirect approaches. Specifically, he and his team would set up small minefields in the path of Constance’s army.

They didn’t have a lot of the small, nominally buried, explosives on them, but his plan didn’t require all that many in the end. Ramparts’ ponies wouldn’t be setting up genuine expansive minefields, but rather just a couple of mines every mile or so. A force the size of the one marching back to Shady Saddles, comprised of ponies that large, would be hard-pressed not to trigger the mines. At which point, any rational commander would feel compelled to call a brief halt and deploy sapper elements to search for additional explosives.

Realistically, it would only take them an hour or two to realize that they hadn’t wandered into a serious hazard and then they’d resume their prior rapid pace. Then, a couple miles later, when they believed the threat had passed, they’d encounter another couple of mines emplaced by Ramparts and his team.

Even the courser wasn’t sure how effective such a ploy would be the second or third time. To that end, he was working to repurpose the group’s grenade supply into pseudo-mines so that they could build a far more robust minefield the third time, and hopefully play the first two off as feints and make Constance feel that she’d been suckered into ignoring a real minefield the third time. At that point, she might finally be paranoid enough to perform as detailed a sweep of the area ahead of them as she could.

With luck, they’d be able to achieve similar delays with further lone mines or idle pairs after that.

That was the plan, at any rate, and one that I was willing to approve―not that Ramparts exactly needed my permission. I was simply thrilled that it kept all of them out of harm’s way for the most part. It also had the potential to possibly delay Constance and her army by as much as a full day. Not that I intended in any way to rely on that. Our own forces continued at the forced-march pace we’d originally planned on and just take any time that Ramparts bought us to rest up and fortify our position once we’d successfully taken their stable.

Indeed, it turned out that we’d need those precious extra hours to breach the stable’s defenses. Arginine should be able to get us past the front door―which saved us a great deal of grief―but that was assuming that we could even make it that far in the first place.

The visible sentry posts notwithstanding, somewhere in there was a whole other army the size of Constance’s that was being trained up to be unleashed upon the Wasteland. Arginine insisted that that army wouldn’t be fully ‘combat capable’, since his stable had been forced to launch their assault many years prior to their originally planned date. Still, bodies with guns were bodies with guns, no matter how poorly drilled they might be; and in terrain like this, it wouldn’t take any sort of elite fighting force to bog us down.

Thus, it behooved us to have a well laid out plan of action. Realistically, we should have had this plan before even leaving Shady Saddles, and I’d intended for as much when we were heading there from New Reino. Obviously, events had forced us to undergo some rather significant changes in our timetables. So, we’d basically be drawing up our plan of attack right now, with only the bare reconnaissance that we’d felt confident we could do without being spotted by the stable’s defenders.

I could tell that the mercenary leaders weren’t thrilled about that particular notion, but there was no helping it. The longer we lingered in the mouth of the valley, the more we risked detection, and we didn’t have time to more carefully scout things out with Constance on the move. We’d just have to make it work, somehow...

While my thoughts were probably best served focusing exclusively on Arginine’s stable, I opted to avail myself to the opportunity to talk with Starlight Glimmer for a few minutes before the meeting was scheduled to begin. I’d had a few―if abbreviated―nights’ sleep to mull over my conversations with the mercenary leaders from earlier, and wanted to probe the brain of a pony who was in a position to be much better informed about the state of the world before the Wasteland, and hopefully put a lot of what I’d heard into perspective.

“What was life like before the Wasteland?”

The pink unicorn blinked in surprise and looked over to where I was hovering beside her, “well, that came a little out of nowhere. What brought this on?”

“I was talking with the mercenary leaders a while back,” I explained, “and some of them told me about how things used to be before the war. I heard from the new leader of the Housecarls―Yeoman―that ponies used to be really peaceful. Is that true?”

She thought for a moment and then nodded, “yeah, I guess. Certainly, before all the fighting with the zebras started. I mean, we had the Royal Guard and stuff, but they were hardly ever used for anything. Maybe the odd rogue dragon that strayed from their annual migration or a bugbear wandering into a town. Stuff like that.

“Certainly nopony walked around with guns―they hadn’t even been invented yet, for Celestia’s sake―or even knives or spears. So, yeah, I’d say things were pretty peaceful in that regard,” she concluded, adding, “thing’s weren’t perfect, in my opinion, mind you; but they were peaceful overall.”

“What about zebras and griffons?”

Starlight once again thought in silence for several long seconds before responding, “I don’t think I ever even met a zebra before the fighting started―and didn’t exactly get on ‘friendly’ terms with any after for that matter―so I couldn’t really tell you much about them. There was a lot of news and propaganda about what they were like during the war, but I doubt any of it was even close to accurate. It’s hard to hate any creature enough to kill them that’s not painted as an absolute monster, after all.

“Now, as for griffons, yeah, I met a couple of them in my life. As a general rule, they come across as rude, at the best of times,” she offered with a wry smirk, “they’re a lot more mellow when you’re tossing bits their way though. Don’t bother asking them for a ‘favor’, because they’ll probably just laugh in your face; but if you offer to pay, they’re practically your best friend...at least until you go broke. Then they’ve never heard of you,” she shrugged.

“Why do they act that way towards ponies? Was there some ancient war between us or something?”

“Oh, it’s not just ponies,” Starlight corrected me, “they’re like that with each other too.”

That meshed almost perfectly with what Griselda had told me. It wasn’t that I’d doubted the griffon’s word about what members of her own race were like, but it still didn’t hurt to have a first-hoof account from a source who wasn’t hearing it passed down through oral history. After all, if pony attitudes had changed so drastically in two centuries, why not griffon?

“I wonder why ponies have always been friendly with each other, but other races fought amongst themselves?” I mused out loud. The unicorn surprised me with an outburst of laughter, prompting me to gape at her, “what?”

“Oh, trust me: ponies weren’t always friendly with each other. Heck, we used to hate each other too, a really long time ago,” the pink mare said, “at least, that’s what we’re taught growing up.”

“What do you mean? What changed?”

“Well, the story goes that ponies used to be three distinct tribes: earth, unicorn, and pegasi. They didn’t live together or interact all that much. But...they did have something of a symbiotic relationship going on,” I flashed the mare a quizzical look and she happily elaborated, “much like they always have, pegasi lived almost exclusively in the clouds. It’s pretty hard to grow crops on those though. Similarly, it’s not easy for a farmer to grow a whole lot of food without favorable weather and rainfall.

“So, the two worked out a deal where the pegasi would keep the weather optimal for growing crops, in exchange for a cut of what the earth ponies harvested. They had something of an understanding, and by all accounts it seemed to work for them. For the most part.”

“What about the unicorns? How did they factor into things?”

“Things get kind of hazy there, honestly,” Starlight said, “the ‘official’ narrative is that the unicorns controlled the sun and moon going up and down, and so they received food from the earth ponies in exchange for making sure the days were the right length for growing crops. However, there’re parts of that story that don’t line up perfectly with other events.

“You see, the sun and moon didn’t get disrupted until Discord messed with them during his brief reign; and he appeared way after when all of this was supposed to be happening. So, while there was a period of time when unicorns were controlling the length of the day, it wouldn’t have been as far back as this story says it did. If I had to guess, I’d say that the unicorns were using more...manipulative tactics to get a cut of the food. That theory also explains why the tensions between the three started to grow over time.”

“Waitwaitwait,” I waved my hooves at the unicorn, my face scrunched up in consternation, “the unicorns raised the sun and the moon?”

“For a brief period of time, yes,” Starlight confirmed, “Celestia and Luna later took over the roles when they came along. The magic required to do so is pretty immense, and was causing unicorns to suffer from permanent magical burnout when they attempted it.”

I blinked at the mare in incredulous silence, “...pull the other one.”

“I’m being serious,” the pink unicorn insisted.

“Well, Celestia and Luna have been dead for two hundred years,” I pointed out, “so who’s been ‘raising’ the sun since then?” I jabbed a hoof at the overcast sky.

Starlight glanced upwards, silent for a long while, her blue eyes wide, as though just realising something that should have been obvious to her, “...I uh...hmm. I don’t know...are we sure they’re dead?”

“That’s what everypony says,” I informed her, “they died in the war and are now goddesses watching over the world; but unless you’re about to tell me that goddesses can use magic on the real world…” the unicorn didn’t respond, “so, yeah, I don’t buy it.”

The unicorn wasn’t acknowledging me anymore though, her attention fixated on the heavens as she mumbled to herself, “...could they have set up an artifact to maintain things? Maybe, but the matrix to sustain something like that for centuries would need to be the size of―” Starlight shook her head and frowned, “I wish I’d grabbed more books from that MAS hub. I’d need to run some numbers before I could give an answer,” she glanced up once more, “...unless they eventually fixed whatever it was that Discord broke at some point…?

“Whatever,” she shook her head and resumed her earlier explanation, “the point is that the earth ponies were in an arrangement with the other two tribes to give their food to pegasi and unicorns in exchange for ideal growing conditions. However, by all accounts, they weren’t very happy with this, and any time they threatened to back out, their fields would be hit with a freak frost or a supposedly overly long night until they relented.

“Then, one year, the winter went a little long. At first, the earth ponies thought that the pegasi were trying to intimidate them to get a larger share of food, but the pegasi professed their innocence, and claimed that the storms were getting harder to control. They, in turn, blamed the unicorns, believing that they were trying to develop weather-control magic to cut the pegasi out of the deal for food entirely. The unicorns too, insisted they weren’t doing anything.

“The winter never let up, lasting months longer than it should have. Unable to plant new crops where they lived, the earth ponies decided that they had no choice but to leave to find a milder climate. Some versions of the story suggest that the pegasi and unicorns believed the earth ponies had been behind everything somehow and were trying to get out of the deal, and so followed the earth ponies in secret. The common version insists that all three left their traditional homes and decided to migrate to new regions independently of one another.”

The unicorn flashed a wry look, “fascinatingly, all three groups just ‘happened’ to end up in the same region at the end of their respective migrations. The old dynamic was readopted and the inter-tribal resentments resumed. Shortly thereafter, so did the harsh weather.

“Now, accounts at this point get a little...simplistic,” Starlight sighed, “and it’s nearly impossible to find written accounts that survive from that time period. Most of the records of each tribe were left behind during their migrations, given its rather sudden and dire nature, and dedicated archives had yet to be built in their new homes to keep written accounts preserved. It’s mostly oral histories and songs, so a lot of details get glossed over.

“The long and the short of it are that some junior members of the tribes’ leadership learn that wendigos were behind the unnaturally harsh winter and worked together―earth pony, unicorn, and pegasi―to drive them away for good. The stories insist it was all done through ‘the magic of friendship’, but…” the unicorn shrugged, “it’s a story told to foals, so I’ve always thought that was intended to be a more easily understood explanation than what had actually happened.”

“So what did actually happen?” I asked, “according to you?”

Starlight shrugged, “who knows? Like I said: records from that time are vague at best. For all I know, it really was as simple as three ponies hugging it out in a cave,” her expression suggested that she considered this to be a dubious prospect, “but the point is that after the wendigos were driven off, the tribes soon all merged into a singular nation of ponies.

“Before that point, there is firm archeological evidence to suggest that the tribes did occasionally fight amongst each other. Who knows? Maybe the unicorns secured their food allotment as part of the terms of surrender after a war with the earth ponies?

“So, no, ponies weren’t ‘always’ friendly with each other. It took a near catastrophe that almost wiped our races out before we set aside the differences of our tribal roots,” Starlight concluded.

“Wow. That’s...interesting,” and it truly was. It certainly gave me a lot to think about too, where cooperation was concerned. I knew that having a common adversary could often bring opposing forces together. I’d even relied on exactly those circumstances a time or two. However, such alliances were often quite fragile, and always transient―evaporating at almost the instant that the mutual threat was vanquished. Obviously, prolonged cooperation needed something beyond just having a common foe.

Unless I could find a foe that was timeless and eternal to fight against that threatened every other being in the world...and was a lot less intangible and abstract than concepts like ‘violence’ or ‘hatred’...or wendigos.

I was about to press Starlight for more details on the new alliance of ponies that the three older tribes had created and how they’d accomplished it when I saw Foxglove approaching. Walking closely in her wake was a collared and hobbled Arginine. True to her word, the violet unicorn mare had kept the stallion under her direct supervision and very insistently iterated for me to keep my distance and not engage him in conversation on any topic that wasn’t either his stable or its defenses.

It...hurt, I had to admit that, being kept away from Arginine like this. I wanted to talk to him, and not in an official capacity as the mare who was leading an army to destroy his stable; but as somepony who’d worked closely with him for months, who’d fought at his side...as a friend. I needed to understand where we stood with each other. I needed to understand him, and why he’d done what he did.

I needed closier.

Foxglove wasn’t going to let me have it though. Ironically, because she cared about me too much. I, at the same time, both appreciated how far she was willing to go to protect me, and resented how little trust she seemed to have in me. I wasn’t a foal. In a lot of ways, I hadn’t been one for a long time. I was entitled to make my own mistakes and go on not learning from them as many times as I wanted to!

...Okay, so, admittedly, that wasn’t exactly the best argument I could have presented―which was why I hadn’t―but that didn’t make it any less true!

The worst part was that even Foxglove and I hadn’t gotten a lot of chances to talk for the last couple of days either. I wished that I could have said that our duties were keeping us apart, but that would have been a lie. Yes, while Foxglove was rather occupied during the evenings and breaks tinkering with weapons and equipment, trying to get as much stuff working at its best before our assault on the stable, that didn’t stop us from talking while we walked. Indeed, it wasn’t like I was too busy scouting ahead while we were on the move these days. She was just...sort of unapproachable and only gave me curt and distant replies any time I tried to start a conversation. At least, that was the impression that I got.

I suspected that it was because Arginine was always right at her side, and she just didn’t want the two of us to be nearby any more than was absolutely necessary. This upcoming meeting, it turned out, would be no exception.

“Hey, Foxy,” I greeted, waving at the pair and putting forth my best effort to wear a happy smile, “hey, RG.”

“Windfall,” the violet mare responded. The large stallion behind her was silent. He wasn’t even making eye contact with me. My smile faltered. I opened my mouth, craning my head around to try and place myself in the stallion’s line of sight, only for Foxglove to cut me off, “don’t bother,” she said, nearly sneering at the other pony, “I’ve warned him that I’ll blow his head off if he so much as looks at you.”

I balked, “wha-? Foxy, you’re not serious,” I looked at Arginine and insisted, “she’s not serious,” he didn’t respond.

“I am,” the unicorn mechanic confirmed, “and he knows it too. This is for your own good, Windfall, so drop it.”

Any further protest that I might have had was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the mercenary leaders and their lieutenants, “let’s get this pow-wow started,” Griselda growled, “the sooner it begins, the sooner it ends, and I’ve got some short-ribs waiting that are only going to get colder the longer this thing gets dragged out.”

I surprised myself by feeling a droplet of drool seep out of the corner of my mouth. Before anypony could see it, I quickly wiped it away with a pinion and took a deep breath in order to clear my head of all thoughts of roasting radroaches or grilled bloatsprite. For Celestia’s sake, I wasn’t even that big a fan of meat! I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t say no to a plate if that’s what was being served, but I’d never found myself actively pining for it before.

Kid, this better be your doing...

And, also, stop it!

“It’ll be quick,” I assured the griffon hen before looking over to Foxglove, “Foxy?”

The unicorn mare nodded and cleared her throat as several sheets of paper wrapped in the glowing green aura of her telekinesis floated out of her saddlebags and over to the representatives of the mercenary groups, “what you’re getting is the layout of the stable,” she informed them, “points of interest have been marked, and lines of advance have been color coded and assigned to each group.”

Griselda was sneering again, “I don’t see the Razor Beaks anywhere on this thing.”

This time, I spoke up, “your group will be keeping an eye out for Constance’s forces and any local patrols that might try to respond once we’re inside. Since we’ve got creatures that can fly on our side, we might as well keep them outside where they can use their wings to our advantage,” sensing the likely source of her irritation, I added, “you’ll get an equal cut of the loot, don’t worry.”

“If she really wants to throw herself down a few choke points, I’m willing to volunteer my girls to swap places with the Razor Beaks,” Hemlock chimed in, flashing the metal-beaked hen an insincere grin, “I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to lay around outside and work on my tan.”

The griffon adopted an icy smile of her own, “keep talking, cum-stocking, and I’ll show you some ‘points’ that you can choke on…” she held up her talons and leisurely stretched them out in front of the courtesan’s face. Hemlock’s expression didn’t waver.

“Anyway,” I interrupted, not particularly bothering to conceal my annoyance. The pair held each other’s gaze for a few additional seconds before returning their attention to Foxglove in almost perfect unison.

The violet mare resumed her briefing, “as I was saying, the assault groups are each tasked with seizing critical areas to ensure we get full control of the stable. The Housecarls will take the main reactor, the Harlots will seize the Overmare’s office and Security, and Hecate will go for the computer core. Meanwhile, we’ll,” Foxglove gesture between me, Starlight, and herself, “be taking the Shady Saddles ponies and going after their genetic sequencing equipment.”

“How reliable are these maps?” Yeoman asked, and I could see his eyes wandering briefly towards Arginine.

“There’s minimal deviation from the standard stable layout,” Foxglove assured the older earth pony, “structurally, it’s almost identical to how my own stable was, though there are a lot of differences in how the sections themselves are being used.”

“What kind of resistance are we talking about? Numbers, weapons, deployments?”

Foxglove flashed her gaze briefly to Arginine, her lips drawn in a tight line, “those numbers are...fuzzy,” she admitted, much to the obvious disgust of the mercenaries, “according to our source,” I silently glanced in her direction; what, she couldn’t even bring herself to use his name? “It’s likely that they’ve accelerated their production timetables. However, it’s impossible to know exactly how quickly they’ve done so. In theory, the stable houses an operating staff of just shy of five hundred-”

“What?!” “You’re not serious!” “Fuck that!”

“-which are mostly technicians!” Foxglove just about yelled in order to make herself heard above the din of outraged mercenaries. They subsequently quieted down to just shy of an annoyed murmur, “they should,” the unicorn stressed, with another brief glance at Arginine, “have only a ‘token’ security force, plus whatever patrol happens to be refitting between Wasteland sweeps. However,” she added by way of caveat, “we’ve also been advised that the stable’s usual posture might have changed in response to the same activities that have pressured them into accelerating their soldier production.”

“So we’re going to be fighting five hundred of those,” Yeoman jabbed a hoof at Arginine’s bulk, “inside a confined space that has choke points every thirty feet? ‘Technicians’ or not, that’s a pretty tall order,” his dour expression suggested that the pun hadn’t been intentional, or that commenting on it would be appreciated.

“We may not even have to fight most of them,” Foxglove said, “stable’s have lockdown protocols to help suppress riots and revolts and stuff. If we seize the Overmare’s office quick enough, we’ll be able to trap most of the stable’s population in the residential areas while we finish securing the reactor. With that and the Overmare’s office in our hooves, we can force a stable-wide surrender,” she insisted, “they can either give up, or we’ll just cut off power and airflow and finish things that way.”

I wasn’t sure if anypony noticed the horrified expression that flashed across my face before I was able to recompose myself. This was hardly an audience that was going to feel particularly compassionate towards Arginine’s stable, after all. Still, I was finding the idea of suffocating a few hundred trapped, helpless, ponies a little...disconcerting. My hope was for finding some way to resolve this without one side or the other committing genocide.

Unfortunately, the quite agreeable nods and expressions being shared by the mercenaries suggested that I was distinctly in the minority on that point.

I frankly refused to believe that this couldn’t all just be ended by destroying the stable’s capability to continue developing and producing their ‘perfect ponies’. Without their lab, and if we could destroy the data they’d spent the last two hundred years compiling, then they’d have no choice but to give up their crazy crusade and start living like normal ponies. Right?

I would have felt more sure of myself if I could have gotten Arginine’s opinion, but Foxglove wasn’t going to be letting that happen any time soon.

“What about getting in in the first place?” Hemlock ventured, “it’s my understanding that those underground bunkers are as tough as, well, bunkers. It’s not like they’re just going to open the door for us and roll out the red carpet.”

“Maybe you could show a little flank and see what happens,” the griffon chided.

Before Hemlock could issue her retort, Foxglove spoke up again, “we have the access codes to get in,” she assured everypony, “as long as we can get Windfall to the entrance with her pipbuck, I can get it open without any trouble.”

“We’re sure the codes you have will work?” Yeoman asked, “what if he’s equina-non-grata? He’s been gone for a long time.”

“The last his stable will have heard of him is how he captured me and brought me to General Constance,” I reminded the other mercenaries, “if anything, they’ll think he’s a damn hero,” a thought crossed my mind right then and there. I paused, looking briefly towards Foxglove. She wasn’t going to like it though, not one bit. However, I was almost positive that it was going to work.

It also had the bonus and giving Arginine and I the ability to talk again. Whether the mechanic and I would be on speaking terms an hour from now though, was another matter...

Sorry, Foxy, “in fact, that ties in directly to how we’re going to get past their lookouts. If everything goes right, they should even open the door for us and a team will be able to disable most of their stable prior to our initial assault.”

The four mercenary leaders were all looking at me now with expectant expressions. Which was good, because it meant that they were momentarily oblivious to Foxglove and Starlight’s looks of confused shock. I seized the initiative their surprise had bought me, “you see, they are also expecting Arginine to return, along with me. Once the two of us are inside, we can slip out of sight and disable their stable’s security protocols. The door will be open and the alarms will be off. There’s a good chance the two of us will even be able to initiate the lockdown before you make the breach. You’ll all be able to take the stable by complete surprise with barely any resistance.

“That last part can’t be guaranteed though,” I hastily amended, “which is why we didn’t include it in the plan we’ve laid out for you to follow. If Arginine and I can make it happen, it’ll be a nice bonus, but we don’t want you all to depend on it happening.”

If looks could kill, Foxglove’s emerald eyes would have liquified me like a disintegration ray. Thankfully, Starlight was quick enough on the draw to finally interject herself into the conversation before the violet mare could completely upend everything that I’d just tried to accomplish. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to thank her enough for that, “and nopony here needs to worry about whether Arginine can be trusted,” she said, “I’ll be casting a Reform Spell on him before we arrive. He won’t be capable of betraying us ever again.”

My stomach just about fell out of me. It was all I could do just to keep my face impassive. I might have overplayed my hand, I realized. Unfortunately, I was already in too deep, and countermanding what the pink unicorn had said would only reveal that I’d been the one deviating from the plan to begin with. We were a day out from the stable. Now was not the time to let our mercenary clients think that we didn’t have any idea what we were doing.

“Yup. That’s right,” I said, with only the slightest hint of strain in my voice, “he’ll be totally, one-hundred percent Reformed. Uh-huh,” oh, Arginine, I am so sorry!

Griselda frowned at the pink mare, “if you can do that, then why is he wearing that collar at all?” she gestured towards the stallion.

“Because a spell like that takes a lot of prep time,” Starlight told the griffon without missing a beat, “I’ve been putting the finishing touches on the artifact that I’ll need to cast it,” the explanation seemed to satisfy the griffon.

Foxglove finally found her voice again. I suspected that it must have taken the mare a monumental amount of self-control to keep her tone as level as she was, especially given the seething glare that she was still casting in mine and Starlight’s direction, “well...as you can see, there’s still a few things that we need to talk,” I could hear her teeth grinding on the word. It was very likely that there would be a lot more ‘yelling’ than there would be ‘talking’, “about. You should all get back to your companies and make sure they know what routes they’ll need to secure once they’re in the stable.

“We’ll let you know if the plan changes.”

I inwardly cringed at Foxglove’s tone during that last bit. Chances were good that she was about to do her level best to ‘change’ the plan that we’d just presented back to what it had originally been...all of two minutes ago.

The violet mechanic watched the mercenaries walk out of earshot, which took an uncomfortably long time, given that it wasn’t a gentile ‘chat’ that she didn’t want the others to overhear. On the bright side, this gave me plenty of time to brace myself before the unicorn started in on me, “WHAT IN THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!

“Did half your brain die of oxygen deprivation while you were dangling from that noose?! There is no way, in Celestia’s blighted Wasteland, that I’m going to let you and him go trotting into his stable all on your own! Not happening! Not. Happening.

“And you!” she turned on Starlight now, eliciting a cringe from the pink unicorn, “I don’t care if you ‘reform’ that waste of flesh back to his fucking foalhood; there is no way that what Windfall just proposed is going to happen!”

“Foxy-” I began, but to no avail.

“Oh, don’t you dare ‘Foxy’ me, Windfall,” she snapped, glaring daggers at me. I recoiled from her biting tone, but I could see in her eyes, beyond the anger, the wrenching pain that was being veiled by this outward rage. Yeah, she was pissed, of course, but it was because she was terrified, “how could you? We had a plan, and now you’re changing it all around at the last minute? And why? Just so you can put yourself into even more unnecessary danger?

“No, Windfall. I’ve watched you come close to death too many times because you went off and did something reckless on your own. Not this time. Not while we’re so close to finally being done with all of this!”

The mechanic took in a deep, ragged, breath and managed to grab a tenuous hold of herself once more, “the three of us are just going to sit here for a while, look like we’re deep in discussion, and in a few hours, I’m going to meet with the others and tell them that came up with a ‘better’ plan,” she glared at us once more, “the original plan,” she growled, daring either of us to say otherwise.

And who was I to ressit an opportunity like that, right?

“Foxy,” she whipped her gaze to me, but remained silent this time, allowing me to say my piece this time, “this really is the better plan,” I insisted, “they’ve got sentries outside the stable, not enough to fight us off for long, but enough to get a warning to their stable before we’re even at the door. With the valley as narrow as it is, the stable wouldn’t have to send all that many ponies out to stop us in our tracks. We might never make it inside before Constance catches us. Even if we do, it’ll be costly. Very costly,” I pointed out.

“If we do manage to make it inside, it’s not like they won’t know where we’re trying to get to. They know what parts of their stable are vital to defend just as well as you do.

“Yeah, it’s a fight that we’ll probably be able to win...eventually,” I stressed, “but they could draw the fight out for hours, maybe even a whole day. More than long enough for Constance to make it back here and pin us between her forces and the ponies in the stable. If that happens…”

“We knew that when we made the plan,” Foxglove countered defensively, though I’d seen her expression while I’d been laying out all of the ways that this could have gone wrong, “and we all agreed that we’d be able to secure the stable before that happened.”

“Only because we didn’t think that we had any other choice but to do it this way,” I pointed out, “but we do! Arginine and I can get in there without raising any alarms or suspicion. I heard General Constance specifically order Arginine to come back here! They’re expecting him,” I looked to Arginine for confirmation that Constance had passed along her instructions to him to the stable, but he was still avoiding my gaze, as per Foxglove’s instructions.

With an exasperated sigh, I glared at Foxglove and jerked my head in Arginine’s direction. The violet mare held my gaze defiantly for several long seconds before finally relenting, “fine...Arginine, you can answer her questions―but only answer her questions. The first bit of idle banter I hear out of your mouth, I’ll pop your head like a cyst.”

Yeah, because if there was one thing that Arginine had a reputation for, it was ‘small talk’, I thought, rolling my eyes before looking back at Arginine expectantly.

The stallion nodded, “the general did indeed send word to my stable alerting them to my imminent arrival, and that I would be bringing Miss Windfall’s body along for processing.”

“See? See?! We don’t need to bust down the stable’s front door; they’ll hold it wide open for the two of us while we just walk right in!”

“Leaving you and Arginine trapped, alone, inside their fucking headquarters,” Foxglove countered, “and I highly doubt that they’ll just let either of you run around in there unsupervised,” she shot a confirming look over to the stallion, who responded with a slight nod.

“They are also anticipating for Miss Windfall to be a corpse,” he added.

Even before the violet mechanic fixed me with another glare, I was cringing. I’d sort of hoped that Arginine would leave that part out. Though, I suppose that was a bit much to expect from Arginine, of all ponies, “excuse me?” Foxglove snarled.

“Okay, so maybe both of us won’t exactly be ‘walking’ around,” I hastily amended, trying my best not to fidget too much beneath the glare of both mares as Starlight found herself joining in as well, “but think about it: it’ll be super easy for me to sneak off without anypony noticing. How close of eye do you think they’re going to keep on a corpse, right?” I looked between both the mares and Arginine as well, looking for a little support from the stallion to help buttress my plan.

His aid proved once more to be somewhat...lacking, “it is highly probable that Miss Windfall will be taken almost immediately to be processed and vivisected so that the results of her body’s examination can be presented to the Omega Strain Planning Committee for consideration.”

Foxglove brought her hoof to her temple and began to massage it, “okay, so I figure we’ll wait another hour before letting the others know that the plan has ‘changed’,” she was looking at Starlight and pointedly avoiding my own defiant expression, “you tell Keri and Griselda, I’ll talk with Hemlock and Yeoman. If they ask why we’re doing things differently, tell them…” the mare fumbled briefly before giving a dismissive wave of her hoof, “that your brain-washing spell doesn’t work on Arginine after all. Make up some reason, it’s not likely either of them knows how unicorn magic works anyway.”

“Wha-? No!” I protested, “RG and I can pull this off! We made it work that one time they caught us,” I reminded the mares, “we can do it again.”

“You mean the time it turned into a running gun battle against a dozen ponies that we only barely survived?” Foxglove retorted, “Yeah, I’m sure doing the same thing, but this time while fighting off a few hundred ponies will work out just perfect…”

“That time we pulled a plan out of our flanks at the last minute,” I shot back, “this time RG and I will both know what’s coming and we can coordinate better. We can make this work!”

But Foxglove wasn’t hearing any of it, it seemed, “for fuck’s sake, Windfall, how dense can you possibly be?! It’s been three days since the last time you headed off alone with him only for him to try and have you killed! What could possibly have changed between now and then to make you think he won’t betray you―what would this be, the third or the fourth time?”

It wasn’t like the violet unicorn didn’t have a point, I was forced to concede. Objectively, I was being a moron. Considering that this little plan of mine would obviously call for the explosive collar around Arginine’s neck to be removed, it wasn’t like there would be any external threat to ensure his continued loyalty. There was literally nothing that any of us could do to keep him from betraying me in the end. If that happened, it wouldn’t just be my life that was at risk, but the lives of everypony in the whole valley, and maybe even beyond.

We would be hanging everything on Arginine’s word that he would cooperate. In the Wasteland, a pony’s mere word didn’t amount to all that much.

Of course, the Wasteland wasn’t likely to stop being the Wasteland any time soon if we continued to keep doing everything the way we had for the last two centuries. Things needed to change. Ponies needed to change.

And that was only going to happen if they were given a chance.

...or even third and fourth chances, I amended with an inward smirk.

Although, where Arginine was concerned, I did have one thing going for me that couldn’t be said of the average Wasteland resident. I stepped past Foxglove and Starlight and approached Arginine, sitting myself down right in front of him, “RG? I need you to help get me inside your stable. Then I need you to help me make it vulnerable so that everypony else can get in and stop it from making more soldiers and launching its attack on surface ponies.

“Will you help me do that?”

Arginine was silent for several long seconds as he stared down at me. Then, I thought that I saw the barest hint of a twitch at the corner of his mouth and he nodded, “I will.”

I looked over my shoulder at Foxglove and grinned, “there, see? We’re good. He won’t betray us.”

“Oh, please!” the mare spat, “you aren’t seriously just going to take his word for it, are you? Even you’re not that naive!”

Okay, now that was just hurtful, I thought with a frown, “Arginine has never―ever―lied to me, about anything,” I stated flatly, my gaze still leveled at the mechanic, “can you say that?” the mare balked for a moment, and I took advantage of her hesitation to return my attention to Arginine, “and why are you willing to help me stop your stable?”

“Witnessing the actions of General Constance, and comparing them to yours, has led me to conclude that―while perhaps physically and magically stronger than the ponies of the surface―the ponies of my stable are not truly ‘better’ than many examples I have encountered in Miss Windfall’s company,” he replied without hesitation, adding after a brief pause, “indeed, it occurs to me that our education curriculums may have engendered within us a sense of superiority that will cause us great friction with other races and beings in this world; perhaps inevitably leading us into another―even larger―war that spans the globe.

“Such an outcome would indeed run contrary to our stable’s established purpose. It would ultimately constitute failure,” he stared at Foxglove intently, “so if my stable is to fail in its objectives, than I would like to ensure that it does so with as little loss of life as possible.

“I do―and always have―seek to help ponykind.”

“Yeah, it was a total dick move for him to do what he did in Shady Saddles,” I shot a stern look at the larger stallion, “and you can bet he’ll be paying for that one for a long time,” I looked back to Foxglove, “but, believe it or not, he only did it because he was having something of a ‘crisis of faith’, specifically in me. We’re over it now, and he’s firmly in our corner.

“Trust me.”

But Foxglove was shaking her head again, “I…” there was hesitation now at least. I’d managed to make a dent in her resolve with what I’d provided thus far. With a little more prying, I should be able to get her to crack for good.

“Look, I get that you’re doing this because you really care about me, and not because you hate Arginine,” I caught her flashing a brief glare at the stallion, “well, mostly not because you hate Arginine,” I amended, “but my point is that I appreciate it―I really do!” I stepped closer to Foxglove and reached out with a wing, placing it gently on her shoulder and drawing her full attention back to me, “you’ve been watching out for me like some kind of annoying big sister that I never asked for!”

...Okay, admittedly that had sounded a little more complimentary in my head. I ignored the violet mare’s annoyed smirk and plowed onward, “but even if you were my sister, that doesn’t mean that you get to control me. I’m my own mare, living my own life. You’re not going to agree with every decision I make or risk that I take; but if you care about me―if you really care―then you’ll respect me enough to let me go through with them.

“By all means, try to talk me out of doing something stupid,” I qualified before the violet mare could say anything about that particularly contentious point, “and I won’t say ‘no’ if you swoop in at the last minute and save me from myself.

“But, at the end of the day, you don’t get to tell me―or anypony―what to do with their life. I trust Arginine. I understand why you don’t, but I do. Now, I’m asking you, as my friend, to let me do this.

“Let me try to end this with as few ponies dying as possible. Please. Too many have already died for this, so if there’s even a chance that stable can be taken down without a bloodbath, I need to at least try!”

Silence hung over the four of us for what began to feel like an eternity as Foxglove held her gaze on me. The only hopeful sign was that her expression was at least some shade of pensive; so she wasn’t going to just dismiss everything that I’d said right out of hoof. At this point, that was probably just about all that I could reasonably ask for, I supposed.

When she finally spoke, I felt my heart leap into my throat with dread and anticipation, “alright,” the only reason that I didn’t jump and holar with elation was because I was so overcome with surprise that the unicorn mechanic had actually relented in the end, “alright,” she said with a heavy sigh, “we’ll try your plan.

“But!” she added, jabbing her hoof in the middle of my chest just as my initial shock had worn off and I was about to start overtly celebrating, “but,” she repeated and I continued to rein in my enthusiasm, though it wasn’t easy, “I’m coming with you.”

Well, if her goal was to stifle my elation, Foxglove certainly succeeded, “what? How? You don’t exactly look the―”

“I’ve got a spell that should do the trick,” Starlight offered helpfully, levitating out one of her grimoires and flipping through the pages.

“Oh,” from the look on the faces of both unicorn mares, it was clear that this point was going to be non-negotiable too, “well, I guess an extra set of eyes can’t hurt, right?”

“And an extra gun if things go wrong,” Foxglove added curtly before shifting her attention to Starlight, “shall we go and work out the details on this spell of yours?” the three ponies turned to leave, but I piped up once more, looking anxiously at Starlight.

“Oh, and could you please not use your mind control magic on RG?” I pleaded, looking furtively between her and the stallion, “I kind of like him the way he is,” I added, suddenly feeling my cheeks flush a little despite myself, “his weirdness is growing on me.”

The pink unicorn mare smiled, “relax, I was just saying that for the benefit of the mercenaries,” she assured me before casting her own appraising look at Arginine, “besides, I genuinely don’t think that a Reform Spell would work on him anyway,” all three of us gave her a surprised look and she shrugged, “it mostly just erases malicious intent. Tall, dark, and wordy over here doesn’t have any malicious intent to erase.”

Starlight looked at Foxglove now, “like it or not, he’s not actually a ‘bad’ pony. At worst, he was misguided,” now she was looking at me, “but somepony went and put him on a better path before I could,” now her gaze went back to the stallion, “but whether he manages to stay on that path…” she let the warning hang in the air until Arginine gave an understanding nod of his head.

The violet mechanic rolled her eyes and shook her head in mild exasperation before fixing another glare on the stallion, “one hoof off of it, and he’ll lose it up to his neck,” she warned, shaking her eldritch lance in Arginine’s face as a reminder or her ire. He nodded his understanding at that as well. Then the three of them walked off to get Foxglove’s disguise set up, leaving me on my own.

“Well...that sure could have gone worse,” and I certainly hoped that tomorrow went considerably better.

Funny how I was a lot more confident about my hastily revised plan back when it was all a lot more academic in nature. Talking about how we were all just going to sort of ‘walk up to the gate’ sounded a lot easier and a lot less stressful back when we were just, you know, talking about it. When the moment finally came, it turned out that there was quite a lot of anxiety involved.

Which wouldn’t have been so bad except that it turned out ‘corpses’ did quite a lot of fidgeting when they were anxious.

“Miss Windfall, I do not mean to be overly critical of your acting skills,” Arginine murmured under his breath, addressing the lump of white fluff draped across his back that was doing a poor job or acting limp, “but your interpretation of a cadaver is rather atypical, and may soon draw unwanted attention.”

“Sorry,” I breathed out, trying to keep my lips from moving as much as possible, “my wings get twitchy when I’m nervous,” I suppressed an annoyed wince, “and I either ate something that’s not agreeing with me, or I swear the baby’s kicking.”

“It’s all in your head,” Foxglove’s voice descended from a form that looked absolutely nothing like the violet unicorn mare. Starlight had done quite a good job helping to set up the holographic harness, using her own knowledge of illusion magic to supplement the rig’s effects with spells of her own. The result was a far more convincing facsimile of a pony from Arginine’s stable than we could probably have pulled off with just the rig alone.

“You’re not far enough along for that to be happening,” then, after a momentary pause, “though, I suppose that you are nearly big enough. Mares in your family pack on the momma weight pretty quick, I assume?”

“Beats me,” I murmured in response, only barely managing to restrain myself from rubbing a hoof along my stomach self-consciously. I wasn’t getting that big, was I? I mean, yeah, my barding was getting more snug in some places, but Lancet had said I was only about a month along or something like that…

I forced myself to take a deep breath and push those thoughts from my mind. This was no time to be thinking about my waist size, I had a lot of bigger things to be worried about: like doing a better job at pretending to be dead before we got to the stable entrance, or I might accidentally blow our cover and make us all dead for real. As though on cue, I felt another of those sporadic and annoying little quivers from somewhere in my gut that made me wince.

A moment later, Arginine offered up an idea, “perhaps we can medicate her,” he suggested, “a suitable amount of Med-X would render Miss Windfall unconscious?”

I didn’t have to see the reaction on Foxglove’s holographic face to know that she wasn’t at all happy about that idea, “isn’t she supposed to be able to actually help once we get into your stable? How can she do that if she’s doped up?” then, she added in a low growl, “and how convenient that you want Windfall to be unconscious and defenseless when we’ll be split up inside your stable.”

In fairness, I wasn’t the biggest fan or Arginine’s plan either. Being taken into enemy strongholds unconscious had a history of not working out all that great for me or those around me. On the other hoof, I was much less a fan of getting us all killed, and I didn’t want to rest our fates on my ability to control my nervous belly twitches. Foxglove did raise a good point about my lack of usefulness was concerned though. It would take time for the Med-X to wear off, and every additional minute we languished in Arginine’s stable was another minute we risked being found out. Foxglove’s disguise was only going to last for so long, after all, even with Starlight’s enhancements.

Fortunately, Arginine had a counter-argument, “the medical facilities will have compounds that can swiftly counteract the effects of the Med-X,” he assured Foxglove, “and I have already given my assurances that I will bring no harm to either you or Miss Windfall. I agree that my stable’s ambitions must be thwarted.”

“That’s easy to say,” the mare stressed.

Sensing that another argument was about to break out on what I considered to be a settled matter, I swiftly interjected, “Arginine’s right, I can’t fake being dead well enough if I’m awake; and it’s not like there’s anything that we could do to stop Arginine from ratting us out once we’re inside if he really wanted to.”

“There was one thing, but you made me take it off his neck,” the mare growled, but said nothing more on the matter.

Arginine’s horn glowed as he withdrew a loaded syringe from his saddlebag and proceeded to inspect it, “I will awaken you once we are no longer observed,” he assured me, “I will then apprise you of our situation and we will make our way to the Overmare’s office from there.”

I winced as I felt the needed poke me in the flank, “got it. See you on the...other...side…”

As much as I trusted Arginine’s word, there was just a tiny little part of me that was surprised that my eyes fluttered open again. I was very clearly inside of the stable. There was no mistaking those light designed and that metal ceiling. The smell of alcohol and peroxide told me that I was in a room that used a lot of sterilized equipment. The feeling of cold steel beneath me was also quite familiar, reminding me of the dissection facility that Arginine had taken me to while I’d been unconscious once before.

At least this time I wasn’t strapped down.

What I couldn’t sense was anypony else around. At least, not at first. Then I heard the sound of keys being tapped at a computer terminal and glance to the side in time to see Arginine just stepping away from the computer. He was wearing a surgical gown with a matching mask dangling around his neck. In a moment of thoughtless panic, I bolted upright and hastily inspected myself. It took me all of a second to discover that I had not, in fact, been dissected and cut into manageable pieces for examination.

Though, I did note that there was a spot of soreness on my belly that I didn’t remember being there before. Probably just a consequence of how I’d been draped across Arginine’s back on the way here.

Sitting up also had the result of letting me catch sight of the bodies of two other engineered ponies that had been dragged over to one corner of the room. They were wearing identical surgical gowns and masks. I didn’t see any pools of blood expanding out from around their bodies or smeared along the floor. I looked back at Arginine and nodded my head towards the ponies.

“Pentobarbital,” he answered simply, which only prompted a quirked eyebrow from me, “I knocked them out. They will awake in a few hours, likely with little memory of what transpired,” he set about removing his gown and mask completely, revealing a brand new set of stable barding that he was now wearing. Was he also...showered?

“How long was I out?”

“It has only been about thirty minutes since we entered the stable,” Arginine assured me, as he passed me my concealed holster and compact forty-five from his own saddlebags. It was the only weapon that I had chosen to have brought along for myself, believing it was likely to draw the least suspicion if the ponies here looked through Arginine things upon arrival. Certainly it would be less suspicious than my Enclave energy-bolt-blasting power-hooves, “Miss Foxglove departed from here ten minutes earlier, once we had acquired a pipbuck for her use,” he nodded at the pair of dozing ponies, who I noticed were missing theirs, “she is making her way to Reactor Control as we speak. However, she will not be able to act until the Overmare’s office has been seized.”

“I mean, that should be easy, right?” I asked, “can’t you just...walk in?”

“Not quite in so many words,” the stallion frowned, “I can ask for a meeting, but there’s little guarantee that I would be granted one before Miss Starlight’s spell loses its effect.”

The was true, “so, what is the plan then?” It was not lost on me that having a next step all ironed out before making it this far would have been a really good idea.

“A slight variation on the original one: I will trigger a stable-wide lock-down, at which point Miss Foxglove will shut down the stable’s reactor.

“Okay, but I thought a lockdown could only be done from the Overmare’s office?”

“That is the most straightforward method, yes,” the stallion acknowledged, “but there are various automated systems that can trigger a similar event in response to dire emergencies. The two of us will endeavor to create one such emergency.”

“How?”

“With these,” the stallion retrieved a pair of compressed gas cylinders, “under normal and proper operation, a stable’s air purification system monitors the condition of the interior atmosphere for contaminants and screens them out appropriately. To that end, there are sensors placed all throughout the ventilation system that are monitoring for abnormalities so that the system can make adjustments.

“However, in the event that a contaminant is discovered affecting a significant portion of the stable, a lockdown event is triggered, sealing the stable into air-tight partitions to prevent further spread of the contaminant while the environmental systems work to purify all parts of the stable one after another until everything is back within acceptable parameters.

“My proposal is that I make my way to the environmental system control room, put the monitoring system through a maintenance cycle, which will briefly take the network of sensors offline, and then release the gas in these cylinders into the ventilation system. Once the sensors come back online, they will immediately detect what will by then have become a stable-wide contamination, and initiate a lockdown of the entire stable while it begins its purification protocol.

