We stayed a couple of days in Tartarus, keeping an eye on Ache. As Doctor Shank had said, she had lost everything, her entire mind wiped. To see the pony we’d traveled with across the North Equestrian Wasteland reduced to a babbling infant was heartbreaking. She seemed in good hooves with Doctor Shank, though, and eventually we moved on. Other things awaited us in the Wasteland, and the Northern Lights Coalition would not have been idle while we were trying to save Ache.

Zherana continued to accompany us when we left Tartarus. According to her, her oath to Hedge had been completely transferred to me after I’d won our wager. She claimed that she would carry out any command I gave her, so long as she didn’t deem it improper, and would fight and die for me if necessary. It seemed an awful lot like slavery, albeit a strange willing form of it, which didn’t sit right with me. When I mentioned it to Zherana, however, she became irate. She insisted I hadn’t purchased her, but that she was fulfilling her debt of honor to Hedge by serving me. Honor came up a lot, and it seemed almost as confining on Zherana as chains or an explosive collar was on a regular slave.

I didn’t mind all that much that Zherana came with us. We could use an extra gun now that Ache was no longer part of our group. I did wish she’d talk to us more, though. Zherana seemed cold and aloof, ready to strike out at any moment while appearing casual and dedicated to serving me and nothing else. Trying to get her to talk about her past more often than not got only blank stares in reply. Given that she’d served Hedge for the last century-and-a-half, the things she’d done were probably not things I wanted to know anyway, but it would have been good if she were sociable with the rest of us. I wouldn’t give up hope; we’d broken down Roaring Thunder in the end, even if he had run away and come back before he’d really let himself join the group. I hoped that Zherana wouldn’t leave us the same way; it could be not only impossible, but dangerous to look for her.

Together, we returned to The Strip to plan out our next move. Prophet Square had been dealt with, but the NLC settlements of Boring and Timbervale still remained in Vanhoover. We also brought the news of Ache’s misfortune to Sage. I felt that she, out of everypony in the Wasteland, could be trusted with the pondroid’s secret. She also deserved to know, since she, Ache, and Rare had grown close during our visits to The Strip.

“Doc, turn on your radio plug-in,” Roaring Thunder said abruptly while all five of us were together in our room, listening in himself on his suit’s radio while he worked on it.

“-day, mayday, this is DJ Pon3 reaching out to the Wasteland Doctor, wherever you may be,” sounded from my PipBuck’s speakers when I switched to the private channel that usually only our little group used, “I’m in a right sorry state right now, goons from the NLC banging on my front door. I could really use some of that assistance you and your posse are well known for. Find me at the Vanhoover SPP Tower. Y’know, the tall spindly one to the northwest that touches the clouds? And you might wanna hurry, if you don’t want your favorite disk jockey to be off the air permanently. Thanks for listening chi~ldren, and I hope, for my own sake, to see you soon! Mayday, mayday, this is DJ Pon3 …”

“DJ Pon3,” Rare said in disbelief, “We have to save him!”

“Naturally,” Roaring Thunder said, “DJ Pon3’s services to the Wasteland have been invaluable, not to mention the NLC is involved. I wonder if it’s mere coincidence, or they know that they’ve found DJ Pon3.”

“Either way, I second Rare’s sentiment,” Sage said, “We have to save him.”

“You want to come along with us?” I asked.

“Of course. I am coming along with you,” Sage said definitively, “You don’t think the Crimson Tide’s pressmare would miss the chance of meeting the Wasteland’s, maybe even Equestria’s, greatest reporter, do you?”

“I suppose not,” I admitted, “Alright then, what are we waiting for? Let’s save DJ Pon3.”

Those were words I never imagined I’d be saying when I woke up that morning.

It was a long way to the Vanhoover SPP Tower. Thankfully, the Clinic made it a little easier, but our armored mobile home couldn’t take us all the way there; the Tower was built on an island with no bridges to it. We parked on the irradiated beach near the old ferry station from which ponies had once traveled to the island and back. The ferry was not docked here, however, but across the waves.