“At which time, Miss Foxglove can shut down the reactor and render the entire stable inert. Admittedly, this will hamper our own movement somewhat, but Miss Foxglove’s cutting tool should serve more than adequate for the purposes of allowing us to reunite and resume moving largely unfettered until we can let our comrades on the surface inside.”

“That...actually sounds like a really good plan,” I admitted, and not just because I had absolutely nothing. Though, I did find myself having one tiny concern, “but, won’t we be poisoned by whatever’s in those tanks too?”

“It’s just helium,” Arginine quipped, “aside from shifting all of our vocals ranges into falsetto, nopony will suffer any ill effects. However, as it will still be in quantities far in excess of the ranges the environmental system is programed to maintain, the protocol will classify it as a ‘contaminant’ and initiate a lockdown all the same.”

“Oh...well then, that’s not so bad. I think?” I didn’t know what the difference between either a true or a false doe was, but as long as the stable’s computer did and it wasn’t anything that would hurt us, it didn’t really matter, I guessed. Now our only concern was, “so how do we make it to where we need to release the gas and stuff?”

“I will simply walk there directly,” Arginine replied, gesturing at his stable barding, “as I am a genuine resident of this stable, I can move largely unfettered through most areas, including environmental control. It is not considered a restricted area, as there is nothing particularly hazardous within.

“You, however, will be taking an alternate route, to a different target.”

“Uh, what?”

Arginine gestured upwards towards the ceiling, and more specifically an air vent mounted into it near the wall, “the ventilation system will grant you unfettered movement within the stable, as well as a means to gain entry into any secure areas. To include the Overmare’s office. The appropriate map has been uploaded to your pipbuck.”

“But I thought you said we didn’t need the Overmare’s office to create a lockdown?”

“We do not,” Arginine conceded, “but the environmental lockdown will not last indefinitely, as it is not powered directly by the main reactor. It possesses a backup power supply, so that the stable would not suffocate during a power failure. Even with the reactor offline, it could continue removing the helium until the air was back to within normal tolerances and end the lockdown. Even with Miss Foxglove’s lance, it cannot be assured that we will be able to reach the Overmare’s office before the lockdown ends.

“You will need to be in position to act quickly and stop the Overmare from warning the stable, and especially General Constance, that more is amiss than a simple transient atmospheric anomaly. We must maintain the element of surprise until our forces are poised to seize complete control of the stable or our victory is at risk. Do you understand?”

I swallowed and slowly nodded my head. Arginine certainly had a way of putting things into perspective even if he was speaking in near-complete monotone. Though, even then I was still left with one qualm, “how tough is the Overmare anyway? Do you really think I could take them in a fight?”

Arginine regarded me for a moment, “in the event that a physical confrontation is ultimately required, I doubt you will have much issue. The Overmare is a member of the Epsilon Strain, and is significantly different from the Lambda’s like myself that you have encountered.

“However, I am quite confident that it will not be necessary,” the corners of the stallion’s much twitched ever so slightly in what, for any other pony, would have been a grin, “I have faith that you will prove yourself to be a much better pony than that.”

I very nearly kissed him for that, but I managed to remind myself that I was still supposed to be firmly of the mind that he wasn’t quite completely forgiven for that little betrayal of his in Shady Saddles. Still, if he kept up that kind of talk, I wasn’t certain of exactly how long I’d be able to hold back. Sure, yeah, that hadn’t exactly been legendary poetry or anything, but for Arginine that had probably been the next best thing to a sonnet!

In the end, I offered him a wry smirk and a, “thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. Hopefully she’ll be half as smart as you are and I can make her see reason,” I glanced up at the vent grate and sighed, “I bet nopony’s cleaned in there since this place was built. I’m going to come out the other side more dust bunny than pony…”

Arginine wisely said nothing and used his magic to open up the vent for me to flit up into, closing it behind me before he left the examination room himself.

The ventilation ducts were far from spacious, and I was firmly of the mind that it had very little to do my own broadening maternal circumference. The confines weren’t restrictive, per say, but they were far from pleasant for a pony who very much preferred to be able to spread her wings and fly around. The sooner I was out of here and where I needed to be, the better. To that end, I brought around my pipbuck and tabbed over to the map that Arginine said he’d provided.

It took me a minute to orient myself and make sense of all of the symbols on it. It was a three dimensional structure being rendered in just the two dimensions of my pipbuck’s screen with a lot of features that simply didn’t exist on most map layouts that I’d seen before: such as six-way intersections. In the end, I made a few wrong turns before I was finally able to get a firm grasp of how to interpret the map. Once I knew where I was going though, I made some pretty good time, only slowing down when I neared other vent grates that possessed blips in their proximity.

At one point, I was even forced to stop completely near one of the vents as there were a pair of ponies standing just below it, apparently having something of a conversation in the hallway. At first, I was far too fervent in my silent urgings for them to wander off somewhere so that I could continue on without being heard to care about whatever it was they were talking about; but, I couldn’t help but catch the contents of their conversation the longer they lingered.

“―look, I know the protein reserves are running low,” a mare was saying in what the months spent with Arginine had taught me was an exasperated tone, “and I know that your production facilities weren’t designed to operate at the levels we’re asking for, but every department’s timetable has been thrown out the stable door by recent events. You should hear the earful I’m getting from Strain Control over rolling out the Nu Strain five years ahead of schedule.

“All I can do is tell you what I need from your department to meet the new timetables that have been set,” she continued in a more conciliatory tone, “the Overmare wants the next batch out of their tanks and in the field by the end of the month. If your technicians can’t meet our demands, then that is an issue best brought up with the Overmare, not my department. Do we have an understanding, Mister Histone?”

“Yes, Miss Vitro,” the stallion that the first mare was speaking with responded, “and I apologize if I came off as being critical earlier, that was not my intent. I merely wanted to advise you of the likely event of a protein shortage so that you were not caught by surprise and could devise responses to such an event. Likewise, my department as well has submitted memorandums to the Overmare outlining our production caps and the reasons beyond our control for them.

“Fabrication is currently constructing additional culture vats, but as they too were given little notice, those new vats will not be ready in time to contribute to production for this batch. The estimate I have been given is three months until full scale culture production is possible at the levels you are requesting.”

“I understand, and I appreciate that clarification. My own apologies for my bruskness. These last few months have been...trying.”

“Indeed,” the stallion agreed, “in any event, the reason for my visit has concluded. Is there anything else you wish clarified?”

“No, Mister Histone, I believe that covers all matters of immediate concern between us. I need to make the necessary adjustments to the gestational pods. See you at the next inter-department briefing.”

“See you then, Miss Vitro.”

Finally the two ponies departed and I was free to move about freely again. I swear to Celestia, I could not believe that there was a whole stable of ponies that talked like Arginine. That was what they wanted to replace all of ponykind with?

I was just about to resume my course to the Overmare’s office when I paused in my movements, glancing at the vent grate. I hadn’t understood everything that they’d been talking about, but my brain managed to sift out enough of the pieces to figure out that the mare was in charge of making more ponies in this stable. My early conversations with Arginine had revealed that ponies in this stable were more ‘grown’ than ‘born’, and I had to admit that I was more than a little curious to see the process in action.

It wouldn’t be all that much of a diversion from our plan. Just a quick little detour into the next room to take a peek and then I’d head for the Overmare’s office again.

I carefully crawled my way down the appropriate vent, my eyes focused on the blips that had become suddenly much more plentiful. Like, a veritable solid bar of color plentiful. That the color in question was red only served to further heighten my apprehension.

My stomach quivered.

“Knock it off, kiddo,” I huffed, “I’m busy.”

Finally, I managed to worm my way quietly to one of the nearby vents and peer down into the room. I’m not entirely certain what I expected to see, but it certainly looked appropriately cold and sciency to be what Arginine had described. The room was pretty large, at least fifty yards across and half as wide. Row, upon row, upon row, of massive steel and glass cylinders were arranged in neat columns, fed by wires and tubes. Inside each of them was a tiny Arginine; or a female variant of him.

I would never get over how identical all of these ponies looked…

What did surprise me though was that none of the ponies in the tubes looked like young colts and fillies. They were all indeed quite well along as far as I could tell. It was admittedly difficult to get a firm estimate for their age, given how absurdly large they grew to be as adults; but if I assumed that Arginine was fully grown, then the ponies in those glass tubes had to be at least my age, give or take a year.

Which didn’t make sense, I thought with a frown and brought up my pipbuck. Looking through the maps on it, I found the layout for the entire stable and quickly thereafter the room I had to be in. There was only one other room that matched the dimensions that I could see, and it wasn’t far off from where I currently was. There were other large rooms too, but they were on different levels, and were identified on my map with labels that marked them as serving very different purposes, like manufacturing and such.

There just wasn’t any way that this stable could have been growing the ponies in those vats right now, such a short time after sending out their army. The same army that was presumably grown in those exact vats. I mean, it was possible that they only developed in those tubes until they were young adults, and then were raised normally, but this stable wasn’t nearly big enough for there to be thousands upon thousands of ponies living in it being trained up as soldiers.

I certainly hadn’t seen any younger ponies through the vents during my travels.

So how could they have pushed an army out the door so recently, and have ponies that looked like they were nearly fifteen years old in those tanks, and be talking like they were going to put another army out the door in just a few more weeks?

I may not be any sort of mathematical genius, but even I could see that those numbers just didn’t add up. In order to be growing armies as large as they were, and putting them in the field as often as they were, there should be dozens, if not hundreds, of vat rooms like this one with hundreds of ponies floating in them at various stages of developement. I briefly entertained the notion that the map I had was incomplete or had been redacted somehow, but I dismissed that idea almost immediately. There just wasn’t any way that the stable could be big enough for something like that.

I’d ventured into my share of derelict stables in my life while Jackboot and I had traipsed through the Neighvada Valley, and while they’d varied slightly in layout, most of them had been pretty consistent in size overall. For this stable to be housing the vast facilities I was imagining would require it to be larger than even the monstrosity that existed below Old Reino; and that ‘stable’ hadn’t been intentionally built at all.

Though, as nagging as that particular mystery was, it wasn’t actually my biggest personal concern. Though it definitely would have been to a slightly younger and much more action-minded me. I may not have known a whole lot about how the tubes growing those ponies worked exactly, but it didn’t take a pony with Foxglove’s level of technological knowhow to realize one thing about them: they were what was keeping the ponies in them alive. If those machines shut down, their inhabitants would almost certainly die. Of that, I had little doubt.

Which meant that I couldn’t go through with our plan.

Yeah, I know, this was basically me reaching the peak of my altruistic stupidity. The ponies growing in those tubes were obviously the next instalment of the armies that this stable was getting ready to launch on the Wasteland. Constance’s was going to be hard enough to defeat as it was without giving her reinforcements that would effectively double her strength of arms. If these ponies finished ‘growing up’ or whatever and got out of the stable, then the Neighvada Valley was doomed. Thousands would die. Tens of thousands more if they made it out towards Manehattan and the rest of the settled Wasteland.

Objectively, stopping those future soldiers before they became a threat was the smartest and most tactically sound move. Literally any other pony in my position wouldn’t hesitate to pull the plug, and I’d be hard-pressed to condemn them for it when they did.

On the other hoof, also objectively, these tubed ponies were all technically innocents. They’d never even taken an actual breath before, let alone hurt or killed anypony. I couldn’t just end all of their lives before they’d even really begun because of what they might do in the future. No matter how much of a guarantee their actions were going to be if I left them to their own devices. After all, they were specifically being created to commit genocide. I had no delusions that any of them would balk at any order given to them by General Constance or another commander like her.

But they hadn’t done it yet!

They had to be given the chance―the choice―to be better than their ‘designers’ intended.

I had to give them that choice, to truly be better ponies.

We needed a new plan.

I grimaced as I thought about the conniption fit that Foxglove was going to throw when she found out why I couldn’t go through with an otherwise relatively straightforward, simple, and even marginally safe plan. Especially as this also wasn’t the first radical change I’d made to a previously agreed-upon plans without consulting anypony. Strictly speaking, I was well aware of how reckless and dangerous these abrupt changes were. Foxglove, Arginine, Starlight, and everypony else outside right now would have every right to despise me for doing this a second time. But...I couldn’t help it. The simple fact of the matter was that I didn’t know enough about what I was getting into before I’d agreed to any of our previous plans. I was winging it. Which was probably a bad call when dealing with combating absolute genocide.

Unfortunately, it was just something that everypony else was going to have to deal with, because I wasn’t going to stop one genocide by committing another. That wasn’t how we were going to save the Wasteland.

However, before I broke the news to the violet unicorn, I first needed to tell Arginine not to release the gas, and also confront him about why the stallion hadn’t told me about this in the first place. Maybe I didn’t know that I’d find a place like this in the stable, but he sure would have!

It didn’t take me long to trace out a new route through the ventilation system that took me to Environmental Control. Arginine was there, rigging up the compressed tanks of helium into the air circulation system, and a cursory glance confirmed that he was alone. So I smacked the vent grate open and hopped down, noticeably startling the stallion, who turned to stare at me with visibly surprised eyes.

“Was there an issue?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” I frowned at the stallion, glaring up at him. Of all the ponies in my life, he should have known better than anypony how hard I’d been trying to change my ways and the way that I was trying to approach making the Wasteland a better place. How much I wanted to avoid killing any more ponies―no matter who they were―than was absolutely and unavoidably necessary.

And, because of that, I had to know, “why didn’t you tell me? Did you think that I wouldn’t find out, or that I somehow wouldn’t care? Which was it?”

Arginine’s eyes again widened ever so slightly before his lips pulled themselves into a tight line, “I fully intended to tell you.”

I couldn’t hold back my skeptical snort, “uh, when exactly? After it was too late to do anything about it?”

“Of course not!” this time I was the one who was surprised, as this was perhaps the first time that I’d seen the stallion looking so visibly distressed. I guess maybe it made a certain amount of sense; this was his stable after all. Even if he no longer agreed with what they were doing, they were still sort of like his extended family. The thought of killing all of those ponies might have been affecting him more than I thought.

All the more reason that he should have said something about it, I felt, “then why keep it to yourself? You should have told me,” I insisted, “we could have worked something out; we still can!”

The stallion relaxed and recomposed himself, nodding his head, “that was my hope, certainly; and I am relieved to hear you voice such aloud. If my silence on the matter upset you, I apologize. I merely did not wish to burden you with the information. I felt that it would only serve to aggravate what is already an understandably stressful situation.”

Now I was confused, “um...I mean, how exactly were you expecting me to do anything about it if you didn’t tell me?”

“Assuming that we survive the next couple of days, there would still be plenty of time to discuss the situation and arrange to be at a location with suitable surgical facilities to perform the procedure.”

I blinked at the stallion in silence for several seconds, my face contorted as I tried to figure out what Arginine was talking about, “surgery? Procedure? What does that have to do with the army of ponies your stable is growing in vats?”

It was the stallion’s turn to be speechless for several seconds, “if the topic you were intending to discuss was indeed the maturation chambers, then I can confidently state that I have grossly misinterpreted what you had come here to talk to me about. I apologize.

“In which case: I did not tell you about the maturation chambers because I had already told you of them and how the ponies of my stable procreate. I was unaware that you had forgotten, and for that I apologize as well. I should have confirmed that you recalled that information.”

“Oh, no, I remembered alright,” I replied, “but I thought that you guys just used them until you were far along enough to breathe on your own and stuff and then you were raised like regular ponies! I didn’t know you stayed in them until you were whole adults!”

“It’s more efficient,” the stallion explained, “a hoofful of technicians can monitor hundreds of chambers, while attending to young foals requires significantly more ponies to care for them properly.”

“But what about teaching them how to speak and stuff?” I asked, “it can’t possibly be easier to potty train a thousand adults all at once.”

“While they are in the maturation chambers, their minds are held within a simulated environment where they receive the appropriate learning curriculum for the tasks that they will be expected to perform. What would take a conscious pony many years to master can be effectively ‘uploaded’ to our residents in weeks or months while they are developing.”

“Oh,” well, that hardly boded well. If they were already completely indoctrinated the moment they were born, getting them to change their minds would be an uphill fight, to say the least. I mean, yeah, I’d managed to bring Arginine around―eventually―but I’d be lying if I said that it’d been a simple matter. To say nothing about the, erm, ‘hiccups’ that we’d had along the way.

I didn’t know if I was up for doing that a thousand more times…

―wait a minute, “what exactly did you think I was here to talk about before?”

“Your pregnancy,” Arginine replied, “I was under the impression that you’d somehow discovered the results of the embryonic genetic testing that I’d taken the initiative to run while I had access to the stable’s systems.”

“You ran ‘tests’ on me while I was unconscious?” I didn’t bother to hide my ire at that thought, “maybe I let Foxglove take that collar off too soon…” I added under my breath, but loud enough for Arginine to hear. My reward was seeing the stallion look perceptibly abashed.

“...it seemed like an efficient use of time while you were regaining consciousness,” he mumbled hesitantly, “I merely wanted to rule out a possibility that the physician in Shady Saddles might not have considered regarding your pregnancy.”

I frowned at the stallion, “what are you talking about?”

“You are not five months pregnant. You are one month pregant.”

“Lancet seemed pretty sure of himself,” I countered, “and I find it hard to believe that he could make a pretty obvious mistake like that,” I may not have been an expert on the subject, but I felt like there was a pretty stark difference between the two that a doctor as good as Lancet was should have been able to identify easily, “besides, I may not know a whole lot about motherhood, but I do know that mares can’t feel a foal kicking at just one month,” I noted, jabbing a hoof at my belly.

“It is an understandable error for even the most skilled physician to make if they were not aware of a particular modification made to the genome of every pony in this stable: specifically that, prior to the physiological shock of our first true inspiration, our cellular division rates are hyper-acceler―” Arginine drew up short, likely having seen my eyes starting to glaze over. His lips creased and he sighed, “before we take our first breaths, we grow really quickly.

“Quickly enough,” he went on, “that a fetus that has been maturing for only a few weeks would look much more developed. Perhaps even as mature as an invalid―er, typical pony fetus of five or six months,” the stallion paused briefly, “so I sequenced your foal’s DNA,” by now, I suspected that my eyes were as wide as saucers as I put together everything that Arginine was saying right now with his side of the conversation from earlier. He nodded, “many of the gene sequences present were exact matches for one of the production strains on file with our stable.

“Specifically, our Lambda Strain.”

“...oh,” so, we were back to this again. You’d think that I’d have been prepared for Arginine to once more be the ‘confirmed’ father. I was not, “so...what was that earlier about ‘surgery’?” I swallowed, feeling myself growing increasingly more apprehensive, “is...is there something wrong? Like, are they a mutant or―?”

“No,” Arginine offered thankfully quickly, “nothing like that. Surprisingly, your and my genetic material seem to have arranged themselves benignly. The foal will likely not look typical for a surface pony, to be sure,” he gestured to himself and shrugged, “and they will need to be monitored closely for any unforeseen complications that might arise throughout their life; but I saw nothing immediately concerning.

“No, the surgery will be for you,” he explained, “as I mentioned earlier, the fetus will continue to grow at an accelerated rate until they draw their first breath. While it is possible that your body will recognize it as viable long before it can grow to any size that might cause you...issues,” I briefly entertained the image of myself with an absurdly distended belly housing an adult Arginine. I did not want that, no, “it is highly unlikely that your body will have prepared itself for the delivery of a foal in less than two months from the time of conception.

“It is far safer to perform a cesarean. Not unlike what was done for the zebra mare we took to Santa Mara. That was the procedure to which I was referring.”

“Oh. Okay,” my brain was still feeling a little distant and numb as it processed everything all over again. I was carrying Arginine’s foal, and it was growing super fast, and it was sounding like it was going to a bouncing baby pseudo-unicorn thing or whatever to raise in just a few more weeks.

Yeah, no, I was not ready for that kind of responsibility this soon! For fuck’s sake, I’d barely had a week to come to terms with the fact that I was even pregnant! Other mares that hadn’t been ‘planning’ a family got more notice than this! As I felt that knot of anxiety growing inside of me, I could suddenly understand why Arginine had decided that it was best to hold off on breaking the news to me until after I’d reconciled the genocide of an entire stable―which was still something that I needed to figure out how to deal with, by the way!

Celestia, help me! I am not equipped to deal with this kind of shit! I was barely an adult; I should not be deciding the fates of thousands of ponies all on my own!

In the back of my mind, I felt a little orange pony poking me and jabbing a hoof at Arginine.

...And maybe I didn’t have to, “RG, we need a new plan,” I said, drawing a breath and pushing every thought about my impending motherhood as far into the back of my head as possible. Like Arginine had told me: that was still weeks in the future. Constance and his stable were issues for right now, “we can’t―I can’t―just kill all of the ponies in those vats! Which is exactly what will happen when Foxglove shuts off the reactor, right?”

Arginine sighed and nodded, “the stable’s emergency power systems are not sufficient to sustain the maturation chambers, no. Without main power, their inhabitants will be dead in minutes and unrecoverable.”

I stared up at the stallion in equal parts wonder and revulsion, “and you were just going to let that happen? You were going to let a thousand ponies die? You were going to let me kill a thousand ponies with the flick of a switch?”

“There isn’t an alternative,” he insisted defensively, “this stable must be put out of commission in its entirety before General Constance arrives, otherwise she will attack in an effort to reclaim it.”

He had a point. Of course Arginine had a point, he was a smart pony. Still, “there has to be something we can do,” I insisted, refusing to commit myself to mass murder without exploring any and every other possible course of action.

“What if we let them out?” I ventured, as little as I like the idea. We’d be giving the stable another thousand ponies to work with, and possibly pinning our forces between two massive armies when it wasn’t even a guarantee that we’d be able to take on the one that already existed. I could also count on every mercenary out there running for New Reino the moment they found out what I did. If I was really lucky, they might not even shoot me right between the eyes before they left.

Though, given what Constance was likely to do to me once she found out that I survived her first attempt to kill me, getting shot dead quick and clean might actually be the best outcome that I could hope for.

The smart move was to execute the original plan that the three of us had come up with to stop this stable. It was the rational move. Every other pony in the Wasteland would probably have called it the ‘right’ one too. The Mare-Do Well, the Lone Ranger, the Stable Dweller...they’d all have done it, wouldn’t they? To save the Wasteland…

...but I wasn’t fighting for the Wasteland. Not really. Whether it was smart or not, I was actually aiming for something just a bit higher: I was trying to save ponykind. Even if the stakes I was about to gamble with were unconscionable.

“That is...not advisable,” Arginine cautioned.

I shook my head in resignation, “I don’t care if it’s not the ‘smart’ thing tactically; I’m not killing all of those ponies in their sleep. I won’t.”

“I was referring to more than that,” the stallion explained, “while it is clear that the education process can be modified and even halted prematurely, as evidenced by General Constance’s own early release, I have absolutely no idea how to make such a change to the systems involved. My specialty was genetics, not systems operations,” he shrugged.

“We could ask somepony,” I offered, noting how unconvinced my own tone sounded about the viability of that particular plan. We were operating below the stable’s radar for the moment, but there was no telling how long that would last as is. Nabbing and interrogating other stable ponies only risked further discovery before we were ready to make our move. That was even assuming that whoever we grabbed would be willing to tell us.

Arginine was doubtful, “any technician that we might abduct is unlikely to reveal such information. And, while I could hypothetically merely go and ask a technician what the appropriate procedures are, anypony I might speak with would want to know why a genetic sampler like myself would need to know about the functioning of their equipment,” the stallion paused for a moment, thinking, and then, “although…”

I perked up. There was an ‘although’? That sounded promising!

“This is never going to work…” I grumbled as I crawled my way through the ventilation conduits towards my new destination.

Of course, given that the alternative was outright genocide, I was certainly willing to give Arginine’s suggestion a try, no matter how much of a longshot it was. That wasn’t to say that the plan didn’t have some merit. On the face of it, it sounded perfectly reasonable. It wasn’t until you drilled down into the details of what exactly needed to be done that you started to run into the various snags that could just as easily spell disaster for all of us as it could mean success.

Ultimately, Arginine had pointed out, all that we needed to do was render the stable useless for the inhabitants’ purposes. It didn’t necessarily have to be outright destroyed, just no longer able to produce their ‘superior’ pony specimens. Using our original plan of sabotaging their reactor was the easiest and most straightforward way to do that, but it wasn’t the only way. The gray stallion had pointed out that, just as vital to their plans as the physical infrastructure to create engineered ponies, was all of the research and genetic templates that had been gathered over the centuries.

Removing that electronic data would cripple them just as severely; at least in the short term. Recouping all of that data would be well within their means eventually, but in the interim it would stop them from producing any more armies to send out against the Wasteland. At least, any more beyond the one that was currently maturing in those vats. Fortunately, that force was still weeks away from being an issue, giving us some time to figure out how to handle them after General Constance was dealt with.

So, yeah, on the surface, it was a workable short-term solution to a pressing issue.

However, it was also a plan that was contingent upon the least technologically savvy member of our team being able to be talked through how to wipe the stable’s whole computer network by the stallion who knew how to navigate the local system, and the mare who knew how to irrevocably break it, in concert. After weathering Foxglove’s initial―and completely expected―ranting about this latest improvisation, after which she reluctant agreed to its feasibility, she had given a brief summary of the steps that I’d need to take in order to do what Arginine had in mind. She’d tried her best to put it in terms that even I could understand, but even as I crawled through the ductwork now, I had barely a notion of what a ‘root directory’, ‘registry keys’, or ‘complete disk reformat’ were.

Apparently this process was even going to be further complicated―again much to Foxglove’s chagrin―by the fact that a general system failure was unacceptable if I truly wanted the ponies in those tubes to remain unharmed. The stable’s computer network was integral to maintaining their life support systems, as well as the educational programing that was currently linked to their brains. At a minimum, those areas of the network had to be left intact. The violet mare had initially insisted that Arginine’s plan was unrealistic given the timetable that we were working against. According to the mechanically-inclined unicorn, it could realistically have taken her days to determine which parts of which systems were interconnected so that she could figure out what parts of the network had to be left alone to keep vital areas functional while still causing the sort of catastrophic data loss that we needed.

Only when Arginine proposed targeting the genetic research archives themselves and mostly avoiding other functions did Foxglove relent and agree to the plan. Though she did insist on the caveat that, should we run into any serious issue while trying this new plan, she wouldn’t hesitate to cripple the reactor itself and force an emergency evacuation of the stable that way. I’d be lying if I said that I was happy to hear that, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to do anything to stop her either. Besides, I fully realized how much of a risk I was taking, on many levels.

I had to try to avoid killing as many as I could while trying to end this whole thing, yeah but, ultimately, the lives of everypony in the Wasteland weren’t worth my own moral qualms. We’d try things my way, but if they didn’t work out…

...maybe just knowing that I’d tried would be enough to keep from retreating back into a whiskey bottle when all of this was over.

Two levels down―and one wrong turn―later I came to the room that Arginine had pointed out on the map. I crept carefully over the last few feet and peered through the grate. Several terminals were arranged around a large central column that was adorned with an uncountable number of blinking lights in all the colors of the rainbow. Bundled cables clung to the column like vines, looped around it in what, at first glance, looked almost haphazard, but the care with which the cords had been bound together betrayed their meticulous and careful placement.

Then my lips immediately twisted into an annoyed grimace as I beheld that the room wasn’t empty. One of the stable’s residents was seated down before one of the terminals mounted to the column manipulating the console with his telekinesis. His attention diverted between the readout on the screen and a thick bundle of papers floating at his side. Judging by how thick the portion of the bundle that appeared to yet be unconsulted appeared to be when compared to that which he’d folded aside, I had a sinking feeling that this stallion was going to be here for a long time.

I back away a short distance and whispered into my pipbuck, “RG, I’m at the computer control room place, but there’s a pony in it. He’s got a big―like, a really big―stack of papers with him. I don’t suppose that it’s possible he’s only going to do something with one or two of them and call it a day and leave?”

“That is likely Cobol,” Arginine’s voice crackled over the speaker, “his propensity to perform frequent redundant data entry audits is a regularly discussed phenomenon among the other residents.”

“You could have mentioned that your stable’s computer core was frequented by an obsessive compulsive tech before you floated this plan to us,” Foxglove growled over the channel.

“My apologies,” the stallion said, my ears picking up on the slight cool inflection of his tone, “I must have allowed myself to overlook topics of idle stable gossip while in the midsts of sabotaging my stable. In the future, I will endeavor to include any and all personality quirks of my stable’s residents. Shall I do so alphabetically? Abattoir hums to herself while performing dissections. Acerbic spends his nights painting in the cafeteria. Agar―”

“Alright!” I snapped, massaging my forehead with my hoof. Was Arginine actually getting snippy? Apparently this situation was just as stressful for him as it was the rest of us, “it doesn’t matter,” I insisted, hopefully silencing any further rebukes from Foxglove. I let out a slow breath, feeling that I already knew the answer to the question I was about to ask, “so, can I assume this stallion will be at this for a while?”

“Most likely,” Arginine said, “especially if this is only his first audit of the day.”

“‘First’?” I felt myself deflate at the implication.

“Of three...usually.”

Horseapples.

“I’m blowing the reactor,” Foxglove said in a resigned tone.

“No! Not yet,” I urged the mare in a tone that I hoped didn’t sound quite like pleading, “if it’s just one pony, I’m pretty sure I can subdue him without making too much of a ruckus. Once he’s down I’ll just lock the door and I shouldn’t have any further problems. Right, RG?”

“Cobol is well known in the stable for preferring his privacy. The door is likely already sealed under his personal authority.”

“There, see? I knock him out and then we’re free and clear to do all the computer stuff!”

“...fine. I’ll head somewhere I can be alone so I won’t be overheard walking you through everything.”

I let out a relieved sigh and closed the channel. Then I made my way back to the vent grate and peered back into the room. The lone stallion appeared largely oblivious to anything that wasn’t the terminal or his stack of papers. I’d be able to take him by complete surprise.

His head perked up at the sound of the vent grate being bucked aside and clattering to the metal stable floor, but that was all of the reaction that he was able to make before the engineered computer technician found himself wearing a new pegasus-shaped scarf around his neck. I locked the pasterns of my forelegs together around the stallion’s throat and held them as tight as I could. The stallion let out a choked off exclamation of surprise as he reared up on his hind legs in an attempt to throw me off. My wings fluttered as I used them to help maintain my own balance while my victim flailed and bucked wildly around the room. At some point, he abandoned his telekinetic hold upon the bundle of papers in his possession and they became scattered around the room.

Eventually, he seemed to lose his footing and collapsed hard on his side, eliciting a wince from myself as my right hind leg became pinned beneath the much larger pony’s bulk. I felt the tingling sensation of magic dancing over my body as the stallion tried to wrap me in his magic and fling me off, but I was holding on too tightly, and his own surprise was too much to allow for sufficient concentration to do so. A few seconds later, the tingling sensation abated. Not much longer after that, the stallion gave one last anemic quiver and then went limp.

I held my grip for a little while longer before loosening it only slightly. The stable pony didn’t move, though I did feel the slight vibration in his throat as his body took in breath once more. He was alive, but he’d hopefully be content to lie there long enough for me to do what I needed to.

I fluttered up to the terminal and brought up my pipbuck, “the tech’s down for the count and I’m at the terminal. Which of you guys want to walk me through how to do this?”

“I know what directories are involved,” Arginine responded initially.

Foxglove followed up a second later, “and I know the standard Stable-Tec commands to purge a system. First, we need to get you to the right screen…”

The stable-raised mare managed to guide me through the computer network. While her tone was patient enough, it wasn’t hard to catch the urgent undertone that suggested she was well aware that the three of us were working against the clock, and that none of us knew how much time remained on it. Any one of us could be discovered at any moment; at which point, the whole of the Neighvada Valley might be doomed to extinction.

So, you know, no pressure or anything.

“Dee...Eye...Are...Enter?” I carefully tapped the indicated keys and then gaped at the wall of text that flowed down the screen too quickly for me to read. It finally abated and I was left with a long list of files that barely even looked like words and started with letters near the end of the alphabet. At the bottom of the screen was a patiently blinking cursor, “now what?”

“Arginine?” Foxglove prompted.

“The genetic libraries will be with research and development: REDEV. With backups located in system recovery as well.”

“Alright,” the mare acknowledged, “Windfall? Type in: See. Dee. Space…” I carefully followed the violet mare’s instructions. Most of what we were doing wasn’t all that far over my head. I knew the basics of how to navigate through files, but Foxglove was having me use commands that took me a lot deeper than the usual directing headings that a terminal typically displayed. I’d also never erased data from a terminal before.

“Deltree? What does that even mean?” I said with a from, “this is a computer. There are no trees.”

“Just type it in, and then forward slash―”

“Is that the one that leans to the left?”

“Right.”

“...it says ‘sign tax error. Bad command.”

“Sign-what? Oh. Which slash did you use?”

“The left one, like you said.”

“I said the right one!”

“No, I asked if it was the left leaning one and you said that was right.”

“I meant that it’s the one that―you know what? Doesn’t matter. Type in the same thing but use the other slash this time,” Foxglove said with a resigned sigh.

I rolled my eyes but did as she instructed. This time I heard the telltale internal buzzing sound of a terminal working and the screen went blank, save for the cursor. The violet mare directed me to double-check my work by having me bring up the complete directory list once more and attempt to access the library I’d just removed. The terminal insisted that no such library existed in the system. I felt a piece of the massive ball of tension that had been welling up inside of me break off. Not all of it, since there was still a lot more to do, but I was relieved nonetheless to see signs of visible progress being made in disabling Arginine’s stable.

“Now to find that backup…”

Arginine was helpful enough to note a couple of additional files whose loss would be more than a little inconvenient to the stable once we cleared out the foundations of their ‘research’ over the last two centuries: specifically the schematics and design templates for the weapons and barding that the stable manufactured to equip their soldiers with. I wholeheartedly agreed that removing that kind of firepower from ponies like this would go a long way towards curbing their possible future activities, no matter how the confrontation with Constance’s forces turned out.

Once that was all over and done with, I was about to head back for the vent and regroup with the others when another directory caught my eye: STECORDERS.

My gaze lingered on the file. Arginine had shown me the recording from the former director of Stable-Tec that was purported to be the source for the stable’s mandate to replace the denizens of the Wasteland with ‘improved’ ponies. I’d been less than perfectly convinced at the time that what was little more than a sound bite of a despondent mare had been interpreted completely correctly. This looked like it could be my chance to find out once and for all what this stable was really supposed to do.

I opened the directory.

Inside was a file that I had not quite anticipated seeing. In that it was a file which did not seem to bare any of the hallmarks of an official Stable-Tec memorandum, as I’d seen in many abandoned stables in my past. This file was instead authored by the Ministry of Wartime Technology, courtesy of one: Director Caramel Apple. It looked like they were also listed as being this stable’s designated Overmare and that this whole place had been built for the purpose of fulfilling something called ‘Operation Overrun’.

There were more than a few technical terms used in the document that I hadn’t seen before, but the context made things pretty clear even to me. This stable was, by and large, fulfilling its exact purpose as outlined by the MWT: create armies and send them out to fight. Though, that wasn’t to say that I couldn’t see some clear distinctions in the original orders between what was intended, and what was happening now. Chief among them was that fact that Caramel Apple’s memorandum made it pretty clear that the armies being bred in this stable were intended to be thrown against the zebras, not other ponies.

The idea seemed to be that, should the stables become necessary in the event of a full balefire bombardment, that this stable would become a primary production facility for whole new pony armies. These armies would be grown, trained, equipped, and then sent out in a full assault against a zebra nation that was predicted to have also been severely ravaged by pony megaspells. In that way, the war could be definitively won in something akin to a ‘round two’.

It left a sick feeling in my gut to see that ponies back then were so intent on killing that they built a whole stable dedicated to making killer ponies. At least, I assumed that was the source of my nausea. It might have been my foal though.

Though, this did still leave the question about how the target of this stable’s activities had so dramatically shifted from wiping out zebras to targeting ponies. That seemed a little odd. Also, I didn’t come across anything in the memo about genetic alterations. In fact, there was some pretty clear mentions that nearly a hundred thousand embryos had been stored in the stable for the specific purpose of being grown and deployed.

I looked to the other documents in the directory for my answers.

The next file I opened provided most of them. Caramel Apple never made it to the stable. Their vertibuck was apparently shot down by a zebra special operations team outside of Dodge Junction a week before the bombs fell. The MWT never got around to selecting their replacement in time. An interim Overmare was selected based upon some sort of default Ministry hierarchy. A mare by the name of Moondancer got slotted in the position until a more suitable pony could be found, but that didn’t happen in time.

I found a letter as well, apparently authored by this Moondancer mare and addressed the Stable-Tec and the MWT both. It was dated two days after the bombs fell, and a note indicated that it was never successfully sent out due to a loss of communication with outside communications networks. However, it did explain a few of the changes that the stable had made.

In her―quite formally written―letter to Stable-Tec, Moondancer announced that she would, in fact, not be carrying out the directives of Operation Overrun. Not because of any sort of moral objection, I was a little disheartened to discover, but simply because she had not been present for any of the operational planning meetings and so didn’t know any of the invasion targets for the armies that were to be created.

Instead, she was going to use the resources in the stable to try and create something of a new ‘Think Tank’ that could examine the situation on the surface and make more reasoned decisions about how to proceed with becoming ‘better’, as Director Scootaloo had implored.

It looked like addendums had been made to this memo as well by the following stable Overmares, detailing the findings of the Think Tank and other operational changes. Curiously, none of them mentioned anything about exterminating the Wasteland of all of its pony inhabitants. Indeed, most of the Overmares seemed to be primarily concerned with finding a way to use the stable’s resources to help the ponies of the surface. Apparently, the stable’s residents had been sending out survey teams every couple of years to appraise the situation and monitor for changes.

Then I came across an entry announcing an end to those surveys, in the wake of a particularly disastrous expedition resulting in the deaths of all but one member. It seemed that they’d been ambushed by raiders and only a mare by the name of Gattaca had survived, if only barely.

The next entry was authored by an Overmare Gattaca, and it was here that I saw a distinct tonal shift in the stable’s directives. Slight, at first, but they gradually became much more pronounced up until the point where a decision was purportedly announced by the Think Tank that the situation on the surface was unsalvageable and extreme measures needed to be taken to effectively ‘reset’ everything in the Wasteland. Curiously, said Think Tank was dissolved a couple days later.

Entries after that remarked on initiatives to collect genetic material from the embryos still in storage and use it as the foundation for creating even tougher and stronger soldiers. Forays into the Wasteland for the purpose of collecting samples seemed to be a relatively more recent development, starting only in the last decade or so.

I sat back on my haunches, staring at the screen, and taking in everything that I’d just learned. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it all. Relief, that the stable’s initial purpose wasn’t ultimately realized and a second pony-zebra war waged on the tails of the first. Frustration, that a place like this with all of the knowledge and resources it had at its disposal had chosen to sit on the sidelines for decades without trying to actually help anypony on the surface. Revulsion, that a pony who’d had a bad day out in the Wasteland had used that as the foundation for starting a campaign of genocide.

Disappointment, that nopony since had chosen a different path other than wholesale slaughter.

It was depressing to think that the valley might actually have been better off if Caramel Apple had actually made it here and gone through with their original plan.

Not that any of this new information really changed all that much. The stable still had to be stopped. We’d removed their ability to create future improved generations, but that didn’t necessarily stop them from making more of the kinds of ponies they were creating now. Strictly speaking, they could still prove to be a pretty big military threat even without their genetic manipulation. As far as I could tell, they still had to have nearly all of those hundred thousand frozen embryos from the war ready to go, and we hadn’t touched their education equipment. The stable still had the infrastructure and resources to field an army that could easily overwhelm the Neighvada Valley and perhaps the wider Wasteland beyond.

We might still have to blow it up after all, I thought morosely.

It’s not like anything a pony like me could possibly say would talk them down from what they were planning. I was just an ‘invalid’ pony, after all. I wouldn’t be ‘smart enough’ to know what I was talking about. Arginine might be in a slightly better position, maybe, but I wasn’t hopeful that he’d have much luck, given how Constance had addressed him.

Nothing was going to convince these ponies to change their minds.

...Well, maybe there was one thing, I had a hopeful thought. Assuming that it even existed, that is.

I tapped at the keys and went back to the system directory.

THKTNK.

I downloaded the contents to my pipbuck, along with the files and memos from the previous directory. The ponies here might not listen to me, but they might at least be slightly more inclined to look at the records from their own ancestors.

Maybe.

It was worth taking that shot before we resorted to killing them all, I felt. I flitted up to the vent. Once inside, I opened up my pipbuck communicator once more, “RG, we can still lock down the stable without shutting down the power, right?”

“That is possible, yes; but it would be futile without seizing control of the Overmare’s office,” the stallion reminded me, “and it is unclear how long a true lockdown could be maintained even then. Fabrication has many tools that would prove more than capable of removing sealed doors.

“I you are unwilling to neutralize the reactor, my recommendation is for us to leave the stable and make our preparations to receive General Constance.”

A smart move, recommended by a smart pony. However, there was still something that I needed to try, “I’m going to try to talk down the Overmare. Maybe I can convince her to stop all of this.”

“Unlikely,” was Arginine’s assessment of my chances.

Foxglove was far more colorful in her objection, “are you out of your feathered mind, Windy?! That’s one of the first places that Security will try to get to once they realize that little environmental emergency isn’t real and they can’t reach the Overmare on comms! You’ll be trapped.

“If we’re not going to take their reactor offline, then we should leave while we still can.”

Another smart pony with the smart course of action. I smiled, “I learned some things about this stable’s history that the Overmare might not know. Maybe when she hears what I have to say, they’ll call the whole thing off.”

“You can’t honestly believe that!” the violet mare countered.

“I can hope,” I said, “I have to at least try, Foxy. I’m sorry. RG, I’ll let you know when I’m ready for the lockdown.”

“...As you wish.”

“I swear to Celestia, Windfall, if you get yourself killed…” was the other mare’s frustrated remark.

“It’ll work out,” maybe. Probably not, but...I could hope! “Once I have control, you two work on getting the front door open so we can get the mercs inside. If we move fast enough, we can still take the stable with minimal bloodshed. This’ll work.”

“It better.”

Two more levels up and a half dozen various turns―and one more wrong turn―later, and I had finally reached my destination. Tentatively, I peered down through the vent grate and looked around as best I could. I couldn’t see anypony in the room, but there was a blip within range, just beyond one of the doors leading out of the office.

I keyed in the transmitter of my pipbuck, “RG, I’m in position,” I said in a low whisper.

“Understood,” was the stallion’s reply, “Beginning maintenance cycle. The lockdown should commence in thirty seconds.”

This was going to be a long thirty seconds I very quickly realized. My gaze focused on the nearby blip beyond the door as I waited for sign of the impending lockdown, wondering idly if that would be one of the doors that would seal shut.

Then, suddenly, the blip started moving. I held my breath as the door slid open and the pony walked inside, looking around curiously, “hello? Is someone there?”

I got over my initial panic, wondering how somepony had figured out I was around, rather quickly once I noticed the pipbuck on their leg. I obviously would have shown up just as clearly on their Eyes Forward Sparkle as they did on mine. Fortunately, they possessed the same information limitation where elevation was concerned, so they couldn’t know that I was currently above them.

What took me a little longer to get over was my surprise at who had walked in. Or, at the very least, how different they looked from every other pony from their stable that I’d ever encountered―with the exception of Constance. However, in the general’s case, I’d gathered that the reason for her diminutive and youthful appearance had been that she was not a fully grown member of their stable, and would eventually look like all the rest over the course of time.

This pony, however, wasn’t in that same boat. She actually looked...normal. Well, normalish, I guess. Her coat was the same slate gray as Arginine’s, and her eyes were just as golden. Her mane wasn’t quite as white though, despite the bleaching brought on by her advanced age, for she was old too. If this was indeed the Overmare, I saw why Arginine hadn’t been concerned by my ability to best her in a physical fight. Honestly, she looked old enough that getting out of bed in the morning was probably a battle for her all in itself.

“Hello?” she continued, “I can see you one my―” she abruptly stopped talking as her voice...cracked? Her words had very suddenly gotten quite high pitched, which was quite obviously as surprising an event to her as it was to me, “what in the…?”

It was at that moment that yellow lights began to flash in the room and a klaxon sounded along with an automation message blasting it way across the stable’s intercom system, as well as my own pipbuck: “ALERT! ATMOSPHERIC CONTAMINATION DETECTED! STARTING EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN AND PURIFICATION PROTOCOLS. ALL RESIDENTS ARE ADVISED TO REMAIN WHERE THEY ARE UNTIL THE LOCKDOWN IS LIFTED!”

“Sweet Celestia,” the older mare sighed, still in the absurdly squeaky voice, “don’t tell me that Fabrication didn’t ventilate the foundry again...” she shook her head in resignation and headed for her desk, only to be brought up short with a startled yelp by the air vent falling to the floor in front of her, followed very shortly by a white pegasus.

I smiled at the surprised Overmare just before I leapt behind the desk, “Nope! You’ve been invaded by invalid surface ponies,” my voice, as well, was also substantially higher pitched to a comical degree. I started tapping at the keys on her consol, “don’t worry though, we don’t plan to be around for very long.

“Hey, Foxy, I’m at the computer, how do I...do the thing?”

“Security. Alerts. Lockdown. Activate,” the mare responded. A second later in the background, I heard the sound of something heavy and metallic slam down on the floor, “cutting my way to Arginine now. See you soon,” and she cut the signal.

Within moments, I’d followed her instructions and was rewarded with the computer informing me that a complete lockdown of the stable was in effect. The yellow lights immediately shifted to red, and another alert went out over the stable’s internal system further urging residents to remain where they were until security forces came for them.

“Mission accomplished,” I squeaked, letting out a long, relieved, sigh before I once more shifted my attention to the elderly grey unicorn mare who was still staring at me aghast. I leaned back in the chair and propped my hind hooves up on the desk, flashing her a grin, “and now that we have some privacy, you and me? We’re going to have a nice little chat...”

Footnote:...

CHAPTER 55: CAN'T WE BE FRIENDS?

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Look around you.. Look at the scorched earth and the bones that litter the wasteland. Millions... perhaps even billions, died because science outpaced ponykind's restraint!

The Overmare of Arginine’s stable wasn’t anything like I’d expected, in more ways than one. For one thing, she was the most ‘normal’ looking pony that I’d seen since entering this place. All of the others thus far had looked a lot like Arginine for the most part in terms of build and coloring. While this mare shared the coat and eye color of the large stallion, her size was on par with Foxglove’s.

She was also the oldest looking member of their stable that I’d yet to see. This was a detail that only now stood out to me about the population of the stable that I’d seen thus far, both within and in our encounters in the Wasteland: they’d all looked to be approximately around the same age. Arginine looked like he was in his early to mid twenties. So had the other guards and technicians that I’d encountered in their satellite ‘processing’ facilities. The soldiers surrounding Shady Saddles had as well, save for General Constance herself, of course.

This mare was the first older-looking pony I’d seen, in addition to having the most reasonable body-size.

Though, I did notice that her advanced age didn’t stop this mare from looking any less incensed by my appearance, after she managed to recover from her initial shock upon seeing my arrival, “I see that our security protocols are in need of a thorough review,” the mare growled in the absurdly shrill pitch that the helium in the air was still inducing in us. The squeaky tone did quite a bit to undermine the intensity of her ire, I felt.

Not that it was doing my already youthfully-high soprano any favors either. I sounded the way I imagined a bloatsprite would if it could talk, “I think a lot of what goes on here could do with a change,” I quipped, my features retaining their smug expression. It was hard not to enjoy this moment of victory, “which is exactly why I’m here: we’re going to discuss your stable’s surrender.”

Calmly, the Overmare brought her pipbuck to her mouth and spoke into it, “security, please report to my office immediately. There’s been a breach.”

I was confident that she was trying to sound intimidating, but her absurdly high-pitched voice made it sound like I was being menaced by a radroach, so my smirk didn’t so much as flicker, “yeah, unless you have a healthy supply of eldritch lances around, nopony’s getting here anytime soon. And, in like, ten minutes, this whole place is going to be crawling with surface ponies.

“You lost, we won,” oh, she didn’t look like she liked that appraisal all that much, “now I’m going to ask you nicely to contact Constance and have her stand down.”

“Or…?”

I blinked at the mare, actually a little surprised that she’d asked that question. I also didn’t have an answer ready to go, simply because...there wasn’t actually an ‘or’. The obvious one was: ‘or we’re going to destroy your stable’; but, I’d kind of promised the mercenaries that they got to loot the place once this was all over anyway, and I’d already wiped out all of their research data, so there really wasn’t all that much that I could do to the ponies here that I hadn’t already done or was planning to do regardless. Not that the pony in front of me knew any of that, of course.

It was possible that I could have tried to bluff my way through things and threaten to do all of the things that I was planning unless she cooperated. What exactly did it matter in the end if I reneged? Okay, yeah, that little orange earth pony didn’t seem to appreciate that notion all that much, but this was war! Some values had to be sacrificed in a wat, right?

That thought didn’t endure very long. After all, I was currently sitting in the epitome of where ‘sacrificing values’ had eventually gotten our ancestors to. The ponies here might have been my enemy, but that was no reason to compromise myself.

The only other leverage that I had was the lives of the ponies here, and I honestly wasn’t going to just...murder everypony here out of spite no matter what this mare said. I’m sure the mercenaries I’d brought with me wouldn’t hesitate to kill the stable inhabitants if I told them to, but I wasn’t going to. Because, at the end of the day, I’d come here to save lives, not end them.

“There isn’t an ‘or’,” I sighed finally, looking at the mare, “but there isn’t going to be a win for you either. My forces are at your doorstep, and Constance is a day away, at best. This place will be in our hooves before she can get here to stop us no matter what you do or say.

“It’s over, so just...stop. Please. Stop this whole operation. Stop the slaughter that Constance was sent out to commit. There’s no point to it anymore. Your stable isn’t going to make any more soldiers. All the information you’ve collected on how to make ‘perfect ponies’ is already destroyed. It’s over.”

“You sound awfully sure of that,” the Overmare replied coolly. Like, obviously coolly too; not just vague-hint-of-emotion-like-Arginine coolly, “do you honestly believe we’ve never suffered setbacks before? That’s all this will turn out to be: just one more minor bump on the road to our inevitable triumph.

“Whether you set us back a month, a year, or a century, it won’t be enough to stop us.

“Nothing that you can do can ever stop us,” she sneered.

“Well, duh!” I snapped back, which actually seemed to surprise the mare a little bit, “what, you think that I don’t know that the only way that this can actually ever end is if you decide to stop yourselves? Newsflash: that’s how everything in the world works. Whether it’s the Wasteland, or the Old World, or whatever new world comes after this one someday, that’s just how ponies work.

“I could fly around and shoot bandits from now until the second apocalypse, and it wouldn’t change anything; because it certainly never has yet! There would still be bandits in the world. The only way that there will ever stop being bandits in the world is if ponies decide to stop being bandits. Nothing I, or anypony else, can ever do will be able to change that.

“Ponies have to choose for themselves,” I shrugged, “I mean, yeah, I can still plug ‘em to stop any specific pony from causing a lot of harm, but that just treats a symptom, and does nothing to cure the actual problem.

“And the same thing goes for you folks: yes, I could blow up your stable―and I’m going to for a lot of reasons. I could kill each and every one of you. I could wipe out every one of your armies and butcher shops out there. I could do all of that…

“...and it wouldn’t actually solve the problem. Some of you would get away and lay low until I died, or I’d miss some hidden archive somewhere and this would all happen again in another two hundred years, or maybe even a thousand years from now some wholly unrelated group would get it into their heads to do exactly what you’re doing now for the same reasons.

“Fuck, for all I know, somepony, somewhere, has already fought off a group of duranged ponies trying to create a new and perfect breed to take over the world with. It’s a wild Wasteland out there; strange shit happens all the time!

“Which means,” I said, by way of winding up my little monologue, “that the only way that you, and ponies like you, can ever be stopped is by making you see how stupid of an idea this even is, and why it’s not worth doing in the first place. And the best way that I know to do that…” I swung my hooves off of the desk, straightened myself up in the chair, folded my hooves neatly on the table by the console and smiled, “...is by listening to you explain it out loud.”

The Overmare blinked at me for several long seconds, “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” I said, gesturing for her to continue, “break down your grand plan and explain it to me like I’m an idiot. Try to keep yourself limited to words that are three syllables or less.”

“You’re joking.”

“Dead serious.”

“You’re just trying to buy time. You’re stalling.”

“I’m in your stable, surrounded by your security ponies who are―I assume―right now trying to cut their way to us in order to kill me. Every second I linger here is a second that brings me closer to my own death,” I pointed out.

“Here, I’ll start us off: Your goal is to become better ponies in order to make sure that a second apocalypse like the one that caused the Wasteland can never, ever, happen again; right?” the older mare nodded cautiously, “so...you’ll do that by…?”

The Overmare frowned, “we will do this by designing a breed of pony that is objectively better: stronger, smarter, more empathetic. A breed of pony that will not only have been able to outright win the Great War, but would never have let one happen in the first place.”

“Okay, good, we’re making progress,” I smiled pleasantly at the mare, “so, since my knowledge about stuff that happened two hundred years before I was born is a bit fuzzy, how did the Great War happen?”

The mare balked again, “I’m sorry?”

“How’d it happen? You’re trying to create ponies that you just said wouldn’t even let a war like it happen in the first place, so what was that ‘first place’ two hundred years ago? How could ponies have avoided it? I’m not trying to be a flankhole here,” I assured her, “I genuinely don’t know, but you’re a smart pony raised in a stable, and you’re creating ponies who are going to be expected to solve that exact problem, so you obviously have to know what the problem was, right?

“So, how do ponies...not fight zebras to the point of world destruction? What are the steps?”

“I―it…” the mare stuttered, “look, it’s not about the Great War specifically,” she insisted, “we’re going to create ponies that will be able to avert any kind of war.”

“And that sounds amazing,” I said, my own pleasant features not even faltering, “and I really do want to hear how you’re going to do that. So…?”

“Well, of course I don’t know, I’m not an Omega Strain!” the mare finally admitted with an exasperated squeak, “I’m just an Epsilon. It’s going to be the job of the Omegas to build the perfect world, not mine.”

“Waitwaitwaitwait,” I waved my hoof at the mare, “are you telling me...that your ‘plan’...is to let somepony else...come up with the plan?” I asked incredulously, making the appropriate air quotes with my whooves, “that’s the kind of plan that an idiot comes up with! I should know; it’s pretty much how I came up with the plan to shut down this stable, and I’m an idiot!

“That’s so stupid!” I reiterated, throwing my hooves into the air, “you have no reason at all to believe that whoever you tell to come up with a plan to stop all wars forever will actually be able to do it!”

“Of course they’ll be able to do it,” the Overmare insisted, “they will be the best possible examples of ponies that can ever be created. If our simple ancestors could manage a thousand years or peace, then ponies many times their betters could easily manage a near eternity of it!”

“But you don’t even know why that thousand years of peace ended!” I countered, “what if it was because of something that ponies couldn’t control? What if it was the zebras? Or the griffons? A calamity from the fucking sky for all we know!

“How does any kind of pony stop that?”

To that, the Overmare didn’t have an answer ready, so I continued on, “you keep looking at this like ponies are the only ones involved, but they’re not. There’s a big world out there full of all kinds of creatures and beings. What exactly do you expect to happen when your perfect ponies meet one of them and the other wants to fight?

“What then?”

“Then whoever it is will lose that fight,” the older mare responded tartly, “the Omegas will be unstoppable.”

“So, what, you’re hoping that the rest of the world is just too afraid of ponies to want to fight them? Peace through fear of annihilation?”

“If it works, then I don’t see the problem,” the Overmare shrugged, “the world will know peace, and that is all the matters.”

“So, you think that if beings are afraid of being utterly destroyed, they won’t fight?” I deadpanned, but the mare merely nodded, “so, by your logic, a war where each side had, say...megaspells and balefire bombs, each capable of wiping out the other side, would never actually happen...am I right?”

The mare balked again, “well, I mean…”

“I may not be a genius like you or Arginine, but I have managed to learn some things while out there in the world,” I frowned at the mare, “so I’m going to share a few of them with you: fear doesn’t lead to rational thought. Some of the stupidest things that anypony has ever done in their lives has been because they were afraid. I can’t even begin to list off the stupid crap that being afraid led me to do.

“I also know that it only takes one to fight. It doesn’t matter how much one side may not want to fight, if the other does, then there’s going to be a fight. Bottom line.

“You could go and make the goodliest goody-good ponies that ever gooded, and there’d still be a war if some race like the zebras or griffons really wanted one. You can’t just focus on one side of the problem. You have to address them both.”

I paused and thought for a moment, “or you could just murder every member of every other race on the planet in a seemingly endless series of wars to solve the whole: ‘stop all wars’ problem. But that feels like killing the patient to fix a lame leg.”

The Overmare was silent for a long while, staring at me in contemplation. Even in the dim emergency lighting, I could see the doubt creeping into her eyes. She was wavering. If I pushed just a bit more, I might be able to finally get through to her, “look, I admire what your stable is trying to accomplish: ponies that don’t want another Great War? What’s not to love about that idea?!

“It’s not your goal that’s the problem, it’s your means,” I continued, “trying to stop killing by doing more killing? It doesn’t work like that, trust me. I’ve been killing for a long time,” my lips shifted into a wan smile as I looked back on my life with more than a slight pang of regret, “and it hasn’t done me, or the world, any amount of good that I can tell.

“Look, you’re all obviously really smart ponies―and I sincerely do mean that,” I said, shifting back to a lighter tone in an effort to avoid falling into a chasm of my own melancholy, “and maybe you can someday find a way to help the whole world...but it’s not going to be like this. It’s just...not,” I paused for a moment, and then cracked a wan smile, “you can get there, but not like you are. You need to change your perspective.”

The mare frowned slightly, “and who exactly are we supposed to get that perspective from? You? I’ll admit you’ve stimied me once or twice during this little…exchange of ours, but I would also like to point out that this is hardly an even playing field,” she gestured at the dim room, “you surprised me during a stressful situation with arguments that you’ve obviously been preparing for quite some time, catching me completely unaware. I’m sure there are plenty of holes that I can poke in your stance if given enough time to look through the archives of the Overmares that have come before me, and the records of the Stable-Tec scientists who put our whole initiative together.

“Surely they gave our goal far more thought than some invalid Wasteland filly could have,” she harrumphed.

I leaned back and coiled my legs, pushing the chair away from the desk and waving at the terminal, “hey, by all means! It’s not like I really expected to completely change the world view of you or your stable with a few minutes of conversation. Like I said, I once thought exactly like you and went out of my way to kill all of the ponies that I didn’t think deserved a place in ‘my’ Wasteland.

“But years of experience began to make me wonder different―that and a fever-dream or two,” I added with an awkward grin, “and now I’m not sure sure I was right to think like I did. You? You guys don’t have that same experience yet. You sort of just started your whole ‘kill all the bad ponies’ phase.

“But, wouldn’t actual smart ponies at least be willing to listen to the voice of some first-hoof experience before they go and risk making the same mistakes? That’s supposed to be how knowing stuff works, right? You learn about what other ponies did that worked and didn’t work, so that you can avoid the stuff that didn’t, and work on the stuff that did?

“So will you at least...listen to me? That’s all I’m asking for right now. Give me time to tell you about what I know, and why I don’t think it’ll work. We can look through your records and you can tell me what you think I missed that might have made me right the first time before I went and overthought myself into not killing...or whatever.

“You’ve waited two hundred years. Just...give me, I dunno, an hour, at least!”

The Overmare stared at me for a long while in silence. Then, finally, “very well. I shall grant you your hour.”

“Neat! Here, give me a sec,” I keyed up my pipbuck and selected the frequency for Foxglove and Arginine, “hey guys, once you’ve linked up, make for the stable entrance and let everypony else in so they can get ready to strip this place. Me and the Overmare are going to talk things out for a while. I’ll let you two know when I’m done,” I then turned off the radio and looked back up at the Overmare, who was now scowling at me.

“What kind of negotiating tactic is that? You would hold my stable hostage to try and sway me?”

“What? No!” I shrugged, “the way I see it: either I convince you to agree that this stable was a bad idea, and it needs to be destroyed, or you don’t agree with me and I’ll need to destroy it anyway to keep my friends and everypony else in the Wasteland from being genocided.

“If I’m going to wreck it no matter what, I can’t be holding it hostage. Not technically, anyway…”

She seemed less than pleased with my rationale, but I could only offer her a helpless expression and wave for her to take a seat across the desk, “come, sit, let’s talk. Convince me why everypony I know needs to die so that nopony ever has to die again, or whatever…”

To the Overmare’s―I eventually learned that her name was, Zara―credit, she did sit down and speak with me. She was even polite enough to do so without sounding too condescending while she did so. Though she did cross over into the tone of patronising more than a few times. Considering that she was being assaulted by the concepts of an elder speaking to a child and a ‘superior’ pony to an ‘invalid’ on two fronts, I gave her a pass on it. She at least looked like she was listening to what I had to say.

In return, I genuinely listened to her and read through the files that she opened. I remained mum regarding my own readings of their records as I watched her navigate through several directories and records, noting that she never seemed to actually venture to the same locations that I had. I didn’t think much of that at first. A two hundred year old stable had a lot of records, after all. I didn’t expect us to review all of them. Surely we’d hit on the same points eventually.

Only, we didn’t. As Zara went further and further back in the stable’s records, the more confused I became about the narrative that was being presented, and how it very distinctly didn’t line up with the same records that I’d stumbled upon in their computer core. To hear the Overmare tell things, there’s was not only a directive that had Stable-Tec’s blessing, but that of a few of the Ministry Mares as well, to include the Ministry of Arcane Science. Oddly enough, the Ministry of Wartime Technology was not listed as being a contributor. Obviously, this wasn’t how I’d just learned things to be not an hour ago.

Eventually, I was compelled to speak up, “I have a question,” I ventured cautiously, “do your records indicate who was originally selected to be in charge of this stable after the war?”

“Our first Overmare was Moondancer, a former project director in the MAS,” Zara answered patiently.

“No, I mean, I know she became the first Overmare, but she wasn’t the original pony that was selected,” I noted the look of confusion on the other mare’s face, “that’s in the records, right?”

The Overmare frowned and shook her head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted, and with a very convincing tone as well. If she was lying, she was a master at it. Though, everything that I knew about Arginine suggested that ponies in this stable didn’t work all that hard on perfecting their skills at deceiving others in direct conversation. Yeah, this mare seemed a lot more personable, but that didn’t necessarily suggest to me that she was a particularly good liar either, “Director Moondancer was always meant to be the first Overmare of this stable.”

“Can I see that terminal for a second?”

Zara frowned at me, but moved aside without complaint. I suppose she wasn’t too eager to antagonize the pony holding her stable at proverbial and literal gunpoint. I put my hooves to the console and began to tap away, searching for the directory that I’d come across earlier.

Only I couldn’t find it. It didn’t appear anywhere on the network that this terminal was connected to, “are there files that this system is locked out of?” I asked the Overmare.

“Of course not. That sort of partitioning doesn’t exist in this stable,” she insisted, “there is only one network, and every terminal has access to all stored information. Only certain terminals have the authority to alter certain information, but all terminals have read-level access.”

I withdrew from the terminal and began to tap at my pipbuck, “then why can’t I find this,” I showed the Overmare the screen of my fetlock-mounted computer, and the memorandum about the stable’s original purpose that I’d found while snooping around in the computer core. Specifically the memo that outlined Operation Overrun.

Zara regarded the screen for several long moments, her lips pursed in confusion, “where did you find that?”

“In your stable’s computer core,” I withdrew my pipbuck briefly and switched the screen to show the letter of intent that Moondancer had drafted to send out to Stable-Tec and the MWT that was never able to be delivered. Probably because the world above was still being burned by balefire or whatever, “it’s also where I found this,” again the other mare looked at the screen.

“This stable was never supposed to wipe the slate and make a clean go of things with ‘better’ ponies. Moondancer certainly never said anything of the sort. In fact…” I swapped to a third file, “it isn’t until a mare named Gattaca was put in charge that the idea is even first mentioned.”

“...that can’t be right,” Zara maneuvered back in front of the terminal and began to look through the records that she found there, “there’s no mention of this ‘Caramel Apple’, or the MWT, or Overrun.”

“Well, I found all of this on your computers,” I insisted, “if you don’t believe me, call out and have one of your ponies go and check for themselves,” a thought occurred to me, “Cobol might still be down there...if he’s awake.”

“Yes, I think I’ll―” her own pipbuck chirped at that moment. She brought the mic up to her lips, “Overmare. Report.”

“Unauthorized access detected at the stable entrance,” I heard a gruff stallion say through the pipbuck’s speaker, “requests for information from sentry posts are not being returned.”

Zara glanced in my direction, her expression grave, “associates of yours, I presume?”

I nodded, “they’re here to take your stable. They’ll only kill if they have to. Tell your ponies to stay in their quarters and not resist, and there shouldn’t be a body count,” I was fairly confident that I could count on Keri, Hemlock and Yeoman to keep their respective ponies in line. Griselda might have been a different story. To that end, it sounded like she’d done her due diligence where the stable’s sentries were concerned. I was doubtful that Zara would be seeing any survivors from them though.

The Overmare was silent for several seconds. For a while, I was afraid that she was going to give the order to have her security teams offer up all of the resistance that they could, even if they would ultimately lose. She wouldn’t be the first pony to want to make things difficult out of spite. Fortunately, she ultimately didn’t seem to be so inclined, “clear the corridors,” she said instead, “have all non-essential staff report to their quarters until further notice.”

Now the question was whether such orders would be obeyed, I thought, as the pony on the other end was also quiet for significantly longer than I was comfortable with. Then, finally, “understood, Overmare.”

“Thank you for that,” I said.

“It was pragmatism,” the Overmare responded cooly, “I want this stable to remain as intact as possible for as long as possible. I’ve yet to be dissuaded by your efforts,” and her tone suggested that she doubted that she ever would be, “and General Constance is bound to return soon enough. Once she arrives, she’ll doubtless be able to pry your own forces from within the stable.”

On that point, Zara was probably right, I conceded. Even with control of the stable, it did nothing to help us against Constance and her eight hundred engineered soldiers. I certainly entertained no notions that I’d ever be able to talk the ponies here into actively helping me.

My own pipbuck chirped now, as Foxglove’s voice crackled over the speaker, “Windy, the door’s open and the teams are heading inside. No sign of opposition yet.”

“The Overmare’s ordered stable security to stand down,” I informed her, “spread the word to the others to hold their fire. We shouldn’t see any fighting. Focus on securing the objectives.”

“I’ll pass it along,” Foxglove assure me, and then cut the connection.

“I don’t suppose that I can get you to order Constance to stand down too, huh?”

“Unlikely.”

“Fair enough,” I sighed, “anyway, like I was saying: I can tell you where these files are on your own system and you can read them for yourself. But the broad strokes is that it sounds like one of your Overmares had a bad day out in the Wasteland in her youth, and decided that she wanted revenge,” which was something I could relate to, honestly. That sequence of events pretty much summed up my own life too.

“What I can also tell you is that, whatever Stable-Tec or the MWT want this place to be, Moondancer wasn’t onboard with it. Everything I read suggested that she wanted to help ponies, not kill them.”

“Hmph. I would still like an explanation as to why there is such a discrepancy in our records…” the Overmare grumbled.

“I don’t have answers to that,” I shrugged, “but you’ve got an entire stable full of really smart ponies,” I pointed out, “something tells me that you’ll be able to figure it out. I’d be really interested in hearing about it too, when you do find the answer.”

“No doubt,” the other mare said in a somewhat distant tone as she browsed through additional files with renewed interest. Idly, she brought her pipbuck back up, “Cartoosh?”

“Yes, Overmare?” a mare’s voice answered almost immediately.

“When this whole ‘invasion’ excitement dies down, make it a point to go down to storage and bring me the contents of Locker 0001.”

“Understood, Overmare.”

A second later, before I could ask for details about what Zara had just requested, the door to the Overmare’s office made a loud ‘thunk’ sound, and then slid grudgingly open. Standing in the still-dim red light on the other side was a small gaggle of ponies who were quite obviously not products of this stable. At their head was Foxglove, looking like her old self again. She seemed to relax considerably once she had me in sight. Only after she’d satisfied herself that I hadn’t managed to get myself killed did she take note of the other mare in the room with me. Her expression immediately suggested that she was just as surprised by her appearance as I had been.

The violet mare looked focused her attention on me once more, “we’ve secured most of the stable,” she reported. Her eyes darted briefly to the Overmare, “no resistance so far. Most of the residents appear to have already confined themselves to their quarters. Those that weren’t trapped in other areas by the lockdown, anyway.”

“Good,” I said, nodding my head, grateful that we might just get through this part without a bodycount. Though, there was still a much greater issue on the horizon that was exponentially less likely to be as accommodating: Constance, “once the vital areas are staffed with our ponies, I want the mercs to focus on fortifying defensive positions outside.”

“Outside?” the confused sounding word was asked by one of the mercenaries that had accompanied Foxglove to finish securing the Overmare’s office.

I nodded my head, “if we stay in the stable, all Constance realistically has to do is post a few dozen soldiers outside the door and she’ll have us trapped here. That works against us. She can do a lot of damage to the valley all on her own. She could still box us in if we’re outside, but it would take hundreds of her soldiers to do it; at least half her army, if not more.

“She knows that we took out two hundred of her soldiers without much trouble,” I pointed out, “so, if we’re lucky, she might figure that she can’t spare less than half her remaining force to keep us here, if that’s what she chooses to do. At that point, Constance is actually better off trying to pry us out of here than leaving us penned in, since I doubt even she can do much with just four hundred. At least, I hope that she thinks that after her loss at Shady Saddles.”

There was a lot to be argued about the wisdom of basically trying to gode a superior force into attacking our weaker one. Unfortunately, it was the best option we had out of several worse ones. Attacking Constance’s forces on her terms certainly wasn’t going to go any better for us. No, her attacking us gave us the better odds, such as they were.

Besides, there was still a slim chance that we’d be getting some significant reinforcements of our own for this battle. I should probably check where Homily and Moonbeam were on that front, “Foxy, you take care of things here, I’m going to contact McMaren. Then I’ll meet with RG and see what we can do about those ponies they’ve got growing in the tanks.”

“Alright,” the unicorn said, giving me a small nod, then she glanced at the mercs with her and pointed at the Overmare, “confine her to her quarters, and keep her away from any terminals. I’ll see what I can do about changing the access codes for the network…”

I left the technical matters of our occupation in more capable hooves than mine and left the Overmare’s office. A brief glance at the map on my pipbuck oriented me in the direction of the large rooms where I’d seen the maturation pods. I sent a brief message to RG to have him meet me there. Then I keyed in Homily.

A few seconds later, I received an acknowledgement, “Windfall! I really hope you have good news for us?”

Well, that did sound ominous at all, did it? “We took the stable, for now,” I informed her, then frowned, “why? How are things going on your end?”

“Touch and go, honestly,” was the radio personality’s dour response, “we’ve got the link between McMaren and the hangar set up, but that’s about it. Moonbeam’s having trouble getting the drones to do anything. We think it might be some sort of security protocol that’s meant to stop just anypony from trying to control the drones, but it’s hard to know for sure. It’s not like anypony left a manual behind on how to do all this. At least, they didn’t leave one here…

“I’ve got ponies on both sides trying to work the issue, but it’s hard to say how long it’ll take to get everything working, considering we don’t know exactly why it’s not working right now.”

Well, that was certainly less than ideal, I thought worriedly. Most of my plan for the endgame had kind of hinged on being able to use those old combat drones. If Homily and the others couldn’t have them working in time...horseapples, “keep doing your best,” I said, trying my hardest not to sound as worried as I was. If Homily couldn’t do it, then she couldn’t do it, and we’d just need to think of something else or hope the forces we had would be enough. I highly doubted they would be, but that point would be moot when the time came.

We’d either succeed...or we wouldn’t.

I pushed that depressing thought out of my head as I reached the entrance of the massive room I’d seen earlier from the vent grate. Arginine was waiting patiently outside, and I saw now that he wasn’t alone. Another mare from his stable was with him, along with a trio of wary looking Housecarls. The large stallion noticed my arrival, “Miss Windfall,” I winced slightly, noting that we seemed to be back to this level of ‘formality’ even when it was just the two of us, “I took the liberty of requesting that Chief Technician Agar join us. She is in charge of strain maturation.”

The engineered mare wore an expression that I was able to identify as being quite a sour one, thanks to my experience reading Arginine’s own micro-expressions. It was clear that she wasn’t entirely thrilled to be here talking with me, or even with Arginine, I suspected, given recent events.

“Awesome. So, what I really want to know is: how easy will it be to wake all of those ponies up before everything is all ‘done’ or whatever? I know it’s possible,” Constance herself had admitted that she’d been brought out of the process prematurely. That didn’t mean that it was as easy as just pressing a button or flipping a switch, or that it was even something could be done on a whim. For all I knew, the process to wake Constance early had been put into motion weeks before the actual event. Fortunately, I now got to speak with a pony who would be able to tell me, “I just want to get an idea of how long it would take to do.”

This time the mare’s expression was a lot easier to read: surprise, “you...wish to wake them up?” She glanced over at Arginine, as though seeking out his confirmation that she had heard my question correctly. He gave her a nod, “that...would not be terribly difficult,” the mare admitted, “the maturation chambers could all be properly reconfigured within a day.”

Despite that fact that it did sound perfectly reasonable that it would take a day for the better part of a thousand pieces of sophisticated equipment performing a technically complicated procedure to be reconfigured, I felt my features crease into a deep frown at the news all the same. It was very likely that Constance would have already arrived at the stable and the battle would be concluded by that point. If we emerged victorious, then it didn’t matter and we could wake them up and get them out of the stable before we finished demolishing everything.

If Constance won, however...I suspected that it would be just as easy to reverse the process and get all of those maturation pods right back on track to produce the next wave of their army. If it looked like we were going to lose, the smart thing to do would be to deny Constance the stable entirely, even if all of the ponies in those tubes couldn’t be gotten out in time. Could I do that though? Could I give that order, to kill a thousand ponies who hadn’t even really been born yet? Not giving it might doom tens of thousands more. Is that how decisions like this worked; just weighing numbers against each other? Kill a thousand to save a million. Kill ten to save a thousand. Kill one to save...what was the lowest acceptable number there? Was it enough to kill one pony just to save one other? Was that how that worked?

I rubbed my temple in frustration. How was I supposed to know the answer to questions like that? Who in the world even could?

Nothing for it then; we just had to make sure that Constance didn’t win this fight, “do it, please,” I told the mare, “wake them up as quickly as you can. I don’t suppose that it’s possible to not make them soldiers or stuff, is it?” I asked, glancing once more between Agar and Arginine.

The mare frowned, “that would take considerably more time. Building neural connects is far easier than breaking them down. Though it is not impossible,” she seemed reluctant to admit that part. It was honestly a little curious to me that she was being as forward with all of this information as she was. Though, I supposed that it Arginine was truly a typical example of a pony from this stable, then maybe it wasn’t in Agar’s nature to lie either. These ponies just didn’t have it in them.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the whole ‘genocide’ thing, they would all be pretty great ponies…

“...do that,” I finally said. No matter what, they weren’t going to be out of those tubes before Constance was here anyway. If we ended up winning, then this way we’d be dealing with a thousand nominally benign engineered ponies rather than a legion of soldiers. Besides, nopony should have to face the Wasteland knowing only how to fight and kill. I should know.

“It’ll take about a week to make the necessary changes for that,” Agar cautioned.

I nodded, “that’s fine; I understand. Please do it. They’re ponies and they deserve a chance to lead good lives. Peaceful lives,” I stressed, “I want to give them that chance, if possible.”

The mare quirked her brow once more and glanced at Arginine, who merely nodded. Though I did catch the faintest hint of a smile there as well. He looked to the mercenary escorts, “please accompany Chief Agar as she makes the alterations.”

The pair of Wasteland ponies balked, one of them stating incredulously, “we’re really going to trust her? What if she’s lying?”

“She’s not,” I said with a wan smile, completely understanding their apprehension, “these stable ponies are weird like that. Besides, if Constance wipes us out and retakes the stable, I bet the ponies here can just change them all right back, can’t you?” Agar nodded, “see? Doing what we ask doesn’t hurt them if they win. On the other hoof, not cooperating risks us doing something more extreme, like killing all of their soldiers by cutting off the main power. Even if they win, that’ll set them back a lot longer, won’t it?”

This time, the technician merely issued a slight frown, but I knew that I was right. I was grateful that they were cooperating though, since I wasn’t convinced that I’d be able to go through with shutting off the power if they did refuse. Hopefully Foxglove or somepony else would step up and make the hard choice like that and I could drink myself into oblivion for a couple days and move on from there. Believing that something like this could be done without a body count was the pinnacle of naivety, I realized that. I just...I really just wanted to see if it was possible.

I wanted to try and be better than I had been.

The mercenaries were still quite obviously dubious, but they were also being very well paid. To their minds, I was probably not the first client to make stupid decisions, and I wouldn’t be the last. As long as they lived long enough to collect their caps, they didn’t really care how badly I screwed myself over in the long run. So, with a little idle grumbling, the pair dutifully escorted Agar through the doors, leaving me and Arginine behind.

We both stood there in awkward silence. Well, it was awkward for me, at least, “so...it’s been a while since we had a real chance to talk,” Arginine nodded in silent agreement. Another boudt of quiet, “...would you like to show me around this place? I haven’t gotten to see much of it besides the vent ducts.”

“I can do that,” the stallion said, gesturing for me to follow him through the corridor, “this stable has a number of features that are rather atypical of most designs.”

“I bet. I saw some records that say this place was meant to be used for an MWT counter-attack.”

“Indeed?” Arginine’s eyes widened slightly with a look of surprise, “that would certainly explain quite a lot then,” he took me to an elevator and ushered me inside. We descended to the lowest level, “we’ll start at the bottom and work our way up. Our first stop will be Materials Processing.”

The doors opened, and my lungs were immediately assaulted by the abruptly high amount of dust that was hanging in the air. My nose scrunched up and I just about gagged at the sudden taste of dirt, “what the heck is going on down here?!” Had the environmental systems down here not managed to recover after our little stunt earlier?

“Mining operations,” Arginine replied simply, not looking as though he was as bothered by the conditions down here. Probably some sort of ‘genetically superior lungs’ thing or whatever, “outfitting our forces requires a significant amount of raw material. I am lead to understand that this stable’s location was selected specifically to take advantage of some rather significant mineral deposits that would prove of use for such purposes,” he stepped out of the luft and I followed behind him, snorting occasionally to keep the dust out of my nose.

“Raw ore is extracted and refined onsite,” the stallion continued, “talismans are heavily employed, as underground stables are not strictly conducive to traditional smelting methods. They are not perfect, however, and neither is the stable’s air purification system fully up to the task of keeping the air down here as clean as it is on other levels,” we walked past a number of rooms containing idle machinery. I saw carts loaded with what looked like little more than rocks, as well as a few containing small ingots of what I assumed were steel, copper, and aluminum. There might have been other metals as well, but I was neither an expert in such matters, nor inclined to take that close of a look.

We came to a stop at the end of the corridor. Indeed, it looked like the end of the stable itself. Beyond lay an expansive cavern with a number of tunnels branching off of it on various levels. I could see mining equipment, but no ponies. They’d probably returned to their quarters once the lockdown had been initiated.

It was quite the operation, and I couldn’t remember seeing anything like it. I mean, the Republic had a few mines too, but I doubted that they were anything as sophisticated as this. Their efforts involved a lot of indentured muscle-power. This stable, with its limited number of personnel, relied mostly upon advanced machinery. Most of which looked to be quite serviceable as well. If we had the time, it would have been worthwhile to try and bring it all to the surface somehow, along with the machines being used to refine the raw material.

“It’s too bad all of this is being used to make weapons,” I sighed, “this stable could have helped a lot of ponies otherwise.”

Arginine glanced down at me for a few seconds before nodding, “I suppose that is correct.”

“How long are all of those tunnels, anyway?”

“I do not know the exact measurements,” the stallion admitted, “I could contact the foremare and ask?”

“Nah. Doesn’t really matter, I guess. What’s our next stop on this little tour?”

“The maturation chambers you have already seen. After that is Fabrication, where these materials are used to assemble the equipment necessary to outfit our forces.”

I frowned and shook my head, “I don’t need to see a weapons factory,” I was confident that most of those arms had already been appropriated by the mercenaries anyway. We’d want every gun and scrap of munitions for the upcoming fight, “isn’t there anywhere in this place that’s, I don’t know, nice?”

“There’s the orchards,” Arginine replied simply.

“The what now?”

The corner of the stallion’s mouth twitched.

Trees. Honest to Celestia trees! Hundreds of them! Green grass too! A little piece of the world from before the Wasteland, carefully excised and sealed away protectively underground. The picturesque nature of it all was marred slightly by the runs of lights, rust-tinged irrigation piping, and climate control air ducting, but if you kept your gaze set at about trunk level, you could almost fool yourself into thinking that you were outside in a for real forest! Not that I’d ever seen such a place in real life, or course. Nopony alive had―save, perhaps, for ghouls; but it was something of a matter of opinion as to how ‘alive’ they were.

It wasn’t all too unlike how the forest had looked in my dream the other night though. Of course, these trees were much smaller, and they were formed into neat and orderly rows. It provided the barest hint of clinical taint to the otherwise natural scene, but it was easy to overlook. Certainly easier than the sight of the hundred or so mercenary ponies currently crawling all over the place as they gorged themselves. Part of me felt like I should tell them to stop; that they were somehow spoiling all of this. On the other hoof, the last thing I wanted to to sow the seeds of a mutiny by telling ponies who’d likely been living off of whatever plants managed to grow in the blighted Wasteland above their whole lives that they couldn’t have any eat any of the first real apples they’d probably ever seen in their lives.

Besides, if things went ‘right’, then this place wouldn’t even exist for much longer. That, more than the mercenaries, tarnished those fleeting feelings of glee that I’d felt since arriving here. This place would go up with the stable. We were going to destroy this glorious thing of beauty. And we were going to do it to save a veritable hellscape.

The least I could do, in that case, was try to appreciate it while it was still around. I walked over to a far corner of the orchard, out of the way of all of the other ponies who were not quite pillaging it, and made myself comfortable beneath one of the trees. I noted the partially trampled grass and a few pulped apples which suggested that this part had already been visited. My vision clouded briefly with the image of a fallen tree and a disappointed orange earth pony mare.

I looked up at Arginine, who was idly watching the mercenaries. Even through his stoic expression I could see that he was a little irked at their gluttony, “hey,” I said, drawing his attention. The stallion looked down at me and I patted the grass nearby, “come on and join me for a minute. There’s some things I want to talk about.”

He raised a curious brow and lowered himself down to the ground nearby, “anything specific?”

“I want to try and think positive,” I began, “so I figure we should talk about the future. What I’m going to do, what you’re going to do, and what the other ponies from this stable are going to do. You know, once Constance is beaten and this stable is...no longer operating,” I couldn’t quite bring myself to say ‘destroyed’ at the moment. Was there some way to move these trees? Would it even matter? They probably wouldn’t be able to survive in Neighvada. This place felt way more humid than the valley ever got.

“Are you seeking my input and advice on those matters?”

I cracked a wan smile, “sort of, maybe. I don’t know,” I sighed, “I just want a pony who’ll listen for a while,” I looked up at the stallion, and he issued an understanding nod, saying nothing. I took a deep breath, organizing my thoughts as my hoof rubbed idly at my belly, “first, I guess is myself. I always wanted to be a mother someday―though not this soon,” I flashed the stallion a glare that wasn’t―quite―accusatory. After all, it hadn’t been entirely his fault, I had to admit. Just poor judgement and abyssmal timing, “I mean, I don’t even know where I’m supposed to settle down and do it! I can’t just keep flying around stopping raiders with a foal, can I?” I had a brief flash of myself zipping through the air with my compact forty-five clutched in my teeth and a foal swaddled across my back. As entertaining an image as it was, I highly doubted it was even remotely wise or practical.

“I have the apartment in Seaddle, I guess, but I’m currently near the top of the Republic’s Most Wanted list, so I’m probably not welcome back,” I snorted, “after we’re done paying the mercenaries, I won’t have the bits for a place in New Reino. I was going to fix up my folks’ old place, but I haven’t had time’ and let’s face it, I don’t know the first thing about carpentry anyway. It was one thing when all I had to do was clean it up a bit, but after the Ranger attack it basically needs to be totally rebuilt!

“Where am I supposed to go? How am I supposed to support us? How do I even raise a foal? When are they supposed to start talking? What am I supposed to teach them other than how to punch things and shoot guns? I don’t want them to grow up like I did: only learning how to fight. I want them to be better than I am. I want them to be smart enough to actually do something that’ll really help ponies! I just―!” I let out a frustrated groan as all of the mounting worries and fears about my impending parenthood spill out all at once. Then I collapsed to the ground and covered my head with my hooves, as though it would somehow hide me from the world and free me from its trials, “...I just wish my ma was here. She’d know what to do,” I sniffed, fighting back a tear that threatened to escape as I was assaulted by my last vision of her headless corpse on the floor of the White Hoof tent.

It seemed that my failure that day was going to spread to affect another pony. One who hadn’t even been conceived at that point apparently. Why was I even here? What did I know about ‘saving the Wasteland’ when I didn’t even know how to raise my kid?! Ponies did it all the time, so it couldn’t be that hard, and yet I still couldn’t fathom the first thing about it. Exactly how much of a moron was I?

Lucky for me, Arginine decided that the time for listening in respectful silence had come to an end, “if I may: I have noted that you omitted an option, as far as accomodations go at least,” I glance up at the stallion from beneath my hooves, “McMaren,” I felt my brow crease, “Whatever the Republic’s opinion of you, the ponies there hold you in high esteem. I would find it highly doubtful that they would refuse you a place to stay, if you were to ask.

“Similarly, there are many ponies there with substantial educations and technical knowledge that could serve as mentors for your foal at a later date for a myriad of fields of study. One or more of them may even have parental insights that they would be willing to share with you as well. My understanding is that there are families that are starting to be raised there since they’ve expanded their scope, so at the least you will be in the company of other mare who have foals.”

I raised my head, regarding the stallion. Actually...he had a point―as usual. I hadn’t considered McMaren, not really. Mostly because I was still thinking of the base as just some little broadcasting outpost, as it had been during my initial visit. However, it had indeed changed considerably over time. I recalled now the burgeoning market and the new homes being erected as they capitalized on the salvage obtained from the Ministry of Awesome base resting below the surface. In time, it would probably have all of the trappings of a real town. And while I didn’t know about ‘high esteem’, Homily certainly wasn’t going to turn me away at the gate if I asked to make a home there for myself.

It’s not like I was going to ask for a hoofout either. McMaren was growing, and they’d only had so many guards to begin with. They’d lost quite a few during the Steel Ranger attack as well, so I knew they could certainly use some experienced hooves helping to keep the perimeter secure from trouble. I could do that much to earn my keep.

I flashed Arginine a smile, “that’s actually a really good idea. Thanks for that. It really does make me feel better,” then I had a thought as well, “you know, I bet McMaren could use a good doctor. You could settled down there with me,” I felt my cheeks flush and hastily added, “I mean not ‘with me’ with me, but at least on the base. We could see each other whenever and stuff―not ‘see’ see each though! Just...you know, as friends.”

Arginine regarded me with a neutral expression, “if you desire to resume our previous intimate relationship, I am willing to once more accommodate―”

“No!” Alright, I might have said that a bit to vehemently. I cleared my throat and took a moment to compose myself a little better, “no. That’s not what I’m saying. In fact, I think it’s best that we don’t resume our...relationship. Not like it was anyway,” the bottom line was that Arginine had hurt me, bad. I understood why he’d done it, and there’d genuinely been no malice behind his actions. That made my forgiveness of him possible, but there was still that lingering sense of betrayal, “I think we can still be friends though. If you want.”

The stallion blinked, staying silent for several long seconds, then, “...I think that I would find that acceptable,” then his expression soured slightly, “though, on the matter of a medical practice: you do know that I am not actually a doctor, correct?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘you take ponies apart’, I’ve heard it before,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hoof, frowning at him, “but so what? How many other ponies in the Wasteland do you think went to a real medical school? Those things haven’t existed for two hundred years. They’re just ponies doing the best that they know how with what little they were taught by somepony else or have picked up over the years. Meanwhile, you at least got for-real knowledge about how ponies work wired directly into your brain, or whatever. You know how to perform surgeries too. After all, they’re basically dissections done backwards, right?”

Arginine’s features creased into a much more visible frown than usual, “there is a great deal that is incorrect with that assessment; I’m not even certain that it would be worthwhile to correct you,” his frown deepened, “I am not even certain of where I would begin to correct you!”

Again I waved away the stallion’s concerns, “I was there when you delivered Yatima’s foal by cutting her open and closing her up again like new. That was surgery, as far as I’m concerned. You also plucked the better part of a pound of buckshot out of my rear end that one time―and saved me from dying of radiation poisoning in Old Reino.