Roaring Thunder flew across to check it out. Judging by the flashes of light and the sound of a few gunshots, the ferry had been used previously by the Northern Lights Coalition to get across, and they’d left a few guards. Under Roaring Thunder’s guidance, the ferry returned to our shore. It was pretty beat-up, both by time and previous firefights, and there was substantial new repair work. Nice of the Northern Lights Coalition to give us a way across that wouldn’t irradiate us, even with ten times the recommended dose of Rad-X (those of us who weren’t already ghouls, anyway).

The ride was a little choppy, but the ferry made it across. Back during the War, it must’ve been a beautiful ride on a sunny day, the waves lapping against the forested shore. Now, though, with the perpetual cloud cover, the dingy irradiated water, and the spindly remains of trees, it wasn’t exactly pleasant. The appeal of the trip was also lessened by the figures with guns running around on the island’s shore.

Rare, Zherana, Sage, and I took up positions at the front of the boat to begin firing as soon as we could see them, while Roaring Thunder piloted the craft. Zherana, with the sniper rifle I’d given her, started the shooting. Well, useful shooting, anyway. The ponies on the far bank had been shooting at us practically since taking off, but none of their shots came near us. From what I could see, all of Zherana’s shots not only found targets, but also killed them.

Rare, Sage, and I joined in as we got closer, Rare with missiles from her armor, Sage with a magical energy pistol, and me with my magical energy rifle. Our opponents looked like raiders, but well-equipped ones, with armor nearly as good as the Black Skulls. Even if DJ Pon3 hadn’t told us they were from the Northern Lights Coalition, it wouldn’t have been difficult to figure it out.

Their aim was better than the typical raider, as one of them demonstrated by shooting me through the leg. Rare Sparks laid down a torrent of fire with her minigun while I removed the bullet and wrapped my leg in a magical bandage. I really had to take some time one day to let myself heal naturally; this magically accelerated healing felt odder and odder all the time. I resumed firing as we pulled up to the dock.

A mare with a mohawk rushed toward a mounted minigun, but my magical energy beams cut her off before she could reach it. I jumped down onto the dock, firing back and forth as our enemy’s bullets zinged around me. Zherana jumped down in front of me, taking a few hits as she ran ahead, but they didn’t seem to faze her one bit. She was as skilled with unarmed combat as Ache had been and knocked the raiders into each other easily. Rare and I followed along, taking out those who survived her attacks before they could get up.

In no time at all, the ferry station was clear. The NLC raiders really hadn’t set up much in way of defenses other than the minigun and a few sandbags, which Roaring Thunder had taken out on his first attack. Obviously, they hadn’t been expecting an attack after taking control of the ferry. They hadn’t been counting on any pegasi to swing around, which was fair given how few of them lived down here in the Wasteland.

The island had once been home to a park during the War, complete with walking trails between the trees, lined with sculptures and fountains. Most of those were broken now and the plants were all dead, but the park’s signs remained. There was other signage as well, posted by the Ministry of Awesome. Apparently, they’d been in charge of the SPP Tower that now dominated the view to the north. I still didn’t know what SPP stood for, but given how the MAw was in charge of Wartime Equestria’s black operations, it was probably something nasty. Come to think of it, that was the case with most, if not all, of the Ministries.

The SPP Towers that dotted Equestria looked plenty impressive from a distance, but up close this one was truly awe-inspiring. We’d always been so far away from them that their size was hard to grasp. They were tall and slender, but to support a structure that stretched all the way up into the cloud layer and beyond, the base was plenty wide. The tower was perfectly round and made of some smooth, white material. Even after over 150 years, the surface was unmarred, apart from near the base where the NLC was trying to break in.

The Northern Lights Coalition’s raiders were blasting away with everything they had at the tower as we approached. Apparently, they’d mistakenly taken the end of gunshots at the ferry station to mean their fellows had killed us off, instead of the other way around. We had no trouble surprising them. I tossed a metal pear toward the pair who were trying to cut through the door, vaporizing them with the blast.