“Face it, RG: you’re a damn good doctor. McMaren would be lucky to have you. So, yeah,” I shrugged, clearing my throat and feeling myself grow a little flushed once again, “if you want to go to McMaren with me and live there―but not live with me―I think that would be pretty...nice.”

“...I will consider it,” he said and I felt myself smile a little. He’d do it. Maybe Foxglove would want to live there too. I mean, she and Homily had a...thing―?―going on. I wasn’t sure how serious it was, but they made a cute couple, I thought. At the very least, a mare with her technical expertise would certainly be welcome there. I wasn’t sure about Ramparts. He’d probably go back to New Reino to be with Yatima and his foal. I wasn’t sure what he’d do for work, but―like me―there was plenty of work around for ponies who knew how to deal with threats. He was―or had been, at least―part of the Republic’s elite force of Coursers, so he’d probably be snapped up by a casino boss’s private security detail or one of the mercenary outfits.

Maybe I could convince him to bring his whole family to McMaren too? One more experience hoof with a gun would help their security. Heck, with the experience he had, he might even be able to work training guardponies there. Yatima could go back to cooking or whatever if she wanted. We’d all still be together, I thought with a smile, glad to think that I wasn’t going to lose all of my friends after all of this was over.

Well, except for maybe Starlight Glimmer and Moonbeam. When things were wrapped up here, they’d probably want to go find that Crystal Empire or whatever and learn what happened to her husband. It was a given that he was dead, they seemed to acknowledge that. They just wanted closure. Once they had it though, maybe I could suggest that they come back…?

Maybe. It was nice to imagine anyway: all of us sticking together forever, living out safe and happy lives in a friendly little community.

My pipbuck chirped and drew me out of my reverie. Foxglove was paging me, “hey, Foxy; what’s up?”

“The Overmare received a lockbox not too long ago and has been looking through it. She wants to talk to you.”

I exchanged looks with Arginine, but the stallion simply shrugged, “we’ll be right there,” I closed the channel, “I wonder what she wants to talk about?”

The stallion stood up, brushing away some smashed apple bits that he’d laid in, “I believe that there is only one way to find out. I will admit, I am quite intrigued myself.”

I spent another brief moment taking one last look around the orchard, ignoring the rampant pillaging going on around us and trying to see only the beauty of the trees. There might be time to come back down here before the battle, but in case there wasn’t…

I sighed, “let’s go,” and the two of us left the greenery behind for the sterile gray metal of the stable.

When we arrived at the Overmare’s Office, we found the pair of mercenaries that had been with Foxglove stationed outside the door, standing watch. Indeed, mercenary groups were spread throughout most of the stable at key points, ready in the event that the residents decided that they were no longer content to await liberation at the hooves of the approaching Constance and her army. I highly doubted that would be the case, but it never hurt to be prepared for the worst case.

Inside were Foxglove and the Overmare. The former was sitting behind the latter’s desk, tapping diligently at the terminal. She noted our entry and I saw he gaze harden briefly as she took note of Arginine and then reluctantly soften―barely―beneath my own daring gaze. She could go on hating Arginine for the rest of her life―and she very likely would―but I wasn’t going to let her put the explosive collar back on his neck. It was my prerogative to forgive him, not hers.

Zara was currently standing on the far side of the room, peering out of the room’s observation window at the atrium below. I doubted that she was looking at anything specific. All that was likely to be down there at the moment were some empty benches and a few mercenaries standing guard. Nearby, I spotted a small metal storage box with its lid open and its contents spread out over the floor around the Overmare. The engineered leader of this stable peered over her shoulder as she heard the door close behind us, and I saw a mournful smile tug at her lips. It was odd to me to see such overt expression from a pony in this stable like that, even from a mare who looked so much unlike the others I’d encountered.

The mare looked back to the window, “you must think us all to be quite the fools,” she said.

“What?” I glanced questioningly at Arginine at my side, but he seemed to be at a loss as well. Foxglove had stopped her work at the terminal and was watching the conversation before her with rapt attention.

“You would be right to do so,” Zara continued, “you learned a truth about our stable that nopony alive today ever suspected. Our foolishness is only compounded by how easily it was to find. Cobol confirmed the existence and the authenticity of the files you presented. They weren’t even hidden.

“They were just...somewhere that we never needed to bother looking,” the mare sighed, deflating somehow even more than she had appeared when Arginine and I had entered. She waved a hoof at the box, “Director Moondancer was quite the meticulous record keeper. She retained all of the information and memorandums that she was issued by Stable-Tec, the Ministry of Arcane Science, and the Ministry of Wartime Technology.

“I could only wish that her predecessors had been so thorough. Their records are much more spotty,” she shrugged, “but that hardly matters. The truth is quite plain to see: we’ve been misled. Our mandate...is a farce.”

These ponies had been plotting to exterminate all of the ponies on the surface. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what the ultimate body count would have been had they succeeded. Thousands? Tens of thousands? Millions? It wasn’t like a census had been conducted in the last couple of centuries. These ponies wouldn’t have cared; they’d have killed as many as they could. They had already slaughtered untold hundreds as it was―maybe even thousands, given where I’d suspected Constance had been campaigning before her army had arrived at Shady Saddles.

Ponies on the surface would have thought these stable relics monstrous, and it would have been hard to argue otherwise. Yet, despite all that, I found myself pitying this poor mare. I’d been where she was. I’d had my entire perception of the world yanked abruptly out from under my hooves and confronted with an unpalatable truth. Jackboot, my guardian, confidant, mentor, and adopted father―the pony I’d been ready to give myself to forever and always―had turned out to be a White Hoof; a member of the same organization that had terrorized the Neighvada Valley since the end of the Great War. All my life, it turned out that I was being raised by my greatest enemy.

I’d questioned so much about myself in the wake of that revelation. What I might have become if I’d remained ignorant of the truth for much longer? What atrocities had I inadvertently committed in my life over all those years, trusting in the word of a White Hoof tribal raider? How many of those ‘legitimate bounties’ had actually been assassinations, or just outright acts of banditry? I couldn’t ever know for sure, and the thought of how high that number could be created a tight knot of dread deep in my gut.

“What happened in the past doesn’t matter,” I told the mare. It was easy to sound sincere on the matter. After all, I had to believe it too, “what’s important is what you do going forward. Doing better, especially when you know you’ve done wrong.”

Zara looked over her shoulder once more, a tired expression on her face, “that’s a wonderfully saccharine sentiment, dear; but I’m not quite so detached from reality to believe it’s true,” she looked away once more, “we have made a great many mistakes. Worse, I fear that the most egregious of them cannot be undone.”

I glanced from the Overmare to Foxglove, “what’s that supposed to mean? We can undo everything. Just, you know, stop!”

The stable mare hung her head. It was Foxglove who provided the answer, “she’s already tried to contact General Constance. She won’t stand down. She thinks it’s all a trick,” the mare frowned, “I think she’s mostly just pissed off that we survived. She sounded like she was taking it as a personal insult.”

“Constance is the flagship of our next strain,” Zara said, lifting her head once more, though her tone continued to sound as drained as before, “the Nu Strain. Ruthless, cunning, and exceedingly intelligent. They were designed to be the perfect commanders for our Kappa Strain forces during our campaign. By their nature, they are also very suspicious as well. It was a designed feature, in the hopes that it would make them better able to spot ambushes and traps that the enemy might try to set.

“Admittedly, this can manifest as paranoia,” the Overmare sighed and gave another shrug, “however, our design team considered this to be a nonissue; after all, while out in the Wasteland, everything would be out to get them. It was felt that the trait would actually be of some benefit in the long run.

“Of course, now that aspect of her psyche means that there is nothing that can be said or done to persuade her to stand down. She recognizes only that the stable is in danger, and thus her mission. She will stop at nothing to complete that mission. She will certainly not for a moment believe that the mission is being rescinded.”

“So we can’t stop her from attacking with her army,” horseapples. I’d finally managed to get here and get through to their leader, and it still didn’t matter. There was going to be a bodycount anyway. Even though I’d done my best, it still left a bitter taste in my mouth to know that I’d ultimately failed, “what about the ponies here? Will they accept the news?”

“Fortunately,” Zara nodded, casting an eye back at Arginine, “most of our staff are Lambda and Theta Strains. Dispassion was favored in their psychological profiles, as well as adaptability. They aren’t concerned so much with what the mission is as they are with fulfilling it. Isn’t that right...Arginine, was it?” the stallion nodded. The mare’s eyes darted back down to me, “in hindsight, this appears to have been something of an oversight as well, as he was able to use the parameters of that mission and broaden them to include treason,” I was briefly concerned by her statement, but then I caught her faint smile being directed at the larger stallion.

“In light of both of these glaring oversights,” the Overmare continued, “I am left wondering exactly how capable our design team actually is. They were designed to be perfect at their jobs―or as perfect as can be―but it occurs to me only now that the ponies who decided that the team was perfectly designed...might not have actually been particularly good at their jobs,” a wry smirk crossed her lips, “we appear to have taken quite a bit for granted, honestly.”

“How does something like this even happen?” I asked.

It was Foxglove who answered this time, “as best we can tell, it all started with Gattaca.”

I recognized the name, as it hadn’t been all that long ago since I’d stumbled across it, “the mare who was the only survivor of her scouting team, or whatever it was?”

“Indeed,” Zara nodded, “she was eventually elevated to the position of Overmare later in her life. She is apparently the true mastermind behind our ‘superiority mandate’. She directed that the stored embryos be used as the foundation for our genetic research, and through them developed the Alpha Strain.”

“And everypony just let her?”

“They were never given a choice,” Foxglove replied, “Gattaca killed everypony else in the stable.”

“She what? How?!”

“The same way we triggered the initial lockdown,” the violet unicorn said, “except she used something a little more toxic than helium. Then she just shut off the safeties and waited for everypony to die while she waited it out―probably while wearing some sort of personal air mask or whatever. Once everypony else was out of the way, she grew her first batch of ponies.”

“She could easily have used the incubators’ educational software to teach those first Alphas to operate the stable effectively, as well as convincing them that the purpose of the stable was to launch her campaign of genocide,” the Overmare added.

“With nopony from the stable left alive who knew any better…” Foxglove spread her hooves and trailed off. There was no need to finish the sentence. After all, we’d seen the results for ourselves. Though she did add, “the kicker? This stable’s new plan has only been in effect for about fifty years. But Zara here is the fifth Overmare since Gattaca.”

“How does that work?” I glanced at the older mare.

“Once we have been made obsolete by a new strain, the standard protocol is to submit ourselves for disposal. Our bodies are recycled back into the next generation.”

“But, I mean, you look, well...old,” I said a little awkwardly, not trying to sound as insulting as it probably came out.

“A consequence of the maturation process,” the mare said in reply, only smiling at my sheepishness, “Overmare specimens receive a significantly more extensive education, and so we must spend longer in the tanks, and are subject to a longer period of our genetically programmed rapid development. Despite my appearance to the contrary, I am only about seven years old.”

“Oh…” another thought occurred to me, “what ever happened to Gattaca? Fifty years isn’t that long.”

“Heart attack,” Foxglove replied matter-of-factly, “not long into her program either. Not only is this stable operating under a false directive, it barely got any guidance from the mare who created it in the first place.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I sighed, shaking my head. I looked over at Arginine to see how he was taking all of this, “no wonder your stable’s whole plan didn’t seem so well thought out. It wasn’t. You were all co-opted by some crazy mare who wanted to destroy the world for―” I blinked and then looked at the other two mares, “wait, why exactly did Gattaca want to do all of this anyway?”

“Well,” Foxglove said, “that part wasn’t super clear. At least, she never said much in any of her notes beyond ‘the surface ponies deserve to be wiped out’ and stuff like that. However, I did a little digging into the records and I found out something interesting about one of the other ponies listed as being a part of that last mission to the surface: A Miss Telomere. Gattaca’s daughter.”

I let out a deep sigh. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? “You’re telling me that this whole thing probably started because a mare lost her daughter to raiders and went off the deep end?”

“Strictly speaking, Gattaca never clarified who or what killed her team,” the unicorn clarified, “but it wouldn’t surprise me if they got jumped by White Hooves or something,” she looked over at Zara, “that would explain why they were at the top of the extermination list specifically by name. They really don’t call out any other groups in any specific order.”

I felt myself deflate, “that can’t be the reason!” I whined, “it can’t be that simple! This whole thing―the thousands of deaths―can’t all be just because somepony’s child died!” that was stupid! Of all the reasons for so much misery, I refused to believe that the root cause could be so...so...mundane! The original purpose behind this stable―launching an assault on the remnants of the zebras effectively from beyond the grave of Equestria sounded way more plausible reason to have gone through all of the effort demonstrated here. It was exactly the kind of convoluted and spiteful course of action I’d come to expect from the same ponies that had blown up the world.

But a grieving mother taking things too far? That was―it was just―

A mangled foal’s body laying next to the corpse of his mother.

...it wasn’t so very much unlike how I’d behaved.

In the wake of my own losses as a filly, I’d sworn bloody vengeance on all White Hooves and raiders in the Wasteland. I’d dedicated my life to killing as many as I could. The biggest difference between me and Gattaca was the resources that we’d had at our disposal to follow through on our vows. I’d had a few guns and my own hooves. She’d had a stable designed to spit out an army. Would I have, in those first months after losing my family, have sent an army at the White Hooves in the hope of exterminating the lot of them? Almost certainly.

Eventually, though it had taken many years, and a lot of suffering, I’d started to change my mind. Not as quickly as I should have. The image of that broken foal would serve as a lifelong reminder of my failure to learn; and it would hopefully continue to spur me to to better in the future. But I liked to believe that I was making an effort. That I was trying to do better.

Gattaca never got the chance to get over her grief, assuming that she even could have. She’d died in the midsts of it, and left behind a stable full of ponies who had been taught nothing but her animosity towards the surface as the foundations for building their own futures. The ponies in this stable were a mother’s desire for revenge given form. With nary a reason to give any thought elsewhere.

It really could be that simple.

I hung my head in resignation, “never mind,” I sighed, bitterly, “it doesn’t even matter anymore. The ponies here have been stopped, but we still need to figure out how to deal with Constance,” I glanced between the two mares, “I don’t suppose that you guys have any ideas there?”

Foxglove shook her head, “afraid not. She won’t listen, and she’s determined to complete her campaign of genocide at any cost. After all, it’s the entire reason she was created in the first place.”

“How can we have managed to have so much go right, only for it to not matter?” I groaned in frustration. Even after everything we’d managed to accomplish in the stable, it didn’t affect how we’d need to approach dealing with Constance. We still could just hide out in the stable and let her keep us here while she went on slaughtering ponies on the surface. She had to be fought and summarily defeated.

Though, we might not be nearly as outnumbered as we had been. I looked to Zara, “I don’t suppose we can count on your stable’s help here?”

The Overmare smiled sadly, but she nodded, “I have made the records available to the network and instructed all the residents to look them over. Ultimately, this was our stable’s mistake. It is only right that we should have a hoof in fixing it,” I felt my mood lifting at the thought of adding the better part of five hundred more ponies to our numbers, “though I feel compelled to point out that few here are designed or proficient at fighting,” she warned, “the Kappas under Constance’s command are more than a match for the Lambdas and Thetas here.”

That did take a little of the wind out from under my wings, but I was still glad for the boost in numbers regardless, “I’ll take a few hundred RGs in a fight like this any day! You ponies are still tougher than we are,” I looked at Foxglove, “we need to get the word out and get every free hoof we have outside and digging in. Constance will be here in less than a day. That’s not a lot of time to fortify our defenses.”

“Keri, Yeoman, Hemlock, and Griselda are all outside right now drawing up plans,” the violet mare assured me. I was relieved to hear that capable hooves were already getting things in motion, “I’ll call them up and let them know to factor the stable ponies into their defenses.”

For the first time in weeks, I felt like a great weight had been lifted off of me. Sure, we were far from out of the fire quite yet, but the addition of the ponies here turned down the heat considerably. We’d not only rid ourselves of an enemy, but we’d gained an ally. A little pink earth pony was regarding four other little ponies with a very smug expression on her face, and receiving quite a few eyerolls for her trouble. I trotted over to where Zara was still standing by the observation window and extended my hoof to her, “thank you; for listening.”

The Overmare smiled and bumped her hoof to mine, “and thank you for forcing the truth down our throats. A bitter pill, to be sure, but a necessary one.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Then I noted a purple clint that caught not just my eye, but the gaze of a menagerie of little ponies in my head. I looked over at the box which contained Moondancer’s personal effects. Half-buried beneath a stack of books was a little purple tail. Curious, I reached in and shifted the books aside, revealing a small statue of a purple unicorn that was of a style that I was quite familiar with by now. I swore I heard a collective gasp inside my head but shook the sensation away. I picked the figurine up and glanced at its base: Be Smart!

An identical purple unicorn joined the others and the sextuplet came together in a massive, tear-filled, hugathon that was actually a little sweet to behold. I glanced over at Zara, “I don’t suppose that it’s alright for me to take this?” I reached into my saddlebag and opened it for the mare to see, exposing the other statuettes, “I think it’s part of a set…”

The Overmare’s eyes widened slightly as she looked from the contents of my bag to the figurine in my hoof. Then she flashed me a broad smile and nodded, “I suppose that for a possible list of demands, that’s an acceptably benign one.”

“Thanks,” I said and allowed the relief of the violet unicorn to join the others. I closed up the bag and looked back toward Arginine and Foxglove, “So, I know that we’ve got plans to make and a battle to get ready for,” my hoof moved to my stomach as I flashed the pair a sheepish smile, “but I feel like I’m about to starve to death and I’d really like to get back to that orchard before those mercs manage to clear out every last apple…”

Level Up!
Perk Added: Ninja - You can't defend against what you can't see coming! Additional damage dealt to unaware targets.
Speech Skill 75!

CHAPTER 56: IT'S ALL OVER BUT THE CRYING

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In a world filled with misery and uncertainty, it is a great comfort to know that in the end, there is a light in the darkness.

I idly wondered if the ponies and zebras of the Old World would have declared peace on day one of their war if I went back in time and showed them an example of what their descendants would be eating. I wasn’t even talking about Cram or Sugar Apple Bombs either. Even the ‘fresh’ food that was grown on Republic farms around here was apparently a far cry from what had once existed. Arginine spent an hour dutifully trying to explain why modern day apples grown in the valley tasted so radically different from the tart green fruit I was currently holding in my hoof. I’d drifted in and out of the lecture, but I remember that it’d had something to do with radiation from the balefire bombs and adaptation to a dryer climate both contributing to a whole new kind of fruit that wasn’t technically an ‘apple’ anymore. Genetically speaking. The same went for the onions, potatoes, and everything else that was being grown in Neighvada.

Prior to today, I’d have sworn up and down that Republic foodstuffs were head and shoulders above anything else you could find to eat in Wasteland ruins. Now, after having tasted authentic Old World food, I knew that even what modern farmers grew was complete garbage. I was actually a little worried that I’d never be able to look at a bowl of vegetable stew the same way again.

I also now understood why Sugar Apple Bombs never quite tasted like apples. Turns out that the ‘problem’ was that apples no longer tasted like apples! Who knew?

If nothing else, it’d been an exceptional last meal.

“Hope that keeps you quiet for a while, kid,” I mumbled as I lapped morosely at the last little dribblets of apple that had soaked into my coat. In theory, Arginine’s stable still had plenty of seed stock that could be evacuated before we scuttled the place. In practice, those seeds just couldn’t grow in Neighvada anymore. Not without a lot of help from pegasi weather teams.

Maybe, if we survived this, my next quest should be to contact the Enclave and arrange some sort of arrangement? Starlight had told me that, once long ago, the pegasi had made a deal to control the weather for ground ponies in exchange for food. Maybe I could broker a similar deal again?

Eh, those were concerns for Future Windfall. Present Windfall had other things to keep her mind occupied for the time being. Specifically: performing the last few checks on their defenses.

Not that there was a whole lot that I could really offer in the way of advice and suggestions on that front. What did I know about machinegun nests and trench lines? Honestly, I felt like the most useless pony here. Foxglove had raided the stable’s supply rooms for every talisman, spark battery, and spare beam rifle that she could get her hooves on. The latter was especially difficult to pry from the hooves of the mercenaries who were intent on claiming as many of the newly manufactured weapons as possible as part of ‘their share’ of the loot.

“You can either let me slap it on a turret to do the shooting and get shot at, or you can get shot at; which’ll it be?” Funnily enough, that proved to be all the convincing that the mercenaries needed to let the violet unicorn have her way.

Starlight spent the day going through the unicorn populations of the mercenary companies and selecting the more promising among them for what she called “Abbreviated Magic Kindergarten”, teaching them to cast a shield spell and giving them a few other lessons on unicorn magic fundamentals. There’d been no shortage of fuming and eye rolling at first from among her ‘students’. But, after only fifteen minutes, it became pretty clear to everypony that Starlight’s knowledge was leagues above everypony else’s and I could tell that some of those mercenaries took her lessons to heart. Not a lot of them, but some.

Even Arginine was tagging up with the medical staff from the companies, making sure that they were all given equal shares of what was in the stable’s clinic. He was also acting as something of a liaison with the ponies from his stable who were electing to join in the fighting. I’ll admit, that had actually been the biggest disappointment in all of this: the number of ponies from the stable who’d offered to join us. In my deluded optimism, I’d thought we’d see hundreds of the ponies here volunteering to help once they’d learned that everything about their stable and their ‘mission’ had all been a huge lie. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

I suppose that really had been too much to hope for, in hindsight. Lie or no, it was the ‘truth’ that they’d known for their entire lives. It’s what they’d been taught while growing inside those maturation tubes. I couldn’t really expect them to change their whole worldview in a few hours. A lot of them even seemed perfectly content to continue on with that mission! I only hoped that they wouldn’t be a problem when we scuttled the stable.

In all, the complement of stable ponies ready to fight for our side numbered just below fifty. Less than a tenth of the stable’s population. Honestly, I got the feeling that most of them were just hedging their bets: waiting to see who came out on top in this fight before ultimately deciding if it was worth the effort to try and continue that whole grand crusade for perfection of theirs. Still, I was grateful for those that did join.

My feelings on Arginine turning them into something of a quasi-honor guard for me on the other hoof…

“I trust you to know how best to employ them effectively in the upcoming fight,” the stallion had said to me when he’d made the announcement, “and you are likely the only pony here who would not be immediately dismissive of their newly professed loyalties.”

While I was dubious about the former―what did I know about leading troops in a battle?!―it was hard to argue against the latter. I noticed to wary looks the other ponies gave to the few dozen new recruits from the stable. I couldn’t exactly condemn them for their skepticism either. As for myself, I trusted Arginine, and I trusted his judgement. If he said they would help us, then I believed him.

Whether this would all be enough in the end…

I glided down through the narrow gorge, alitting near where Yeoman issuing orders to his lieutenants. The Housecarls had been tasked with occupying the trenches on the stable’s right flank. Arguably the more defensive side of the narrow valley we were in, as it consisted of a lot of rocky outcroppings that would make an all out assault by the enemy difficult, at best. A few of Griselda’s griffons were helping him to plot out the fields of fire for his machinegun emplacements and automated turrets. The stallion glanced up at me and nodded briskly, “Windfall. We’re nearly all set up here,” he frowned and glanced around at the high wall of the narrow canyon, “I can’t say that I like being boxed in like this though.”

“Yeah, I know,” I nodded in sympathy. If anypony could appreciate feelings of apprehension at being constrained, it was a pegasus, “but at least this way we only have to worry about being attacked from one direction.”

Why reassurance was met with a bitter smile, “and we have the option to retreat in exactly zero,” he pointed out.

“Frankly, if we don’t stop Constance here, there won’t be anywhere to retreat to for long,” I pointed out, receiving a gruff nod from the mercenary captain, “anything else you guys need?”

“A megaspell to wipe out the enemy the moment they arrive wouldn’t go amiss,” Yeoman said with a dry chuckle before shaking his head, “nah, we’re about as ready as we can expect to be,” he patted the wall of the trench, “as long as we can keep them from getting a hoof in here, we should be secure enough,” he looked to the left and frowned, “it’s the river bed that concerns me.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, looking in the same direction at the left flank of our defensive line, “we’re working on that. In fact, I’m headed there now.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” and with that the stallion nodded and returned his full attention to the rest of his company while I flitted further along the trench line.

It wasn’t difficult to see what had the earth pony concerned. Unlike the rough and rocky terrain that he was holed up in, the other side of the narrow valley consisted of the dried up riverbed. It was quite flat, and faced a great deal of open terrain. If Constance was going to push anywhere, this was going to be it, because there just wasn’t much cover to be had. Even with the deep furrows that had been carved into the ground to form a deep trench, the ponies within would still be vulnerable to grenade lobbed by the attackers. My biggest concern was that Constance would just launch a full on assault on this side of the gorge and overrun the defenders with sheer numbers. At that point, Yeoman's ponies would be pinned up against the cliff with nowhere to go and being fired at from multiple sides.

Steps were being taken to mitigate the danger of that happening, but there was only so much that could be done. The same terrain features that provided our biggest advantage, in the form of a confined fighting space to limit the number of attackers that could be thrown at us at one time, was working against us by severely limiting the number of defenders that we could effectively array against them. We’d doubled up with both the Harlots and the Hacate, but the narrow line had them almost shoulder to shoulder. A few well-placed grenades would devastate the defenders. However, thinning their numbers meant we might not have enough guns keeping Constance’s forces back.

It was enough to give me serious doubts about my plan. Not that we had enough time to do anything about it.

The one saving grace that we had was the Razor Beaks. Griselda had her fliers spread out all over the sides of the gorge, nestled behind outcroppings and in little caves all along the cliff walls, ready to rain fire down on the enemy from above. With luck, they’d be able to dart in and harass enemy from the skies and keep them from wanting to get too bold with their attacks. If we whittled them down enough, they’d eventually get to the point where they no longer had sufficient ponypower to launch a proper attack. The Razor Beaks were our ace in the hole.

For now, at least. I stared down at my pipbuck and bit my lip, debating on whether or not I wanted to roll the dice on making this call. As much as not knowing for sure was gnawing at me, I wasn’t certain that I wanted to risk getting genuinely bad news.

Much to my―debatable―relief, Homily made the decision for me. My pipbuck signaled that I was receiving an incoming transmission from McMaren. With bated breath, I accepted the broadcast, “Homily?”

“Windfall!” the distant radio personality exclaimed in relief, “thank the goddesses; I assume the battle hasn’t started yet?”

I felt myself break out into a small smile despite the tension that was hovering in the narrow valley like a fog, “not yet. Soon though,” my eyes darted towards the sky, looking for any signs that one of Gresilda’s scouts was on their way back with news, “please tell me you have some good news?”

“Roger that!” I felt a wave of relief crash through me. Maybe there was some hope yet, “my techs have finished up everything both here and at the Hangar. Everything’s all powered up, we’ve got a solid connection, and the transmission tower is all set to go. The system’s just finishing up its last self-check and Moonbeam’s ready to plug herself into the network. In a few minutes we’re going to have her try and power up one of the drones to make sure everything’s solid, but every diagnostic and test we’ve run is showing a green light, so there’s no reason to think that anything’ll go wrong when we try it for real.”

“That’s amazing, Homily, thanks! You have no idea how much I needed to hear this,” having a thousand Nightmare Moon combat drones descending from the heavens upon Constance’s army would pretty much guarantee our victory. I almost didn’t want to acknowledge it out loud for fear of jinxing everything!

“Thought that might be the case,” I could hear the satisfaction in the earth pony mare’s voice through the speakers of my fetlock-mounted computer. It was only right that she should be proud too. This was as much the fruit of her and her ponies efforts as it was anyponies. I idly wondered if ‘Miss Neighvada’ was going to be spreading out the credit when she made her next broadcast? “Oop! Last diagnostics done; I’m going to hop off and let Moonbeam know. I’ll call you back in a few minutes to let you know your calvary’s on its way!”

“Roger that, Homily. Windfall, out,” I closed the connection, feeling myself beaming from ear to ear with a satisfied grin.

Hopefully, the mere sight of a sky full of those drones would be enough to convince Constance to surrender. Okay, maybe that was being a little too hopeful, but I could at least take solace in the fact that our victory was assured now. I looked around to see if I could spot any of my friends and let them know the good news.

Unfortunately, that was when I caught sight of a very motivated-looking pegasus flying towards us from the east end of the gorge. It was one of Griselda’s scouts. Specifically one of the scouts that was keeping an eye out for Constance’s army. If he was coming back here…

My smile curdled immediately and I winged over onto an intercept course. I wasn’t the only one either. The metal-beaked griffon hen that the scout was here to report to was very quickly at my side, and her expression was just as grim as mine was. The crimson pegasus pulled up short into a hover, snapping a brief salute at the older griffon, which she did not return. I was actually a little shocked to see that level of professionalism from a mercenary. Then my eyes caught sight of the burned-in scaring on his flank in the shape of a cloud and lightning bolt. A Dashite. An exile from the Enclave. Ah, that answered a few questions.

“Enemy sighted,” the pegasus stallion snapped sharply in a brisk military fashion. You could take the pegasus out of the Enclave, apparently, but the reverse didn’t seem to take quite so well, I observed, “estimate that they’ll be at the mouth of the valley in an hour,” almost imperceptible through his professional tone, my ear twitched at the slightest hint of...worry? I suppose that was to be expected. Constance’s forces outnumbered us more than three-to-one, taking our recent volunteers into account. Those were hardly the kind of odds that even an experienced military sort would take lightly. The stallion looked between the two of us, visibly concerned now, “they have armor support.”

I very nearly fell out of the sky, “what?!”

The pegasus nodded, “they have armor. Six M3 Strongheart light tanks. They look to be in good condition, all things considered. No idea where they got them,” both the stallion and Griselda were looking expectantly at me now, as though assuming that I’d have the answer.

“Well don’t look at me! Nopony ever said shit about them having tanks!”

“You sure as fuck acted like you knew everything else about these damn ponies,” the griffon spat, sneering at me with a withering look, “what, you’re telling me that the Overmare here never clued you in to that little detail? Imagine that,” she shared a dour look with her scout, who was looking just as unhappy.

“What do you know about these strongfarts there, ‘Claver?”

The stallion dutifully hid away a brief grimace at what was likely an intentional mispronunciation and supplied the requested information, “quite a bit, actually. A few Steel Ranger chapters around the Badlands have managed to keep some in operation, so Enclave military personnel in the area get briefings on them. The M3 was a late-war model light tank, designed to get in and out of operations areas quickly. It was outfitted to support infantry against other infantry. It’s main gun is just a 2-inch, but it’s got a fast cycle rate. Has a pair of side-mounted fifty-cals too, each with a one hundred and eighty degree firing arc. The good news is that those don’t have great elevation, so they shouldn’t be a huge threat to us,” the hen seemed to relax a little at that, “it’s armor isn’t all that thick, since it needed to cut down on weight to keep up its speed, but we’re going to need more than grenades to get through it, and we’re really light on missiles,” he pointed out, “our mines won’t do much more than scratch its paint either.”

“They can just steamroll right over our left flank,” I hissed, already bringing up my pipbuck to pass on the bad news. I just had to figure out who I wanted to call first. I finally settled on Foxglove. If anypony knew how to get a little more ‘oomph’ out of our ordinance it would be her, “Foxy! Constance is here, and she brought tanks.”

“She brought what?!” the unicorn exclaimed. I mentally noted that her ‘what’ had been a near-perfect match for mine but refrained from commenting on it.

“Tanks. Small ones, but big enough to hurt us. Badly. We need something that’ll stop them up for a bit. Homily called me a minute ago and said our air support will be on its way shortly, but if those tanks get through our lines first, it might not be enough.”

“I―bu―how―argh!” the unicorn sputtered through the speakers of my pipbuck, “what exactly do you expect me to do here, Windy?! Stop them? I don’t even know what they look like, how big they are, how powerful they are, or anything! I can’t even begin to imagine what I’d need to build, and if they’re already within sight of us, then I sure don’t have any time to build it anyway,” it was actually difficult to tell if Foxglove was more distraught or furious, “Windy...I don’t know how to help with this!”

I bit down on my lip. It certainly wasn’t what I wanted to hear from the pony that I had come to depend on for coming up with material solutions to our problems. Not that I could really fault her on this. She was right: we didn’t have time to come up with a comprehensive counter to tanks. I looked back at Griselda and the pegasus, “pass the word along about what you saw and try to get as much of our heavy ordinance to the left flank trenches as possible―that has to be the side those tanks’ll hit. I’m going to get some answers about where they came from,” I turned to fly back to the stable but hesitated to issue one last order, “and keep an eye out for any more surprises!”

My hoof was already dialing in another pipbuck tag to communicate with as I left the pair of mercenaries, “RG, I need to speak with Zara. Now,” I growled into the mic, “meet me at the stable entrance.”

A second later, I received a response from the stallion, “on our way.”

I arrived long before the pair of stable ponies, which gave me plenty of time to both fret and fume over the information that I’d just received. So many questions were whirling through my head. Nopony had mentioned a thing about these ponies having any sort of serious hardware like that back at Shady Saddles. Ramparts hadn’t mentioned anything about it either during his last update―

I blinked in surprise. With so much else going on, I hadn’t realized just how much time had passed since the former Republic courser had made a transmission. Maybe he was observing radio silence to avoid detection? Still, news like Constance getting her hooves on armor support should have been cause enough to make even a risky call in order to make sure we had that kind of information. A stallion like Ramparts would have had to know how devastating those new additions to Constance’s forces could be to coming at us cold like this.

A cold knot of worry began to grow deep in my gut as my brain quickly came up with a short list of very depressing reasons that Ramparts might not have called in a warning ahead of time. It was a list that I didn’t have all that much time to consult as a pair of ponies came into sight from within the stable. I focused my attention on the smaller mare, glaring at her, “Constance has tanks with her. I need to know where she got them and why you didn’t tell us about them. I’d also appreciate a run-down on any other surprises she has in store for us.”

To her credit, Zara managed to look genuinely shocked and confused by the news, “tanks? What are you talking about? We don’t have anything like that,” she insisted, “we’re only capable of manufacturing small arms and barding on site.”

Had we been anywhere else, I’d have assumed she was lying to me. However, I knew enough about the ponies here to know that they weren’t that good at lying. But that didn’t mean that she was telling me the whole truth either, “I never said they were made here. I asked you where she would have gotten them.”

The Overmare looked at me helplessly for several long seconds and shrugged, “I haven’t the slightest idea,” she said, “you read the same records that I did. None of them mentioned anything about equipment like that.”

I had read the same records. I knew about the stable’s origin as a means to produce an army for Equestria to strike at the zebras from beyond the grave. That was why this stable even had the kinds of resource collection and fabrication facilities that it did: to outfit that army. Zara was right though. Nothing that I’d seen here suggested that this stable was capable of building heavy equipment like that. I also hadn’t seen any records detailing caches and depots that were designed to be used by the army that was grown here.

Though, I had to admit that that would have been a good idea. If you were building a stable to field a secret army after the nation suffered catastrophic damage, you wouldn’t want to rely on having anything left to work with from the Old World. You’d want to either have the infrastructure to rebuild on your own, or make sure that there were plenty of supplies and equipment hidden away for later use. And when you already had the ability to construct nigh-impregnable bunkers, why not capitalize on that advantage and build a few more, filled to bursting with everything an invading army would need?

But that still didn’t explain why there hadn’t been a record of those bunkers, or how Constance could have found out about them if there was. Though, thinking on it, I could come up with some theories about the former, “it’s possible that Moondancer deleted or hid away some of the details of Operation Overrun in order to keep any elements of the Ministry of Wartime Technology from executing the protocol once she’d decided not to go through with it. I don’t remember seeing anything that went into detail about its planning: routes of attack, timing, specific targets, or anything like that. Those sorts of things should have existed, but they didn’t. Some stuff had to have been deleted,” and those detailed plans would certainly have listed any supplies that had been set aside exclusively for the operation.

“That is a fair point,” the Overmare admitted, her features scrunched up in thought.

“But then how did Constance find out about it? Was there ever a time that she was rooting around in the stable’s files? She could have come across it then.”

The mare shook her head, “there’d have been no reason for her to be in the archives. The educational software that was used to train her for her leadership position would have provided her with all of the information that she’d need to lead our armies.”

That whole concept still sounded crazy to me. Getting information just downloaded right into your brain. Constance might have looked like a filly, but she could have known as much as all of the Old Equestria generals combined, for all I knew. There was no telling what her head had been filled with that the MWT thought their future commanders would need in order to pull off the plan that they had in mind―

Oh, horseapples…

“She knows the plan,” I whispered under my breath, drawing a look from both Zara and Arginine. I looked at the Overmare, “you said she was trained for her leadership position,” the mare nodded, “I assume that means that she got a different training program than all of the regular soldiers?” another nod, “this training software; is it stuff you ponies developed yourselves? Or was it with all the other equipment; like, was it built in to the chambers?”

“The hardware was certainly integrated,” she said, “along with a selection of educational suites so that not only soldiers, but various technical jobs could be filled to support the stable.”

“The fact that the regular soldier software still exists means that Moondancer probably didn’t mess with any of that stuff, even after she decided not to go through with Overrun. Their stable would still need a few security ponies anyway,” I looked between the two ponies, “that’s where Constance learned about the tanks. The MWT did set up additional depots somewhere, filled with everything that they thought their army would need to invade the zebras. While the files on the computers with that information were deleted, that same information would have also been part of whatever training the army’s leaders got.

“Why waste time with mission briefings and stuff when you can just give everypony who needs it the information directly? Constance always knew about the tanks.”

“Then why did she not bring them to Shady Saddles?” Arginine asked.

“She’s spent the last few weeks completely dominating the White Hooves without them,” I pointed out, “after a string of victories like that, she probably thought it’d be a waste of time and effort to get them,” I frowned, “but then…”

“Then we defeated the contingent she left to take the town.”

I nodded, “either she realized she was getting complacent and decided to get serious, or she’s using them to make up for the losses in her forces until she can get reinforced from the stable. In any case, we’re in a lot of trouble and we have no idea what else she might know about that was in that training software. We can’t take any chances.”

“She may have gotten access to other weapons that were not manufactured in this stable as well,” Arginine pointed out.

My thoughts went almost immediately to missile and balefire egg launchers, and what such weapons would be capable to doing to our defensive lines. We needed Moonbeam to get here as soon as possible. I brought up my pipbuck and keyed in Homily’s tag, “Homily, it’s Windfall. How long before Moonbeam can get those drones here? Constance has some Old World tanks she recovered from an MWT bunker, and we think she might have a lot of other serious weaponry too. We need serious firepower of our own.”

The response that I received was not from the McMaren radio jockey, but from Moonbeam herself as she jumped onto the frequency using her own integrated communications array, “System checks have just finished. Everything checks out and is good to go. The interface reports good telemetry and we’ve got plenty of bandwidth. I’m plugging myself in now. You’ll have your air support in five minutes, and absolute victory in six,” the level of confidence the mare had did wonders to soothe my own rising concerns. One prototype Nightmare Moon drone had been enough to beat back a full on White Hoof assault on Seaddle. A thousand finished models should have no trouble sending Constance packing.

“Glad to hear it, Moonbeam,” I responded breathlessly, grateful to just hear genuinely good news today, “hopefully just seeing all of those drones will be enough to get her to stand down,” that much I wasn’t very confident about, but I liked to think that maybe the soldiers with her would have enough sense to recognize a senseless battle and surrender even if she refused.

I looked up from the pipbuck to Arginine and the Overmare, “I’m going to go and pass on the good news. In the meantime, let’s make sure that we’ve got what heavy weapons we have spread around as much as possible. I’d also appreciate you smart ponies coming up with ways to stop or at least slow down those tanks,” dealing with things like that wasn’t anything that I had any sort of experience fighting. Fortunately for the Wasteland in general, raiders didn’t tend to have armor support.

The pair nodded and I flew off back towards the trench lines. I frowned as I looked them over, wishing now that we’d opted to make them a lot wider. As they were now, those tanks would probably be able to just drive right over them without a second thought. There wasn’t anywhere near enough time to do anything about that now though. Spark grenades might be able to do something against them, but those tanks would have to get a lot closer than I was comfortable with in order to be in range for that.

The speaker on my pipbuck crackled and Moonbeam’s voice came through, “alright, hooking up now. Connecting to the hangar. Connection’s good. Bringing the drones online and linking up―AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!” I very nearly stalled out as I was assaulted by a scream so loud that it created feedback with the pipbuck’s microphone. As quickly as I could, I dove for the ground and landed, looking down at my pipbuck with concern.

“Moonbeam?” No response, “Moonbeam?” I felt my gut begin to chill with every passing second that I didn’t hear from the mare. Had something gone wrong with the connection after all? Had Homily and her technicians missed something vital somehow? “Moonbeam, are you alright?!”

Finally, there was a burst of static, but that was it. I double-checked to make sure that the frequency was still open and that I was even connected to her. My pipbuck insisted that everything was working just fine, which actually made me even more concerned. I would have much rather the silence be attributed to a fault on my end. Then I heard another short burst of static. Only, I realized, it wasn’t static that I was hearing. I was crying. Faint, muffled, crying. I turned up the volume as much as I could.

“...Moonbeam?”

“...I can’t,” I was finally able to make out, “it’s too much...too many,” she gasped, “all those eyes, all those legs, all those wings...it’s too many!”

I let my rump fall to the ground with relief. She was alright. Thank Celestia! “It’s alright, Moonbeam. We probably don’t need all one thousand anyway,” I assured her, not sure who I was trying to convince more: her or myself, “a few hundred should be more than enough. I mean, look at what one of you managed to do to those Steel Rangers, right? Just try to get as many as you can―”

“You don’t understand,” the other mare snapped through the static, “I can’t do ‘a few hundred’ either! I can’t put myself in that many places at once. It’s too overwhelming...too much information coming in for me to make sense of it. I’m suddenly seeing with hundreds of sets of eyes, and feeling with thousands of sensor inputs. It can’t do it, Windfall!

“I can manage maybe two or three, but I’m not sure I’d be able to do it well,” she spat, bitterly.

The despair was back. If that was all that Moonbeam felt she could control...then, frankly, there wasn’t even a point to it. She might as well have been here herself, “I don’t understand. You said that everything was working fine. Is there something wrong with the equipment that the system check couldn’t detect or―?”

“It’s not the hardware,” Moonbeam replied with irritation, “it’s me. I can’t handle that many inputs at once. It doesn’t make sense though,” she snarled, “I was fucking designed to do this! Like, this specific thing was why the Ministry of Awesome did all of this to me in the first place! The surgeries, the computer plugged into my brain, the AI program that they―”

Moonbeam’s words cut off mid sentence, but not do to any technical reason. I had a fair guess as to what had just occurred to her that caused her train of thought to derail. I’d had a similar epiphany at almost the same moment. One that the other mare put into words: “It wasn’t me. I wasn’t the one who was meant for this. Selene was.”

She was right, I realized. The MoA hadn’t intended for the little filly that was Moonbeam to be the command and control node for their drone army. She’d just been the raw materials for the actual platform designed to use them: Selene. A hyper-advanced software program that exceeded the hardware limitations available to the MoA for their secret project. So they’d opted to forego synthetic circuits in favor of organic ones in order to get the processing power that they’d need. Selene had been meant to control the drones, using Moonbeam’s brain as the platform it operated from.

And we had locked the AI away in a part of Moonbeam’s electronic brain where it specifically wouldn’t be able to interact with anything that wasn’t her life-support functions. Selene was completely cut off from the drone control systems. Those drones were not useless to us. Our trump card was gone, before we’d even been ready to use it.

Horseapples.

I brought the pipbuck back up to my lips, but my mouth moved wordlessly. What did I even want to say right now? I could ask her to come back here so that she could help on her own, but I genuinely doubted that the presence of even her single advanced drone chassis would do anything to shift the odds significantly. She’d just end up dying with the rest of us. No, the best thing was for her to stay put in McMaren and help the ponies there. Once we fell here, Homily and the others would be the only ones left in the valley to get the word out and try to mount a second line of defense against Constance’s invasion.

I doubted very much that she’s want to stay though, knowing what was going to happen to us. To her mother. I had to convince her to stay though. To survive. I was about to say as much when my pipbuck chirped, signalling another incoming transmission that was addressed specifically to me.

The sender was identified as being Ramparts.

Without hesitation, I flipped to the other channel. I had a hundred different questions for the Republic soldier. Some of them even didn’t have anything to do with his long silence. If anypony had advice on how to stop armored vehicles, surely it would be the experience military officer! However, before I could get a word out, I was cut off by the sender of the signal.