Most of the raiders here had rocket launchers or missile launchers, and soon explosives were flying through the trees. Even Rare Sparks had to be quick on her hooves, since her armor couldn’t take more than maybe one hit in this. I rolled behind a concrete barrier, levitating my magical energy rifle over the edge to fire blindly at the NLC raiders. Sage climbed the burned-out husk of a tree to get a better angle of fire on the raiders, until a blast forced her down and running for better cover. The rocket fire grew less intense and the foul shouts of drug-addicted killers less frequent as the red blips on my EFS vanished. I popped up and pegged the last raider with my magical energy rifle, sending the rocket she’d been ready to fire at me shooting up into the sky to detonate harmlessly.

After making sure we were truly alone, we headed for the tower’s entrance. There were plenty of scorch marks and blast marks, but the door was still intact and secure. I looked upwards at the tower that stretched dizzyingly high into the clouds. A light began to flash on the panel next to the door, and Sage pressed the button next to it.

“Hello there, b-e-a-u-tiful ponies!” the excited voice of DJ Pon3 came from the speaker on the panel, “Thanks a million for saving my hide. I know, I know, it looks like they were getting’ nowheres, but even this tower’s security wouldn’t have held out forever. Why don’t you come on in and we can have a chat, or maybe even an interview? It’s the least I can do to express my most profound gratitude for the rescue!”

A buzz came from the door, and it swung open. Lights flickered on to illuminate the hallway leading into the tower.

“Do you think it’s safe in there?” Rare asked.

“It’s DJ Pon3. I think it’s safe enough,” Sage answered as she led the way.

I followed close after with the rest behind me. We had to trot single file down the narrow hallway, Rare’s weapons scraping against the walls. There were no doorways leading off down side hallways, which was a little eerie, but we had to trust that DJ Pon3 wouldn’t lead us into a trap, not after all the praise he’d heaped upon us (well, mostly me) on his radio program.

At the end of the hall was an elevator. We managed to all pile in only by Roaring Thunder hovering and Zherana standing on Rare Sparks’ back, but we did manage to fit. The elevator shot upwards without us pressing anything, the light on a camera mounted in one corner blinking at us. Up, up, up we went, higher and faster than any elevator I’d ever been in. I thought we must be above the cloud layer by the time the elevator slid to a halt.

“Floor J3, Radio Control Suite,” a prerecorded announcement played from the elevator’s speakers as the doors opened, which was followed up by a recording from DJ Pon3, “And the home of Radio! Free! Wastelaaaaaaaand!”

The radio host (and our host) was nowhere to be seen as we stepped, flew, or climbed out of the elevator. The elevator ran up the spine of the building, and there was a circular hallway surrounding it with four hallways and four doors. The hallways led all the way to rooms at the outer edge of the tower, which wasn’t all that far, as high up as we were. It only took a quick examination to find out that those rooms were all occupied by maneframes and storage, mostly Wartime food and crates of records. The doors in the original hallway led to quarter-circular rooms, two of which were filled with additional maneframes. Another had a living area, but still no sign of DJ Pon3. The final room was filled with maneframes, but also much more. Screens were propped up or hung everywhere they could be, displaying images of the Wasteland from all angles. There were a few control terminals scattered around among them.

“Well, this certainly looks familiar,” Rare Sparks said, looking at Roaring Thunder.

“I began to suspect when DJ Pon3 told us to find him here that I was not the only pony who hacked into the Single Pony Project’s network,” Roaring Thunder said as he looked around at the setup that was very much like what he’d had back at the SOAR headquarters.

Single Pony Project. SPP. Of course.

“What’s the Single Pony Project?” Sage asked, beating me to it, as she trotted around examining the equipment.

“All I know is what I learned after the War was over,” Roaring Thunder replied, “These towers are all part of the Single Pony Project, a project whose goal was to allow a single pony to control the weather all across Equestria, freeing up weather control pegasi to be drafted and maintain our air superiority.”

“That’s how the pegasi closed up the sky, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Well, it certainly helped facilitate the process,” Roaring Thunder said.

“If the weather can be controlled from these towers, then why doesn’t DJ Pon3 open up the sky? At least around Vanhoover?” Rare asked.

“Because that would bring the wrath of the Grand Pegasus Enclave down on me,” a frail stallion’s voice drew our attention.

There was a door set into the room’s outer wall, with a red light over it that had been lit when we’d entered but was lit no more. In the doorway was the pony who’d addressed us, our host, who was nothing like what we’d expected. He was incredibly elderly, wrinkles covering his face and most of his mane having fallen out. He trundled toward us in a wheelchair, his hindlegs stunted and unable to move.

“They don’t seem to mind me using the radio broadcast system or the cameras, those below the cloud layer at least, but I suspect they’d be less pleased if I deprive them of the solitude they’ve inflicted on themselves,” the elderly unicorn said.

“DJ Pon3?” Sage asked, to be sure.

“The very same! A frightful sight to be sure, but no worries, everything is peachy keen,” DJ Pon3 said in his youthful, radio personality voice, his horn glowing as he did it, until his chuckling caused him to cough and he dropped the voice alteration spell, “Truth be told, everything is not peachy keen. I’m almost glad the NLC showed up and gave me an excuse to invite you here. I am glad that it happened while you were in the Strip and that you decided to come along. I thought you might.”

“Me?” Sage asked.

“Of course, you,” DJ Pon3 said as he rolled closer to us, “I can’t think of a better pony to become the next DJ Pon3.”

“Me?” Sage asked again, more incredulously this time.

“No, President Snowmane,” DJ Pon3 said sarcastically, “He may have the radio presence and a dedicated following, but he’s got no imagination and no taste in music. It’s all ‘Grand Pegasus Enclave’ this and ‘marching band music’ that. Also, he’s been dead for the last century, but this is all beside the point. I don’t have much time left, and I want you take over for me when I’m gone.”

“But how?” Sage asked, “How could I possibly be DJ Pon3?”

“It’s easier than it looks. I’ll teach you the voice spell and how to control everything just like the DJ Pon3 before me,” DJ said.

“Why me?” Sage asked.

“Because I’ve been watching you, just like I watch everypony in the Wasteland. Well, everypony I can see from the towers I’ve hacked into anyway,” DJ said, “You’re a good pony, the kind that’s willing to fight the good fight and not only that, but also to call others to join you. You’re already a reporter, so imagine how much your audience would expand by becoming me.”

“I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t a dream of mine,” Sage said hesitantly, before looking to the rest of us for something, “I don’t know that I can do it, though. I mean, what would I tell my superiors at The Strip? Living here would be such a change. Being DJ Pon3 would be such a change.”

“You can think about it,” DJ Pon3 said, “In the meantime, I can show you around, tell you a little what it’ll be like to be DJ Pon3.”

“Okay,” Sage said, slowly nodding, “I’ll think about it.”

“She will do it,” Zherana stated plainly the next day.

She and I were alone for the moment, in DJ Pon3’s living area. Rare Sparks wanted to use this downtime as an opportunity to make some adjustments to my magical energy rifle, but she needed some tools from the Clinic. Roaring Thunder had gone with her, just in case there were some NLC raiders still hanging about. Sage was with DJ Pon3 in his control room or the attached recording booth, I didn’t know at the moment, learning what he had to teach her. I’d already finished cleaning and repairing my weapons, and was fiddling with my PipBuck, seeing if the Stable-dweller’s Survival Guide had any useful tips I hadn’t already discovered. Other than cleaning her sniper rifle, Zherana had pretty much just sat in a corner, still and silent like she’d been back in Tartarus.

“Who will do what?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure who and what she was referring to.

“Sage will accept his offer and become the next DJ Pon3,” Zherana stated.

“You think so?” I asked, though I had to admit that I was beginning to come to the same conclusion.

She was still hesitant to make any commitments to the elderly stallion, but that didn’t stop her from getting sucked into his work. She might not have known it yet, but she would probably end up accepting and taking over for him. I wasn’t sure what I thought about that scenario. Sage not being at The Strip would mean I’d see her less often, which wasn’t an appealing concept.

“It is evident,” Zherana said, before turning her head to stare at me with her ghoulish eyes, “I would think you would have noticed.”