Anything I might have said died on my lips as I heard, not the deep baritone of the courser, but rather the familiar voice of a very young mare coming through the speaker, “As a courtesy, I will grudgingly acknowledge that you have proven yourself marginally more capable than I had allowed for. But be mindful that this is more of a critique of my own performance than a commendation on yours. It is also not an oversight that I will make again.

“I am contacting you now to issue my terms for your surrender: your forces will lay down their arms and assemble themselves in an orderly fashion so that they may be summarily euthanized. Stable resources will be made available so that this process can be conducted as painlessly as possible. You have five minutes to comply.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the signal went dead the moment Constance stopped talking. I stared at the pipbuck for several long seconds. It hadn’t been a coincidence that Constance had used Ramparts’ pipbuck to issue that demand. She had a pipbuck of her own. That act in itself had been a not-so-subtle message to me: she’d caught―and very likely killed―the stallion and the others with him. That small force had been doing everything that it could to avoid a confrontation with her, and she’d still wiped them out; and she’d done so quickly enough that Ramparts hadn’t even managed to get a warning out.

She wanted me to know that our group here wouldn’t fair any better.

My features hardened as I continued to glare at my pipbuck, as though it had somehow offended me on its own. Ramparts had been a good pony. He’d been fair, and stuck to his word. He’d told me what I’d needed to hear, rather than what I merely wanted to hear. He was a friend. He deserved to survive this and make it back to Yatima and his son. He deserved a happy life. A lot of ponies did.

Constance was bent on depriving them of that.

She couldn’t honestly have expected us to surrender, not after everything that we’d gone through to stop her. That ultimatum had to be just another part of the mind game that she was playing with us. I still had very little idea of how extensive her training had been while hooked up to the stable’s education software, but I could recognize when somepony was trying to get under my skin. She wanted me angry. Making mistakes.

Though it wasn’t like I couldn’t make plenty of mistakes while feeling perfectly at ease.

Fortunately for all of us, it wasn’t just me making the decisions.

I sought out Foxglove. I needed the guidance of a smart pony. I managed to find two. The violet unicorn mechanic was surrounded by long sections of steel beams, a welder’s mask covering her face and a bent piece of metal pipe and a metal pick of some sort clutched in her telekinetic grasp. Somehow she was using those tools and an array of spark batteries to attach several of the beams to one another, building an ungly-looking wad of angled steel. Behind her was Starlight, who was using her magic to slice much longer steel beams into more manageable pieces for Foxglove to weld together.

I used a wing to partially shield my eye from the brilliant bead of light that she was producing and called out to her, “Foxy!”

Foxglove glanced up. The bead of light vanished and the shielded mask was flipped up over her head, revealing a very haggard and grime-covered mare who looked as though she was daring me to give her more to do. I felt myself gnawing on my lip a little. I suppose that I had been leaning on her pretty heavily over the last few hours, but hardly any of the stable ponies who’d joined up with us were engineers of any sort, leaving Foxglove as the only one who knew how to build most of what we needed. She’d been hard at work putting together as many turrets as she could before I diverted her not too long ago. It looked like she was fully expecting me to redirect her attention again.

“Uh...hey,” I said awkwardly, looking over what I took to be the fruits of her more recent labors, “these look...nice?” I stared at the amalgamation of hastily-welded steel struts, “what are they?”

“The best I could come up with the stop something like a tank on short notice,” she nodded her head over the side of the trench towards the enemy, “Starlight’s teleporting them into the valley, halfway burying them in the ground. The tanks shouldn’t be able to push them aside, and they can’t drive over them. I’m not going to be able to build a solid line of them in the time we have, but I might be able to force them to make a lot of turns and slow them down that way.”

I glanced over the lip of the trench and spotted the couple dozen sets of steel beams that were poking out of the ground at odd angles, looking like hideous metal weeds. There were some pretty substantial gaps between them, but for as long as Foxglove had been at this new project, it was impressive that she’d managed to do as much as she had. Hopefully it would count for something.

“Constance is going to attack in less than five minutes,” I informed the pair of unicorn mares as I retracted from the trench’s edge. The dread was pretty clear to see, but I continued on, “...I’m pretty sure they got Ramparts. She just called me using his pipbuck,” now for the worse news. I glanced towards Starlight, “Moonbeam can’t control the drones after all. Not without Selene.

“We’re not going to get our backup.”

Both mares went noticeably pale and exchanged glances, “do they know what the problem is?” Foxglove asked, “maybe there’s still time to fix whatever’s wrong.”

“It’s not a hardware issue. Moonbeam thinks that she was never meant to be able to control all the drones,” I locked my gaze with Starlight, “she’s pretty sure it was meant to be Selene,” understanding blossomed across the faces of both mares.

“...so what’s the plan now?” Foxglove asked.

I looked hopefully towards Starlight, “maybe we could Sing? A half dozen of us managed to take on the Lancers that way. We should be able to beat Constance’s army no problem too, right?”

The pink unicorn looked up from where she was still working and scowled at me, “of course Singing won’t work!”

I balked, “why not?”

“Because we don’t have enough pegasi,” she said, sounding as though the stated reason should have been plainly obvious. I was somewhat gratified to see that Foxglove was looking at the other unicorn with just as much confusion as I was. This only seemed to compound Starlight’s annoyance though. She facehoofed and sighed in exasperation, “right, they don’t even have magic kindergarten anymore…

“Look, we don’t have the time―and I honestly don’t have the patience―to get into a long-winded and detailed lecture about arcano-equine resonance, magical frequency harmonics, and ethereal equilibriums. So you’re just going to have to trust me when I say: it just won’t work.”

“Well what do we need to do to make it work then?” I demanded, not quite appreciating her tone. Okay, I got it, she was really smart and knew a lot about magic. Not being able to go to school for decades was hardly my fault! I’d be asking her a lot fewer ‘stupid’ questions if she took the time to at least explain the fundamentals to me.

Starlight snorted, “either find me another hundred pegasi or kill a couple hundred of the other ponies on this trench line,” again, both Foxglove and I balked at her response. At least that kind of reaction from the other unicorn seemed to make her slightly more accommodating where an explanation was concerned.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before addressing the two of us―mostly me―in a cool tone, “remember how I told you that all ponies had magic; not just unicorns?” I nodded, “and how Singing brought that magic together and made it usable?” another cautious nod, “well, that only works when the kinds of ponies that the Singing is drawing from is roughly balanced. It doesn’t need to be exactly balanced―though the more balanced the more potent the Singing will be―but it needs to be at least somewhere in hoofball stadium.

“In Santa Mara, there were two unicorns,” she gestured at herself and Foxglove, “a pegasus,” she jabbed her hoof at me, “and earth pony―Ramparts―and whatever the fuck Arginine counted as. A two-one-one-onish ratio. I can work with that,” now the unicorn became noticeably more exasperated, “out here we have a, I don’t know, a unicorn-earth pony-pegasus ratio of: hundred-hundred-ten...question mark? Plus close to fifty of whatevers from Arginine’s stable?

“I can’t possibly work with that. Nopony could. And even if we tried,” she hastily added just as I opened my mouth to ask exactly the question she seemed to anticipate, “the leyline interference pattern that would crop up from the imbalance would actually be more likely to help the enemy than our side!

“So: no. No Singing.”

Horseapples. It wasn’t the answer that I wanted to hear, especially not after getting the news about Moonbeam and the drones, but that was hardly Starlight’s fault. We’d just have to try something else.

“In that case, I guess our new plan is the same as the old one,” I offered in with a wry smirk that suggested a level of confidence that I simply wasn’t feeling in the wake of receiving so much bad news in the last few minutes. The enemy having equipment that we weren’t anticipating, Ramparts likely dead, no miracle Old World super-weapon coming to save us all at the last minute, no unexpected victory through Song...nothing was going our way, it seemed like. In hindsight, maybe that wasn’t such a huge surprise. The ponies of Arginine’s stable had been working towards this for decades. I’d thrown together an opposition in less than a month with an appalling lack of vital information. All I’d known is where their stable was. Little else.

Now we were all going to pay for my juvenile optimism, “we’re just going to have one less part of it. We have good defensive ground,” I gestured around the narrow gorge, “we have this trench. We should be a pretty hard nut to crack. I mean, as long as Constance doesn’t have any other surprises up her fetlock.”

Why was a tiny little cerulean blue pegasus mare with a chromatic mane dramatically waving her hooves and mouthing for me to ‘shut up!’ over and over again?

My ear twitched. I cocked my head to the side as I picked up the distant sound of...something. It was a pretty low tone that had a somewhat ‘hollow’ quality to it. I peered eastward as I realized that it was coming from the direction of Constance’s army, so it probably wasn’t a good sound for us.

The speaker on my pipbuck crackled suddenly to life with a burst of static and Yeoman's voice came blaring over the open frequency, “mortars! Get down! Everypony get down!”

I cocked my brow at my pipbuck and glanced at the other two mares, “isn’t that a kind of tooth?”

Starlight shook her head, “no, that’s a molar,” she tapped her chin in thought, “I think a mortar is―” what was that whistling sound?

All three of us dove for the ground and covered our heads with our hooves as an explosion erupted suddenly from just a few dozen yards away. It wasn’t just a single isolated explosion either. A second followed on the hooves of the first. Then a third. The next three burst so close together that it was difficult to distinguish them from one another. Clods of dirt and rock started raining down, covering us in a film of grime as we kept ourselves as low to the ground as possible.

While I couldn’t see the explosions, I could hear and feel them just fine, and so I was aware that they weren’t all happening in one isolated area. They were occurring all along our line, falling short of the trenches we’d dug by less than a dozen yards on average.

Then, as suddenly as they’d begun...everything went silent. For several long seconds, none of us moved though, just in case more were coming. Eventually though, I risked poking my head up over the lip of the trench. My eye widened as I beheld the reformed landscape and the scores of new divots that hadn’t been there five minutes ago.

Starlight coughed and shook the dirt out of her mane, “as I was saying: I think mortars are a type of artillery. Great.”

“They have to be at least half a mile away,” I didn’t appreciate that my protest came out in a tone that was very reminiscent of a whine, but, “that is totally unfair!”

“All’s fair in war.”

I just about jumped as I whirled around. Yeoman was behind me, his gaze fixed in the direction of the enemy. He looked over to Starlight, “now would be a good time to round up all those ponies you were teaching shield spells to. We’re going to need them soo―” his head jerked back towards Constance’s forces and then he dropped, “get down!”

None of us hesitated as we once more collapsed to the ground and covered ourselves. A second later there were more explosions. However, this time they were happening behind us. Just as before, they were not far off, and we got a second helping of dirt and shattered rocks in our manes as the light artillery sent up fresh plumes of earth into the air. A minute later, it ended again, just as abruptly.

Yeoman got back up to his hooves, sneering, “they’ve got us bracketed now. Their next barrage will land right in the trenches,” he turned towards Starlight again, “we’re going to need those shields, and soon! If they chase us out of the trenches, we’ll have no choice but to fall back to the stable or die.”

The pink mare had a worried look on her face, “we don’t have enough trained unicorns to protect the whole line, and there’s no way that any of the others are magically strong enough to deflect more than one―maybe two―of those blasts!”

“We have to try,” I said now, “he’s right: if we get pushed out of this trench and into the stable, it’s all over anyway. Have the defenders group up if you have to so that they’re easier to protect. Something. We have to hold this line!”

Starlight looked like she wanted to protest, but then thought better of it, letting out a frustrated sigh instead as she ran off down the trench line, muttering something about getting blood from stones. Right now my focus was more about trying to keep our blood inside of us and off of the stones. I picked up my enclave helmet and shook out the dirt that had landed in it, slapping it over my head and watching as the heads-up-display booted to life and interfaced with my pipbuck.

I was a pegasus. I was going to be a lot more help in the air than I was here on the ground. Besides, I wanted to get a look at these mortars and maybe get an idea of how to go about getting rid of them. Hopefully they weren’t as tough as tanks, and maybe a strike force of flyers could get in quick enough and take them out.

My gaze settled upon the enemy force, which had taken up position at the mouth of the narrow valley. I was easily able to pick out the half dozen brown metal forms that must have been the tanks the scout mentioned. They weren’t particularly huge armored vehicles, but they didn’t have to be to cause us a lot of trouble. We were desperately lacking in heavy ordnance, and their armor looked plenty thick enough to shrug off small arms and even what energy weaponry we had. Some sustained, coordinated, blasts with magical destructive beams might take out their treads of weapons, but they’d have to get pretty close to allow us the opportunity for that kind of precise targeting.

At the moment, they didn’t seem inclined to come that near. None of Constance’s forces did. They were all just waiting patiently far beyond the reach of any weapons that we had. Why shouldn’t they? Apparently we were well within range of their weapons after all.

As though on cue, I was drawn to several spurts of smoke coming from just behind the enemy’s own lines. At least a dozen of them, with pony shapes milling about. Every few seconds, another plume would erupt from the same locations. There had been a hint of coordination during the first appearance, but the puffs quickly became more erratic.

Then I heard the explosions below. As well as the screams.

I glanced down. Yeoman had been right, it seemed. From high above, I could see the pock-marked ground a dozen yards to either side of our trench line. Now, the enemy’s artillery was landing right on top of it. Not every shot fell perfectly within the gully that we’d dug into the earth, but most of them seemed to. Domes of magical energy flared beneath an explosion on occasion, but nearly every time they did, it was accompanied by the brilliant display of that same shield spell shattering. A second later, another mortal would fall nearly on top of where that shield had just been, meeting no resistance as it impacted the ground and detonated.

More screams.

I felt my teeth grinding in my jaw. I glared at Constance’s army as it sat there...motionless. Our forces were getting torn to pieces―slaughtered―and we weren’t even going to get the chance to shoot back. At this rate, Constance would beat us without any of her soldiers getting so much as a paper cut.

The worst part was that there was nothing that I could do to stop it. As much as I wanted to, I knew that if I flew at those mortars, I’d be cut down in an instant by the hundreds of soldiers there with nothing better to do than to shoot at the little pegasus filly. Even if I rounded up the entirety of the Razor Beaks, it was highly unlikely that we’d get through all of them. All I could do...was watch. Watch everypony that I’d led here die.

My helmet’s display flickered briefly, catching my attention. I noticed that a little message had appeared in the upper left corner.

>>Hope this helps
>> DOWNLOADING FILE
>>DOWNLOAD COMPLETE

>>UPDATING OS…

>>INSTALLING N1GH7M4R3 OS v1.34b PATCH(STABLE)

>> … … …

My display went dead briefly, and in a moment of panic I wondered if it had somehow broken. A few seconds later, I heard a low beep and everything began to light back up again. For the most part, everything looked just as it always had. Save for a new icon that was sitting illuminated in the lower right corner containing four letters: CIWS.

>>INSTALLATION COMPLETE

“Kewiss? Ki-wiz? How in the fuck do you pronounce that? What does it even do?”

I was soon provided with my answer as I saw a new round of smoke plumes erupt from behind the enemy’s lines. However, those plumes were not alone. Tiny little red triangles interposed themselves in front of my eye, moving rapidly through the air high up into the sky. I craned my head, watching the curious little icons as they began to slow until finally reaching their peak and beginning their descent. I soon realized that what those little triangles were tracking was the trajectory of the artillery shells themselves. Whatever that update was had given my Eyes Forward Sparkle the ability to track those tiny fast-moving explosives.

…

If my EFS could track them...did that mean that SATS could target them too?

I engaged my Sparkle Assisted Targeting System, and felt time slow down around me. Those same little triangular icons remained, but next to them were now percentages that fluctuated slightly as I looked on. A few that were coming nearer to me displayed rising percentages. I queued up several attacks with my bracers and executed. My hooves lashed out with a series of rabbit-punches, letting loose a short string of brilliant orbs of energy. It was hard to tell which of them hit, but I saw them enveloped by a puff of smoke as they intercepted and detonated one of the small artillery rounds.

There were still plenty more of the mortar rounds arcing through the air, and SATS was going to need time to recharge, but that didn’t mean that I was useless. I could see the icons clearly on my HUD, and if I could see them, that meant that I could shoot at them. Though, the closer I was the better off I’d be. Those rounds were traveling quite quickly, and were spread out pretty far, but the Gale Force rig let me move with considerable speed as well and cover a lot of distance in short order.

I cocked back my hoof and darted for the nearest shell.

It was harrowing, and I knew that I was pushing quite a few technological limits, but I managed to intercept some of Constance’s artillery. Not all of it, of course, that would have been impossible. However, by using my flight assist rig judiciously, and applying SATS just long enough to help me line up the first shot and then using my own skills to follow up, I was able to stop many of those explosives that otherwise would have killed the ponies defending the trench line. Shield-spell-wielding unicorns made up for a little of the shortfall after that.

A lot of shells still got through though. Some of them with lethal results. Worse, it didn’t seem like Constance was short on ammunition either. I began to worry that she’d be able to keep up the barrage for hours. The dwindling gauges measuring the power remaining in my Gale Force and bracers grimly reminded me that I could not. Even if I could, more and more ponies were dying every minute, despite my best efforts. The attrition would catch up with us eventually at this rate.

But what else could I do? I had to try and save as many as I could, for as long as I could. I had to try and protect them. Even if, ultimately, I’d fail.

I whirled around and threw out my hoof, flinching away at the cloud of debris that blew outward from a detonation that had been a little closer than I’d have liked. I felt a few slivers of metal bounce off my helmet’s visor. I shook off the sensation and looked about for my next target; then slapped my wings back and arced upwards once I’d found it, unleashing a stream of shots as I flew to meet it.

The helmet’s speakers crackled with Foxglove’s voice, “that’s incredible Windfall! You can really see those things from that far away?”

“Not even a little bit,” I quipped back, only half paying attention to what I was saying as I veered away from the airburst I’d just created and sought out the next triangular icon I saw, “Moonbeam uploaded something to my pipbuck,” I threw out another series of jabs as I chased the symbol towards the ground. I suspected that it must have been quite a shock to the ponies in the trenches to see me suddenly dive towards ‘them’ and start firing off. A few panicked and scrambled out of the way in surprise. A few seconds later I scored the hit that I needed and looped back upwards, leaving behind an expanding cloud of gray smoke, “now my EFS can track the mortar shells.”

“A software update that lets EFS see the incoming shells?” the unicorn mare said in astonishment, “she has something like that?”

“I guess,” I’d have shrugged, but I was too intent on swiping at another shell that was just reaching its zenith.

I was shocked when the cyberpony’s voice joined in on our conversation as well, “it’s part of the defensive protocol for the drones. They were designed to serve as a home defense force. That included being able to perform balefire missile interceptions too. My systems can tack targets as small as an apple moving at hypersonic velocities.”

“Can you send a copy of that software to my pipbuck too?” Foxglove asked in an excited tone.

“Sure, I guess. But you won’t be able to do much from the ground with just SATS. Your accuracy will be pretty bad. Windfall can get in close,” Moonbeam warned.

“It’s not for me,” the mechanic insisted, “I can use it to reprogram the targeting talismans on the turrets so that they can start tracking the mortars too. With enough of those running the update, nothing would be able to get through.”

That got my attention, “wait, really?” then I cursed as I realized that I’d let a shell get out of range with my hesitation.

“Yes, really. Moonbeam, send me the program; we’re running out of time.”

“Uploading now...done.”

“...got it! Windy, keep us covered for a few more minutes while I update the turrets! Starlight, come with me―” the signal cut out as Foxglove turned her attention from her pipbuck’s transmitter to the task at hoof.

“So keep doing what I’ve been doing,” I grimaced as I burst another shell and veered away, “easy enough…” my gaze darted briefly towards my energy readings. The Gale Force was down to a third of its power reserves remaining, and both of my bracers had less than a quarter. Swapping out the spark packs or the bracers was as simple to do as it was for most typical magical energy weapons. However, the alterations that Foxglove had made to the flight rig made that swap a slightly more involved process. I’d be spending almost a minute grounded while the battery array was replaced.

A lot of damage could be done in a minute by those mortars.

Not to say that a lot of damage wasn’t already being done. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop all of these shells. I was just one pony. Despite my best efforts, some of the mortar rounds got through. A few of those burst just above the ground on shimmering shields of magic, which themselves all but evaporated immediately afterwards. However, far too many for my liking struck home, erupting in columns of smoke, dirt, and―all too frequently―gore.

I reminded myself that we were working to put a stop to it. I just needed to focus on doing as much as I could, for as long as I could, and trust that Foxglove could get the turrets switched over quickly enough to make a difference. So I allowed myself time enough to take a breath, and threw myself towards the next red triangle hurtling towards our lines.

On the ground below, it was bedlam. I caught glimpses of the mercenaries running every which way in what looked like a chaotic fashion, either trying to escape part of the trenches that seemed to be getting hit more often, or to rescue maimed and injured comrades. Ponies stayed low, but kept much of their attention skywards―looking for danger that they knew they’d never be able to see coming.

Whenever I got low enough, I could just make out the din of yelled orders, occasionally punctuated by screams of agony on the tails of an explosion. I focused on pushing those failures from my mind, vehemently reminding myself that it was simply impossible for one little pegasus to keep the whole sky clear of these things, and simply focus on doing as well as I could. Every mortar I stopped was a life saved. I continually told myself that. The screams kept making it hard for me to really believe it.

Adding to my anxiety was the constantly shrinking readings on my remaining Gale Force and bracer power supplies. I tried to be as judicious as possible with the resources that I had left, but it was a constant battle in my head. If I missed a shell with the first three shots, did I cut my losses and move on to the next? Or did I keep throwing out blasts until I scored a hit, throwing good energy after bad? Not every single round from Constance’s artillery was on target, I noticed, so I tried to eyeball some of the arcs in order to gauge which ones were likely to hit near anypony. However, the longer I watched one fly, the less time I had to react to it, and the more time I spent confirming that one shell was going to fall short was less time I spent racing to intercept one that would kill somepony if it hit.

It was nerve wracking. I couldn’t remember feeling this anxious during a fight before. Idly I wondered if this was another pregnancy thing, but that thought didn’t persist for very long. Honestly, the answer was likely a lot simpler than that: I’d never been in a fight where I’d known that the stakes were so much higher than just my own life before. Hundreds―thousands―of ponies were counting on me, whether they knew it or not.

And, deep down I knew, unless something changed drastically in the next hour or so―probably a lot less, honestly―I was going to let them all down by losing here. I was just so far in over my head that it was patently ridiculous. A filly like me had no business being here, let alone trying to pretend that she knew how to lead an army.

I needed Jackboot. I needed anypony who knew what the fuck they were doing. Because it sure wasn’t me…

“Alright, that’s it!” Foxglove announced, “I’ve got the new parameters uploaded to the targeting talismans,” maybe I’d spoken too soon, I thought. I turned my head in the direction of the violet mare’s pipbuck marker, spying her and Starlight standing by one of the automated platforms that she’d built, “I’m going to reboot the turrets now. When they come back up, they should start intercepting the mortar rounds all on their own. It’ll just take a few seco―”

My helmet’s proximity alert system flashed a warning that something was coming very close to me. Before I could even react, I heard the shell whistle by. Had I been hovering a few feet to the right, I’d have been struck square in the back by the plummeting ordnance. I certainly didn’t need SATS this time to track its movement. My eyes locked onto the backside of the four-finned cone as it hurtled onward…

...heading right for Foxglove and Starlight.

“Incoming!” I was screaming at the top of my lungs at the same moment that I was throttling the Gale Force to its highest acceleration. I didn’t know if I’d actually been transmitting through my pipbuck, to be honest. I might have been, or I’d simply yelled loud enough to be heard on the ground. In any case, I saw Starlight’s purple mane whip around as she looked in my direction.

I veered off to the side, throwing out shots as fast as I could. I didn’t want to risk hitting either of the mares. SATS was still recharging from the last shell I’d intercepted just seconds ago, so all of my attacks had to be made manually. The first two went wide, and I felt my anxiety ratchet up even higher. I poured on more shots, but I just couldn’t get the lead right. I was running out of time.

I glanced at my SATS gauge. Energy enough for a single shot had accumulated. The hit probability that I was being fed by my pipbuck was in the upper-eighties. I engaged the targeting assist and queued up the shot…

...only to be denied by the system.

My eyes went wide as I looked back at the shell, now rotating slowly a few yards away from me as the world was slowed by the magic of my pipbuck. I tried several more times to set up the shot, but my pipbuck kept forbidding me. I doubled-checked. SATS had energy enough for at least one shot, so what was the prob―

My bracers were dry.

There was no way that I was going to be able to reload them with spark packs in time.

Still enveloped in SATS’s slow motion progression of time, I turned my head to look at Foxglove and Starlight. Both mares were keenly aware of what was about to happen. The pink unicorn’s horn was sparkling to life. I could already see the faint shimmering sphere of a shield spell beginning to form around her horn as it prepared to expand outward around them. It was moving slowly though. Far too slowly to possibly establish itself in time before the mortar hit.

Foxglove was taking a different approach. She didn’t have a spell to help them, so instead she was in motion. She wasn’t trying to get away though, I realized. If anything, she was getting closer to where the shell would impact. The mechanic wasn’t trying to escape. I could see that her goal was a good bit more noble: she was trying to tackle Starlight to the ground and shield the pink mare from the inevitable blast.

She was a good pony. They both were. They deserved better than this. They deserved better than me.

“I’m sorry,” I said in a whimper as I disengaged SATS and let time resume normally. My wings flipped out and my flight leveled off just moments before I would have hit the ground. My eye was closed tightly as I heard the explosion in my wake. The scream.

I whipped around in a tight loop and circled back. I deserved to be confronted with my failure. I deserved to see what my folley had wrought.

I deserved it, but I still wasn’t ready for it. I’d seen mangled bodies before. I’d created more than a few in my lifetime. Yet, seeing this now...it was so very different. Foxglove lay half-buried by the tossed up debris of the explosion, her flesh torn and wrent. A splatter of blood and gore connected her shrapnel-spackled body to her now-dismembered right hind leg.

Shielded by Foxglove’s body was the pink form of Starlight Glimmer. It was difficult to tell how extensive her injuries were, as she was mostly obscured by the purple mare. She wasn’t moving though.

It felt like I stood there―motionless―forever. In hindsight, it had probably just been a couple of seconds. I was simply transfixed by the pair of bodies of my friends. Ponies who had counted on me to see them through this. Ponies that I’d let down. Ponies who had died because I wasn’t good enough, and had been stupid enough to think that I could matter. Ponies who―

“Uugh…”

My eye twitched as it caught what I could have sworn was movement coming from the pair. Then I saw Starlight open her eyes and raise her head, blinking in confusion. Her movements were stiff and slight, but they were movement! It was only then that I realized that I had neglected to actually check my Eyes Forward Sparkle. I had simply assumed that...well, I’d figured the worst had happened. Sure enough, I spied a pair of amber blips directly in front of me.

I focused on Foxglove, specifically her detached limb. Alive she may well be―for now―but that was very likely to be subject to change if she didn’t get treatment soon. I slapped my pipbuck, “RG! Get here now; Foxglove’s hurt bad!” I was rushing forward in that same moment, tearing off my saddlebags and emptying their contents in an effort to get to what healing potions I could. I tore off the stoppers and upended the vials over her flank before pausing just long enough to make sure that Starlight drank one too.

My attention was distracted for only a second when I heard a series of electronic chirps followed by a gentle humming. I glanced up at the nearby turret just in time to see it come to life. Its barrel jerked a few times from one side to the other before it suddenly tilted sharply upward and began to unleash a steady stream of brilliant white energy. It wasn’t the only one either. All along the trench line, similar torrents of magical energy leapt into the air, ending in bursts of smoke and shrapnel. In those same seconds, all of the sounds of explosions abruptly ceased.

Foxglove had succeeded. Her modified turrets were intercepting the enemy’s artillery.

Then I heard several ponies running towards us. Arginine had arrived and was already floating out several pieces of medical equipment with his magic. He’d taken the liberty of raiding his stable’s clinic prior to the fight to ensure that he was properly stocked on supplies. In addition to vials of purple healing potion and syringes of Med-X that were typically all that field aid consisted of, I saw bags of fluids and lengths of plastic tubing entering the mix. The large stallion paid me only a courteous nod before devoting all of his attention to his patient, which I found to be perfectly acceptable. My usefulness had pretty much ended in this specific situation.

Starlight had regained slightly more of her faculties since drinking the healing potion, but she was clearly still a little dazed. She put a hoof to her ear and made a few awkward sounds before cringing and shaking her head, “that was a close one,” she mumbled before looking over at RG’s purple patient with a concerned expression, “is she going to be okay?”

“I am confident I can save her life,” Arginine responded without looking away from what he was doing, which currently was coating Foxglove’s stump in some sort of yellowish powder, “but there will be little that I can do about her leg,” he briefly jerked his head in the direction of her severed limb.

“That’s fine,” I assured the stallion, noting that I was sounding more than a little rattled myself, “just do what you can,” again I glanced up into the sky to reassure myself that Foxglove’s defenses were going to keep doing their job, “looks like we’re going to be safe for now.”

I took the opportunity afforded to reload fresh spark packs and had Starlight assist me in swapping out the batteries for my Gale Force as well. Just as we got the last of the new batteries in place, I noted that the turrets were no longer firing. Not because they’d ceased to function, as I’d momentarily feared, but because Constance’s mortars had stopped firing at us. Apparently, she’d recognized the futility of it now.

Of course, this was arguably far from ‘good’ news. I knew that if I was in that general’s place and I learned that my long range guns weren’t going to work anymore, I’d move on to my next most serious threat: the tanks. I looked either way down the trench and realized that most of the able defenders were crouched down in an effort to protect themselves. In fact, hardly anypony was even looking out over the top of the trench in the direction of the enemy. Hardly an ideal way for ponies to defend a position like this.

I looked at Arginine and then to Starlight, “help Foxy. Keep an eye on the turrets,” then I finally took notice of the ponies that RG had seen fit to bring with him: my ‘honor guard’. I jabbed a hoof at them, “you’re with me,” if they wanted to be put to use, then I was going to put them to use.

With Foxglove down for the count, we’d effectively lost our ability to make more of those jumbles of steel beams that would deter Constance’s tanks, so we needed something else that would stimy them. To that end, I decided that I was going to take my inspiration from Shady Saddles and what the ponies there had done. None of those gem-hunting tunneling experts from Marls’ clan had come with us―not that I was blaming them; they would just have been really useful to have at hoof right about now―so I decided that we’d have to make do with the next best thing: physically and magically strong examples of Old World genetic engineering.

I led my contingent of stable ponies to a point along the trench that ran through the flatter dried river bed and peeked over the top. The enemy’s mortars were still quiet, but it was otherwise difficult to see much of what was going on from the ground. I knew the tanks were out there though; and whether they were what Constance threw at us next or not, they were bound to show up eventually. All I could do was hope that they showed up later rather than sooner.

I pointed my hoof at the side of the trench facing the enemy, “I need you all to dig some tunnels. Dig out towards the enemy, and then to either side, parallel to our trenches. They need to be wide and close to the surface.”

Most of the contingent of augmented stable ponies frowned―insofar as Arginine ever did―one of them speaking up, “you want us to dig tunnels?”

“That’s what I said,” I nodded. There were additional frowns and a few idle mutters. I cut them off with a wave of my hoof, “Constance is too far away to shoot at, so I don’t need any of you to do any fighting right now. At least by digging you’ll be doing something useful.”

“If those tunnels are too close to the surface they’ll collapse,” another pony pointed out.

“That’s the point: you’re going to be digging tunnels for their tanks to fall into when they come. So make them wide, make them deep, and put them close enough to the surface that a big heavy tank will get swallowed up when it drives over them. Got it?”

Realization dawned over the faces and the group nodded their understanding, setting their rifles aside. Their horns began to glow as matching auras enveloped chunks of earth in the side of the trench and removed them. With nearly two dozen of them working, they managed to dig their way into a new tunnel running beneath the ground in minutes. Once they were out of my sight, I let my attention wander to other matters that would now need to be addressed: such as taking stock of how many ponies had been killed during the shelling. I brought up my pipbuck and summoned the mercenary leaders to a meeting.

Five minutes later, the five of us were huddled in the trench together, and it was easy to see who had gotten the worst of what Constance had thrown at us. Keri, Yeoman, and Hemlock were all covered in dirt and blood―some of which was their own―and their eyes were dull with the horrors that they’d just seen. The latter had made an effort to clean herself up and even redo her makeup, but there was only so much that even the courtesan could manage to conceal after everything that she’d just been through. Of them all, only Griselda appeared to be unmarred by the shelling. Likely because she and her contingent of flyers had simply chosen to keep to the skies, hovering above the destruction being unleashed below them.

“How bad were our losses?” I asked, mentally preparing myself to hear some rather unpleasant numbers.

Hemlock spoke first, “four dead. Ten hurt. Three of them won’t be on their hooves again any time soon.”

“The Housecarls lost seven. Four more are laid up, out of the fight,” Yeoman sighed, rubbing at his muddy brow.

Keri curled his lip in a sneer, “Twelve Hecate slain, twice again writhing in pain. Outlook uncertain.”

The griffon shrugged, “I think one got popped. One of my pegasi went groundside to help an injured pony. Some more of those bombs went off. Haven’t heard from him since,” she reached up and brushed a few moats of dirt off her shoulder disdainfully, “other than that we’re just fine.”

The other mercenary leaders flashed the hen dour looks. If she noticed, she didn’t give any indication of it. For my part, I was much more concerned with the report that I’d just received. I’d come here with somewhere close to two hundred able ponies. More than a tenth of them were already dead and nearly as many couldn’t fight anymore. A fifth of our forces out of action...and we hadn’t fired a shot yet. To say the outlook was bleak would have been an understatement.

If I realized that, then it was a sure thing that the other four did too, “we’ll do what we can for the injured,” I assured them, drawing their attention back to me, “and we don’t have to worry about anything like that happening again. We’ll redistribute our forces to fill in the gaps along the trench as best we can and wait for Constance’s next move. We’ve got things in the works to deal with the tanks, but I want all the missiles and heavy ordnance we’ve got distributed evenly along the trench so we’re ready for wherever they decide to make their push―”

A flutter of wings drew our attention to the sky directly above us. The pegasus sentry that I’d met earlier when he’d delivered the report about Constance’s arrival was hovering overhead, a grim expression on his face, “they’re moving in. Tanks in front with infantry columns arranged behind them,” I felt my chest tighten with the news. I’d hoped that we’d have more time, “not sure when they’ll be in range, but―”

All of us winced and the pegasus stallion dropped instantly to cover as a smattering of ‘booms’ echoed through the gorge. The ground trembled beneath my hooves with every explosion. The sounds were quite different from that of the mortars, which had sounded like very large grenades going off. These reminded more like the magically imbued green-band grenades that were based more upon magic than conventional explosions. Above that din the much more familiar sound of automatic gunfire was also audible. I glanced further down the trench line and saw orange tracers racing overhead, along with much larger green bolts of energy.

“―I’m guessing it’ll be right about now,” the stallion finished lamely with a resigned sigh.

“Horseapples,” I cursed under my breath and then glanced at the mercenary leaders, “get back to your ponies and get them moving. Everypony keep their heads down until we can deal with those tanks!” Not that I had any inkling as to how we were going to manage that. I at least got a collective nod from the others before they ran off. The stallion lingered for a moment longer, looking at me sympathetically before he shot back up into the air and zipped off after his griffin commander.

I risked a brief peek over the top of the trench. The stallion’s description was apparently fairly apt: I could see the tanks advancing slowly, still the better part of a half mile out, with silhouettes of infantry marching along dutifully behind them, using their armor to shield them from any return fire. Not that we were offering any. It was too risky for anypony to expose themselves long enough to get in any good shots at the distances involved. Maybe when they were closer…

Of course, I had to wonder exactly how much closer any of those tanks had to get to ravage us. They seemed to be doing pretty good from where they were. Ultimately, yeah, I suppose that they’d have to come all the way to us if they wanted to completely push us out, since if all we did was just hunker down in our trench and not expose ourselves, nothing would get concluded here. Constance wasn’t interested in a siege. Neither of us really had that kind of time anyway. They’d have to advance in order to finish us off now that they couldn’t get at us with their mortars.

A significantly larger explosion nearby caught my attention and I whipped my head in its direction just in time to see one of the turrets that Foxglove had recalibrated to act as our overhead protection vanish in a flash of emerald light. Seconds later, another turret further down was blown to pieces as well. My eyes went wide. If those tanks took out our turrets, then their forces could start raining artillery down on us again!

It looked like we couldn’t wait for them to come to us after all…

I grit my teeth, and let my head hang in despair. This was really starting to get to be too much. It was all coming at me too fast. I wasn’t a ‘strategist’. I didn’t know how to form grand battle plans, especially not on the fly like this! Give me a few days and maybe I could come up with something, but not with all of this coming at me all at once! What did I know about combating mortars and tanks and hundreds of ponies from a line of trenches?! This wasn’t anything that I’d ever been taught in the Wasteland!

If anything, these were Constance’s strengths. Her brain had been filled with the warfighting tactics of the pony generals of old, who had―in a very literal sense―specifically written the definitive books on those subjects. At the end of the day, I wasn’t going to be able to out-think that filly. It was just...impossible. She knew the rules that governed how fights like this were fought inside and out. If I kept trying to play her game, I was going to lose―we were going to lose, it was as simple as that.

But what choice did I have? What else was I supposed to even do out here? What could I do?

I was certain that I heard the faintest sound of a throat clearing inside my own head. A cyan pegasus was looping about in the air, jabbing her hooves outward in a series of rabbit punches before looking over and grinning in my direction. Be Awesome!

I blinked. She couldn’t possibly be serious. I was one tiny little pegasus. What in the Wasteland was I supposed to do against tanks! I couldn’t just punch them into submission, and I doubted that even my bracers were going to do a whole lot against the armor they had. There was no way that I was going to get through that with anything less than some heavy artillery of my own―which I most certainly did not have.

I mean, they had to be protected by super thick steel or something. The sort of stuff that was meant to stand up against other tanks, and nothing that we had on hoof other than missiles was going to do anything to it. Well...I mean, except for―It Was Under ‘E’!―Foxglove’s eldritch lance. That thing seemed to slice through just about anything. If she had been ready to take it to stable doors, then a tank shouldn’t be a problem, should it?

Another tiny throat cleared and I saw the newest arrival, the purple unicorn mare, standing in front of an equally diminutive chalkboard as she tapped a ruler against a remarkably well illustrated drawing of one of the massive robotic sentinels that I’d fought outside of the Ministry of Awesome hangar complex. Next to it was another drawing, this one of a hellhound that had paws larger than I was.

Okay, so, I suppose that I had gone up against pretty overwhelming opponents in the past, yeah. I felt a need to point out that I hadn’t managed to actually defeat all of those, and certainly not all on my own either. I’d had help. A yellow pegasus gestured to the trench lined with ponies. Point taken: I was hardly ‘alone’ this time either.

...Was I really considering this? Going out there and taking the fight to the enemy? There was no way that was the smartest decision that I could make right now...but it was a very ‘me’ decision. I was a mare of action. I knew that I bordered on the ‘impulsive’ side, and that it had even gotten me in trouble a time or two, but it was still who I was deep down. I had to act, because sitting around and thinking meant that you hesitated and risked letting the opportunity slip through your hooves.

Like right now. The longer I waited to think up a new plan, the more turrets those tanks would destroy, which meant the sooner those mortars would start raining down on us again. If that happened, it’d be too late for anypony to do anything about anything. There was something that I could do about it, but I had to do it now. I had to act. I had to help.

I grabbed up my helmet and popped it on before galloping on down the trench line towards where I’d left Arginine and Foxglove. Much to my relief, the pair was still there, as well as a few other injured ponies who had been brought to the stallion for treatment at what had apparently become a new collection point for the wounded. I spared a look at the still unconscious violet unicorn, noting the bandages wrapped around her haunches. Then I began to rummage through her gear.

Arginine quirked a brow as he looked at me, “Windfall? What are you―?”

“Ah ha!” I exclaimed, holding up the eldritch lance in triumph. Then my expression faltered a bit, “...now how do I turn this on?” I glanced over at the nearby stallion with a hopeful expression, nudging the lance in his direction. Arginine looked between me and the lance for a few seconds before seeming to relent. His horn glowed briefly and the tip of Foxglove’s lance flared to life, “Awesome!” I peered up at the brilliant glowing dot of magical energy for a moment and then looked back to Arginine once more, “...does it get any bigger?”

Another pause and then his horn glowed again for a few seconds. The fiery tip of the lance elongated until it was about six inches long, now occasionally sputtering with searing fire, “that is as long an edge as is recommended if you still desire to use it to cut with. I assume that it the case?” he eyed my critically.

I grinned at the stallion, “You know, I’ve never seen a tank before. I thought I’d go and take a closer look. Maybe ask if I could see what they’re like on the inside,” I hefted the lance in my hooves, getting an idea of its weight and balance. I’d never been much of a pony to use melee weapons like this, but I was hardly going to be using it in direct combat with another. I just needed to swipe it at the important parts of a few tanks. I looked over and winked at the stallion, “this is just in case they don’t want to let me in. I feel like that would be really rude. I don’t like it when ponies are rude to me.”

Arginine balked, looking between me and the direction of Constance’s forces with―for him―wide, surprised, eyes, “you intend to go out there?”

It was sweet that he sounded so worried, I thought as I merely sat and smiled, nodding my head, “like I said: I want to go see the tanks. I know they’re coming here to meet us, but I’m just really impatient like that. So I’m going to go out and meet them, look them over, and peek under the hood a bit.

“Don’t wait up! I’ll be back in a bit.”

I turned to fly off, but I felt something tug on my tail. I frowned and looked back, noting that Arginine had a gentle hold of me with his magic. My annoyance abated when I saw the actually blatant concern in his amber eyes. We were both silent for several seconds until he finally said, “see to it that you are,” the aura around his horn faded as he released me.

For another few moments, all I could do was look at the stallion. His stoic mask had never dropped like that, not even for me. I nodded, “I will. I promise,” that seemed to visibly relax him a bit as he gave a slight nod of his own and then turned back to address a newly arrived injured pony that had been brought to him. I turned back towards the oncoming army, and gunned the Gale Force’s turbines, launching into the air like a missile right through the tracers arcing overhead.

My eyes locked onto the nearest tank that was casually rolling towards the trench line and I veered in its direction. I could see the column of nearly a hundred other ponies marching calmly behind it too. For the moment, their attention seemed to be focused exclusively on the trench line that they were approaching. That was likely to change in the near future once they remembered that pegasi were indeed a thing. That was a concern for later. Right now, I needed to worry about the tank.

The main gun mounted into the turret lurched backwards as it expelled another emerald bolt of magical energy towards our forces. I idly wondered if we’d just lost another of our defensive turrets. With steely determination, I tightened my grip on the cutting lance and dove for the tank, pouring on a healthy amount of speed with the help of the Gale Force. I was very thankful for the integrated levitation talismans that lent their assistance to sharp bank I executed just as I reached the tank’s turret. The lance’s burning tip slipped effortlessly into the narrow groove between the turret’s armor and that of the tank’s main body. I barely felt any resistance at all as I whirled in an arc around it, carving my way through its entire circumference.

I noted a few startled reactions from the dismounted forces behind the tank who were taken by surprise by my sudden appearance, and then drew up into a hover just to the side of the main gun so that I was out of the immediate line of fire of any of them. My lips curled into a thoughtful expression as I wondered if that had been enough to disable the vehicle.

My answer revealed that I’d been partially successful as the tank’s main gun recoiled once more. Only this time, it was not merely the barrel that moved, but the entire upper assembly. Indeed, the force was enough that the entire turret tipped upwards and flipped over completely off the back of the tank, sending a few dozen of the nearer troops on the ground scrambling to get out of the way as a dozen tons of turret dropped towards them.

I was rewarded with the sight of five very surprised ponies inside the tank looking around in stark surprise as they unexpectedly found themselves ‘outside’. Two of them sat a little higher than the others, and were crowded around where the main gun had once been. The other three sat much lower in the tank. One was sat forward, her hooves clutching at controls that I assumed were used to drive the vehicle. The other two were located to either side, looking up from the machineguns that they’d been firing up until they too realized their confines had unexpectedly become far less confined than they’d been a few seconds ago.

It was immediately clear to me that the much greater size of the ponies from this stable were not doing these tank crews many favors. I was honestly a little dubious about how comfortable a crew of five ponies my size would be operating under such conditions. As it was, I very much doubted that any of those ponies could have moved enough to scratch an itch!

All five ponies soon noticed the pegasus hovering to their front. I smiled at them, “looks stuffy in there. Thought you’d appreciate some fresh air. They should have designed those things with better ventilation. I’mma go fix the other ones too!”

With that I zipped off towards another of the tanks. I kept myself low to the ground this time, and actually edged my way towards the back of it, coming much closer to the soldiers walking behind it. As I expected, several white lances of light leapt past me from behind as the troops supporting my last target opened fire and attempted to take me down. A few deft flicks of my wings kept my movements erratic enough to keep their shots from getting too close.

As a consequence of their comrades’ actions, a few of the ponies in front of me were struck by the fire being directed at me. One particularly unfortunate soul received a hit that triggered a complete magical disintegration. The rest of them quickly scattered or dove for the ground as they found themselves under fire from their own forces. Almost immediately, the shooting stopped, and a satisfied grin spread across my face as I leveled back out and directed my full attention back at the tank leading the now scattered column.

I didn’t go for the turret this time, but instead jabbed at the tank’s treads, neatly slicing the tracks into several pieces as I flew alongside towards the front of the vehicle. I turned sharply, flying beneath the main gun―giving it a quick nip with the eldritch lance as I went―and continued cutting along the other track as well, leaving the tank still and stranded out in the open.

Two down; four to go.

“Horseapples!”

Unfortunately, it was looking like I had finally worn out my welcome. The column of soldiers behind this tank had recovered from their shock at being fired upon by their own forces and it seemed like they were perfectly content to let the episode go without reprisal. Indeed, they apparently were ready to place the full weight of the blame squarely on my haunches. I found myself being greeted by the sight of several dozen energy rifles being pointed directly at me.

The Gale Force rig worked overtime to not only halt my forward motion, but also to reverse it. The change in velocity was so sudden that, for a moment, I thought the whole contraption was going to tear itself loose and fly off on its own, leaving me behind. Fortunately, that didn’t happen and I was dutifully carried along for the ride as the powerful thrusters hauled me back towards the safety of the trench line. All the while, lances of brilliant white light passed through the air around me.

It wasn’t just the soldiers either, the remaining tanks took great exception to what I had done to their comrades and focused the fire of their turrets on me as well. It seemed that their main guns had not been designed with the intent of engaging small, fast-moving, targets though. All that they managed to accomplish was to carve out a few more divots in the ground and splatter me with mud. I honestly did more harm to myself when all was said and done.

The phenomenal amount of speed that I was traveling at meant that the Gale Force depleted the remainder of its power reserves mid flight. I’d used quite a bit already darting across the battlefield and it was a very power-hungry device even on Foxglove’s retrofitted ‘cruise’ mode. This mad dash back to safety emptied what was left very quickly, to the point where I received the ‘Low Power!’ warning a mere second before the thrusters and levitation talismans burned themselves out.

Caught off guard as I was, I tried my best to stabilize my flight using my now no longer levitation talisman-assisted wings, but the speeds that I was traveling at were far in excess of what any normal pegasus should have been capable of in my opinion, and the force of the air on them made it hard to adjust my direction of flight. I managed to make a fateful twitch that sent me into the ground. The jury was still out on how ‘lucky’ I was to have been going as fast as I had been. On the one hoof, it meant that I wasn’t left stranded out in the middle of no-mare’s-land without any cover to be easy-pickings for the enemy soldiers.

On the other hoof, I was willing to give quite a lot to ensure that nopony ever again mentioned the series of cartwheels and tumbles that my body did as I bounced my way unceremoniously across the ground, coming to a jarring stop inside the trench with what I could attest had been a thoroughly painful ‘thud!’

I spent the next several seconds with my eye firmly shut as my brain sorted out which direction was ‘up’. Once it achieved a degree of confidence, I chanced a look and learned that my brain had been sorely mistaken in the end anyway. I closed my eye again and anemically let my hind legs―which were hanging above my head at the moment―curl a little further forward so that I might roll off the trench’s back embankment and fall flat on my stomach.

“...ouch.”

Understatement of the decade.

Not that I was going to have much of an opportunity to recover, of course. The battle didn’t stop just because I’d had a rough landing. Even now I could hear the rumble of the distant engines as the remaining tanks resumed their laborious crawl towards our defensive lines. The eruptions of explosions as they continued to target and destroy the remaining defenses that we had left.

“Welcome back. How was your trip?”

It was only then that I noticed that my return had indeed had an audience. I looked over to see Hemlock seated primly nearby as she dutifully reloaded a full magazine into the rifle that she was levitating with her magic. She looked me up and down with a raised eyebrow, “I take it things didn’t go well?” she used her telekinesis to raise the now-loaded weapon over the lip of the trench, along with the mirror from her makeup compact. She squinted up as she used the small reflective surface to help her sight the rifle and then fired off a few shots. With a satisfied nod, she lowered the weapon again and looked back at me for my answer.

I grumbled and flicked the mud from my wingtips, “I disabled two of them, but I’ll need fresh spark batteries to make another run. Is Foxgl―er...do you know where some are?” I hastily corrected, remembering that our mechanic was out of action for the foreseeable future. It would be a tough mental adjustment for me to make, I knew. I’d come to rely on her quite heavily over the last few months.

“Can’t say as I do,” the unicorn replied with a sympathetic shrug, “you might consider calling up Griselda though. I think she has some.”

“She does?” I canted my head to the side, wondering why the griffon would have a stash of spark batteries.

“I assume,” Hemlock said as she lifted the rifle a second time and looked up to line up another shot, “you told her to grab a whole bunch of supplies for that push we’re going to make, right?”

I blinked, “the what?”

The unicorn balked, bringing the rifle down again and looking at me in confusion, “her griffons came by here a couple of minutes ago. They said you’d come up with a plan for a counterattack,” she nodded her head towards the enemy, “while you were out there distracting them, Griselda was supposed to collect supplies and then you’d all be striking them from the air.

“...right?”

I wasn’t listening to the unicorn mare anymore though. My thoughts were instead directed at a griffon hen as I brought up my pipbuck and keyed in her tag, “Griselda! Where are you?!” No response, “answer me!” still no response. I flipped the display over to show a map of the area. She wasn’t dead. I could see her pipbuck tag clear as day.

It was moving. Quickly.

Away.

“Griselda, you fuck; get back here! Get back here right now or I’ll―” what? What was I going to do? Go after her while the battle was still raging? I couldn’t leave. Even if I could, there was no way that I’d be able to catch up to them. Even if I could do that, I wasn’t going to be able to do much to stop their company on my own anyway.

In my impotent fury, I slammed my hoof on the pipbuck and closed down the frequency, glaring up at the sky in the direction that I’d seen her tag moving. She was gone, and so was her entire contingent of fliers along with her, I presumed. Roughly a fourth of our forces had just fled the battle, and they’d taken who knew how much of our precious ammunition and equipment along with them.

Hemlock was reaching the same conclusions that I was, it seemed, judging by the pale complexion on her face, “...I see,” the mare was silent for a few seconds. Then she wordlessly lifted the rifle and compact back up and took another pair of shots over the edge of the trench.

So that was it then, wasn’t it? Hemlock knew it too. She was experienced enough to know that it was all over. The one advantage that we’d had were Griselda’s griffons and pegasi. Their speed and maneuverability could have been employed to outflank our attackers once their armor was dealt with. Now it was going to come down to a ground-based slug-fest. One where their superior numbers and weapons basically assured them of victory.

Hemlock had decided that she was just going to...carry on. She had too much dignity to cower or hide. It’s not like these were raiders that might try to take her alive and rape or torture her if we lost. If there was anything that could remotely be considered ‘noble’ about our enemy, it was that they’d kill us all pretty cleanly once they carried the day. So...that was at least something.

In the meantime, we could try to take as many of them with us as possible.

That was a plan that I could get behind at least. Keep trying until it was all over. Not out of any hope that we’d win. I think even I was ready to write this whole fight off at this point. No, this wasn’t about us getting out of this fight alive. It was about making the next fight―because there would be a next one―a little easier on whoever was attacked next, by making sure they had as few enemies to fight as possible.

To that end, I imagined that taking out a few more tanks would help immeasurably in that department. Gale Force or no, I was going to head back out there and see if I could carve up another one before I finally went down. I looked around for the eldritch lance...and didn’t see it. There was a feeling of panic as I fervently searched the immediate area inside the trench where I’d landed. I couldn’t see it anywhere. Where exactly had I dropped it? I’d had it in my possession up until I’d hit the ground, I knew that much. After that initial impact though, it was anypony’s guess where it had ended up.

I didn’t much look forward to the prospect of having to look around the battlefield for it and exposing myself to fire while trying to find an object the size and shape of a small pole. It was in that moment that a scarlet blur swooped in over the top of the trench and landed in front of me. I drew back out of reflex, but quickly relaxed when I realized that the new arrival was a pegasus, and one that I recognized as well. Though that did sour my expression a good bit. Where I knew him from was being part of Griselda’s mercenary company.

Then I saw that he had something in the crook of his hoof: Foxglove’s lance, “you dropped this.”

Tentatively, I reached out and took the magically powered cutting tool. Experimentally, I repeated what I’d seen Arginine do earlier and was relieved to see that the tip reignited once again. I looked back at the pegasus, “thanks...I’m surprised to see that you’re still here. Won’t your boss be mad at you for lagging behind?”

“Former boss,” the stallion stressed tersely, much to my own approval, “I left the Enclave because I felt they weren’t doing enough to help the surface,” he gestured broadly around us, wearing a wry smirk, “and it looks like you all could do with some help.”

For a few fleeting seconds, I felt my lips spread out in a smile. It turned out to be a fleeting one though, and vanished shortly after, “I appreciate that, I really do. But...maybe it’d be better if you left too. If you stay, it’ll just mean one more dead pony. There are going to be enough dead ponies today.

“You should leave. Get out there and spread the word. Warn ponies about what’s coming.”

“Miss Neighvada’s doing that as it is,” the stallion replied. He didn’t seem to be offended by my recommendation. If anything, he sympathized, “besides, I doubt that you’re going to be winging out of here any time soon either, are you?”

Of course I wasn’t. Not to say that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind a time or two. It’d be a very simple thing to just fly out of this gorge and get away. Constance and her army would never be able to catch me. It’d be simple, and impossible at the same time. I wasn’t going to abandon these ponies to their fate. A fate that I’d led them into. This was my fault―my responsibility! I had to stay. I had to fight.

...and, yeah, I had to die right there alongside them. That was the price of having ponies you cared about―of having friends: you stuck by them.

A little blue pegasus mare in my head agreed.

“No,” I acknowledged, “I’m not. And I’m grateful to have you here…?” I prompted him for a name.

“We can do names and such later,” he chuckled with a smile, “let’s focus on stopping those tanks first. If we do that, maybe we’ll still have a shot at surviving this.”

That might have been some pretty unwarranted optimism on the stallion’s part, but I was open to it right now, “alright then. I’ll hold you to it,” I clutched the eldritch lance a little tighter and stretched out my wings in preparation to go back up into the air. I was still a little stiff from my landing, but not so much so that it should hamper me too much. Honestly, not having the speed of the Gale Force to call upon was going to be the biggest detractor at the moment. Though, since I was going to have another flier with me, maybe it was for the best.

“I’ll fly interference, you carve up those tanks. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said. Not a great one, but a straightforward one.

“Stay low and stay fast,” he cautioned, “hang time gets you killed―”

“‘Claver,” I smirked at the pegasus, “I’ve been fighting in the Wasteland since before I could fly. I know what I’m doing.”

The stallion quirked an eyebrow, “judging by how old you look, that’s got to be, what? A year then?”

“Oh ha ha,” I rolled my eye and coiled my legs in preparation to spring up into the air, “just try to keep up,” and with that, I launched myself into the air and arced nimbly over the lip of the trench. My speed flying out to meet the tanks wasn’t nearly what it had been last time with the Gale Force to aid me, but I was still moving at a respectable clip nonetheless.

It looked like the undamaged tanks hadn’t wasted any time to worry about their disabled fellows. Nor had the infantry columns behind them. Those soldiers that had had their tanks taken out of the fight were pressing on as well, keeping pace with the columns that still had their mobile cover. Not to say that the other two columns were truly ‘exposed’. I could clearly see the shimmering amber shapes of several magical shields that had been formed at the head of their formation, flickering every few seconds as a defender got a shot off and struck their defensive barriers.

The infantry weren’t my concern though. As a bolt of magical energy flew by my head, I mentally amended that thought to be: while they might be a concern, they weren’t my target. That was still the four remaining tanks. I just had to get up close to them, carve them up a bit with the lance, and move on. To that end, I started arcing towards the nearest of the armored vehicles.

My companion pegasus proved himself to be an experienced formation flier, which was something that I could not claim to be. I’d simply never had anypony to fly with growing up. The stallion, on the other hoof, was matching every movement I made almost perfectly. At the same time, he was also clamping down on him trigger-bit and unleashing a torrent of bullets at the enemy from the light machinegun slung under his right ring. The weapon was fed under his belly from a container on his left side which served to help balance him out. The spray of tracer-laced led slugs danced across the enemy’s shield spells, even going to far as to crack one of two of them briefly before another of the engineered unicorns brought up a replacement in short order.

He was fulfilling her role though, keeping the attention of those soldiers on himself and off of me as we made our way back across the battlefield towards the tanks. I was actually taking us towards our first target head-on. Such an approach would shield us from most of its local infantry support as well as make it harder for the side gunners of the tank to draw a bead on us. Our biggest concern―in more ways than one―would be the main cannon, which wasn’t really designed to engage small-moving targets like us anyway.

I looked back over my shoulder at the crimson stallion, “we’re going to make a quick stop; stay with me!” he looked momentarily dubious, but he nodded anyway as he nudged his flight path to be a little more behind me.

From this approach, the on-hooves elements of the column in front of us wouldn’t be able to do much to defend their armored leader. Which meant that we would have a few moments respite while we worked before anypony got too concerned about what the pair of pegasi were up to.

Both of us pulled up sharply into low hovers directly in front of the slowly rolling tank, keeping closely abreast of it. The stallion gave our surroundings a quick glance while I went to work with the lance. I jabbed the cutting tip into the armored front end of the tank and worked the tool around until I’d carved out an opening. The slab of steel on the front of the tank fell away, landing in the dirt. Inside, I caught a glimpse of a startled gray mare looking down at me from where she sat at the vehicle’s steering controls. Just behind her, I saw several other ponies in the cramped confines also looking in my direction with raised brows.

“Special delivery,” I grinned as my pinions fished out an apple-shaped grenade from a pocket sewn into my barding. I pulled the pin with my teeth and tossed the metal orb inside. One of the ponies inside was on top of their game though and I saw a horn flare to life as a matching gold magical field enveloped the grenade. I whirled around and slapped the alloyed wing covering of my Gale Force rig over the opening, covering it completely just in time to feel something small and hard bounce off of it, “sorry, no regifting!”

I counted down in my head and pulled my wing away about a half second before a burst of smoke and shrapnel shot out of the carved opening. I winced at the sound of the explosion and then chanced a brief look back inside. I pulled back almost immediately, my lips pulled back in a grimace. The crimson pegasus stallion likewise spared a moment to check on the occupants. He also recoiled slightly from the sight within before looking at me and issuing a grim nod of his head, “are we ready to move on?”

“Yeah,” I replied hoarsely. It was a good thing that I was pregnant, otherwise there probably wasn’t anything that would keep me from crawling back into a bottle of whiskey after today. Damn Constance and the rest of the ponies in Arginine’s stable for making me do that to ponies. Damn this Wasteland.

We flew off towards the next tank in the line, staying low to the ground and weaving about as we dodged the magical energy beams being fired at us by the infantry columns, “Shit!” I blurted as the pair of us were forced to break off from our next target.

The enemy was learning, it seemed. Very unfortunate for us. The infantry columns of the other tanks were no longer marching at their rears, but instead encircling them protectively. They had apparently realized that those Old World war machines which had been designed and built to combat ground-dwelling zebras were not faring quite so well against fast-moving airborne opponents. To that end they were now surrounding them with their infantry element which could provide a much larger volume of fire directed skyward.

The former enclave pegasus and I banked hard as a torrent of energy beams saturated the air around us. We moved as erratically as we could in an effort to make it difficult for any individual shooter to get a proper lead on us, but the numbers that were involved meant that the enemy could pretty much get by with just putting as many bolts into the air as they could in our general area and cause us no end of problems. Evasive flying didn’t really do much against somepony who was firing as randomly as we were flying.

I screamed as a lance of magical energy scored a hit on me, striking the underside of my right wing. My rhythm was instantly disrupted, sending me tumbling through the air. I didn’t have the levitation talismans of the Gale Force to aid me either, as it was still without power. I was going to hit the ground again, and this time I wasn’t going to have the advantage of enough momentum to carry me anywhere safe. I was going to be stranded right out in the middle of the battlefield where I’d effectively be served up to the enemy on a silver platter.

“Gotcha!”

A pair of hooves wrapped themselves around my chest from behind and pulled me out of my dive. I looked over my shoulder to see the other pegasus had managed to catch me and was now hauling me back towards our lines. Though it seemed that he had not gone unscathed either. I gaped at the charred gash that ran along his neck which hadn’t been there when we’d left the trench. Holding me like this had to be utter agony.

“Can you still fly?” he asked in a strained tone.

Experimentally, I tried to flap my wing, only to gasp in pain. I shook my head, “I might be able to manage a glide, but there’s no way I can fly on it. Sorry.”

“S’all good,” he groaned. Then he cried out too, fumbling me for just a brief moment before restabilizing. I could feel his left hind leg shift, now hanging limply. He’d just been hit again. Carrying me like this was slowing him down, making us a bigger, slower-moving, target. The trench line was still hundreds of yards away. We weren’t going to make it.

“Drop me! I’m slowing you down!” I yelled at the stallion, even going so far as to try and anemically struggle out of his grip. However, he only tightened his hold on me.

“I’m not leaving anypony behind,” he replied grimly through gritted teeth, “not again.”

“They’ll kill us both! Let me go and you can make it!”

“Or, counter-argument―” without any warning, he flared his wings and executed a series of backflips in the air that got progressively tighter and faster. I quickly found myself losing all sense of which direction I was moving in. Then...suddenly I was no longer being held by the stallion. I was darting through the air on a direct path to the trench.

He’d thrown me!

I held my wings close in to my sides to keep the drag down and maintain the speed that he’d given me, using only tiny movements to adjust my course and minimize the pain of my injury. I let a smile spread across my lips. Okay, that was actually a pretty neat move. I’d have to keep it in mind for the future. I turned to look over my shoulder and thank him for finding a solution that saved both of our lives.

My heart froze.

He hadn’t been saving both of us after all. While his maneuver sent me on a path for the trench, doing so had meant having to hang in the air for a brief moment in order to counter the momentum of it. It wasn’t long. Just a second. But it was a second that he’d hung motionless in the line of fire of a hundred ponies with energy rifles trained on him.

I turned back just in time to watch his body alight with a white glow...and then dissolve into a cloud of dust that blew away in the wind. Nothing of him remained.

My mouth hung open in shock. I felt the sting of tears behind my eye threatening to spill forth. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Going out here had been my idea. My plan. He’d followed me out here, trusting that I’d get us both through this. He was only in this fight at all because I’d paid his―former―employer to come. I should be the pony who died protecting him.

It was too late now though. There wasn’t anything that I could do. On so many levels there wasn’t anything more that I could do. I returned my gaze forward, my face set in grim lines, and focused on the trench line.

My landing wasn’t―quite―as rough this time, but it wasn’t pleasant either. At least I limited myself to only the one bounce as I hit the ground. It sure didn’t do my wing any favors. I downed a healing potion, which helped a bit, but I was pretty sure that my flying was done for the time being. At least until I got more spark batteries for the Gale Force.

Fighting those three remaining tanks wasn’t going to be an option though. I’d lost the eldritch lance again; and I was fresh out of brave pegasus stallions to bring it back to me from no-mare’s-land.

I grit my teeth, reliving the sight of his body disintegrating as he sacrificed himself to save me. I didn’t even know who he was! He’d died saving my life, and I didn’t know who he was. Honestly, the jury was still out on how ‘saved’ I or any of the rest of us were. The enemy would be here in minutes and we were helpless to oppose them.

Explosions range out along the trench line again as the tanks resumed firing on our defensive turrets.

I let loose a frustrated scream as I listened to our protection being systematically eradicated with no way to do anything to stop it. This was so ridiculous! Would Constance even have her tanks and infantry advance all the way to our trenches or just move them close enough to be able to keep us pinned down in them while she resumed bombarding us with those accursed mortars of hers? Giving us the option of being blown up by bombs falling from the sky if we stayed put or magically rendered to dust by energy rifles if we tried to escape.

Knowing all the while that we were powerless to do anything about it.

My ear twitched as I heard a new sound that I couldn’t place. Like metal rubbing up against rocks. I noticed then that the tanks had ceased shooting at around the same time. I approached the lip of the trench and peaked over the top. My eye widened as I caught sight of the trio of tanks with their rear ends sticking out of the ground. I experienced a brief moment of confusion before realization dawned on me: the tunnels!

The tunnels that I ordered to be dug had done their jobs! We’d trapped the tanks and taken them out of the fight!

I was just about to cry out in jubilation as something finally going right in this damn battle when those same three tanks began to glow with amber light. My elation died a violent death as I watched scores of unicorns use their magic to float the tanks out of the hastily dug trap that had been set for them and float the armored vehicles to the other side. Almost immediately, the engines started back up again and the tanks resumed their crawl towards us, their guns firing just as relentlessly as before.

I turned away and slumped against the wall of the trench. Right. Of course. Why would anything today go as planned?

Constance had won. I was out of ideas. We didn’t have the weapons to beat her, and Griselda had stolen most of our equipment before making her getaway. I’d suggest that we surrender, but Constance was just going to kill us anyway if we did. All that any of us could do was wait to die.

Another round of frustrated screams and thrashing at the ground with my hooves. It didn’t change anything of course, but I needed to vent this ever-mounting frustration somehow. I couldn’t spend the rest of the ‘fight’ doing this though―as tempting as it was.

I got back onto my hooves and got my bearings. There were a couple things that I wanted to get done before we were finally overrun and killed. I tracked down Arginine, who was still tending to the wounded as best he could. Noble of him. Useless, but noble. Constance was just going to slaughter all of the injured when she got here anyway.

Starlight was with him, using her magic as best she could to protect him and the injured ponies that he was treating. Foxglove was still unconscious. My eye lingered on the bandaged stump that was all that remained of her hind leg. On the bright side: I wouldn’t get yelled at for losing her cutting lance. There was a good chance that we’d all die before she ever found out. So...there was that.

The large gray stallion noticed my approach and glanced in my direction long enough to issue a nod of recognition before resuming treating a mare sporting a bad burn on her side. Starlight nodded as well, her expression shifting to one of curiosity as I moved closer to her.

“Is something up?”

“...you should go.”

The pink unicorn balked, “excuse me?”

“You should go. Get out of here. Teleport away as far as you can and leave,” I said with a sigh, “we’re not going to win this fight. There’s no reason for you to die here with us,” I couldn’t save us all, but I could at least keep somepony from dying with the rest of us. I’d tried with the pegasus stallion and failed. I didn’t want to fail again, “go back to Moonbeam. Be with your daughter. Honestly, the two of you should just leave the whole valley. Go to the Bristol Empire or wherever, as long as it’s far away from here.”

“It’s the Crystal Em―never mind,” the unicorn began to correct me with an annoyed sigh before giving up, “and no, I’m not leaving.”

No, not again. I wasn’t going to let another pony die because of my stupidity, “yes, you are!” I snapped, “we’ve lost! We’re all going to die, and you dying here too isn’t going to change anything! So just leave!” to further make my point, I reared up and began shoving her. Not in any particular direction or with any great force. Just ‘away’, and to further emphasize that I wanted her gone from here, “enough ponies are going to die for me today; you don’t have to be one of them!”

There was a flash of cyan light from her horn and then I was tumbling backwards across the trench. When I finally came to a stop and looked back in Starlight’s direction, I found the mare glaring at me, “‘you? You think that all of these ponies are fighting and dying for you? Really?”

I balked slightly at the sight of the mare’s ire, but I otherwise remained firm, nodding my head, “I hired them, I brought them here, and it’s my failed plans that are getting everypony killed; so, yeah, it’s all my fault.”

“Not everything is about you, Windfall,” Starlight retorted, “nopony was brought here at the barrel of a gun or something,” she thought for a moment and then nodded back in Arginine’s direction, “except him, but that was Foxglove’s doing. Anyway, as I was saying: these ponies are here because they chose to be,” I opened my mouth to protest, but the unicorn cut me off, “offering them money doesn’t count as ‘forcing’ anypony to do something. They’re mercenaries. They go around putting their lives on the line for bits―or bottlecaps or whatever―all the time.

“You told them point blank what they were up against,” she went on, “they knew the risks, but came anyway because they decided that they were being offered enough pieces of painted metal to take those risks. That was their choice. They’re here for themselves, not because of you.

“The same goes for me. I could have left at any time,” Starlight pointed out, “from the moment you woke me up, I could have gone my own way. I didn’t. At first, it was because I needed your help,” she acknowledged, a little grudgingly, “I was two hundred years out of touch. But even after that―after I found my daughter again―I stayed to help you with this,” she waved her hoof at our general surroundings, “not because you ‘made’ me. Because I felt like I had to, for my own reasons.

“Two hundred years ago, I helped to perpetuate a war that created this world for all of you,” she said grimly, “while I might not have started it, I had a hoof in it; and I sure wasn’t doing anything back then to try to oppose it. That war took everything from me. My home, my work, my husband...even my daughter. Worse...it robbed future generations of the kind of world that they should have had.

“I’d dedicated my life to trying to build a better world for ponies. I wanted ponies to be happier than I’d been. To feel fulfilled and content in a way that the Equestria I’d known wouldn’t let them…” her words trailed off as she looked around, “...instead, I woke up to this.

“This Wasteland? I had a hoof in it. Instead of helping to create a better world, I helped to destroy it. I had a hoof in that,” she jabbed her hoof in the direction of the enemy, “so you can bet that I’m going to at least try and do something to fix it!

“Even if that means it’ll get me killed,” she shrugged, “the way I see it, I should have died two hundred years ago anyway. This was all a second chance for me to finally do the right thing. Two hundred years ago, I thought the right thing was fighting. It wasn’t. I know that now. I should have run away then. If I had, maybe things would have been different. I don’t know. But right now, I do know that running away is the wrong thing for me to do.

“So I’m going to stay here and fight―and probably die, yeah―but none of it has anything to do with you, little filly,” Starlight finished, poking me in the chest before turning away and returning to her spellcasting.

I sat there for several long seconds, idly rubbing the spot where the pink unicorn had jabbed me, mulling over her words. She was right: it was wrong of me to blindly assume that I was ultimately responsible for everypony being here. I hadn’t forced anypony to come with me. Not the mercenaries, not the Shady Saddles volunteers, and certainly not any of my friends. They were all here because they’d chosen to be. I was sure that nopony outright wanted to die, yeah; but it was wrong of me to assume that I was the only pony here with a reason to fight.

Whether it was for noble ideals, or to protect their homes and loved ones, or just for cold hard caps, these ponies were here because they’d chosen to be. They’d chosen to put their lives on the line, not because of a bunch of rhetoric that I’d fed them, but because their own pasts had brought them to this point. It was wrong of me to put all of this on myself, as though I was the only pony that mattered.

My pipbuck beeped.

I glanced down at the device in confusion. I wasn’t being called by anypony. Then my gaze darted to a message in the upper-left field of my vision that was just fading away:

>> FILE UPLOAD COMPLETE

‘Upload’? What ‘upload’? Did I just receive another software packet from Moonbeam? I didn’t see another little message from her like the last time. Besides, hadn’t my pipbuck said that it was ‘downloading’ a file that time? That meant that this alert wasn’t about something that I’d received, but rather that something had been taken. But what?

I trotted over to Arginine and got his attention, “RG, is there any way for me to see what files on this thing somepony else accessed?”

The stallion quirked his brow at me, “there is. Why do you ask?”

“I think somepony just copied a file on here, but I don’t know who they were or what they copied. I want to make sure it wasn’t Constance doing something sneaky,” in the back of my mind, while that was a concern, it wasn’t where I would have placed my caps in a bet. Pipbuck’s were generally pretty secure, I was led to believe. In fact, I’d only known one pony who seemed to be able to access and mess with my pipbuck on a whim. Given the lack of a message, part of me was actually hoping that it was Constance who’d done something this time.

Arginine motioned to get a better view of the pipbuck and I extended my left leg to him. He tabbed through a few screens before finally getting to where he apparently wanted to be and gestured for me to take a look, “the file at the bottom of this list was the most recent one to be modified. That includes actions like copying.”

I looked at the list. I saw the software patch that Moonbeam had sent me, along with a bunch of other files that had weird and convoluted names that looked like they were very important to how the pipbuck functioned; as well as a few that must have been part of my helmet. That was all doubtlessly the result of the anti-mortar ‘See-Wiz’ or whatever update that she’d given me. However, it was the file at the very bottom that froze my blood in my veins. I recognized that file. I knew instantly that there was indeed only one pony who would have taken it; and I knew why.

GOODNIGHT_MOON.EXE

The program that I’d recovered from the MoA drone hangar. It turned out that it had been a modified version of the real program meant to fully enable the Selene AI living in the computer hardwired into Moonbeam’s brain. Foxglove and Homily had tinkered with it in order to completely suppress the AI so that Moonbeam never had to worry about it again.

Now I found myself wondering how difficult it would be to reverse that process if the original program was used again.

I slapped the pipuck over to its transmitter function and dialed in Moonbeam’s tag, “Moonbeam, come in!”

No response. I called her again. Still no response. Constantly yelling out her daughter’s name did get Starlight’s attention though and the pink unicorn came back over, “what’s going on?”

“Moonbeam took a copy of Selene’s activation program,” I told her as I abandoned trying to get a response from the psuedo-robopony and instead tried for somepony else, “Homily! Moonbeam has the Goodnight Moon program; I think she’s going to use it to turn Selene back on. You have to get down into the bunker and stop her!”

The few seconds it took for the earth pony to respond felt like hours as my apprehension grew, “Windfall, I was just about to call you! An evacuation alarm went off in the MoA bunker. Moonbeam said that a toxic gas was leaking and everypony needed to get out. Then she locked the door behind us,” the mare informed me, “She hasn’t responded since. I guess now we know why…”

“What?” I wasn’t sure if it had been me or Starlight that said it, but I know I was thinking it. I know I said the next part though, “can you get back inside somehow?”

“That thing was designed to survive balefire missile impacts,” Homily responded ruefully, “It’ll take us days to get to her.”

I’d already known the answer to that question of course. The McMaren ponies had been ready to take shelter in the ancient underground facility to protect themselves from a Steel Ranger attack. There was no way that anypony would be able to reach her in time. Besides, it sounded like Moonbeam had been determined to make certain that nopony could stop her from going through with this.

I swapped back over to Moonbeam’s receiver, “don’t do this! If you use that program we won’t be able to bring you back,” I pleaded, “it’s designed to take over your whole brain and turn you into nothing but a squishy computer. You―the real you that matters―you’ll die!”

Still no response. Was I even getting through to her? I’d made contact with Homily, so Constance wasn’t jamming our communications or anything like that. Moonbeam had managed to snag the file in the first place, so I knew that my pipbuck could reach her. Was I already too late? Had she been completely co-opted by the AI? If that was the case, then surely I should have been getting a response from it…

Starlight grabbed my pipbuck and began speaking into it. Her previously firm tone was quavering now, and I could see her eyes glistening, “Moonbeam, sweetie, it’s Mommy. Please answer me. Let me know you’re alright,” she bit her lip nervously as we awaited a response.

“...hey, Mom.”

Both of us released relieved breaths that we’d been holding. I let Starlight continue to be the one to address her, since she’d been able to get a reply at all. Besides, it was her daughter after all, “sweetie, what are you doing? Homily said you evacuated the bunker.”

“I knew somepony might try to stop me. I didn’t want to have to hurt anypony who did. Better that there was nopony around,” there was a moment of silence, and then, “I’m going to help you guys. You need those drones. I can’t control them; but Selene can. You need her back.”

I couldn’t keep silent this time, “don’t do it! We’ll find another way,” I assured her, even though I knew those words were hollow and meaningless. There was no ‘other way’. Those drones were pretty much how we’d intended to win this battle in the first place; and that was before Constance had pulled out those new weapons of hers. Everything else we’d tried up to this point had failed. We were essentially just waiting to die at this point and only hoping to take down as many of our attackers as we could in the process, “don’t use that program!”

“Moonbeam, it’s alright; you don’t have to do this,” Starlight added as well, “this isn’t your fight,” I looked sharply at the mare, unable to help but think it was a little hypocritical of her to use lines like that after the speech that she’d just given me earlier. I guess it was different when it involved somepony she cared about, “you were only a foal during the war. None of this is your fault, okay? It’s not your responsibility―”

“Just because I wasn’t involved two hundred years ago doesn’t mean that I’m not involved now,” Moonbeam said, rebuking her mother into stunned silence, “you had a chance to act two hundred years ago and you regret that you didn’t. I have a chance to act now. What makes you think that I won’t regret it later too if I don’t?

“I’ve spent decades living with the ponies in the Wasteland. What happens to them matters to me. I’m not going to just sit on my metal rump and do nothing,” another few seconds of silence, “I’m sorry that we won’t get the chance to be a real family. I...would have liked to get to know you, Mom.

“But...not everything is about us.”

I received a notification that the communications channel was blocked off completely. Indeed, contacting Moonbeam against no longer even seemed to be an option that was available to my pipbuck. Starlight and I exchanged glances, and I could see that her eyes weren’t merely glistening anymore. The unicorn mare swallowed hard, took a deep breath, ignored her tears, and turned back towards the fighting, erecting her shield spell and deflecting incoming enemy fire just as she had been earlier. She’d grieve later.

That was assuming that we even got a later. The enemy was close now. Just a hundred yards separated the tanks and their supporting cavalry from our trench line. They’d be on us in minutes. Even if Moonbeam got the program to work as intended, and managed to get those drones in the air, it would still take them time to get here from the dump. They’d arrive in time to wipe out Constance’s forces, but they wouldn’t do the ponies fighting any good.

I debated ordering everypony to pull back to the stable. We could hold up in there long enough to let the drones deal with Constance. Except that the time to do that had passed with those tanks as close as they were. The moment we were out of the trenches, we’d be exposed and vulnerable. Everypony would be cut down before they could make it to the safety of the stable. We had to stay in the trench or we’d be killed.

Staying would mean dying too though. There just wasn’t enough time for Moonbeam’s plan to save our lives.

In the grand scheme, I knew that was only a secondary concern. What mattered most was that Constance and her army were defeated. Whether we lived or died wouldn’t change the valley’s fate. Moonbeam would still save Neighvada.

Still, the idea of not doing something for the ponies here, after all that they’d done...my cutie mark wouldn’t abide that.

The little purple unicorn who was a new arrival in my head was back at her chalk-board and was scribbling something on it with the help of the chromatic-maned pegasus―much to the surprise of the other four for some reason. The pair finished up their scribbling and turned the board around so that I could see it. On it were about a hundred various math equations that all surrounded a number written in comically large print and circled several times:

12 MIN!

As though triggering my own brain into action―Be Smart!―I began to factor in all of the variables that I was aware of. I knew how far away the drone hangar was, and how fast they’d be able to move―assuming their engines really were based as heavily on the Gale Force’s design as I was led to believe. Moonbeam―Selene’s―reinforcements would be here in twelve minutes.

Constance’s army would reach the trench in one if nothing changed. If I wanted everypony on our side to live through this, we had to delay the enemy for twelve minutes. Such a miniscule amount of time; but with our current situation it might as well have been a thousand years. There was simply nothing that we could do to fend them off for anywhere near that long. The only thing that would stop the advance of Constance’s army at this point was an order from the general herself.

And, frankly, I couldn’t think of any rational reason that she’d ever give that kind of order when victory was right at her hoof-tips. She’d won and she knew it. Everything she wanted, everything that she’d been literally designed for was about to be achieved. She wasn’t going to pass that up. Nothing would give that pony more pleasure than demonstrating to the whole Wasteland how pathetic our resistance had been, and how indomitable her kind was.

...wait a minute.

A blue pegasus and an orange earth pony in my head exchanged challenging looks and broke out into a full gallop around my head, continually exchanging the lead between them. Meanwhile, a pink pony had acquired an orange and blue outfit with tassels on her hooves and was mutely ‘cheering’ them on. The other three merely sat and watched, sharing a bucket of fluffy white snacks of some sort.

Constance did want to prove that the ponies from her stable were the best―that she was the best. She needed that validation.

Maybe that was the key to stopping her…

I flipped over to Ramparts’ pipbuck frequency and stared off in the direction of Constance’s army, “Hey, Constance. It’s me: The Wonderbolt,” no answer. No real indication that she’d heard me at all really, but this was the only chance I had, as I had no way of tapping into the secured pipbuck network of her forces and had no idea which pipbuck tag could possibly have been hers. She’d used the courser’s pipbuck to taunt me earlier though. Hopefully she still had it close at hoof, “I bet you’re really proud of yourself right now. You think that you’re about to win.

“And yeah, you are; I won’t deny that. I may not be a smart pony, but even I can do the kind of math needed to figure out how this is going to end. Any idiot could do it. In fact, any idiot could do exactly what you’re doing right now: marching an army that outnumbers your opponent nearly ten-to-one right on down the field in a straight line so that they can win in an all-out slug-fest.

“No tactics. No grand strategy. No cunning. Just slamming a lot of armed ponies into a few armed ponies. It’s a plan fit for every other Wasteland degenerate bandit. I should know: I’ve killed thousands of them.”

Still no reply to my taunts, but I had to believe that she was listening. It was our only hope, “but I can understand why you needed to fall back on a hack ‘tactic’ like that: because it turns out you’re actually pretty bad at this. I mean, you remember Shady Saddles, right? Two hundred of your stable’s finest had a quaint little Wasteland town completely surrounded, and we went ahead a trounced them like they were nothing.

“I mean, what kind of ‘general’ fumbles a siege like that? And that badly? I don’t suppose those genetic augmentations of yours came with a receipt, did they? Because I’d want my caps back if I were you. Not your fault, I guess. It just turns out you’re not really all that impressive. I should know. I’ve beaten dozens of your kind. I took down one of your little ‘sorting facilities’ practically on my own,” Foxglove would forgive that dramatic liberty, I was sure, “and two ‘invalid’ surface ponies managed to take down your whole stable.”

“Honestly...you ponies just...kind of suck.

“So, yeah, you’ll kill us all this time; but it’s not because you’re actually stronger, smarter, or ‘better’ than we are. You just had more ponies and bigger guns. Any crazed raider could win a battle with those advantages. So while I may die, I’ll die knowing that, in every fair fight I’ve ever had against you ponies, I came out on top every time, and none of you could even compare. I’ll know that ‘better’ ponies like you were too terrified to even think of facing me one-on-one.

“So have fun trying to overrun the Wasteland. Try not to get outwitted by a radroach while you’re out here.”

With that, I closed down the channel again and waited. Constance might not have heard any of it. Maybe she did and had a lot more self-control than I was giving her credit for. However, I’d met the filly. She had quite the superiority complex from what I remembered, and she was a lot more emotional than ponies like Arginine―granted a can of Cram was more emotional than Arginine. So I gave it even odds that―assuming she heard any of that―I could goad her into―

“Such petulant taunts are proof of a weak mind,” came the voice of the young filly through my pipbuck’s speakers.

“This ‘weak mind’ penetrated your stable’s defenses in under an hour,” I shot back, a smile spreading across my face. I had her, “the same stable that spawned you, I might add. You’ll forgive me for not being impressed.”

“Do these insults bring you comfort in your last moments, inferior wretch?”

“I’ve got all the comfort I need remembering how many of your soldiers I’ve killed over the months. Fuck, I just junked half your tanks in ten minutes,” I allowed myself a hardy chuckle, “what have you managed to do? Oh, right; you lost a fifth of your army in a siege that any other pony could have won in their sleep. I know I could have won it.

“Because that’s the difference between a filly like you and real leader like me: I can actually do things. But that’s because I know I can do things. You’re pretty much helpless―seeing as you were thrown out of your tube before you were done―but that’s okay. It’s not your fault that the ponies in your stable panicked the moment a mare like me showed up and proved just how pathetic all of their ‘superior’ ponies actually were.”

“We crushed the painted ponies―” I could hear Constance’s tone grinding, and I could imagine the searing hatred that had to have been etched on her face. I was getting to her.

“The White Hooves? Pfft! My mother could kill those bitches and she didn’t know the first thing about fighting,” I fought back the image of her headless corpse falling to the floor of the White Hoof tent next to Cestus’ bleeding form and kept my tone level, “White Hooves are what Neighvada ponies let their foals practice on to prepare themselves for real threats,” that was an outright lie, of course; but there was no way for Constance to know that. Arginine’s whole stable actually seemed to have a poor grasp of Wasteland politics for all the observation they’d been doing over the decades.

“Face it, your designers dropped the ball on every level,” time to go in for the kill, “why, I bet I could wipe the floor with your best pony, unarmed, with one wing tied behind my back. And then do it again, and again, and again until I’ve tallied up all eight hundred of your lackies…” now all I had to do was dangle the bait and hope that Constance took it. Otherwise, we all died, “...unless you want to prove me wrong yourself?”

“I assume you’re proposing a duel to the death between us? Let me guess: you would also like to attach terms to the outcome? That, in the unlikely event of your victory, my forces surrender to yours?”

“Please,” I said dismissively, “like either of us could trust the other side to uphold that bet. Your army has no reason not to crush us just because I won, and my side has nothing to lose be fighting if they’re just going to die anyway.

“This isn’t about them anyway. This is about you, and me. I’m giving you a chance to put your caps where your mouth is and cut me down to size with your own two hooves,” the tanks were only a few dozen yards from the trench line now. We’d be overrun in seconds. If this was going to work, it had to work soon. I didn’t let my anxiousness show in my words though. They remained as cocky and self-assured as always, thanks to many years spent smack-talking bandits and raiders in the middle of a fight, “otherwise, we’ll both know how feeble you actually are, and that you were too much of a pathetic coward to fight even a single, tiny, weak, invalid, unarmed, pegasus filly!”

There was no response this time, and for a moment I worried that I’d actually pushed too hard. All of our lives were riding on my ability to goad Constance into a duel. If she made the smart move and ignored me, then we were all dead. Moonbeam’s drones would cut her down ten minutes later, but that wasn’t going to do us much good. Saving our lives relied on her being―

“Fine. You’ll have your ‘fair fight’; though it’s far better than filth like you deserves.”

―just as easy to manipulate as I was! Yes!

“I will even allow you to set the terms.”

Even better. Now I got to draw this fight out as long as possible, “my terms are simple: no weapons, no barding, no flying, no magic. Just you and me and our bare hooves,” even without my wings, I was small and nimble enough to dance around her for ten minutes. My goal was not to ‘win’, but to draw the fight out long enough for Moon―...Selene’s drones to arrive.

A that point, Constance could either surrender...or die. The jury was still out on which way she’d swing when the moment came.

“Brutish and barbaric,” the filly replied disdainfully, “I don’t know why I should have expected anything else. So be it,” my ears perked up as I heard the tanks grind to a halt. Their engines slowed to a low idle. I peeked over the lip of the trench. The other soldiers had stopped advancing further towards the trench line as well, but they were instead spreading themselves out from one side of the gorge to the other. All they had to do was sweep forward and they could end this fight in seconds, “you have thirty senconds to meet me in the field.”

I swapped to our own force’s frequency, “everypony hold your fire. I’m going out to meet Constance. Just...nopony do anything for ten minutes, alright? Trust me. Everything will work out if you just give me ten minutes,” I received acknowledgements from the remaining mercenary commanders, but ignored their requests for details. I didn’t have time to explain everything if I was going to meet the deadline that I’d been given.

I began shucking my barding and equipment, looking over at Arginine and Starlight, “Constance has agreed to a duel. Her army won’t move until it’s over; as long as nopony on our side does anything stupid. Make sure that they don’t,” I stressed, with a look at the stallion, who returned an assuring nod.

“What happens when somepony wins?” the unicorn asked.

“...everypony dies,” I replied with a shrug as I finished removing the last of my gear. I flexed my limbs and wings, getting used to the lack of barding and the Gale Force again, “but if I can keep her busy long enough, those drones will get here and maybe everypony will get to live.”

“Do you think you can beat her?”

I grinned at the mare, “that’s the best part: I don’t have to. I just have to stall her. That much I can do,” and with that, I took to the air. My wing was still quite sore from the energy weapon hit I’d taken earlier, and I was glad that I wasn’t going to be relying on flying to see me through this fight. It was healthy enough to see me to the middle of the field though, where I found a lone figure waiting to greet me. I landed a few yards in front of them...and froze.