“And why is that?” I asked as I scrolled through a section on creating noisemakers to scare away Wasteland beasts.

“You care for her,” Zherana said.

“I care for all my friends.”

“That is not what I meant,” the zebra ghoul said.

“You’ve been talking to Rare, haven’t you?” I asked as I scrolled more quickly.

“I do not know what you mean,” Zherana said, feigning (or perhaps not) ignorance.

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter anyway,” I said, “If she becomes DJ Pon3, she’ll move in here and I’ll never see her again.”

“Not necessarily,” Zherana said, as she stopped her staring at me and focused on a toaster instead, “DJ Pon3 found her a PipBuck, or a close approximation, this morning that Rare Sparks believes could be modified to control the equipment here remotely.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I asked as I let my PipBuck fall.

“It didn’t seem of vital importance. Besides, I’ve told you now,” Zherana said stiffly, “So, you do care for her then, as I thought.”

“Yes, I suppose I do,” I admitted with a sigh, “If you could … not let Rare know just yet …”

“If that is a command, then I will obey,” Zherana said.

I sighed and rolled over on the worn sofa I was lying on. I could’ve tried to put an end to the whole “command” thing, but the more I tried, it seemed the more she fought back, so I’d given up. I wasn’t getting anywhere with my PipBuck, so I rifled through my saddlebags, removing the case of memory orbs I’d taken from the Vanhoover Spire nearly a month earlier. Had it really been so long? Carefully, I removed the first one from the case.

“Zherana, I’m going under for a bit,” I told my companion, and she merely nodded in response.

There was no telling where this memory orb would take me. Somehow, Mr. Bucke had acquired them and preserved them, but I knew no reason why he’d do so unless he were a collector like me. That, I very much doubted. The thought occurred to me that these were perhaps Ache’s memories, which Mr. Bucke had taken from her while he was still known as P-8KE, and that was why she hadn’t known it was him. There was only one way to find out for certain. I reached out toward the glassy orb with my magic.

The proportions of the body I’d been thrown into felt strange, but I was still undeniably a pony. The reason became clear as my host stepped into view of a mirror: he was a foal, and by extension, so was I. He was a unicorn like me, with a white coat and a mane that was nearly the same hue as the silvery-blue streak in mine. Using the mirror, he adjusted his Stable jumpsuit with the number 83 on the collars. What I could see of the room was typical for a Stable bedroom, just downsized for a child.

“Lamplight, are you ready?” a mare asked as she entered the room.

Lamplight? As in Lord Lamplight, the leader of the Northern Lights Coalition! Given I’d found this memory orb in the NLC headquarters in Vanhoover, in the possession of Mr. Bucke, that seemed incredibly likely. I was going to get a chance to experience the life of my adversary, and maybe learn something useful about him. With my thoughts swirling, I missed my host’s response.

“Come on then, we don’t want to be late for the Election Day celebrations,” the mare said, beckoning Lamplight to follow her.

“Yes, Mother,” he replied, before trailing her out of the room.

Lamplight proceeded through the family living space and out into the Stable’s hallway. The passages were packed with ponies chatting animatedly about the Election Day celebrations, all making their way in the same direction as my host and his mother. Some were wearing party hats, and some had pins on their collars in various colors. As Lamplight looked around excitedly, I noticed that ponies with the same color pins tended to cluster together and shy away from those with different colored pins. Undoubtedly it had something to do with this Election Day, but I didn’t know what.

As I could have guessed with so many ponies going to the same place, everypony’s destination was the Stable’s atrium. Colorful streamers and banners that read “Election Day 124” were hung up everywhere. A raised stage was set up at one end of the atrium with eleven folding chairs, five to the right of a podium, five to the left, and one immediately behind it. The five chairs to the right were currently unoccupied, but the rest all had ponies sitting in them, the five to the left wearing colorful sashes that matched the pins I’d seen. Two of them were striped green, blue, and black, two were red, yellow, and white, and one was bright blue and yellow. Behind the stage hung a large flag with 83 superimposed over the Stable-Tec logo.

“It won’t be long now, Lamplight,” his mother told him, “Soon you’ll earn your cutie-mark, get your own PipBuck, and be able to vote too.”