An energy pistol was leveled at my head, held in the amber glow of Constance’s magic. The engineered filly was approximately my height, so we were able to meet each other’s gaze without having to awkwardly tilt our heads. In the filly’s amber eyes, I could see a glint of cold satisfaction. All it would take was a twitch of her telekinetic field and I would be reduced to a dust mote. I matched her gaze, almost daring her to take the shot and violate the terms of our deal. I reminded myself that, no matter what she did in the next ten minutes, she’d ultimately already lost this fight and didn’t even realize it.

I’d already beaten her―Moonbeam had already beaten her. All I was trying to do now was to secure a more favorable outcome for our side. So I just remained still and quiet.

The seconds of motionless silence between us both ticked by. Under pretty much any other circumstances, I’d be ready to climb the walls in frustration. However, every additional second actually benefited me in this case. If Constance wanted to spend the next ten minutes standing here with a gun to my head, I was perfectly inclined to let her.

Unfortunately, that was not to be and the gray filly soon smirked and put the pistol away, “perhaps I haven’t given you sufficient credit after all,” she said. While the words could have been taken as complimentary under most circumstances, the young mare’s tone left no doubt that she was still trying to cut me down, “if nothing else, you are capable of maintaining your composure,” she then cast an appraising eye over my figure, noting my lack of equipment, “you also seem to be a mare of your word. Color me impressed!”

“I’m planning to color you purple and blue, grayscale,” I chided the filly, “maybe with a little bit of red for good measure.”

The general’s lips pulled back momentarily in an annoyed sneer before she regained her composure, “how drole. We shall see which of us comes away the worse for this fight,” she holstered the weapon and then used her magic to unfasten the pistol belt and floated it a couple dozen yards away from the two of us. Now she too was devoid of equipment, as per the rules that we’d agreed to, “is there some sort of signal that you would like to use to begin things?”

I smirked at the filly, “by all means, kid, come at me whenever you’re―horseapples!”

For a pony without wings, Constance moved fast! I’d have accused her of using her magic to teleport, but my experiences with Starlight had demonstrated that such spells involved hefty light shows, and I’d seen not so much as a flicker coming from this pony’s horn. Either of them! It was all that I could do to pull out of the way to avoid her initial attack. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything I could do to move out of the way of her follow-up. A double-buck caught me square in the chest and pitched be backwards flank over whiskey bottle into the dirt.

She wasn’t the type to let an advantage go unused either, it seemed. I’d barely landed when I found myself being pummeled by a relentless onslaught of jabs from her forehooves. I flailed in an effort to throw up any sort of defense or counter, but the younger mare just danced around me and resumed her attack on an unguarded part of my body. I was helpless and defenseless, and this mare was going to tear me apart right here and now!

Then, just as suddenly as her attack began, Constance stopped, bouncing away lightly on her delicate hooves, cackling as she did so, “ha! I spoke too soon! It turns out that all of that bluster earlier was just that: bluster. You claim to have taken down dozens of our soldiers? I find myself quite dubious at the moment. I’ll need to take a closer look at those action reports for myself.”

I rolled back onto my hooves, wincing as I did so from the dozen throbbing points on my body that would no doubt become bruises in the next minute. There was at least one cracked rib in there too. This wasn’t ideal. How had she done that? I’d fought scores of ponies from their stable, and none of them had moved like that, or had her skills.

She must have read the confusion on my face, because the little general let another boudt of mirth roll out of her throat as she provided an answer to my unasked question, “surprised, are we? Confused? Allow me to enlighten you, little fool: I’m a Nu Strain,” her lips pulled back in a vicious grin. It was the sort of slasher smile that would be right at home on one of the Wasteland’s more sadistic gangers, “pound for pound, I’m stronger than any of those pathetic Lambdas of Kappas. My speed, reflexes, and hoof-to-eye coordination have also all be vastly improved.

“I could run for a hundred miles, beat the snot out of a hundred of the toughest invalids the surface has to offer, and then run another hundred miles before I even thought about getting tired!” to make her point she coiled back and burst past me. I barely had time to react before she was behind me. On the way, she’d kicked me in the hip, causing me to stagger, “and on top of all that,” another gray blur out of the corner of my eye and my elbow buckled beneath a blow from her hoof, “I have been given the knowledge of a half dozen of the most lethal and effective forms of hoof-to-hoof combat known to both pony and zebrakind.”

Then she was on me again. I was more prepared for her, but the injuries from her initial assault left my movements sluggish. More hits got through, and I felt more ribs crack as Constance focused on my sides and joints. She wasn’t trying to kill me. Not yet. She wanted to humiliate me. Make me suffer. She wanted to demonstrate how wrong I’d been to challenge her and think that I was her equal. She wanted to draw my death out.

So be it. All I had to do was survive. If I could do that, then we all got to live.

Again the filly pranced away just as I collapsed to the ground with a pained groan. My limbs were reluctant to move after the beating that they’d received. I wasn’t positive, but it felt like one of my hips might be dislocated entirely. It certainly wouldn’t bear any weight.

I couldn’t stay down though. If she felt I was finished, she might kill me and end the fight. I needed to drag this out a little while more. I needed to get back up. I needed to Be Enduring!

The sight of my lamed leg as I fought to stand once more elicited more mirthful chuckles from Constance. The filly began to slowly circle around me, taking grim delight in my own stiff efforts to turn so that I could remain facing her, “I came out here because I was promised a fight,” she said, sneering at me, “part of me is actually a little disappointed that all of your earlier prattling amounted to nothing,” now her expression soured as the engineered pony flashed me an annoyed look, “this is a waste of my time.”

She charged me again.

This time, Constance wasn’t looking to ‘play’ with me. She was coming in for the kill so that she could end this fight and get on with the slaughter of the rest of the mercenaries in the trenches. I couldn’t allow that to happen. Our duel couldn’t be allowed to end; not yet.

I had underestimated Constance. I’d assumed she was like every other pony from their stable that I’d faced up to this point; and that was in spite of being told repeatedly that she wasn’t. I hadn’t really understood what that meant; her being a ‘new strain’. Now I did. She was objectively a lot more physically impressive than the ponies like Arginine had been. She was more knowledgeable too. Her fighting style had been amazing, and every hit had felt like it struck something vital that caused me a lot of pain. She knew how to fight.

Six different forms of combat, she’d said. The best styles that ponies and zebras knew.

I had a hunch that there was one style that they didn’t: and that was my style. A hybrid of the White Hoof techniques that Jackboot had taught me augmented by the maneuvers that my wings allowed. It was a style that was all my own, and while it might not have been a perfected style, but it was still a tried and true battle-tested one that I’d been honing for nearly a decade. If nothing else, it should throw the filly off her game.

I’d promised Constance no flying―and an orange earth pony appreciated that I was going to hold myself to that promise―but I hadn’t said that I wasn’t going to use my wings at all.

Constance surged forward. I slid my rear hoof back, the one that I wasn’t confident could bear my weight any longer. The filly’s eyes darted briefly as she noted my change in stance and I caught their glint of satisfaction as she too subtly adjusted her approach, believing that she’d caught my ‘tell’. It was an effort to keep my own expression neutral as I played dumb. If I’d gone with the block that my footing now suggested, I had no doubt that the other mare would have been able to bypass it and take me down. She was ready for it and knew the appropriate counter.

What she wasn’t ready for was for my wings to flip out and give off a powerful stroke that pivoted my whole body around my forward foreleg. None of my hooves left the ground, gliding smoothly over the hard scrabble, so it would be hard to claim that I’d used my wings to ‘fly’ in any meaningful sense. Indeed, Constance’s final leap that had been intended to take me to the ground meant that the filly saw more airtime in this fight than I did. It also meant that she was completely unable to maneuver out of the way of my own wing-propelled charge at her exposed flank.

The general’s surprise was total as my hooves drove hard into her ribs this time. Her body, effectively t-boned in midair, was sent rolling to the ground. She recovered quickly of course, and was on her hooves again almost immediately, but I still got the satisfaction of seeing the indignant rage painted across her face. There wasn’t any sign that I’d hurt her particularly badly, but that was okay. I’d denied Constance her flawless victory and proved that I could land a solid blow through her recently vaunted ‘superior techniques’.

However, if I thought that the unexpected nature of my maneuver would give the filly pause and buy me another hoofful of precious seconds, Constance immediately proved me wrong. She charged again with an enraged snarl. I reared up, crossing my fetlocks across my chest to block her attack. Then, at the last second, I flipped out my wings again. A stroke of my left set me spinning around, while my right wing slipped beneath the filly’s belly and heaved upwards. Constance was sent tumbling through the air end over end. Not being a pegasus who frequently found themselves up in the air, the mare had little concept of how to contort her body to counteract such motions. Nor did she have wings to stabilize herself. Apparently, none of those fancy combat styles of hers taught a lot of landing strategies either.

Unless there was some sort of ancient zebra technique that preached the value of landing head-first and tumbling onto your backside. Given the pained grunt and the humiliated expression, I suspected that was not actually the case.

Constance still didn’t appear to be particularly hurt―physically―by my deflection, but the sight of her finally failing to land any further blows on me was doing wonders for my confidence. I refrained from pressing my advantage though. It wasn’t worth the risk. I reminded myself that beating her would actually constitute ‘losing’ this fight for the purposes of everypony else’s survival. Her being alive was the only thing keeping her forces from finishing us off. I had to keep her―and myself―that way until Selene made it here.

As long as I stayed away from her, I could do just that.

The gray filly rolled quickly back onto her hooves and glared at me before letting out another enraged scream as she attacked again. This time I didn’t do anything fancy, I simply propelled myself backwards out of her reach as she unleashed a series of lunges and kicks. We hadn’t bothered to set up any sort of boundaries for this fight. I idly wondered if I could just keep backing up and lure Constance all the way back to Shady Saddles like this.

Apparently that thought put a smile on my lips that I wasn’t aware of, because Constance ceased her onslaught and resumed sneering at me, “you find this all amusing, do you? I, for one, find it pathetic!” she spat as she charged and made another swipe at me. Another flit of my wings and I was out of her reach, “you asked―demanded―that I fight you; and now I find that you refuse to actually engage now that you’ve seen how outclassed you actually are.”

Another ineffectual attack, “now, here you are, dancing around like a coward!” she screamed at me, seething, “what do you hope to accomplish with all of this? I’ve already told you that I don’t tire. You can’t wear me out,” another lunge, “all you’re doing is wasting time―!”

The mare suddenly stopped, her eyes growing wide with realization, “...you’re wasting time. That’s it, isn’t it?” Oh, horseapples. Her mind really did work a lot faster than I appreciated. Constance was glaring at me now, “you don’t want a fight...you want me here, distracted, for some reason. Perhaps while your forces make some sort of escape or to await reinforcements?

“No matter,” the mare relaxed her stance, her expression smoothing back into the look of perpetual disdain that it had been wearing during my first meeting with her, “I came out here under the false pretenses of a fight. As you have failed to provide one one way or the other, then I see no reason to entertain this farce any longer,” the filly general tapped at her pipbuck and brought the device to her lips, “All commanders, resu―”

I had no choice. A purple unicorn had been frantically hitting a chalkboard with a big number “5” circled a dozen times on it. I hadn’t looked at my pipbuck to confirm how much time had actually passed, but the tiny little figment of my imagination looked very sure of herself. Selene certainly wasn’t here yet, so however much time was left, I couldn’t let Constance order her forces to attack.

I charged.

My wings added a burst of speed that no other grounded opponent would have been capable of. I had hoped that would give me an edge―an element of surprise―during my attempt to interrupt the filly.

It didn’t.

Constance knew I was going to come at her. She knew that I didn’t have a choice. So of course she was ready for me. My own unique style or not, a punch was still a punch. There were only so many ways to throw them, and the filly knew more than enough ways to block mine. She didn’t stop there either. She blocked, trapped, and then used my momentum to throw me around this time. I tried to use my wings to keep her from sending me exactly where she wanted me to end up, but there was only so much that I could do while she had hold of my leg.

Despite my best efforts, I ended up on the ground again. The impact forced the air from my lungs and cost me a few precious seconds of reaction time. In the span of those seconds, I felt something come down hard on my left wing. Then I felt something give way inside of it. Then I screamed.

Constance wasn’t through yet though. My trapped foreleg was twisted next. The pain I felt was nothing compared to the nauseating sensation I felt as my humerus left the socket and begin to float freely. I wanted to fight back. To resist. I needed to. We would all die if I didn’t. Yet...I couldn’t. All rational thought left me in moments. All that remained were those baser, more primal, concerns that I’d been doing my level best to suppress: protect my baby.

I curled up into a ball, my working limbs and wings coiling inward over my belly. It was patently ridiculous. Futile. If I didn’t fight Constance off, she would inevitably killed both me and my child. The smart thing to do was to try and fend her off. Yet I couldn’t. I was in too much pain. There was too much fear. A fear that I’d never felt before when I used to be half-drunk all the time throwing myself at raiders.

It was a fear borne of the realization that I was going to fail. I was going to fail and there was nothing that I could do to stop it.

Constance kept up her assault for a while longer, breaking more ribs and cracking more limbs. For a moment, I thought she was just going to pummel me to death. Then she finally abated and took a step back, “Pathetic,” she scoffed, “this ‘duel’ is over,” her horn glowed, a matching aura surrounding the energy pistol that she’d brought with her and bringing it over to hover in between us. The barrel was leveled at my head.

Four more minutes and we all would have lived. That was probably the worst part of all of this: to know that I’d come so close...only to ultimately fail to save everypony. There was some comfort to be had in knowing I’d tried my best. Some, but not much.

I waited for the last sound that I was ever going to hear: the magical whine of an energy discharge.

Instead I heard a sneeze.

Despite myself and everything that was going on, I turned my head and look up at Constance with a raised eyebrow. Only to find her looking around as well. Then our eyes locked and the two of us exchanged a brief moment of solidarity in our shared confusion. I certainly hadn’t sneezed, and it was clear that the other mare hadn’t either. There was nopony else around though.

So then who…?

Then we heard the disembodied voice of a gruff sounding mare, “all of those potions you’ve got, and none of them is an antihistamine. Really?”

My ear twitched. Something about that voice sounded very familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. The sneeze too, come to think of it…

“Who’s there?!” Constance demanded, brandishing her energy pistol as she scanned the area fervently. Her Eyes Forward Sparkle had to be showing her the same lack of contacts that mine was though, “show yourself!”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

The mare appeared out of thin air. A silver unicorn. A quite sturdily built silver unicorn. Pritchel! The bounty hunter that I’d encountered a couple of times in recent months. Neither of those previous meetings had been under what I would have termed ‘pleasant circumstances’, but she was most certainly a welcome sight right now. Mostly because I couldn’t conceive of any reason that she’d be here to help out Constance of all ponies. I mean, a bounty hunter like her didn’t strike me as the altruistic type to risk her life to come and help me unprompted either, but I wasn't really thinking much about that at the moment.

One thing that I did notice about the mare that struck me as different from our previous meetings was that while she was still wearing bulky metal barding, it wasn’t the same obviously custom-forged job that I remembered. She was dressed in proper Steel Ranger power armor now. Power armor that was accented with green paint.

“Surprise!” the mare was grinning as her horn flared to life. Her massive hammer flew around and came smashing down on Constance’s pistol, crushing it into a flattened smear on the ground.

The startled filly general backpedaled, her eyes still wide with confusion at the unexpected sudden appearance of the mare who had somehow managed to sneak onto the battlefield past her lines undetected. I, however, had some idea of how this had been accomplished, and those theories were confirmed as I sensed somepony nearby just as a hoof pressed itself against the back of my head. At the same time, another hoof materialized in front of me. A striped hoof, holding a vial of milky white liquid.

“Drink,” I heard Medica instruct me with a voice that sounded like he was struggling to hold back another sneeze. I found myself in agreement with Pritchel: this zebra could make a potion that would drive mares to sleep with the nearest thing that had a penis, but he couldn’t make allergy medication? Ridicule later; potion now. Whatever he was trying to give me, I wasn’t going to question it.

I should have questioned!

I found myself screaming and writhing as my bones suddenly began to crawl around inside of me. My ears echoed with snapping and popping sounds as my limbs rearranged themselves back into their proper places and knit themselves back together. Within seconds, I was whole again.

“Thank you,” I panted, struggling to get back up to my hooves. I was whole, but I still hurt. On the bright side, it didn’t look like I was going to have to fight any time soon. Pritchel was taking full advantage of the other mare’s surprise and pushing her back. Constance was managing to avoid actually getting hit, but she was still quite obviously on the defensive. For the moment, “not to sound ungrateful, but why are you two even here?”

The zebra sneezed, throwing the hood of his stealth cloak back off of his head and revealing his rather annoyed looking face as he rubbed at his nose, “we have been hired to help you,” he informed me.

“Hired? By who?”

Before the striped stallion could answer, Constance retreated well away from her new attacker and brought up her pipbuck to once again issue her forces the order to resume their assault. My eyes went wide with fear once more. Pritchel wasn’t going to be able to stop her in time either.

Suddenly, before the filly could say anything, there was a crack of thunder and her pipbuck erupted in a crackle of brilliant sapphire light. The general swore, smacking at the now unresponsive device. Pritchel launched another attack, swinging her hammer around to bring it down on the filly. This time Constance did not jump away, but instead glared at her attacker. Her horn flashed and a golden shield materialized, stopping the other unicorn’s attack cold.

There was another thunderclap followed almost instantaneously by an eruption of blue lightning. Constance yelped as she shield vanished and she was forced to make an undignified leap backwards before the hammer could crush her.

For a moment, I thought that the sapphire flashes were Pritchel’s doing. However, I soon realized that I recognized them as well: they were almost exactly the same reaction that occurred when I used to use the customized ammunition that Foxglove made for me. Somepony was firing pulse rounds at Constance.

It was at about the moment I had that realization that Medica directed my attention to the top of the cliffs lining one side of the gorge, “that one.”

I squinted in the direction that he was pointing. The figure was a few hundred yards away, so it was impossible to make out any details. However, I could immediately tell that they looked a lot larger than any pony should at that range. They were also wearing an orange jumpsuit. The sort worn by the Steel Rangers when they weren’t wearing their power armor.

Hoplite.

It seemed that she was trying to make good on the rest of the debt that she felt she owed me. As far as I was concerned, as of this moment, I owed her! I whipped my head back around toward the fight going on between Pritchel and Constance, “don’t kill her!” I yelled at the silver unicorn, “if she dies, her army might start shooting again!”

“I’m not trying to kill her,” the mare growled in frustration as she made another fruitless swing of her hammer, “I’m just trying to hurt her. Hold still you little―!”

“Our employer suspected you would feel that way,” Medica explained nasally, “our instructions were to rescue you and capture the other,” as he spoke, the zebra withdrew a glass sphere filled with yellow fluid from the pack on his back and lobbed it at the engineered filly. Constance effortlessly blasted it out of the air with a zap of her horn, only for its contents to rain down upon her before she could get out of the way. The filly glanced at the droplets of yellow fluid for a moment, as though expecting them to begin to dissolve her flesh or something.

However, it turned out that it was not acid that the zebra had showered her with, but something else entirely. Before my eyes, the yellow substance began to fizzle...and then it exploded suddenly outward in an expanding cloud of foam which very quickly hardened, trapping the other pony inside.

“...That’s helpful,” I remarked dumbly, still trying to process the fact that I wasn’t about to die. Well, not right now at any rate, “how long will that stuff hold her f―”

A burst of amber light erupted outward from Constance’s spongy tomb, blowing the substance away and knocking all three of us off of our hooves. I landed rather unceremoniously atop my striped rescuer, covered in flecks of yellow foam, “oh...that long,” I groaned.

“Are you sure we can’t kill her?” Pritchel asked in a haggard tone as she got back to her hooves, fetching her hammer with her magic, “because right about now I’m debating on how much I really want this payout…”

“As if a brute like you even could best me,” Constance snorted derisively. The armored unicorn seemed to take that personally and charged at the smaller filly. Now I got to watch how she fought from the outside looking in, and I didn’t feel quite as bad about how thoroughly I got my flank trounced earlier. Constance moved with a grace that belied her caustic nature, sidestepping swings and landing blows like it was all part of so well-rehearsed performance.

I’d spent years learning to fight, and additional years putting that instruction into practice. I considered myself to be pretty damn good at fighting. That wasn’t all ego speaking either, as I wouldn’t have lived nearly as long as I had if I wasn’t good.

Watching Constance now though...she fought better than I flew. This was because, unlike anypony else who had to learn their skills through some amount of trial and error, the filly had had the knowledge hardwired directly into her brain. She was a living embodiment of a hoof-to-hoof combat style, coupled along with a body that had been given the perfect body build to perform all of those moves without any issue. She stepped fluidly around any blow that she cared to, casually brushed aside any swings that she wanted to, and struck back with potent precision whenever she desired. Pritchel, as big and powerful as she was―as well protected as she was―was systematically broken down just as easily as I had been.

It was simultaneously both gratifying―at least I knew it wasn’t just me!―and disheartening to see. I debated briefly whether or not I should try to help, but I wasn’t sure how much ‘help’ I would actually be. Constance had already beaten me with ease just a minute ago, and I wasn’t wearing powered barding. Not that it seemed to be doing Pritchel any good.

The silver unicorn’s hammer came around in yet another futile attempt to sweep the smaller filly off her hooves, only to be stopped cold by a magical barrier. A moment later there was ‘crack!’ of rifle fire and a burst of blue light and the barrier dissolved midsts tendrils of electro-magical energy. Pritchel’s hammer once more resumed its arc with a grunt from the mare. Constance seethed briefly at the disruption of her magical shield, but otherwise didn’t lose a step as she caught the hammer in her hooves and deflected it away, rearing up on her hindquarters and deftly twirling the weapon in her hooves before directing it back at a soundly surprised Pritchel. Both the mercenary and her newly returned hammer went tumbling past me and her zebra companion.

Constance spared only a brief satisfied glance in our direction before glaring balefully at the lip of the gorge where the marksmare lay, “you are beginning to irritate me,” she said through gritted teeth. Her horned flared to life once more. As did several dozen small stones on the ground, which began to slowly rise upwards. Then, with a suddenness that startled me, the stones rocketed away one after the other in rapid succession with a speed that was fast enough for them to sound not all that different from gunfire. A second later I saw the ghoul mare scamper away from her perch as dust and debris was thrown up by the makeshift torrent of suppressive fire.

Suddenly staying out of the fight was no longer an option. Hoplite had been pushed back and Pritchel was down for at least a few seconds while Medica got her back on her hooves. All that stood between Constance and her army now was me. Again. I had no reason to believe that another fight between us would go any differently. But that didn’t matter. I was the only one available.

So I attacked.

Almost immediately I was tumbling through the air end over end. I righted myself and shook my head to stop the world from spinning around me. That certainly boded well. There was no help for it though. I had to keep her here. Keep her distracted. Keep her from giving the order to resume the attack and wipe everypony out. I had to attack.

Or, at least, I had to keep her thinking I was. I once more reminded myself that I didn’t actually have to beat her. If I kept her busy, we won. So on my next dive, I did something rather unexpected: I intentionally missed. My pass was close enough to convince Constance that I meant to try to land a blow, but much to oblique to have possibly succeeded in the end even if she’d remained motionless. This had the advantage of also keeping me just out of reach of her own blows as well.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take her long to catch on. After only a few passes, the young pony merely stood there, glaring at me, “I grow weary of your puerile displays. You’re deaths have been postponed for far too long. No more,” she glanced down at her pipbuck, scowled at its blank screen, and then closed her eyes. Her horn flared. Not golden this time, but red. The brilliant crimson light fired upwards into the air, rocketing high above the battlefield, where it finally burst in a shower of slowly falling crimson rain.

I stared up in horror, and looked immediately towards the trench line, “No―!” I shot off in the direction of the battle that was soon to resume. Already I could hear the sound of weapons fire making its way across the field. I had to get back there. I had to save as many as I could...

I tried to get there anyway. I didn’t make it a foot before something wrapped around my tail and hauled me roughly to the ground, slamming me to the surface with a force that pushed the air from my lungs. A hoof was immediately at my throat. Constance’s ashen face looking down at me with her contemptuous amber eyes, “while it is ever so tempting to keep you alive long enough to witness how completely all of your futile efforts have failed you...you have proven yourself far too resourceful in the past,” her hoof began to press harder against my throat, cutting off both my ability to breath and pinching off the flow of blood to my head. My vision was already starting to grow cloudy. I couldn’t even muster up the strength to push her off.

“It’s easier just to kill you now―”

“DESPAIR MORTALS! FOR THE ETERNAL NIGHT IS UPON YOU ALL!”

In an encore of our prior abrupt and unexpected solidarity, Constance and I, again, shared a confused blink and looked around. You wouldn’t think that much could have made me forget about the fact that my neck was just moments away from being snapped by a genocidal madmare, but it turned out that a midnight black alicorn with a billowing silver mane made the list! Her and her―I was going to hazard a rough guess of about nine hundred and ninety-nine―companions.

“What in the―?!” Constance’s consternation was ended abruptly by a sudden blast of cyan magical energy to her chest by the new arrival that sent her skidding across the ground. In a brief moment of panic that had no defensible justification, I found myself clambering back up to my hooves and rushing over to see if the younger mare was still alive. To my surprise―and somehow, relief―she was. Stunned and disoriented, but alive.

Nor was she the only one to be caught off her guard and so firmly rebuked. A flock of alicorns―though perhaps swarm was more fitting given their number―descended upon the gorge and stunned any of the attackers that so much as twitched in response to Constance’s skyborne cue to resume the fighting. I saw quite a few energy bolts being fired up to intercept the Nightmare Moons as well, but these too were ruthlessly muted by the alicorns.

It was only a matter of seconds before the narrow battlefield was silenced, the winged black forms hovering overhead, keeping the engineered army from taking any further hostile actions. Meanwhile our own forces were just as confused, I was sure. They knew to expect drone support, but it had never occurred to me to tell them that those drones might show up in the form of a black alicorn with a glowing mane. Mostly because I hadn’t thought that’s how they’d show up either. There was little reason for Moonbeam to bother with covering the drones in their intended anti-zebra psychological camouflage.

No reason for Moonbeam to, but it was entirely in keeping with Selene’s own protocols, I realized.

I felt myself tense up as I looked at the singular drone that was continuing to descend further down towards us, coming to a soft landing overlooking Constance and I. A small part of my brain noted that the wing movements hadn’t been quite right for a landing like that, but I guess that aesthetics had taken a backseat to appearances during the design phase for the illusion talismans. The rest of me was caught up in an emotional tug of war between hoping that Moonbeam was somehow still in there, and knowing better than to let myself think that could be the case.

Still…

“Moonbeam?”

The drone cocked its head, its expression impassive. Then I saw a cursor appear in the corner of my SATS as the drone made its reply. At a volume that was much more appropriate to our close quarters, I was gratified to find, “contact with primary established. Ceding protocols,” My pipbuck beeped, prompting me to glance at the display.

>> N1GH7M4R3 COMMAND AUTHORIZATION TRANSFER COMPLETE

>> GREETINGS, MINISTRY MARE WINDFALL

Ministry Mare? That wasn’t right, “what’s going on? What are you talking abou―”

I was abruptly tackled to the ground by a rather enraged gray filly who no longer seemed to be enthralled with the appearance of the alicorns. The attack took me by surprise, as I’d actually pretty much forgotten about Constance at that moment, so it wasn’t difficult for her to put me down into the dirt again. She didn’t get very far though before another blast of magical energy flung her back.

“ENEMIES OF EQUESTRIA SHALL BE SHOWN NO QUARTER!” the drone screamed, interposing itself between me and the filly.

“Don’t kill her!” I yelled out of reflex. It wasn’t like the previous conditions of our fight were still in play. Her army was stymied. We’d ‘won’ already. Whether or not Constance died wasn’t going to change any of that. Arguably, it was a more tactically sound decision to kill her now and remove the threat that she posed.

It was a point that an obviously aching―and quite thoroughly peeved―Pritchel was keen to make, “on the contrary: killing that one is exactly what we should do. Even if she is a filly…”

“No,” I affirmed, getting back up onto my own hooves again. Constance was getting up again too, though much more cautiously, and with a wary eye on the large black alicorn staring her down, “enough ponies have died today. This fight’s over,” I declared, looking to the general to be certain that she understood that fact.

“Do I need to remind you that, not thirty seconds ago, she was trying to kill us?”

“You tried to kill me once too,” I pointed out to the unicorn, shooting her a pointed glare, “I don’t remember you complaining when I not only spared you, but then saved you from a hoard of angry townsponies,” the silver unicorn at least had the good sense to look a abashed about the reminder. She grumbled something about how it was different because she had been paid, and so it hadn’t been personal; but she seemed to understand that I was unlikely to recognize a huge distinction there.

Medica was busy trying not to wet himself as he stared unblinkingly at the drone. He looked as though he believed that making any move at all would draw its attention and lead to his immediate vaporization. He still sneezed though.

I turned my attention back to Constance, “here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to tell your forces to drop their weapons and stand down.”

“And if I refuse?”

I sighed and shook my head, “then I’m just going to have them all rendered unconscious and take their weapons anyway. I’m just giving you a chance to do this the easy way.”

Constance straightened herself up, glaring down at me, “I’d sooner die than surrender to the likes of you. Just kill me and be done with it.”

“Fuck it,” I groaned in exasperation, looking over at the drone, “hey, you can do the whole ‘voice mimicking’ think that Moonbeam could do, right? Can you do her voice?” I pointed at the engineered pony.

The midnight black drone regarded Constance for several seconds, and then, “sufficient sampling present,” it sounded like a dead ringer for Constance. The filly’s face blanched.

“Awesome. Broadcast a message in her voice to every pipbuck from her stable telling them to surrender and disarm,” the drone nodded. Though she said nothing further aloud, I suspected that a lot of ponies were receiving exactly the message tat I’d asked to be sent. Meanwhile, I sent out one of my own, “this is Windfall. The stable ponies are going to be dropping their weapons and surrendering. We’re accepting it.

I thought for a moment, grimacing. I would have liked to believe that the mercenaries could remain professional enough to be trusted to behave themselves in the face of a surrendered foe. On the other hoof, Griselda’s example was still fresh in my mind and, at the end of the day, they were just ponies. A lot of their comrades had died in this fight. The same went for the Shady Saddles volunteers.

It was honestly best not to risk it. Fortunately, I did have another option, “Arginine, have that ‘Honor Guard’ or whatever you put together gather Constance’s army and move them back to the mouth of the gorge,” I trusted our attackers to obey the orders of their ‘commanding general’ for the moment, but I didn’t want them close enough to cause any problems while we finished wrapping things up. It would be too tempting for our own survivors to want to exact revenge, I felt.

I looked back to the incredulous filly and smiled despite myself, “sorry: it looks like neither of us gets to die sticking stubbornly to their ideals today!” I glanced back at the alicorn, “escort the general to her army,” while to the pair of bounty hunters apparently turned outright mercenary I said, “you two go check on Hoplite and then meet me at the stable. The fight may be over, but our work isn’t…”

It took hours just to sort things out along the trench line, it turned out. Accounting for ponies, gear, weapons, the whole lot. A suitable force of a few hundred alicorn drones―no longer sporting their Nightmare Moon motifs―ringed the surrendered stable ponies at the mouth of gorge. Keeping them and Constance honest while myself and the remains of our own army got matters taken care of. Specifically the completed evacuation of the stable.

This included those ponies who were currently in the midsts of their maturation. That had been another sensitive affair. Nearly a thousand more ponies that needed to be watched over who emerged quite a bit confused, given that they’d been in the midst of receiving whatever in-vitro education regiment that the systems had been programed to give them. I had another couple hundred drones escort them to yet another part of the gorge until something could be figured out with them.

Then began the laborious process of systematically dismantling its infrastructure and eradicating its computer archives. I didn’t want any trace of the work that had been done here to survive. The idea of simply scuttling the whole subterranean structure was entertained―quite thoroughly―but ultimately dismissed. I felt that I was doing enough to these ponies. Without the machinery and the archives, this place was just like any other stable: a safe place for ponies to live.

It wasn’t nearly big enough to house over two thousand ponies, of course. But it could easily manage a few hundred in the stable’s interior; and there was plenty of room on the surface to construct additional housing for the rest. If the ponies here were so inclined, this place could turn into a major Neighvada settlement practically overnight!

The inclination of these ponies was the big question though. Zara was doing her part to share the true origin of their stable’s guiding directive: the zealous rage of a grieving mother out for vengeance. It was an uphill battle though. She was up against a mentality that had―in a very real way―been directly hardwired into the brains of her stablemates. The only reason that the others probably even humored her in the first place was because she was their overmare. If I’d tried to spin that story they’d have discounted it out of hoof. It was honestly a miracle as many ponies were willing to listen to her as their were.

She vowed to keep trying though, for as long as it took, to convince them that this crusade of theirs was a lie and should be abandoned. I wished her luck.

I wasn’t going to depend on it though.

Of the weapons and equipment that were confiscated, and divided up amongst the mercenaries as the promised bonus for agreeing to come with me, enough was set aside for the ponies here to defend themselves from bandits and monsters. Not a whole lot. A couple dozen rifles and sets of barding, along with a hundred spark-packs or so. About what one could expect to find a stable’s security force to possess, Foxglove assured me.

Her recovery was gratifying to see, though Arginine cautioned me that if would be a few weeks before he’d be willing to let her off bed rest. Her leg was a lost cause of course. Though, that evening, I caught her with a paper and pencil sketching out what looked to me like design schematics for a prosthetic one. You can’t keep a good mare down, I suppose.

Nor bad ones, I learned.

Unlike her followers, Constance did refuse to even listen to Zara. She didn’t care whether their quest for extermination of the surface ponies was the original directive of their stable or not. She’d come to the conclusion on her own that the world would indeed be truly better off with her kind at the helm. Constance didn’t even seem to care that her precious ‘Omega Strain’ was now impossible to create. She was dead set on completing her mission.

A lot of ponies counseled me to kill her. They made a lot of compelling arguments too.

She was a very smart pony. It was entirely possible that she could find a way to restart what we’d stopped here today. It could take her years―decades even―but there was little doubt that she was determined and capable enough to see it through. Letting her live could mean that a future generation might have to deal with this same threat all over again. A threat that would have learned from the mistakes made this time around.

Not killing Constance could end up putting the world in more danger.

Could.

That was the only thing that stayed my hoof on the matter. She could become a renewed threat. She could rebuild this misguided genetic superiority program. She could.

She might not though. There was the possibility―an admittedly small one, granted―that she’d eventually give up. Constance was capable, but she was also young. Young ponies often made impulsive and rash decisions that mellowed with age and experience. I served as my own example in that regard. I was not the same Windfall that traveled with Jackboot. Nor the same little filly that used to herd brahmin. Life changed me. I had to have faith that it could change Constance too.

If there was a saving grace, it was that fewer than a hundred ponies from her stable seemed inclined to join her when she left. These ponies I did not let have any weapons to ‘defend themselves’ with. I was optimistic. I wasn’t a complete moron. If Constance wanted to rebuild her forces, then she’d have to do it the hard way: with her bare hooves.

Honestly, even money was out on how many of the mercenary companies that had fought with me would ‘just happen’ to run across Constance and her followers in the next day or so and finish them off just to be on the safe side. That I couldn’t control.

I watched Constance’s group leave from the mouth of the gorge. Arginine and Hoplite were standing beside me. The former had been one the biggest advocate for her execution, the latter understanding of why I’d refused. I didn’t hold it against Arginine. He hadn’t been speaking from a place of malice. The stallion had simply been advising me of the most practical solution to a potentially serious problem down the road. The former Ranger hadn’t actually weighed in on the discussion at all, but had made it clear that after the fact that she admired it.

“That is a level of compassion that I wish I’d seen more frequently in my youth,” the ghoul had told me, “perhaps things would have turned out differently.”

I was unconvinced. Honestly, I was unsure that I’d actually done the right thing. I wanted to believe that I had, but...how was a pony as young as I was supposed to know what was really best? Six tiny ponies in my head had all wholeheartedly agreed with my decision, but that was hardly reassuring. Comforting, but not reassuring.

“I’m just so tired of ponies dying,” I sighed, emotionally drained by the day, “how many lost their lives because of all of this brahminshit? Some mare fifty years ago lost her daughter to a group of raiders, and so thousands more had to die decades later. It’s stupid. I’m over it.”

Hoplite let out a raspy chuckled, “I’m sure that, if any of us ever learned the root cause of the Great War, we would likely find that it an equally silly reason for so much death and devastation. It is too much to hope that the first war in a thousand years was fought for genuinely noble and worthwhile reasons.”

“Nothing that causes so much grief could possibly be ‘noble’,” I snorted.

“True enough,” there was a moment of silence, and then the ghoul looked to the alicorn drone that was perched nearby, monitoring Constance’s withdrawal, “and what of you? What ‘noble purpose’ will you use these machines to fulfill?”

I winced. That was a question I’d been considering for most of the day. The options that I’d most seriously entertained...didn’t thrill me.

Foxglove and Homily had―tragically―confirmed that Moonbeam had indeed executed the Goodnight Moon program that she’d taken from my pipbuck. However, not before making a few key alterations to it. They’d been relatively minor ones. She hadn’t spared the time to make the sweeping changes that had been applied to the same program in order to isolate Selene. Instead, Moonbeam had focused on dialing back their lethal force protocols, making subduing the enemy the default setting. Using outright lethal force apparently would only be used upon receipt of specific orders to do so. I’d appreciated that.

Much less appreciated was the other change that had been made to the program. A program that itself had already been a modified version of the software trigger that the Ministry of Awesome had intended to use when the project was ready to be implemented. The program that I’d found in Nightjar’s office had been intended to be used by some agency from outside the MoA, and so slaved control away from the intended command structure. Moonbeam had further modified this alteration to divert sole control over Selene to a single, specific, pony:

Me.

I was now Selene’s master. She would do whatever I told her to, no matter what it was. A thousand of some of the most powerful and sophisticated combat drones that had ever been developed by the Ministry of Awesome―if not all of equestria. On a pound-for-pound basis, they weren’t as powerful as something like an ultra-sentinel, sure, but they were far and above much more effective―and lethal―than the average robopony. They could exceded the speed of sound, were capable of working in concert with one another, moving with a singular mind and purpose, and had weapons capable of defeating just about any conceivable threat they might encounter.

I didn’t know much about the Enclave’s capabilities, but Hoplite had admitted that my army of drones could easily wipe out any Steel Ranger chapter that she knew about. While perhaps biased, the former Ranger was also insistent that the Rangers could easily hold their own against an equal number of Enclave forces in a fight. How accurate that assessment was, I couldn’t reasonably guess, but I couldn’t imagine any force of pegasi that could stop the sort of firepower that I’d seen Moonbeam employ against the Steel Rangers the last time they’d tried to ambush us.

That meant that I now had control of the most powerful military force in the Neighvada Valley, if not the whole Wasteland. A force that had been designed with the intent to repel even the most aggressive zebra military incursions.

In the course of an hour, I’d become a superpower on par with the Steel Rangers or the Enclave.

That was a lot of responsibility to put on a teenager. I was only half-sure I was ready for motherhood, for Celestia’s sake!

It was a lot of power for one pony to have. A lot of temptation.

“The drones present a unique opportunity for you to fulfill your ambition,” Arginine ventured calmly, “with a single command, every raider, bandit, and slaver in the valley might be removed in an afternoon.”

There it was. The idea that I’d been wrestling with the most fervently for the last few hours put into words by somepony else. I could make the Wasteland a safer place. All it would take was a word from me, and a horde of the deadliest roboponies ever conceived would spread throughout the Wasteland and reduce every ne’er-do-well to a pile of ash. Crime would be eradicated overnight, everywhere. Even in places I’d never heard about.

The Wasteland fixed, overnight. Right?

That’s how that worked.

Right?

I wanted to give that order so bad. I could feel in my bones the desire to rid the world of banditry with a clop of my hooves. A flick of a pinion…

A month ago, I might have done just that―already have done just that. But now…

A shattered foal laying beside his slain mother flashed through my head again.

Misdirected death wasn’t even my biggest concern. I was sure I could trust the sophisticated threat-analysis systems of an advanced artificial intelligence a lot more than my own adrenaline-hyped brain. No, that wasn’t what kept me from deploying Selene. It was a lot simpler than that: “It wouldn’t matter,” I sighed.

“There’d just be more bandits and raiders in a month. Killing the ones that exist now doesn’t erase whatever made them bandits and raiders in the first place,” I relived that moment in the dream that I wasn’t so sure had been merely a dream anymore in my head. A stallion reduced to robbery to provide for a starving wife and children. I knew that wasn’t why every bandit was one. I’d met plenty of ponies that simply...liked killing.

As sophisticated as Selene might be, I didn’t believe that it was quite that sophisticated. How would I weed out the raiders who raided to survive from those who raided for the thrill? And even beyond that: how did I stop more ponies from becoming raiders for either reason? In the time it took for anypony to solve those root problems, how many ponies would end up being slaughtered by Selene?

How many ponies would I kill? Was I really ready to unleash death on that kind of scale? Was I prepared to live with that, under the guise of ‘helping’ others? Did killing one pony to save another really change anything? If I did nothing, a pony would wind up dead anyway. The world remained unchanged. Did it really matter, ultimately, whether the ‘right’ pony died in the exchange?

I was no longer so sure. Not if there was the possibility of another solution. Starlight had showed me that Reform Spells were a thing. I was still on the fence about how ethical it was to forcibly change a pony’s personality like that, but it had at least demonstrated that killing bad ponies wasn’t the only option that existed. Who knew how many other options existed that I didn’t know about. For no other reason than that I’d never bothered to look for them.

I wasn’t going to default back to dealing death if there was the possibility that another way existed. I might not know what it was yet, but I owed it to myself―and those ‘bad ponies’ who could be saved―to at least try and find it.

“I’m not sending Selene out to kill,” I stated firmly, leaving no doubt that I couldn’t be swayed in this. Arginine nodded his acknowledgement.

Hoplite smiled, “a defender then? Of that town you’ve been nurturing? McMaren?”

A more palatable choice, to be sure. I was less averse to killing violent ponies who came at me and left me no alternative. All that any bandit would have to do to not die was simply...stay away. On the other hoof...it wasn’t like bandits were the only ponies who inhabited the Wasteland.

“Concentrating such a potent force might give other groups the wrong idea,” Arginine cautioned. This time I found myself agreeing with the stallion, “it is possible that others will not believe it likely McMaren keeps such an army for purely benevolent purposes.”

He was right. Selene had been designed to protect a whole country. It was hard to imagine anypony thinking that we’d want such an overwhelming military for ‘self-defense’. The Steel Rangers would almost certainly want to try and either destroy it or take it from us―as per their mandate. The Enclave would probably be either nervous about having such a threat lurking nearby, or simply want to lay claim to Ministry of Awesome technology that they might see as their own rightful property. I was led to believe that there was a strong connection between the Old World ministry and the current sky-dwelling nation.

Whether it be out of greed, pride, pseudo-religious zeal, or even out of fear, McMaren could become a target by having Selene there to defend it. In such a case, how many ponies would die because they hopelessly threw themselves at McMaren’s defenses for reasons they wouldn’t have otherwise?

The bottom line was that, at its heart, Selene was a weapon, developed during the war, specifically designed to kill and destroy. It wasn’t anything more than that; and likely could never be no matter what I wanted. I’d have just as much luck finding a benevolent application for a balefire bomb. Which brought me around to the third option that I’d been tentatively considering. Though I was wary of this one for very different reasons:

Destroying Selene and the drones.

Remove the temptation. Remove the perceived threat. Get rid of just one more relic from a war that never produced anything that ever benefited the world. That too was just a command away. Order selene to fly out into the middle of nowhere and overload the very potent reactors that beat in the heart of each and every one of them.

What caused me to hesitate there was the knowledge of what having Selene at all had cost us: Starlight’s daughter. A pony had given her life to bring these drones to us. Casting them aside, after just a few hours, couldn’t feel to me like anything more than spitting in the face of Moonbeam’s sacrifice. The immediate goal of that sacrifice―stopping Constance―had been accomplished, yes; but surely the life of a mare like that, one who had been put through so much suffering, was worth more than victory in a single fight?

Hoplite spoke up again, “perhaps a variation on the first idea? Stopping threats, but with the drones’ non-lethal capabilities? Simply frustrating bandits might be enough to dissuade them, and it would still bring an unheard of level of tranquility to the Wasteland.”

That was a tempting notion. No deaths, but still stopping violence. It had every quality that appealed to me. Well, almost every quality, “it still doesn’t address the root cause though,” I frowned. I might have to bite that bullet. Hoping to have my Cram and eat it too was probably asking for too much right out the gate. Perhaps a triage approach was needed then: a tourniquet to stop the bleeding first, and a more permanent solution could follow.