There was a large clock mounted over the stage, and the ponies in the atrium began to count down as it neared eight o’clock. At the top of the hour, a cheer went up, some ponies blowing streamers or rattling noisemakers. The mare who’d been seated behind the podium stood up and approached it.

“Welcome, everypony, to Stable 83’s one-hundred-and-twenty-fourth Election Day ceremony!” she announced, “The polls are now closed. While the Stable computer calculates the results, allow me to say what an honor it was to serve as your Overmare this past year. You’ve all made governing this Stable a pleasure, except for you, Rose Thorn, who submitted no less than fifty-eight petitions to my office.”

Everypony in the crowd chuckled at the Overmare’s lighthearted attack on Rose Thorn, who laughed along as some of the ponies around him cuffed him playfully.

“I don’t envy my successor the task of keeping you and the maintenance team satisfied,” the Overmare said before looking at her PipBuck, “The results are in. Firstly, the new council. Silver Crescent, Morality Party.”

A mare wearing a red, yellow, and white sash approached the stage while being congratulated by the ponies around her. Once she took a seat in one of the vacant chairs on the right side of the stage, the Overmare announced another name. Four more ponies were called up with different parties and different sashes until the chairs were filled. Two were from the Prosperity Party, with the green, blue, and black sashes, and two from the Duty Party, with the blue and yellow sashes that almost blended into their Stable jumpsuits.

“Mares and Gentlecolts, I give you your new council,” the Overmare announced, gesturing to the five new ponies on the stage, and everypony stamped their hooves in applause, “Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The next Overmare of Stable 83 will be … Spectrum Splash!”

Cheers went up as a mare with a rainbow mane wearing the sash of the Prosperity Party stepped up onto the stage, more exuberant in some parts of the crowd than others.

“Thank you, everypony, for choosing me as your next Overmare,” Spectrum Splash announced to the crowd, “And thank you, Gilded Lily, for your service as Overmare. We all wish you the best on your expedition and hope to see you again on next year’s Election Day.”

Some of the previous council members brought former-Overmare Gilded Lily saddlebags, and the crowd began to escort her through the Stable’s hallways. Up they went in a procession, singing songs and laughing, until they reached the Stable’s entrance. The Stable door creaked open, and everypony bid Gilded Lily goodbye, wishing her safe travels, as she exited the Stable. The door was left open as everypony returned to the atrium, and Lamplight’s mother explained to him that after serving a term as Overmare, you had to spend a year exploring the Wasteland, looking for something useful to bring back to the Stable. The door was left open so that the Overmare that had come before Gilded Lily could return, if she was still alive.

That wasn’t a pleasant thought, though, and tonight’s celebrations were for pleasant thoughts. A party to celebrate the new council members and Overmare was hosted in the atrium, though the celebrations spilled out down the halls and into classroom and cafeterias throughout the Stable. Lamplight found some friends to play with, but my host seemed to be growing tired as the night wore down. He was with his mother again when Gilded Lily suddenly burst into the atrium on the upper floor.

“Call up security!” she shouted frantically, “They’re coming!”

“What are you doing back here?” one of the new council members demanded, “You know it’s forbidden to return until your year is up!”

“They’re in the Stable!” Gilded Lily shouted, ignoring her, “The Steel Rangers, they-”

A blast blew away the door that the former Overmare had come in through, cutting off the rest of her words. Ponies screamed as a power armored pony strode through the doorway and opened fire with their minigun. My vision grew cloudy as my host’s eyes filled with tears.

“Lamplight, look at me!” his mother demanded, holding him while the crowd around them milled in terror, “Go home and hide! Now!”

My host stood frozen in place as his mother pressed through the crowd, shouting for other members of the Stable’s security force to come with her to the armory. Lamplight was knocked to the floor as somepony ran into him, and only that broke him out of his trance. The foal ran as quickly as he could through the cramped Stable hallways, ducking under older ponies when he had to. When he reached his living quarters, he ran into his mother’s bedroom and hid in a locker, crying and covering his ears with his hooves to block out the distant and sometimes not-so-distant sounds of screams and gunfire. At some point the lights went out, and his crying turned to muffled whimpering.