Policing the whole Wasteland like that would probably be impractical though. A thousand drones was a lot, but it was just a drop in the bucket when compared to the vast size of the whole continent. The Neighvada Valley was reasonable though. Especially when the source of most of the bigger threats―the White Hooves―were already effectively destroyed. Selene could quite easily patrol the main trade roads with little trouble.

Peace in Neighvada. Finally. Not that mercenary groups like The Housecarls and the Hecate would appreciate it much. They made their livelihoods off of doing exactly what I’d be ordering Selene to do. They’d hopefully find other work. After all, a truly peaceful Wasteland would see them out of work anyway. Ideally.

The only hiccup that I could see, honestly, was wariness on the part of the ponies who nominally ruled in the valley. The Casino Barons of New Reino would almost certainly not be fans of what could rather easily be interpreted as me ruling over them through having de facto military control over the area. Every time McMaren asked anything of New Reino, from having more favorable trade caravan access to negotiating for better prices on goods, it would be done with the impression of McMaren holding a figurative knife to New Reino’s throat. How did you negotiate in good faith with somepony who could crush you under their hoof and just take what they wanted if you said ‘no’?

That kind of potential leverage couldn’t breed anything but animosity and distrust. Hardly the sort of feelings that would usher in a new era of harmony. Ponies had to genuinely have the option of working together for any cooperation to actually matter. Selene would always be a form of at least implied coercion, even if it was never actually used that way. McMaren and I would be exercising military control over the whole valley, plain and simple. Even if it wasn’t lethal control, it was still enforced control.

Control didn’t nurture harmony either.

I didn’t want to control ponies any more than I wanted to hurt them. I just…

I wanted a better world. I wanted harmony.

I probably wanted the impossible.

Damn me if I didn’t care.

“Ponies have to be able to choose to do the right thing, or it doesn’t matter,” I finally said. There was a bitterness to those words, resting just beneath the hope. A bitterness borne of fear that I was making the wrong decision. That I was about to doom so many more ponies than I could ever possibly hope to save. I was a child―a condition that was subject to change the next time somepony treated me like one. It was unreasonable to expect me to make the right choice in a matter like this. The fact that I felt like I was being influenced by six figments of my imagination didn’t help much either.

Yet, in my heart, I knew that I wouldn’t feel comfortable making any other decision than the one that I was about to make. Ponies had to be allowed to choose. To feel like they could choose. Some of them would choose poorly. We were ponies; we made mistakes. Ponies would surely get hurt―and worse―during that process. Just as they always had. I’d protect who I could. That was all that anypony could be expected to do.

But I would not allow myself to be looked upon by the outside world as a dictator―even one with a benevolent track record. It would undermine everything that I hoped to accomplish to bring genuine change to the valley. An army wasn’t going to fix the world. Not when two had destroyed it.

“An admirable thought,” Hoplite said.

“It’s a stupid thought,” I muttered, pawing at the ground.

“‘Idealistic’ is the more polite terminology,” Arginine offered.

“Yeah,” my voice sounded a little haggard now, with the weight of the decision I’d reached finally starting to bear down on me, “Admirable, idealistic, stupid, naive,” the barest ghost of a wan smile tugged at my lip, “definitely sounds like a decision I’d make though, doesn’t it?”

“At least none of us said it was the wrong one,” the stallion noted.

“We’ll see how that holds up to hindsight,” I quipped, dryly. I now turned to face the nearby drone, intent on getting this over with before I lost my resolve, “Selene?”

The drone regarded me with its impassive glowing silver eyes, issuing a faint chirp of acknowledgement. I hesitated now. Not due to any faltering conviction. Not really. Just...a futile hope that I’d spot some sign of her. Some hint that, maybe, despite everything I knew otherwise to be true, Moonbeam was still there. Somewhere.

She wasn’t though. Homily’s ponies managed to get back into the facility once I ordered Selene to lift the lockdown that Moonbeam had imposed. They’d run a check on Moonbeam’s drone body, and the filly inside of it. Their findings confirmed what we’d already feared: her brain was completely occupied by the artificial intelligence. Even if we ran the program that had been modified to prune Selene back, all that would be left behind was an empty shell. Everything that had made Moonbeam Moonbeam, was gone. Forever.

Starlight...had not taken the news well. I hadn’t actually seen her since. Nopony had.

“Selene...I want you to fly back to the hangar―all of you,” I amended, “and I want you to detonate your reactors. Do you understand?”

The drone chirped again, “directive to initiate Enemy Denial Protocols acknowledged,” Selene replied in an eerily calm tone, “please confirm command to initiate protocol execution.”

Another vain hope that I’d see a pink flash of light behind those glowing eyes. Nothing. I’m sorry Moonbeam; and thank you, “...do it.”

There wasn’t a pause. No hesitation. The drone simply spread its metal wings, its levitation talismans lifted it off the ground, and then it rocketed away once it had achieved a safe level of clearance above us. Nine hundred and ninety-nine other drones zipped by in its wake. I idly wondered if I’d feel a slight tremor in my hooves in, oh, about...twelve minutes?

It had just been two words, but it felt like my whole body had been drained by the effort to speak them. In sparing an unknowable number of raiders, had I doomed an unknowable number of innocents? Had I just made the greatest mistake in all of pony history since the Great War?

Was I crazy?

...Maybe.

Footnote: End Credits

EPILOGUE

View Online

If war never changes, then ponies must change, and so must their symbols. Even if it is nothing at all, know what you follow.

"...which brings me to the latest financial reports," the large gray stallion said as his magic shuffled the folders he was levitating around, "would you prefer to start with exports or shortages?"

I let out an exasperated sigh and laid my head back on the pillow of the bed, slowly massaging my temples with my hooves, "you know, I thought you said appointing a council would make this easier? All it seemed to actually do was create about about a bajillion reports for me to read every day!"

Arginine quirked an eyebrow slightly, "yes, but this way you do not need to write those reports as well."

"Why does anypony need to write these reports?!"

"So that the mare in charge," he responded patiently with a not-so-subtle nod in my direction, "can be made aware of the town's shortage of lumber and authorize a purchase through Three-Way Caravans for five thousand caps worth of salvaged railroad ties from Santa Mara."

"Great. Fine. Do it―wait, did you say 'five thousand'? How much wood do we need anyway? Who needs it?"

"Quite fortuitously, that information is in the report. Would you like me to read it?" The stallion was wearing a very smug―for Arginine―expression.

I glared at the stallion and was about to suggest exactly what I thought he could do with the report when a shooting pain suddenly appeared below my belly, "Ah! Teeth! Watch the teeth!" I reached down and, with tenderness that even I was still surprised that I was capable of, shifted the little gray form lying next to me on the bed ever so slightly.

The newborn colt―had it really only been three months?―bleated in annoyance as he moved and resumed suckling hungrily. At times, I idly wondered if it was possible for him to suck my insides right out of me the way he gorged himself. It also felt like he was growing fast enough that I wasn’t certain that Arginine was completely correct where his assurances about those super-growth genes of his were concerned.

The stallion had been right in one regard: little Ash Cloud was certainly a decidedly unique amalgamation of mine and his genes. Arginine’s coloring beat out anypony from my own family, except for the eyes, which were my mother’s soft green. Pegasi genes won out in the end though, as his little wings and lack of even a single horn attested to, but his legs were long enough to allude to him developing a significantly larger frame than was typical. I wasn’t one hundred percent convinced that his wings would be able to keep up with the growth of the rest of him. The Gale Force was going to be kept in good condition, just in case.

He was a tiny-winged, gangly-legged, little gray bloatsprite of a pony. But he was my bloatsprite. He was also constantly hungry, “I swear the only time he’s not attached to my teets is when he’s sleeping,” I muttered, gently extending a wing over the little foal and softly brushing him with my pinions. My hoof traced idly along the scar across my belly that had been left behind by the cesarean that Arginine had performed. The conditions had been far more ideal than they had been for Yatima, which I had been thankful for, but the weeks of bedrest afterwards had still been far from enjoyable. It had taken me that long to get used to the sensation of nursing.

Thankfully, I’d had the zebra mare there to walk me through everything. Not only had she recently been through it all herself, but she’d apparently helped her own mother raise a few younger siblings back in her homeland. Being the youngest myself, I’d never had that sort of experience to fall back on, and I’d lost my family long before my mother could have any sort of discussions about how to go about raising a family of my own. Arginine certainly wasn’t his usual wealth of knowledge on this matter either, as he was learning just as much about caring for foals as I was.

To his credit though, the stallion was an attentive pupil and took as active a role in his son’s life as he could. With the amount of notes he took, I found myself occasionally wondering how much of his involvement was motivated by a desire to study pony development―and his own son’s unique physiological characteristics specifically. Regardless, he was involved, and that was enough for me.

As for ‘us’, well...Arginine was a good father, as far as I was concerned, but I wasn’t convinced he was ‘husband material’. Don’t get me wrong, he was nice enough and everything. He cared about me. However, he wasn’t as...let’s call it ‘emotionally available’ as I needed. It wasn’t his fault. I just...I needed a stallion in my life who genuinely felt happy to be around me the way that I did to be around them. Arginine couldn’t be that for me, no matter how much both of us might want it. He was a good friend, and a good parent, but that was all he’d ever be.

Not that I was actively in the market for a future father to my future foals. One was plenty for the moment, and probably the next few years. At least until I got used to running McMaren.

I felt my face contort into a wry frown at the memory of Homily effectively dumping the management of the rapidly growing settlement into my lap after getting back from Arginine’s Stable. At least she’d had the courtesy to wait until after I’d had the surgery. Though I now suspected that she’d done that in order to make sure that I couldn’t just fly away; because Celestia knows I turned her down enough times to make it clear where I stood on the matter: I was a filly! What did I know about running a town?!

And, no, I didn’t think I was being too hypocritical in deciding whether or not I was a filly or a full-grown mare depending on which category would benefit me the most at the time. I was undeniably at an ambiguous transition age where there were some things that I was mature enough for: like sex―and apparently raising a child―and things that I wasn’t mature enough for: like running a settlement.

However, as time went on, I found that it didn’t really matter what I said officially, ponies kept coming by and asking for my opinion on things and notifying me of what was going on like it was my business to know it before anypony else. As it turned out, being The Wonderbolt and the leader of an army that beat back an invasion of mutant stable ponies earned a mare a lot of respect from the community. Who knew? So, last month I finally went ahead and let it be made official: The Wonderbolt was the new mayor of McMaren, and Homily would be focusing exclusively on broadcasting as Miss Neighvada...when she and Foxglove weren’t keeping half the town awake at night anyway. ‘Surprisingly long tongue’ indeed.

At least I hadn’t been expected to tackle everything all on my own. Arginine had stepped up to serve as my ‘secretary’ of sorts, making sure that I knew what I was supposed to and laying out the better options available when I needed to make a decision. Foxglove had thrown herself bodily into fortifying the town, making good use of the salvage from the stable and what was still being regularly pulled out of the MoA bunker beneath McMaren. Automated defenses lined most of the perimeter by now, making us a decidedly unattractive target for bandits and raiders.

Much to my surprise, Hemlock had decided to relocate out of New Reino. Her official story was that she didn’t care for the city’s political infighting. While I didn’t doubt that that was true―I certainly wasn’t a fan―it wasn’t like such things were a new development there. She could have left at any time. My personal suspicion was that she saw that McMaren’s growth wasn’t stopping any time soon, and wanted to get in on the ground floor of several business opportunities. She’d opened up one ‘bar’ already―that just happened to have a staff comprised of very attractive ponies and a selection of ‘private suites’ available for rent. By the hour. She was also a principal investor in a few other businesses.

I didn’t think that she was up to anything nefarious. She wasn’t that kind of mare. But I did think that there was more to it than she was letting on. In time she might come forward with it, but not now.

Yeoman and the Housecarls all but moved into Seaddle, under contract with Ebony Song to ‘sort the city out’. Part of me knew that the nominal leader of the New Lunar Republic―or whatever they eventually changed their name to next―would become a problem that I’d have to deal with in the future; but for now he had his hooves full dealing with riots and rebellions. Which was fine by me, since I had my hooves full with foal-rearing and learning to manage a town. Not that going back to flying around and punching things into submission didn’t hold an appeal for me from time to time…

Those days weren’t quite behind me, but they were on an extended hiatus.

I had no clue where Keri and the Hecate had gone off to. They weren’t in Neighvada any longer, I knew that much. Their losses at the stable had been pretty bad. Keri might have just disbanded them and gone back to the zebra lands or something. Not that I wish he’d stayed or anything. There really hadn’t been much here for him that I could think of.

Or Starlight for that matter. She turned back up after a few days and hung around for a few weeks after the battle; keeping mostly to herself. She hadn’t said a word to me the whole time. Not that I blamed her. I’d wanted to talk to her, to try and find some other way of explaining why I’d done what I did. More for my sake than hers, really. Sometimes I still found myself questioning my decision, wondering if I’d fucked up and done the wrong thing. Homily and Foxglove had explained it to me a dozen times over: Moonbeam had ‘died’ before those drones even left their hangar. What had come to save us had been a software program, not a pony. Not really.

It had still been Moonbeam’s body that we pulled out of the interface though. Her tiny little foal frame that we’d buried in the ground after removing it from her robotic carriage. It had felt like I’d killed her to me. Probably to Starlight too. At least, at first. She finally spoke to me just before she left.

“You weren’t responsible for what happened.”

That had been it. Then she’d simply walked away and left McMaren. Left the whole valley for all I knew. Probably to try and find that ‘Cynical Empire’ or whatever that she’d mentioned before. I wished her luck. She deserved something good to happen to her. A tall order in the Wasteland, I know, but stranger things have happened.

“I assume that the colt will develop more distinctive personality traits later in life,” Arginine replied, “now, as for the reports―”

My pipbuck bleeped an alert that I was receiving an incoming transmission. I glanced down at the display and saw that it was coming from the town’s front gate. I held up a hoof to stall the stallion, “hold that thought; I need to take this. Windfall, go ahead. What’s up?”

“A group of ponies are at the gate,” a stallion replied. His curt tone set me on edge, “they’re asking to join the town. They’re White Hooves.”

I felt my own features grow grim. Immigrants and refugees weren’t anything new to McMaren. Between the infighting in Seaddle, the loss of so many mercenaries that would otherwise have been keeping bandits suppressed, and even a trickle of new arrivals from out east telling stories about a ‘second war with the zebras’, there had been a steady flow of ponies coming here looking for a new home. Fortunately for them, we weren’t in a position where we could afford to turn away any able-bodied ponies. Foxglove always needed more hooves to help her excavate the underground bunker. More mouths to feed meant a need for more farmers and prospectors to get food. More croplands meant a larger perimeter, which meant more sentries to patrol it.

It was a perpetual cycle of growth that didn’t show any signs of stopping any time soon. So more hooves were always welcome.

Well, in most cases anyway. Constance had done a number of the White Hooves. It was the only good Arginine’s stable had done for the valley, as far as I was concerned. They were effectively destroyed, with only a few scattered groups remaining. Some of those groups seemed intent on rebuilding. Others just wanted to find a safe place to live. However, few Neighvada ponies were willing to let bygones be bygones where that brand was concerned. You couldn’t be part of a group that terrified, slaughtered, and enslaved ponies for centuries and expect that to all blow over just because the terrorizers had their own run of bad luck.

Even I balked at first. The Wonderbolt, Miss Everypony-deserves-a-chance-to-make-it-right, was hard pressed to forgive White Hooves. They’d killed my family. They’d destroyed my life. They’d killed the first stallion I ever loved. I wasn’t going to be able to forgive that any time soon. Maybe not ever.

But just because I couldn’t forgive them, didn’t mean that I couldn’t still give them a chance. Jackboot had made the most out of his. Maybe other White Hooves could too.

“I’ll be right there,” I finally replied. Arginine was already in action too, wrapping Ash Cloud in his amber telekinetic field and lifting the small colt away from where he was taking his breakfast. The inevitable protests were silenced quickly by the administration of a bottle that had already been prepared for just such an occasion, “sorry, Ash. Your ma has to take care of something real quick. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I hesitated at the door just long enough to confirm that Arginine had matters well in hoof. My son’s small size made the older stallion appear almost comically large.

“We―and the reports,” he added in slightly more stern tone as he flashed a knowing look, “will be waiting.”

I rolled my eyes, “right, yeah, I know. This’ll just take, like, fifteen minutes,” and with a final little wave at Ash―who was too busy suckling the bottle to care about anything else around him, much less his own mother―took my leave and headed outside.

Much to my surprise, Foxglove was on her way to meet me. My eyes briefly darted to her mechanical prosthetic hind leg. A product of the unicorn’s own design, it wasn’t a true cybernetic limb, despite how most ponies described it. It did however use a series of accelerometers and pistons to mimic the movements of a real leg and allow her to walk with hardly any noticeable limp. She could even run with it, though she did need to ‘work her way up’ to a full gallop so that the leg could accommodate. It let her get around though, and that was all that mattered.

“They called you too?” I asked of the violet mare, noting that she was carrying her eldritch lance.

“No,” she held up the pipbuck that she’d acquired from Arginine’s stable, “proximity talismans alerted me, and then I checked the videos feeds from the towers.”

I briefly looked in the direction of the nearest lookout tower, which was not occupied by ponies, but by a cluster of video cameras. Those feeds were sent to anypony with access to the tower network, which consisted of anypony on the guard force, Foxglove, Homily, and even myself. I, however, did not have anything set up on my own pipbuck to alert me to approaching visitors. Mostly because ponies came in and out of this place at all hours and Ash Cloud still wasn’t sleeping through the night, so I tended to grab any sleep I could get when a chance presented itself. The last thing that I wanted was to be woken up randomly throughout the day or night when I was getting what little sleep I could.

“Well, let’s go see who it is,” I said, leading the way towards McMaren’s main gate. As we walked, I took the opportunity to note once more how lively this place was becoming. The ‘market’ that had only a few months ago been a collection of tents and stalls now resembled a proper bazaar not so different from Seaddle’s. Houses too. The base’s existing barracks buildings were not large enough to house all the ponies who lived here any longer, and so more housing was being built all the time. I noticed a few examples of homes being constructed, and saw the slats of wood that were being hammered together.

Ah, so that was what we needed the lumber for!

Finally we reached the front gate. Immediately I felt the tension in the air as I saw the dozen guardsponies standing with their weapons at the ready around the pair of new arrivals. No, that wasn’t quite right, I realized. The mare, a soot-gray unicorn, had a foal swaddled across her back. Her companion, a yellow earth pony stallion, was standing protectively near the pair, a crude spear defiantly clutched in the crook of his hoof. Such a weapon wouldn’t do him much good against the rifles arrayed against him if trouble started, but I could appreciate the gesture for what it represented: he was there to look after the mare and her foal.

Both ponies looked haggard and the harsh miles that they’d trekked across the valley was evident on their hides. I could tell from their packs that they didn’t have many supplies left. Certainly not enough to get them anywhere else if I turned them away. They’d traveled here on an ‘all or nothing’ gambit, trusting that they wouldn’t be cast back out into the Wasteland. That was a pretty bold assumption for a pair of White Hooves to make. Or a desperate one.

They certainly were White Hooves though, of that there was no doubt. The mare’s brand was mostly covered by her swaddled foal, but the stallion’s was plain to see. My eye darted to a discarded cloak on the ground near him that would have covered the brand...likely until the guards made him remove it specifically to check. The earth pony looked like he was ready to be told to leave.

The mare...she was different. She was better at concealing her emotions, and actually carried herself in an almost proud manner. She had to be just as aware of how dire her situation was as everypony else, but it was clear that she wouldn’t lower herself to begging all the same. She’d present her case, and await the verdict, and be done with it one way or the other. In a way, I could respect that. Though I wasn’t sure how much I liked the idea of a proud White Hoof wandering the town.

One of the guards noticed my and Foxglove’s approach and signaled the others. All eyes went to me, guard and White Hoof alike, and it was now my turn to act like I wasn’t concerned.

There was the smallest hint of widened eyes from the unicorn mare, but she quickly suppressed the reaction. That was hardly anything new. While most ponies in Neighvada knew that The Wonderbolt ran McMaren, most ponies assumed a lot of things about me based upon Homily’s broadcasts. It was like everypony was disappointed that I wasn’t ten feet tall and could spit thunderbolts.

“Welcome to McMaren. I’m Windfall. I’m the mare in charge here. I’m told you want to join our little community. Who are you and why should I let you?”

The earth pony stallion remained silent, deferring to the unicorn mare. Nonplussed by my little introduction, she leveled her red eyes down at me. I felt something tingle in the back of my head, but I couldn’t quite place it. A tiny pink earth pony merely rubbed her chin, glared at her tail, and shrugged unhelpfully.

“I’m Sica. This is Bo,” she paused for a moment and then glanced back at the slumbering foal on her back, “and that’s Hessia,” she looked back at me with that determined expression of hers, “we seek refuge.”

“A lot of ponies do,” I noted noncommittally, “but we don’t let just anypony move in. Especially if they have...questionable histories,” I said, glancing briefly to the stallion’s back.

The unicorn’s expression didn’t change, “we heard that The Wonderbolt welcomed White Hooves.”

“I’ve welcomed some,” I corrected lightly, “I’ve turned away others. Why should I welcome you?”

“If you don’t, we’ll die.”

“You should have thought of that before you packed for a one-way trip,” I pointed out, “that’s your problem, not mine.”

Again the mare’s eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before she composed herself. To me, that confirmed that she’d been hoping to play with the heartstrings of the ‘soft and forgiving’ Wonderbolt that she’d heard ran this town. There was a better than even chance that these two had stashed some additional supplies out in the desert that would see them safely somewhere else if I turned them away. Unfortunately for them, it turned out that I could be taught, and I’d learned to be a bit more cynical. In point of fact, my criteria for joining the town weren’t all that demanding: if I felt like I could trust you to be within a hundred yards of my infant son, then you were in.

I didn’t feel that way about evasive unicorns who acted like they had me all figured out. Unfortunately for these two.

“You’d let my daughter die?” the mare asked.

“If you really walked all this way with barely enough food and water for the trip, then you’re the one who killed her, not me,” I replied tersely, “if you’re really that concerned for her, then how about a deal: you two leave; your daughter stays. I know plenty of ponies who would make great parents for her. Heck, if you’re really super concerned, I can even see to it that they’re White Hooves. Let them teach her about her ‘proud heritage’ of rape and murder, or whatever,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hoof.

That was...mostly true. I mean, the White Hoof foster parents thing was one hundred percent the truth. I’d allowed some White Hooves to stay who had foals. I was confident at least one of those families would be willing to welcome another ‘member of the tribe’. However, I had made it clear that some aspects of their tribe’s heritage were to remain in the past. Specifically the slavery, murder, and rape. No branding or pit-fighting either. They weren’t White Hooves anymore. They were McMarens.

The yellow earth pony glared at me balefully, his lips pulling back in a sneer. He spoke up this time though, “how dare you suggest something like that! That foal is the―”

Whatever else he’d been about to say was cut off two-fold by a frantic smack from the mare and a curt interruption from me, “―the only one of you I am confident doesn’t have a history of violence as wide as my wingspan!” I snapped at the stallion, making a mental note of the mare’s own surprising reaction but not remarking on it. Both of the older White Hooves were silent again, the stallion looking rather cowed, “neither I, nor the other ponies of McMaren, have the time to foalsit you two and and make sure you intend to be good, productive, helpful, little ponies.

“So now’s a good time for the pair of you to cut the crap and start giving me straight answers to my questions. Otherwise you can just turn your happy flanks around and go someplace else. Because between running this town and dealing with my own newborn foal, I am working off a grand total of…” I did some quick mental math with the help of a purple unicorn who had bags under her eyes about the size of mine, “...four hours of uninterrupted sleep...since last Thursday. So trust me when I tell you that I genuinely don’t care what you choose and I don’t have the time to sit here and argue with you.

“Either answer my question. Pass me your foal. Or leave. Choose.

“Now.”

Silence hung in the air between us. I counted to ten in my head, hopeful that I’d get a response from the otherwise impassive unicorn mare. When I finished counting, I let out a sigh and turned around, “escort them out of sight of the perimeter. If they resist, knock them unconscious and then drag them there. Celestia willing, they’ll wake up before a radscorpion finds them.” I started heading back to my quarters. This wouldn’t be the first group of prospective refugees that had let their pride get the better of them.

“Wait!” the mare cried as the guards closed in around the trio.

I paused and held up a wing. The guards backed off. I looked over my shoulder. The gray unicorn mare appeared to have given up on her posturing. Her shoulders were slumped now, her weariness plain to see. She was hanging her head, “...we don’t have anywhere else to go. Every other settlement shoots White Hooves on sight. None of our own tribe will take us―” a pause and a resigned correction, “take me in...or my daughter.

“We don’t have the supplies to leave the valley,” she admitted in that same resigned tone, and I believed her, “and I don’t have many skills that your settlement would find useful. Bo, at least, is a passable forager,” surprisingly, the stallion actually seemed touched by that...praise?

“If...if that’s not acceptable...then…” the mare’s horn began to glow with a soft red light as a matching aura enveloped the foal on her back. The little filly squirmed and protested being moved. I watched as the infant was presented to me, “...then at least take her,” the mare looked up to me now, finally, “please.”

I regarded the little unicorn filly hovering in front of me. A rusty-red coat, crimson eyes, and a dirty-blond mane. None too pleased to be out of her swaddle either. Skinny too. All three of them looked just a tad on the underfed side, in fact. I reevaluated my previous assumption and decided that it was actually pretty likely that they had bet their lives on being granted sanctuary in McMaren. A risk, to be sure; especially for a pair of White Hooves.

“Come on then,” I looked away and motioned with my wing for them to follow me, “let’s go find you guys some water and a meal while I track down a spare room you can have,” the town was pretty full up most of the time, despite building new homes as quickly as possible. I idly wondered how quickly we could get those railroad ties from Santa Mara delivered…

I noticed that I didn’t hear any hoofsteps behind me and stopped to look back around again. The White Hoof mare and stallion were simply standing there, looking at me with shocked expressions. Foxglove was looking a little surprised as well. The guards looked...not exactly thrilled, but none of them had ever questioned a decision that The Wonderbolt had made before, and they weren’t quite ready to start doing it now. Saving your town a few times earned you a lot of leeway, it turned out.

“Aren’t you coming? I thought you wanted in?”

The unicorn mare finally found her voice, “you’re letting us stay? All of us?”

“...Yes?”

“Why?”

I rolled my eye and smirked at the pair, “because you did the right thing: you put other ponies before yourself. You admitted you needed help, and then you asked for it. I think you have what it takes to make lives for yourselves in McMaren, so I’m going to let you stay,” I shrugged, “maybe you’re really good at lying and you’ve just been feeding me a whole bowl of horseapples, but I don’t think so.

“So I’m giving you a chance to prove me wrong,” I said, my expression becoming slightly more serious, “but I’m really hopeful that you’ll prove me right.”

I thought for a minute and focused on the yellow stallion, “there’s a group heading out to prospect in Old Reino in a couple of days. There’s a spot open if you want to go. Pay’s five hundred caps plus one percent of the value of the haul. Interested?”

“I…” the stallion balked, looking between me and his fellow White Hoof for a moment, “...will think about it.”

“Please do,” I said before looking to one of the guards, “Dungaree, get them a meal, show them around. I’ll have Arginine track you down when we figure out where they can stay,” I turned my attention back to the little filly who was still floating in front of me, stroking her cheek with a pinion, “amd let Yatima know there’s another foal in town.

“She organizes something of a daycare-slash-playdate...thing...for the town’s foals and their parents,” I informed the unicorn, “it’s pretty fun actually. Tomorrow we’re making teething rings!” Well, Arginine would be at any rate. According to him, I was going to be in meetings with the ponies that I’d put in charge of managing our food, guardspoines, and whatever the fuck ‘urban planning’ was. Apparently we couldn’t just build whatever buildings we wanted anywhere that was convenient at the time. Whatever…

Now that everything was finally sorted at the gate, I headed back towards my own home-slash-office where Arginine was no doubt waiting to dive right back into all of those reports of his.

Maybe there was room for me to go on that trip to Old Reino? I certainly didn’t need the money, but I could use a vacation…

I noticed that Foxglove was constantly looking back towards the gate, and the White Hooves, with a pensive expression, “something wrong?” It was nothing out of the ordinary for the unicorn to be suspicious of new arrivals. Especially when those new arrivals were clearly White Hooves or nominally former members of some gang or other.

“I don’t know,” the violet unicorn mumbled, “I recognize those two…”

“You do?” I said with a note of surprise, looking back at the gate myself now, “are they going to be trouble?”

Foxglove thought for a long moment, “...I don’t think so,” she shook her head and then looked at me as she fell into step at my side, “so, using her child to prove she’s a good pony, eh? I don’t know if I’m supposed to be impressed by how you manipulated her, or concerned.”

“I just proved she could become a good pony. If she really wants to,” I corrected, “and I didn’t ‘manipulate’ her. I just spoke to her, mother-to-mother,” I winked up at the mare, “you’ll learn how it is, one of these days.”

“Ha! Not likely,” Foxglove snorted in amusement, “No, no, no. Me and foals? Not going to happen.”

“Awe, but you’re already such a great ma!”

“Stop it,” the unicorn snapped in faux annoyance, “I’m not their mother.”

Now it was my turn to snort, “they live with you and Homily, Diamond Plate helps you on just about all of you jobs, and―to hear Homily talk―Merrybell is going to make a perfect co-host for Miss Neighvada someday. They’re even brainstorming on-air names for her. Personally, I like: Lil’ Valley,” I beamed up at the unicorn mare, “they’re either your de facto adopted children or your roommates-slash-coworkers. Which makes you feel less weird?”

“Eh…” the violet mechanic shrugged, “Diamond’s a good assistant, and a quick learner,” she admitted, “he doesn’t need parents. He just needs a teacher. I can be that for him without mothering him,” she pointed out, “the only reason he sticks around is because of Merrybell,” her expression grew significantly more somber now, “and she...well, the only stallion she doesn’t have a panic attack around is her brother.”

I grunted in acknowledgement. The pair had arrived just a few days before we returned from Arginine’s stable. They’d been half dead from the trip. It was a month before they were fully recovered. Finding out that there had in fact been survivors of that stable Jackboot and I had come across all those months ago was a little uplifting, but that had been firmly countered by learning what the pair had endured during their trip. Particularly the filly. She might not speak about it yet, but her brother was willing enough to. An encounter with a raider stallion in the Old Reino ruins. The filly was still more than a little anxious around strange stallions as a result. Staying with Homily and Foxglove was good for her.

“I still think you four make an adorable family,” I smiled at the mare.

“Keep talking like that and I’m going to have Homily put the word out over the radio that The Wonderbolt is ‘looking for love’,” Foxglove warned in a tone that suggested even she wasn’t sure if she was joking or making a valid threat, “just imagine it: stallions and mares lined up from here to New Reino―”

“Alright! Alright! Shutting up now!” I said, throwing up my wings in surrender to the sound of the unicorns laughter, “speaking of, I have my own family to get back to,” I added with a resigned sigh. To say nothing of the stack of reports waiting for me as well.

“Say ‘hi’ to RG and Ash for me!”

With that, the two of us parted ways. Foxglove to get back to whatever project she had been working on before the alert had taken her away, while I headed off to resume my newfound mayoral duties.

Honestly, as much as I griped, it wasn’t all that bad. I had plenty of ponies willing to help me make the right decisions, and most of the complaints that I got were about minor things. Some of my ‘eccentricities’ had taken some getting used to by the public. Things like letting in White Hooves and the like. While there wasn’t much crime in the town, what there was wasn’t punished all that harshly. That had been a hard sell. Especially when I put out that as long as it wasn’t something as serious as rape or murder, the pony in question wouldn’t be confined to a cell so much as their own quarters. Where they would then be subjected to regular counseling from Homily, Yatima, or myself.

The grumbling from the more experienced guardponies who ‘knew how criminals needed to be treated’ subsided―a little―when it became clear that there wasn’t actually a lot of repeat offenses. There was still plenty of skepticism, but that I could tolerate. I idly wondered how much more ‘skeptical’ the ponies around me would be if they knew how many of my actions were being guided by a committee of six little ponies in my head?

Still, things seemed to be working out. For now. I was happy. The ponies of McMaren were happy. The sky was blue―we were still trying to figure out why that was suddenly a thing now. Somehow the Wasteland...didn’t feel quite as much like the Wasteland anymore.

It wasn’t going to go away completely anytime soon, of course. Probably not even in my lifetime. That was fine though. Equestria wasn’t going to be rebuilt in a day, and it didn’t have to be. As long as ponies made the world just a tiny bit better every day, then that...that was enough.

That was how you got there: a little at a time…

“Mom told us to stay away from this place,” the young stallion cautioned nervously, looking around at their surroundings as though something might jump out at them at a moment’s notice.

His mare companion, who was just about the same age as he was, snorted derisively, “and we both know that you always do what mommy says. Please. You came this far. Trust me, this’ll be cool!”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Um, duh? Anyplace that your parents tell you not to go is―by definition―totally cool.”

“She told us to stay away from that one stable too,” the stallion pointed out as he used his wings to steady his steps when a piece of debris that he’d stepped on became dislodged and started tumbling down further into the dark pit before them, clattering out of sight at the bottom. He grunted and simply hopped into the air, intent on hovering the rest of their way, “remember? The one that turned out to be full of ghouls that tried to eat us?”

“And?” the mare countered with a mirthful grin at her companion, “I submit to you that that place was totally cool!”

“It was ‘totally’ a deathtrap. This place probably is too.”

“What? You have something against deathtraps now? Are you deathtrap-ist? That’s awful discriminatory. I thought your mother taught you better than that!” The pegasus glared, which only prompted a laugh from the mare, “come on, we’re almost at the bottom!”

“For the record: if we end up being eaten by ghouls, I’m telling your mom it was your fault.”

“If you do that, you’re not getting any tonight,” she quipped, still smiling.

“I am capable of going without sex for a day, I’ll have you know.”

“Uh, huh,” the unicorn acknowledged dismissively, “and yet, you never turn it down…”

“I said that I am capable. I did not say that I desired to.”

“You’re talking like your father. Don’t talk like your father.”

“Right…”

The pair finally reached the bottom of the massive, artificial, cavern. It was immediately apparent that whatever had happened here had been...violent. Not that the massive crater in the middle of the junkyard hadn’t been proof enough of that. Still, the twisted machinery and scorched slag that littered the floor told quite the tale as well.

“It looks like somepony set off a balefire bomb in here,” the stallion noted.

“This place might have been a zebra target during the war,” the unicorn mare pointed out.

“Blast pattern isn’t right,” the pegasus said, shaking his head, “the ceiling was blown out, not in. Whatever hit this place did it from the inside.”

“Zebra agents could have snuck a bomb in.”

“Maybe…” the stallion considered the possibility thoughtfully, “that means there’s probably radiation here though. We should leave.”

“We’ll be fine for a little while,” the mare insisted, “I want to look around!” She bounded off deeper into the darkness, her glowing horn creating a sphere of soft red light for illumination.

“Hessia!” the stallion called out, flitting after her. He may have been used to her impulsiveness, but that didn’t mean that he found it any less aggravating at times, “I’m serious!”

“Relax, AC! We’ll be quick. In and out. Fifteen minutes. Promise!”

The pegasus let out an exasperated groan but followed in her wake regardless. He knew from past experience that the unicorn’s typical promise of ‘fifteen minutes’ had a habit of running...overlong, “I swear to Celestia, that mare…”

It was about this moment that Ash Cloud realized that he’d managed to actually lose track of the mare. His brow furrowed and he slowed his progress, now firmly engulfed in the dark interior of...whatever this place was. As dark as it was, the light from her glowing horn should have been quite easy to track, “Hessia?” No response, “Hess...?” Still only silence.

He was starting to get worried now. He stopped hovering, no longer confident about his surroundings. It was nearly impossible for him to see where the walls were. He continued on though, slowly. The stallion certainly wasn’t going to leave this place without her. If he did, either his mother would kill him or hers would. Even then, those were merely secondary reasons for not leaving her behind.

No force in the Wasteland was going to drive him away from the mare he―

“C’mere!”

Ash didn’t have even a second to react before a pair of hooves lashed out at him from the darkness and coiled around his neck. The unicorn was drug, bodily, through a nearby door. He would have yelped out in surprise had something not immediately covered his mouth and prevented him from saying anything. That ‘something’ covering his mouth turned out to be Hessia’s mouth as she took the startled pegasus into her embrace.

All of the tension immediately flowed right out of the stallion as he rolled his eyes and began to reciprocate the kiss, his wings wrapping themselves around the unicorn mare. When they broke apart to finally catch their breath, he sighed, “I will never understand your penchant for making love in these sorts of places.”

“One: you’re talking like your father again. Two: don’t ever call what I do to you ‘making love’. And three―” she pulled him back into another passionate kiss, gripping his lower lip in her teeth this time as she pulled away, “shut up and fuck me!”

“As you wish, Miss Hessia,” the mare’s expression went cross, but the stallion cut off whatever protest she was about to make with a kiss of his own as he gathered the mare up in his hooves and wings and lifted her back against a nearby wall. She might not have appreciated the elocutal habits that he’d picked up from his sire, but Hessia approved of his inherited size and strength quite thoroughly.

The unicorn mare grunted as her back was slammed up against the wall, but her own hooves tightened around her stallion to show that she quite approved of the maneuver. She buried her head in his neck, biting down on her lower lip as she felt him go to work. He might not understand her kink, but at least he never balked at obliging her. Truth to tell, she wasn’t completely aware of the nature of its origin either. There was just something about these old, forgotten, places that got to her in a way she couldn’t explain. Dark. Dangerous. Secluded. Mysterious…

...Making muffled noises in her ear that sounded absolutely nothing like Ash Cloud.

“Hold on, what’s that sound?”

“Huh? Wai―what?” the pegasus said, panting, looking around in confusion, “what sound?”

“Let me down,” the unicorn insisted. With a reluctant grunt, her lover complied and lowered the mare back down to her hooves so that she could turn around and search for the source of the distraction. Her horn glowed now, illuminating the surface that she had been recently pressed against.

It turned out that she had not been shoved up against a true ‘wall’, as she had believed. Indeed, there weren’t any genuine walls in the room that they were in at all. Well, there were surely one or two, but they were likely on the far side of the towering pieces of electronics that lined the room. At least one of which appeared to still be drawing power from somewhere. Enough, at least, for Hessia to have inadvertently activated some sort of speaker.

She reached out and gently spun a nearby dial that was marked as controlling the volume. She furrowed her brow, glancing over at Ash Cloud, “that’s clearly somepony speaking, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Can you?”

The stallion rolled his eyes, “you didn’t pay any attention to Nana Yatima’s lessons, did you? They’re speaking in zebra,” he tilted his head towards the speaker and closed his eyes, “...something about an engine test...a malfunction...problem fixed...then a part that literally translates to: ‘many world go-arounds’. Whatever that could possibly mean...returning...a date...asking for a response…” the stallion pulled back from the speaker, “and then everything repeats again.”

“An automated message from zebras?” the unicorn mused, “hard to believe that there’s still stuff like that that’s been transmitting for over two hundred years…” she noticed that the stallion wasn’t paying attention though. He had a pencil and a notebook out, scribbling hastily in it. Hessia rolled her eyes, “oh, you are not writing a report about this for your father, are you?”

“Nope. Doing math,” the pegasus mumbled around the pencil in his mouth, “the date was for the zebra calendar. But it’s...wrong somehow. I don’t know. I’m converting it to a pony date.”

“‘Wrong’? What, you think that zebras don’t know how to use their own calendar?”

The stallion ignored her and finished his scribbling. He spit the pencil back into his saddlebag and started at the notebook, his eyes wide. The mare craned her head around to look at what had him so surprised, but her eyes glazed over the moment they were confronted with so many numbers and equations, “okay, so...what is it? What was so ‘wrong’?”

“...It’s in the future,” Ash said.

“What do you mean: ‘it’s in the future’?”

“I mean, the date hasn’t happened yet,” he gestured at the speaker, which was still replaying the message, “that message is talking about something that’s going to happen. In―” he briefly glanced back at his notebook, “six weeks.”

“A two century old message is talking about something that’s going to happen next month?” the mare asked skeptically, “are you sure you didn’t forget to carry a one somewhere?” the stallion flashed her an annoyed look and the mare sighed, “right...right,” as though Ash Cloud was going to screw up a simple date conversion. This was the same stallion who’d done all of the pressure calculations for Diamond Plate’s steam engine when he was eight. His father had checked his work before anypony actually used those calculations, but they’d been correct regardless.

If Ash Cloud said that the date used in the transmission was in six weeks, it was in six weeks. Though, that still left the little matter of, “so what does any of it mean? Some zebras coming back in six weeks? Coming back from where? And why is this place picking up the signal?”

“I have absolutely no clue,” the stallion admitted, finally putting away his notebook too, “but if it’s an active transmission, Merrybell might be able to tell us more using the valley’s relay towers. She can probably triangulate its exact location.”

“Ooh ooh! Do you think it’s from space?”

“It’s not from space,” the stallion replied flatly, “there’s no way to get to space.”

“I thought that one pony went to the moon?”

“You mean the pony that died three times and blew up a city?” the stallion said with a bored expression, “that pony?”

“I think she only died twice…”

“Oh, my apologies. Did she go to space before or after the first time she died?”

Hessia snorted and playfully shoved the pegasus, “why are you talking about her like she wasn’t a real pony? You know she was a real pony. We’ve met, like, a hundred ponies from Hoofington who all told us about her!”

“I believe she was a real pony,” Ash said defensively, “I just think that some of her accomplishments were...exaggerated. You know, to build up the legend. Like how they say my mom killed Princess Luna. When what she actually did was kill a robot pretending to be Princess Luna,” he thought for a moment, “and even then I’m not sure she was the one who actually killed it…”

“Whatever,” the unicorn waved her hoof dismissively, “I totally believe that Blackjill or whoever totally went to the moon, and that there’s totally a bunch of zebras in space sending out that message,” the mare was practically bouncing on the tips of her hooves with excitement, “I mean, can you imagine what it must be like in space?” Hessia stopped bouncing, her eyes growing suddenly wide before looking at the stallion hungrily, “what it must be like to fuck in space?

“Up there...surrounded by an endless black void...hundreds of miles from anypony else...a paper-thin wall of metal all that separates you from an agonizing death where suffocation and being flash-frozen are racing to see which one kills you first…”

The stallion blinked, “Okay Hess, we have got to have a serious talk about your fascination with―!”

The mare tackled him to the ground. Ash Cloud very quickly ceased to particularly care what sorts of thoughts made his marefriend feel amorous.

Footnote: The End...?

Author's Notes:

Oh, Sweet Celestia, it's over! I'm free! FREE!!!

Unbelievable. A million words and six FAUSTING years later, and I finally managed to wrangle this beast around to a conclusion...

Would any of you believe that, when I started this thing, I thought that it might hit a hundred thousand words? If I added useless filler? Because that's what a younger, much more naïve, Copper Top sure thought!

Honestly, it's a little bittersweet. On the one hoof, I'm glad to be able to finally devote myself to some of the other projects I have waiting in the wings (like the four other stories I haven't posted any of here yet because they're only half flesh out story-wise). One of which is a sort of follow-up/sequel piece to this one (not Hessia and AC tracking down space zebras, sorry ...Well, not yet anyway. They'll have to wait their turn in line regardless. 2024 EDIT: I have started on this! It will happen Eventually^TM) On the other hoof...I'm going to miss these guys. I've been with these characters longer than any others I've ever written.

Even though this does mark the end of Legacies, as well as Windfall's story, I'm not going to switch the marker to "Complete" just yet. I'll be giving this whole monster one last pass to try and find at least a tiny fraction of the billion spelling/grammar/tense errors that I SWEAR just APPEAR OUT OF NOWHERE! None of these mistakes were there the first six times I read through this thing, I promise you!

Anyway, in the meantime, I want to take a moment to extend my heartfelt thanks to all those who made it this far. And even to those who will never see this message because they bailed after the first chapter or two; thanks for at least giving it a try! I don't think I ever honestly thought this thing would get the kind of attention that it did. So thanks for that.

Hopefully any of you that did make it this far will stick around long enough to check out the other stuff I eventually post here. Some of it will be Fallout Equestria related, some of it won't. I hope that any of it is at least tolerable.

Thank you so much for reading! As always, a thumbs up and comment are always greatly appreciated

I've set up a Cover Art Fund if you're interested and have any bits lying around! You can see what I'M capable of, heh; professional assistance is clearly needed here!