Lamplight tried to hold his breath as the heavy mechanical hoofsteps sounded in the room. A light swept across the room, momentarily falling through the ventilation slits in the locker. The hoofsteps grew closer and the pony outside pulled the door open. My host cried as he looked up at the Steel Ranger towering over him, its headlamp blinding him.

“Knight, is there anything there?” another Steel Ranger asked from outside the room.

The Steel Ranger continued to stare at my host, making no move.

“Manticore’s Fury, report. Did you find anything?” the other Steel Ranger asked again.

“No, sir,” the Steel Ranger who would one day be Elder lied, “It’s a false signal.”

“Alright, let’s move on to the next one, then,” the other Steel Ranger said.

Manticore’s Fury carefully closed the locker, leaving Lamplight alone in the dark, and trotted away.

It was a shame that you could only learn from a memory orb what the pony whose memories it contained had experienced. I had so many questions. What had become of Lamplight between the slaughter of his Stable and his rise to leader of a raider and slaver alliance? Had Manticore’s Fury known that sparing that foal, however noble his intent may have been, had led to the problems we were now facing? Why had the Steel Rangers attacked Stable 83? Where was Stable 83?

Rare was able to answer at least some of my questions. The Stable Lord Lamplight had grown up in was somewhere to the south, deep in what was now Steel Ranger territory. The Elder had never mentioned sparing a foal to her, but he had told her about the attack on the Stable. It was a messy business, done at the orders of Elder Gristle after learning from the Overmare before Gilded Lily the location of the Stable and the fact that they left the door open on Election Day. They wanted to secure the Stable’s technology, and they did so by killing every non-Steel Ranger who possessed it, massacring the Stable. It had been that event that had cemented Manticore’s Fury’s belief that the Steel Rangers had misunderstood their purpose and needed to look for a better way, a belief that had led him to becoming Elder, the split of the Stalliongrad contingent from the Vanhoover contingent, and the improved reputation of the Steel Rangers in Vanhoover. It was a pivotal moment in history after the War, as I was sure it had deeply affected Lord Lamplight as well, though in what way I couldn’t say until I knew more about him. If the other memory orbs were also about his past, then perhaps I would soon learn.

I re-experienced the first memory orb over the next few days, seeing if I could glean any new information from such an important event. While I did so, I allowed my body to naturally heal and shake off some of the odd feelings from magical medicine, and Sage learned more about being DJ Pon3. As Zherana had predicted, she had agreed to take over for the elderly stallion, though she wouldn’t be doing it from the SPP Tower. Rare Sparks managed to get the PipBuck-like device that DJ owned working, so that Sage could control Radio Free Wasteland on the go. That wouldn’t be her only way of running the station, though. We packed up some of the equipment and all of the records into the Clinic for transportation back to The Strip.

DJ Pon3 wouldn’t need them anymore. One day we awoke to find he’d died in his sleep, apparently peacefully. The five of us did the best we could to hold a funeral for him, burying him at the base of the SPP Tower, well away from the mass grave where we’d dumped the NLC raiders.

With nothing more holding us here, we moved on, back to the mainland and to Vanhoover. First with saving Ache’s life, and then with DJ Pon3, we’d been idle for too long. The Northern Lights Coalition was still out there, and Lord Lamplight had plans for the Wasteland. Maybe, with the memory orbs, I could get inside his head and figure out how to find him. I’d seen where his story began, and I intended to be there when it ended.

Level Up
New Perk: Size Matters – Why not take out two birds with one rocket? +5 to Big Guns.
Weapon improved: Intense Magical Energy Rifle > Variable Magical Energy Rifle: +10 DMG, can switch between normal fire and burst mode.
Lord Lamplight Memory Orb (Mercy): +1 Charisma
New Quest: Back in the Fight – Disband the Northern Lights Coalition
Charisma +1 (3)
Barter +10 (81)
Big Guns +5 (77)
Repair +1 (100) [Max Level Reached]
Sneak +9 (100) [Max Level Reached]